Title: Fallen Protectors (Originally entitled Self-Made Monsters)
Pairing: Traces of Haruka/Mamoru friendship
Theme/Category: Kinda Angsty
Summary: He's meant to protect, but why does he feel like he's a monster? Mamoru-centric
Length: Drabble
A/n: I actually stopped reading this around chapter 90 or so, but I'll pick it up again soon. Sorry if its OOC, it's almost one in the morning and I've been musing a bit too much. This is the product. Haven't edited it at all. Discidium is the latin word for break or pause
Discidium
His name means 'to protect.'
When he was young and idealistic, he thought that he could protect the innocent by killing the guilty.
Now, he's not so sure where the line is drawn.
Isn't everyone guilty? Doesn't every get ripped apart again and again, until they let themselves tear others apart?
If being a monster means killing, then Mamoru is a monster.
He's not uncontrollable- he can pull himself back from cleaving a foe in two. Yet somehow, these days, it doesn't seem good enough to spare them.
If he spares them, they hurt again. If he kills them, he longs to rip his heart out.
He lives with a band of murderers- he's know that since day one. Taking a life is the same as murder, although it sounds better. Prettier. Like putting a bow on a bomb and delivering it.
Sometimes, he stands there, wishing that his chosen weapon was a gun. If he used a gun, then surely he could pull the trigger without a pang. When you use a gun, you don't have to feel the bones being split in two, or have blood smear across your face. If you use a gun, you can turn it and blow yourself apart them you realize there is no turning back.
He knows that he deserves being blind. That way, he doesn't have to see the beauty of a world denied to him. He doesn't have to see the pain on their faces as he uses precise cuts to slice through their flesh.
Mamoru doesn't want to be a monster, but he knows that he has to be.
If being a monster means that he can protect a girl with bigger monsters then him after her, surely it won't matter.
Right?
It shouldn't matter to him that he's a monster, because he chooses that path every day, to keep walking along it. When he first picked up the sword, he should have known there was no turning back. Was it possible that on that day, if he had chosen again learning sword craft, that she would have been captured and her visions used?
He knew that with the pros and cons weighed, he made the right choice.
Then why did it feel so damn horrible?
Many of his friends and allies would have died without his assistance, but he hadn't saved them because he felt something for them. They were just there, at that place the same time he was, and they just happened to be in trouble.
That was how it was the entire time before she walked in and demanded that he protect her.
Now, he's not sure who he lifts his sword for.
Was it for her and her youthful nativity?
Was it for him and his selfish goals?
Was it for the friends that he accidently made along the way and found himself caring for?
Was it for the innocent and unprotected?
He asks himself those questions every day. He knows that it doesn't matter though.
At the end of the day, he still cleans his sword of the blood he killed and he knows that the reasons don't matter. The facts matter- the facts that killing mafia, and violent organizations could fall under any of those categories.
Yet, he still wonders what the answer is.
Maybe he just wants to know he isn't a monster.
He knows that even if he isn't a monster, one day he will snap.
And then he will truly be an abomination, a monster, and he knows that soon he will loose every sense of humanity he has left in him.
Discidium