Disclaim: I own nothing … well that was unexpected, ne?
The sounds...
His head is filled with their suffocating sounds. Their thoughts keep trying to take over. Each breathing second, he hears them. Behind sealed lips, they reveal to him their darkest desires, their sweetest dreams, many wonders, mush more horrors.
'Self-centered bastards,' he mutters.
In either, and every, case, it's all about them. For their own benefit, they live on, thinking it is right to do so. In the end, if you don't care for yourself, no one will. If you don't protect yourself, they'll crush you. If you don't gain that mighty strength that will able you to survive, you will never be able to live.
That point rang in his mind, suddenly blocking all other interfering information that were previously pouring out of each of these filthy humans as they wondered the streets where he sat, shadowed in a corner of a joy-house from which drunkards went out, all escorted by ungracefully giggling women.
He, the fox kid: the demon, as they called him. Why was he interested in staying alive? Life was cruel, like them. Death would be much better. If he dies, maybe he will find his way back to his mother's arms, away from those Onis his hatred creates, away from mankind.
To die would be great. Still, he had no intention on dying- never, not before they all pay. Not before he gets his revenge, not before he became stronger than them weaklings. Not before they all bend their heads, sink to their knees and shake from fear in front of him.
He ought not to give up. He, he swore, was going to live and get his revenge; even if in order to do so he'll have to defeat death itself and prove Ohachio wrong- life was not that precious of a thing to gain, not when your heart and soul are already dead.
A man walked in front of him, hissing " demon" before hammering an empty bottle of sake to the ground then loosing balance and falling backward on his behind, fainting on the spot due to the amount of alcohol in his system. Looking down at the man with disgust, his lips drew that smirk which was forever to be his.
They all would've been lucky if he was, indeed, a demon; for he wouldn't have indulged in his thirst for payback if thus was his nature.
Alas, he was, as his only friend had told him, "oh, so human".
He got up, undusted the light, stained fabric that covered his frail body, walking away into the unknown, an army of Oni behind his back.
His path has already been decided, he was aware. If only it hadn't been such a lonely one.
This won't be the end of him.