Another oneshot coming from a depressive stage. That's right...another fic where Kurama contemplates his motivations! Honestly...I need a life.
YYH is owned by Yoshihiro Togashi, who probably has a real life, as writing manga is his job.
I terrify myself sometimes…
What am I exactly? Not knowing something as basic as that…
Everyone needs a sense of self, right? Especially when placing oneself and one's friends in the direct line of danger on a regular basis.
Still, I can't help but feel…isolated from the others. I know they try their best to give me a sense of belonging.
Really, we all need it.
To belong.
Because none of us really have. Except…
Except for me. But that was before…when I was myself.
But lately, I'm not so sure that that was me. Or that I'm still him. Or that either of us really exists anymore.
My own nonexistence is part of what has me so afraid, but because of it, I'm able to extend myself far beyond the selfish limits I once held.
Which is why it would be so easy for me to die, if it was needed.
My life doesn't matter nearly as much as those of my younger, inexperienced teammates.
Yusuke. Kuwabara. Hiei.
They're so young, with so much promise and potential, and yet time and time again they find themselves on the brink of death…
I want to spare them that.
Because I look so young physically, they often forget how old I truly am inside. I've lived more than a thousand of their lifetimes.
It isn't that I'm suicidal, a kamikaze fighter bent on self destruction. I just know what the world is like and what it has to offer.
And yet…it's been these past few years that have taken what I thought to be true and shaken my beliefs and perceptions to the core.
Before, when I was in my original body, living as the famed Youko Kurama, things were simple. If I thought something was true, then there was no question in my mind that I might be wrong.
But now…
Living amongst and as a human, my perceptions have changed. Life isn't so simply black and white. Not even gray.
Because I have so many identities and personas to keep up, life has taken on shades of blue, purple and green. Probably more…the rest of the colors in their entirety. I have difficulty comprehending it anymore…
I've lost myself, my sense of self, somewhere along the way.
There's still the portion of me that thinks as a youkai, the cold and ruthless fighter, but the edges have been softened.
I have a human mother to protect. This extends further to her dearest loved ones—Hanataka and little Shuichi.
I also have my friends; human, youkai, and several that border on either side.
As a youkai, I cannot formulate any reason to care for a human, and vice versa.
I fall into neither category, and yet both at the same time.
Somehow, though, the little band of misfits I've fallen into accepts me.
I'm sure it has to do with a mutual need for companionship, though none of us would ever admit it.
Really…none of us fit in at all elsewhere.
Yusuke, even before he was found out to have Mazoku ancestry, even before he was able to control his own reiki, was still an outcast with a bad home-life.
Kuwabara fit nearly the same description.
Hiei was an outcast at birth.
And I have lived the life of an outcast since my rebirth.
Its no wonder we sought eachother out.
Hey, remember to click that little review button down there and tell me what you think.
Who knows? It might be the only human contact I get all day!