One Shot: Memories
A boy walked through the treacherous forest as the Fates watched him, waiting for the snap of his mind. The new information of his life was getting to him. He felt the wound placed on his arm where his mother had beat him down. He reached into his hair to find the weapon of his demise: a single seed, the key to his redemption. He kept on walking to clear out his confusing mind.
He stopped, the path ended. A clearing was ahead, oh how he remembered it. It was the meeting-place where he first met his teammate, the Spirit Detective. Memories of him, the cocky boy, made him almost laugh to himself, but his heart was joyless and cold.
Memories flashed back to him, from when he was not even human, to the foolish mistake he made years ago. His schizophrenia was taking over. Telling that kitsune to be quiet had proved a lifetime responsibility. What was worse was hiding it. Never had he told anyone but his teammates. Well, and his mother, but had he not done so, then he wouldn't be here, would he?
The night passed on, moonlight shining through the boughs of the trees surrounding him. Memories came more and more as he kept walking on. He came across a cut down tree, done during sword training, which sprung memories from his partner in crime in this life, the little fire demon. The Forbidden Child and he had been friends for quite a while, but they would never see each other again.
The forest ended, and he came across a busy road. He walked down the street until a careless driver almost rammed into him. The driver swerved, and instead of hitting the boy, he hit head on another car. Only the careless driver died. The other car was safe, but that didn't keep the teen from remembered his one true love, the Grim Reaper, as she was called. He could still remember her beautiful smile, but, as all things must come to an end, all great things are not meant to be. Laws, what a restraining attribute of life. Never could he be with the one he knew he wanted.
The ambulance came, and the boy continued the walk. Minutes turned to hours, and soon he found himself at a mountain. More memories flocked to him, memories of a teacher and friend. How the old lady managed to keep everyone in line, not even he could know, but she did.
The sun was beginning its path over the horizon. He worked his way up the mountain, the crisp November morning air making a perfect backdrop for the climb. He passed only one other hiker, a tall man whom had a slow aura around him. More memories came, and soon he was remembering "the Baka", as the Forbidden Child would put it. The "Baka" wasn't as stupid as one would give him credit, but that didn't make him bright.
Still he kept going up and up. He hesitated only once when he saw something on the ground. A child's mitten. The memories were back, and in them was his boss, the "Toddler", as the Spirit Detective called him. Memories from missions came with it, as the former kitsune shook his head, ridding himself of the myriad memories.
The mountain climb lasted until noon, when the mountain was covered in snow. Memories came to him of a certain ice maiden. Why hadn't the Forbidden Child told her the secret? She had a right to know her brother. Oh well, nothing he could say now, not when he is so close to the ultimate redemption.
He reached down to the ice on the ground, dropping it accidentally. The final memories came to him. His mother. The incident with the glass. How she had risked her life for her son. Not all the memories were so happy, though. There was the look on her face as she made him leave for good. She refused to accept the truth--her son was a murderous, thieving demon. What mother would believe that?
He found another clearing at the top of the mountain. Perfection had always been a part of his life, so why not his death? He found a rock to act as the gravestone, and he engraved in it, using a plant:
"Here lies Suuichi Minnemeno. Also Known As Youko Kurama.
Demon, Human, Liar, Thief, Student, Spirit Detective
May he rest in peace."
The boy dug a six-foot hole with his plants. Then, he jumped into the confines of the hole, and pulled out from his hair his trademark weapon, a rose. The rose transformed into a whip. Before dealing the final blow, he planted into himself the seed of the death plant. As he severed his own head, the plant flourished, until he had made for himself enough flowers to fill up the grave.
He died peacefully, no screams or regrets. His last memory was of his beloved Botan, the one he truly loved, for now and forevermore.
THE END