Title: Shikon; Dead Soul
By Kagaya Chou
Ratings: G
Genre: Mystery
Length: Ficlet. Prologue?
Tagline: The Serpent musing on the Snake Charmer...
Comments: This could be a prologue to something. In the middle of writing something else, this had to come out, so... I don't know yet.
Mood music: Figure,09, Linkin Park
Disclaimer: Masashi Kishimoto is the mangaka. Hayato Date is the director of the anime,
which was released by Studio Pierrot. No profit will be made out of this fan fiction. No
copyright infringement was intended. The only thing I own here is this piece of writing.
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Shikon; Dead Soul
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I wonder what goes through his head that makes his black eyes darken with dread, his silver brows crease with anger, or his velvet voice soften with care. I wonder if he ever means what he says, why he smiles when he's afraid, and how he survives by my side when I kill everyone, on rampage. I don't understand why he stays.
He's here night and day, seeing me at my weakest, attending to me quietly, or with intelligent conversation. Ever the voice of reason when my mind is about to break, even at the peak of my strength, he follows my orders, quick with careful consideration. The boy wants me to know that he's smart, wants my trust, but most importantly, he knows his place.
And I wouldn't deny that he's clever. He's so intuitive it sometimes scares me, and loyal to no fault; I have grounds to worry. If he should ever prove useless, traitorous, or just get in my way, I would grant him swift death without hesitation.
If he didn't want to die, no doubt, he would have prepared all his escapes. Such is my mercy, and my belief in his worth.
When my own limbs fail me, he willingly bleeds for me. He becomes my other two hands. When I scream in pain, my life swirling down the drain, I find that his offer, "use me", still stands.
And ironically, I know him as a survivor. Perhaps I don't really know him at all.
More than once, he's risked bringing harm unto others and himself. For my sake, his own, someone else's - I can't tell.
Although it wouldn't surprise me if he was sadomasochistic. Not simply, but pain-dealing, pain-seeking, all the same. He's like a pretty doll with a vacant smile, and inviting eyes meant to comfort, as though his intentions were entirely altruistic. We both know he only acts tame.
Or smug, or both at the same time. It's like he's dead inside, and there's nothing else but what I need... what I'd like him to be: outstanding, submissive, easy on the eyes. He would be perfect if his eyes turned red though, perfectly terrifying and everything to me.
But if that were the case, I would have to kill him. I would swallow what little he has left of his soul and take over the vessel that is his blood and flesh. And he would most likely let me; he'd want me to fill up the empty space. Pity, he was never what I sought - not that it matters.
I wonder what he thinks.