Disclaimer: YuYu Hakusho belongs to Yoshihiro Togashi.

To Fail

I am a demon. That is my true nature. I shall always be a demon, even until death.

I am a fox, sly and cunning. The oldest stories in the world say my nature is that of a capricious trickster. I am also a thief. In my heart, as in the heart of every creature, is an emptiness meant to be filled by love. So I strove to satisfy it with a love, a greed, a lust for fine and precious trinkets.

I cannot deny my nature. But nature can be suppressed.

I have tried other ways to give meaning to my life. It has not changed my nature—even a demon can respect, and a thief will protect treasured possessions. But still, there are things I regret, and an emptiness lingers in my soul.

My father died about ten years ago. My mother was a heartbroken young widow. She wept, of course. I expected that; after all, her mate had just passed away. But I did not cry at his funeral. I pitied him, in a detached way. Humans die so quickly. He was a child compared to me.

Mother is now remarried, to Hatanaka Kazuya-san.

He owns a successful business. His son is named Shuuichi. He wears glasses on his friendly face, and his hair is dark. Always, when he takes my mother out for the evening, he dresses in a suit.

He is kind-hearted but foolish. Whenever he lectures Shuuichi or myself, he blusters and stumbles over his words, and his face flushes with anger. He always apologizes after he calms down. My hairstyle confuses him. He values family. He cannot cook very well, and it always takes him a few minutes to remember how to work the household appliances. He likes sweet foods.

Hatanaka-san is a good man.

Because of another man I met first, I respect the qualities, both good and bad, of Mother's husband. I cherish my strange and loveable step-father, because I did not love him.

He was called Daddy.

I do not know his true name. I never bothered to learn it. Usually, I gather such bits of information and file them away in my memory to make use of later. But I reserved this tactic for those I respected as a potential threat, for enemies. Minamino-san was a human; in my eyes, even lower than demon scum.

I cannot remember his face. Ashamed and guilty, I have always avoided looking at pictures of him. I pretend he gave me my red hair, and perhaps my green eyes as well. He probably smiled frequently, as I can imagine Mother's face, young and happy, doing so.

I am a demonic fox thief. I stole the only son of a young human couple, and gave to them only silent scorn in return. They unknowingly endured years of empty hugs and kisses, words and gestures of affection devoid of love.

Then, when I was nine, Mother did something that reminded me of the actions of a beloved friend and partner from long ago. And I suddenly realized that she deserved my respect.

I love this human woman, with all of humanities emotions and sentiments, its strengths and frailties. But for the man I mockingly called Daddy, it was too many years too late.

Mother does not blame me for my inability to feel close to him. I was only a small child when he died, she says, so of course I can hardly remember him. And how can I be expected to mourn a father I did not know?

I have tried. I have tried to respect him, to love him. But all I feel is an emptiness. He is my shameful secret. Everyone believes I am a good person at heart, changed by the human values I now embrace. But my true nature is that of a demon. I still view the man as a human lower than demon scum, unworthy of my respect.

It sickens me.

Why is it that what I want most—to love my father—is denied to me? Why am I in such anguish because I cannot love a man who I feel does not deserve my attention?

I want to believe I am essentially good at heart. I want to believe my nature is not that of a heartless demon. But I have lost faith in myself.

I still have not shed a single tear for his death. I cannot mourn him, because I do not miss my daddy. I simply pity him for living even less than a human's short lifespan.

There is an emptiness in my heart that tastes of guilt and regret. And there is a human who deserved so much more than what I gave him, but I still cannot find a reason to give him anything more.

I do not even know his name. But I know I will never love him.

There are some things even a merciless youko thief regrets.

…
Owari
…

-Windswift