I just wrote a small bit of something that might be a oneshot, but will probably wind up being a full-fledged novel. I left room at the end if I wanted to continue it, but if it's nice enough without another chapter, that's good enough for me. I'm not even sure why I wrote it.
Anyways, R&R?
The moonshine was the only light in the thickness of the night. The stars hung dully in the velvet of the sky, sticking to it like the small golden stickers kindergarteners got when they behaved. It was a rather silly thing to have a comparison for the heavens with, but that's exactly what they reminded Kurama of, trophies to be won with good behavior and better grades. When one misbehaved, they'd be punished; sent to the corner of the room, forced to turn their desks around, mocked, called upon, swatted with a stick, and whatever else may help drill in discipline. Only when they grew up the punishments got tougher. Sometimes it was even death.
Kurama rolled over in the soft grass; his body clothed only a single white suit seemed to glow in the nighttime. His red hair bunched up around his shoulder, and shaped his face. He was beautiful. He had been lying in the grass for an hour now, contemplating which way he should end his life. He had been shocked at first by his own thoughts of death, and then he realized it was a necessity. After all, bad children needed to be punished. But it scared him. It scared him to think that his friends would find his body motionless and without energy. What would they say if they found out he committed suicide? They didn't think of him the same way he did.
Yes, all of his friends were under the delusion that he deserved a star. Good ole Kurama, he would never hurt a fly. So innocent... he was just like an angel. It was sickening to hear them talk about him that way, like he was incapable of being evil. He knew what evil was, and he was most definitely evil. He was a demon, for pities sake. Born to kill and haunt. Born to be chased by pitchforks. It was another silly thought, but it was so terribly, horribly true. He was a monster, and nothing less.
He got up, finally deciding on a death. It was going to be clean, so that nobody would have to tidy up a mess, and it wasn't going to leave his body so mangled and unrecognizable that his friends threw up at the mere thought of it. It was going to be a nice death. Kurama headed towards the water, tears welling up in his eyes. It would take probably half an hour tops, and it might or might not be painful, but drowning was the best death he could think of at the moment.
But what would Botan think?
Kurama hadn't expected to fall in love with her, and yet, he had. He had kissed her pale lips, and held her in his arms as she babbled on about how nice the sunset was, or something just as trivial. She had wanted to be with him, and vice versa, but it felt so wrong. Why should the sweet Botan be forced to love to Kurama, a murderer, when there were other people out there? Maybe Koenma or maybe some other cute spirit of her kind would do, but definitely not him. She deserved far better than him, though she had tried to sway his opinion on this matter. Even that seemed wrong.
The tears released themselves from his eyes as he thought of Botan. She was so beautiful. She was an angel—although some would argue a grim reaper, but that was a different story—and she was so pure and happy. He would spoil her. He had spoiled her already. In a moment of insanity, in a moment when his mind wasn't fully his own, he had spoiled her. It had felt good at the time, and she had enjoyed it deeply, but it left its mark on him. Had he been seduced? No. It was the other way around. Malicious him had played on her feelings, messing with her and making her think she was in love. Yusuke should have killed Kurama a long time ago, before either of them could change their minds about each other. Hiei should have killed Kurama that night he backed out on their plans.
He saw the water bumping against the shore in a never-ending dance, and frowned. It was calling for him, telling him to take what his friends could not. It told him to end what should have never started. He stepped into it, thinking about Botan and how sad she would be.
It would make her cry, for sure; she might even wear black for a long time. She loved him dearly, or so she thought, and it would break her heart. Heck, if he were she, he'd cry too. But would she understand? That was what bothered him the most. When she saw his white face and lifeless eyes, would she understand why he did what he did? No. He hadn't even left a hint about what he was going to do. Should he go through with it then, without leaving Botan a proper farewell note? No.
The water touched his knees before he turned to climb out, thinking of the most poetic and less heartbreaking way to tell Botan he had punished himself. But the fox didn't get very far. In the midst of his thoughts, he had failed to notice the energy source sneaking up behind him. The clean death he had hoped for was brutally snatched away by a vengeful demon, and it was four hours before Kuwabara discovered Kurama's body.
TBC/Finis
Anyways, R&R?
The moonshine was the only light in the thickness of the night. The stars hung dully in the velvet of the sky, sticking to it like the small golden stickers kindergarteners got when they behaved. It was a rather silly thing to have a comparison for the heavens with, but that's exactly what they reminded Kurama of, trophies to be won with good behavior and better grades. When one misbehaved, they'd be punished; sent to the corner of the room, forced to turn their desks around, mocked, called upon, swatted with a stick, and whatever else may help drill in discipline. Only when they grew up the punishments got tougher. Sometimes it was even death.
Kurama rolled over in the soft grass; his body clothed only a single white suit seemed to glow in the nighttime. His red hair bunched up around his shoulder, and shaped his face. He was beautiful. He had been lying in the grass for an hour now, contemplating which way he should end his life. He had been shocked at first by his own thoughts of death, and then he realized it was a necessity. After all, bad children needed to be punished. But it scared him. It scared him to think that his friends would find his body motionless and without energy. What would they say if they found out he committed suicide? They didn't think of him the same way he did.
Yes, all of his friends were under the delusion that he deserved a star. Good ole Kurama, he would never hurt a fly. So innocent... he was just like an angel. It was sickening to hear them talk about him that way, like he was incapable of being evil. He knew what evil was, and he was most definitely evil. He was a demon, for pities sake. Born to kill and haunt. Born to be chased by pitchforks. It was another silly thought, but it was so terribly, horribly true. He was a monster, and nothing less.
He got up, finally deciding on a death. It was going to be clean, so that nobody would have to tidy up a mess, and it wasn't going to leave his body so mangled and unrecognizable that his friends threw up at the mere thought of it. It was going to be a nice death. Kurama headed towards the water, tears welling up in his eyes. It would take probably half an hour tops, and it might or might not be painful, but drowning was the best death he could think of at the moment.
But what would Botan think?
Kurama hadn't expected to fall in love with her, and yet, he had. He had kissed her pale lips, and held her in his arms as she babbled on about how nice the sunset was, or something just as trivial. She had wanted to be with him, and vice versa, but it felt so wrong. Why should the sweet Botan be forced to love to Kurama, a murderer, when there were other people out there? Maybe Koenma or maybe some other cute spirit of her kind would do, but definitely not him. She deserved far better than him, though she had tried to sway his opinion on this matter. Even that seemed wrong.
The tears released themselves from his eyes as he thought of Botan. She was so beautiful. She was an angel—although some would argue a grim reaper, but that was a different story—and she was so pure and happy. He would spoil her. He had spoiled her already. In a moment of insanity, in a moment when his mind wasn't fully his own, he had spoiled her. It had felt good at the time, and she had enjoyed it deeply, but it left its mark on him. Had he been seduced? No. It was the other way around. Malicious him had played on her feelings, messing with her and making her think she was in love. Yusuke should have killed Kurama a long time ago, before either of them could change their minds about each other. Hiei should have killed Kurama that night he backed out on their plans.
He saw the water bumping against the shore in a never-ending dance, and frowned. It was calling for him, telling him to take what his friends could not. It told him to end what should have never started. He stepped into it, thinking about Botan and how sad she would be.
It would make her cry, for sure; she might even wear black for a long time. She loved him dearly, or so she thought, and it would break her heart. Heck, if he were she, he'd cry too. But would she understand? That was what bothered him the most. When she saw his white face and lifeless eyes, would she understand why he did what he did? No. He hadn't even left a hint about what he was going to do. Should he go through with it then, without leaving Botan a proper farewell note? No.
The water touched his knees before he turned to climb out, thinking of the most poetic and less heartbreaking way to tell Botan he had punished himself. But the fox didn't get very far. In the midst of his thoughts, he had failed to notice the energy source sneaking up behind him. The clean death he had hoped for was brutally snatched away by a vengeful demon, and it was four hours before Kuwabara discovered Kurama's body.
TBC/Finis