Kuwabara opened his eyes and found himself in a cave. The cave was damp and chill, the darkness barely held off by sparsely placed glowing orbs. Kuwabara watched the old man sitting on the boulder warily. Old, bald, and blind, the man didn't look threatening, but Kuwabara had long since learned that looks could be deceiving.
"They say that knowledge is power," the old man said in a raspy voice that sounded as if it hadn't been used in years. "This is a correct statement. However, it is far more correct to say that truth is power."
"What do you mean, truth is power?" Kuwabara asked.
The old man grinned, but the expression on him didn't seem friendly. "Do you have any idea how many lies we tell ourselves every day? Some people base their whole lives on them. We justify all our actions by them. And by 'we' I don't simply mean humans. I'm speaking of all sentient beings, for there isn't nearly as much difference between humans and demons as we like to believe."
"Why tell me this?" Kuwabara said. "Why'd you bring me here at all?"
"To state the obvious, I am old," the man said. "I will soon die. But my power must live on. I have searched the worlds over for someone worthy of carrying it, and I believe you are the one."
"Me?" Kuwabara asked, shocked. He hadn't expected this to happen. "What is your power?"
"Haven't you been paying attention to anything I've said?" the old man grumbled. "Truth, boy. My power is truth. I show people the full truth of themselves and their lives. I would give you this power, but be warned. If you choose to accept it, you will have to face the truth about yourself. This is no easy task. Most are not able to handle the truth of who they are. Many it drives insane, some it even kills. I cannot guarantee your survival."
Kuwabara was floored. He'd never in a million years have thought an offer like this would be made to him. "I need to think about it," he said.
"Yes or no," the old man said. "If you are hesitant you are not worthy and I will find someone else to carry on my legacy."
Kuwabara took a deep breath. "Then yes."
The old man held out one gnarled hand and a glowing white sphere appeared in it. "Then take the truth."
Kuwabara reached out and touched the sphere, and instantly his perspective shifted. He was floating in a white void. In front of him was a full length mirror made of black glass. Steeling himself, Kuwabara moved closer to the mirror and looked inside.
Then, Kuwabara saw.
The mirror showed him images of his life. It showed him every moment of selfishness, every lie he'd ever told, every moment he'd lashed out in anger, every act of thoughtless cruelty. It showed him all his jealousies, his resentments, his grudges, his false pride. It showed every bias and prejudice he'd never acknowledged that he had. It stripped away his armor, laid his soul totally bare, and it examined every choice, every word, every act, and every motivation in microscopic detail.
But the mirror didn't stop there. It didn't just show him his faults, it showed him the results of those faults. It showed him the pain he'd caused, intended or not, it showed him the doubts he'd planted, the bridges he'd burned, happiness that he'd denied himself with his pettiness. Kuwabara felt every blow he'd ever delivered, and it left his soul raw and bleeding.
Kuwabara fell to his knees under the weight of his guilt. "I didn't," he gasped, "I didn't mean to!"
Oh, but so many times he had. He had, and he'd lied and said he hadn't. But now his lies were gone, and he couldn't protect himself from the truth.
Liar.
Cruel.
Jealous.
Petty.
Arrogant.
Coward.
Pathetic.
Greedy.
Hypocrite.
Weak.
Every word the absolute truth. Every word a gaping wound in his spirit. Kuwabara saw himself, and he hated everything he saw.
Just when Kuwabara thought he could bare no more, the images changed. It went through his life again, but this time they showed his every act of kindness. It showed all his moments of complete selflessness, when he'd helped people without any ulterior motives because it was right. It showed him his courageousness, the astonishing depths of his love and loyalty. It showed him every single person he'd saved through a word or deed he'd thought nothing of. It showed him people he'd helped simply by helping someone else.
Tears rolled down his face as he saw the great good he was capable of, the good he had performed and never really understood.
Strong.
Kind.
Gentle.
Empathetic.
Caring.
Protector.
Warrior.
Friend.
Loyal.
Giving.
Every word the absolute truth. Kuwabara saw himself, in the truest, most complete way there was, and he accepted who he truly was.
He was strong and weak. He was saint and sinner. He was kind and cruel. He was perfectly imperfect. He was human.
He was Kazuma Kuwabara.
The mirror and the void faded away, and Kuwabara found himself kneeling on the dirty floor of the dimly lit cave. The old man smiled at him and this time, it was a sincere smile. "So, you were strong enough to accept yourself for who you truly are without any deceptions. I am glad."
Kuwabara wiped the tears from his face and stood to his feet. "Now what?"
"That's up to you," the old man said, leaning back against the cave wall. "You may choose to show people the truth, or not, as you will. Some will be able to handle it. Some will not be able to function without the lies they've always told themselves. It is up to you to decide when to use this power, and to pass it on before you die. Whatever path you take, I wish you luck."
"Thank you," Kuwabara said.
The old man nodded. His eyes closed and the rise and fall of his chest stopped. His body turned into a fine, pale dust and disintegrated into a pile of the floor.
Kuwabara woke up with a gasp in his bed. Was that all real, or just a dream?
All the knowledge that he had gained from the images in the mirror was still there; it must have been true, though it may have only happened in his mind or on some spiritual plane. But it had happened, and now the truth was his.
The only thing Kuwabara wasn't sure of was what he was going to do with it.
AN: So, um, context for this. What I was thinking was, I don't even know. Seriously. I blame my muse for putting this scene in my head and not letting go until I wrote it down.
