Hi. Can you see me? I hope you can. You know I don't appear too often.
Actually, I hardly appear. Ever.
But this is my chance. My chance to tell you everything. Why I was hidden, why I needed to be hidden. Oh, of course, this won't take long. I only have a short time. Yes, a very short time. So let's get on it, shall we?
My life has never been good. Ever since I was born, till the day I died, my life has never been one would expect from a person like me. Well, when you look at me with a first careless glance anyway.
And then you'll look twice to make sure if my violet eyes are really violet.
Yes, I have violet eyes. And they are what have condemned me for most of my life. Actually, for ALL of my life.
I remember it all. Every single memory. I guess being dead does have its ups and downs. I'm not sure if this is considered as an up or a down. Even when I'm dead, I remember every single aspect of my past life. As I spend more and more time as a Shinogami, I remember more and more.
I remember the tease, the rocks thrown at me, the pain as they scratch me. I remember the branches that are used to poke at me, as if I am only a piece of garbage left at the sidewalk. I remember every bit of pain I went through, every insult thrown at me, everything I have ever felt, I remember.
They are in my nightmares, you know. They faces are blurred, swirling around me as I run from them, screaming and crying and sobbing, with no one to comfort me and to simply hold me in their arms. I don't think anyone understands.
Or if they even bother too.
I mean, how many adults saw me being hit? How many grown-ups, how many wise old people, saw me being condemned for how I was born right in the middle of the street, and did nothing? How would they feel if their own children were being cursed in such a way?
This all seems very childish, doesn't it? I'm twenty-six physically, but at least over seventy mentally. You would think that I shouldn't be lingering in the past, shouldn't be thinking of such things. All logical and reasonable adults would say, "look to the future".
But you have to think, back when I was a child, did I even think I had a future? If I had to go through all that condemnation again in the future, I'd rather die. I really would've.
No matter what age you are, you still remember. Memories, for me, are torturous. They're as vivid as dreams, but they are not worse then dreams. I can play them whenever I want, which is not often. Dreams come whenever they want. Only when Kazutaka Muraki is having his way with me, do memories replay. That, by the way, is the only time I truly appear.
And I don't want to appear. If I were given a choice, I would rather let my other selves take over, and just let myself rest in peace. Either way, it's torturous. When I appear, I am blank and unemotional, or I am raving on and on about nothing, screaming incoherently with wide eyes filled with crazed insanity. When I am alone, deep in my shell, I see things again and again and again. I can stop them, but I am tired. I'm so tired.
Eventually, I was taken to the hospital. I don't know when, I don't even know how old I was, but I was taken to the hospital. And there I had lain, wide-awake, screaming in my mind and hearing those voices over and over again. There are miraculous times where I can see through those cruel words and the beatings that are replayed in my mind, and I can talk, I can see and listen, I can move. But I cannot smile.
And soon after, I would fall into that world again, and be tortured. I don't how long I would be tortured, I just don't know.
Eventually, all this took place in the time of eight years. According to Kazutaka Muraki (I never want to accord anything to him again, and this is the only time I am doing so), I have lain awake without sleep for eight years, tittering between insanity and sanity, consciousness and unconsciousness. And I never aged.
So I think I was taken to the hospital when I was twenty-six. It makes sense, doesn't it? I never aged in the hospital, and I died at the hospital, so I should be in the age I am now, in the world of the dead, twenty-six.
Don't ask me how I remember being on the brink of insanity, because most others wouldn't. But for some reason, I do. It's not a pleasant situation to be in, going insane. You just see everything in a jumbled picture of sorts. And you're just trying to go through them, one by one. And when you can't, when you realize you're trapped, you just let out this animalistic screech of frustration, and then go back to your work again, sorting out the images.
You see, that's what happened to me. Everyone heard my screams, my wails, and thought I was just going crazy, or mentally disabled, but I wasn't. I knew I was at the hospital, I knew I wasn't eating, drinking, or sleeping. I was aware of that, but I couldn't get out of those images. Only a few moments, as I have said before, did I manage to get out. And then I realize it's not that big of an accomplishment.
Picture this. Having to go through millions and millions of memories, and suddenly snapping out of it. And you see the white ceiling of the hospital, feel the material of the cotton blanket and the material of your own nightgown; smell the musky smell of death and misery of the room. And that's for just one split second. One split second, I felt everything.
And a second later, I was right back to where I was.
And I remember. Oh, I remember so vividly in my mind all the senses I felt for a split second. But what sort of accomplishment was that? Just to get out of the memories for a second? Not very long, is it? Yes, I know, that's how I felt, and that's what I realized.
But then.I died. I simply went offline, shut down, and my body went limb. I went magnificently calm, relaxed, and suddenly, I was out of my body. In an instant, I stood in front of Enma-Daioh, Lord of the Dead. And I became Shinogami, the God of Death.
These past seventy years working in EnmaCho, Shokan division, have been wonderful. I have made friends; my inner selves made themselves known (as you will hear from later on) and met this dear boy who seems to have as many problems as I. Kurosaki Hisoka.
Hisoka is my partner, a new Shinogami. He's special. He's stubborn, and gets angry easily. He's always exasperated at me, and often snubs me for no reason at all. But he's fun to be around. Really, he is.
But then.I met Kazutaka Muraki. And at the end, the very end, he told me. I was a demon. I was born of demon blood, and my eyes are the living proof. I instantly appeared, my other selves fleeing, who could not take that truth. I became alone; I no longer felt the other presences. And as I mentioned before, (remember?) I went insane. Sometimes I was blank, others I was simply raving mad. And I remember every second of it.
At the end, I sought to destroy myself. To destroy myself with Touda's Hell Fire. He listened to my command, as all Shikigami should. He respected my decision. I finally felt calm. But - my other inner selves did not. They screamed and pleaded to be let out, they didn't want to be destroyed. I told then this is the only choice I can make, to finally free myself from my sins. As you should know, a Shinogami's job is to kill. I have killed too many. I am no different to the kids that have condemned me in my earlier life.
But then - Hisoka! He, knowing he can be killed as well, saved me. He jumped over the fire and landed beside me and gathered me into his arms. He kept saying, "Don't leave me. Live for me. Live for me".
I refused, though. He didn't understand. My pain, my torture. I tried to explain, but no sounds came from my throat. He kept mumbling, "Live for me. Don't ever leave me. I need you".
And finally, I fainted. Darkness consumed me.
And then I woke up, realizing one of the other Shinogami, Tatsumi, saved me with his shadow warriors, encasing us and keeping us safe from the fire.
I can't say I'm grateful, but I am glad. There are ones who care for me. I never doubted them, but perhaps I really just needed to see. With my own eyes.
Oh. I have spoke too long. I apologize, it seems the other inner selves want to speak after all. They are different then me, much more different.
But don't worry, if you enjoyed my company, you'll surly enjoy theirs.
They have their own story and point of view to tell. But for now, I must go. I'm glad you came to visit me and to hear me out. Thank you again.
Oh, you must be on your way. Well, go right ahead. The next inner self will introduce them self to you and begin the story.
Oh, have I told you who I am? I am Asato Tsuzuki, his Inner Truth.
But this is my chance. My chance to tell you everything. Why I was hidden, why I needed to be hidden. Oh, of course, this won't take long. I only have a short time. Yes, a very short time. So let's get on it, shall we?
My life has never been good. Ever since I was born, till the day I died, my life has never been one would expect from a person like me. Well, when you look at me with a first careless glance anyway.
And then you'll look twice to make sure if my violet eyes are really violet.
Yes, I have violet eyes. And they are what have condemned me for most of my life. Actually, for ALL of my life.
I remember it all. Every single memory. I guess being dead does have its ups and downs. I'm not sure if this is considered as an up or a down. Even when I'm dead, I remember every single aspect of my past life. As I spend more and more time as a Shinogami, I remember more and more.
I remember the tease, the rocks thrown at me, the pain as they scratch me. I remember the branches that are used to poke at me, as if I am only a piece of garbage left at the sidewalk. I remember every bit of pain I went through, every insult thrown at me, everything I have ever felt, I remember.
They are in my nightmares, you know. They faces are blurred, swirling around me as I run from them, screaming and crying and sobbing, with no one to comfort me and to simply hold me in their arms. I don't think anyone understands.
Or if they even bother too.
I mean, how many adults saw me being hit? How many grown-ups, how many wise old people, saw me being condemned for how I was born right in the middle of the street, and did nothing? How would they feel if their own children were being cursed in such a way?
This all seems very childish, doesn't it? I'm twenty-six physically, but at least over seventy mentally. You would think that I shouldn't be lingering in the past, shouldn't be thinking of such things. All logical and reasonable adults would say, "look to the future".
But you have to think, back when I was a child, did I even think I had a future? If I had to go through all that condemnation again in the future, I'd rather die. I really would've.
No matter what age you are, you still remember. Memories, for me, are torturous. They're as vivid as dreams, but they are not worse then dreams. I can play them whenever I want, which is not often. Dreams come whenever they want. Only when Kazutaka Muraki is having his way with me, do memories replay. That, by the way, is the only time I truly appear.
And I don't want to appear. If I were given a choice, I would rather let my other selves take over, and just let myself rest in peace. Either way, it's torturous. When I appear, I am blank and unemotional, or I am raving on and on about nothing, screaming incoherently with wide eyes filled with crazed insanity. When I am alone, deep in my shell, I see things again and again and again. I can stop them, but I am tired. I'm so tired.
Eventually, I was taken to the hospital. I don't know when, I don't even know how old I was, but I was taken to the hospital. And there I had lain, wide-awake, screaming in my mind and hearing those voices over and over again. There are miraculous times where I can see through those cruel words and the beatings that are replayed in my mind, and I can talk, I can see and listen, I can move. But I cannot smile.
And soon after, I would fall into that world again, and be tortured. I don't how long I would be tortured, I just don't know.
Eventually, all this took place in the time of eight years. According to Kazutaka Muraki (I never want to accord anything to him again, and this is the only time I am doing so), I have lain awake without sleep for eight years, tittering between insanity and sanity, consciousness and unconsciousness. And I never aged.
So I think I was taken to the hospital when I was twenty-six. It makes sense, doesn't it? I never aged in the hospital, and I died at the hospital, so I should be in the age I am now, in the world of the dead, twenty-six.
Don't ask me how I remember being on the brink of insanity, because most others wouldn't. But for some reason, I do. It's not a pleasant situation to be in, going insane. You just see everything in a jumbled picture of sorts. And you're just trying to go through them, one by one. And when you can't, when you realize you're trapped, you just let out this animalistic screech of frustration, and then go back to your work again, sorting out the images.
You see, that's what happened to me. Everyone heard my screams, my wails, and thought I was just going crazy, or mentally disabled, but I wasn't. I knew I was at the hospital, I knew I wasn't eating, drinking, or sleeping. I was aware of that, but I couldn't get out of those images. Only a few moments, as I have said before, did I manage to get out. And then I realize it's not that big of an accomplishment.
Picture this. Having to go through millions and millions of memories, and suddenly snapping out of it. And you see the white ceiling of the hospital, feel the material of the cotton blanket and the material of your own nightgown; smell the musky smell of death and misery of the room. And that's for just one split second. One split second, I felt everything.
And a second later, I was right back to where I was.
And I remember. Oh, I remember so vividly in my mind all the senses I felt for a split second. But what sort of accomplishment was that? Just to get out of the memories for a second? Not very long, is it? Yes, I know, that's how I felt, and that's what I realized.
But then.I died. I simply went offline, shut down, and my body went limb. I went magnificently calm, relaxed, and suddenly, I was out of my body. In an instant, I stood in front of Enma-Daioh, Lord of the Dead. And I became Shinogami, the God of Death.
These past seventy years working in EnmaCho, Shokan division, have been wonderful. I have made friends; my inner selves made themselves known (as you will hear from later on) and met this dear boy who seems to have as many problems as I. Kurosaki Hisoka.
Hisoka is my partner, a new Shinogami. He's special. He's stubborn, and gets angry easily. He's always exasperated at me, and often snubs me for no reason at all. But he's fun to be around. Really, he is.
But then.I met Kazutaka Muraki. And at the end, the very end, he told me. I was a demon. I was born of demon blood, and my eyes are the living proof. I instantly appeared, my other selves fleeing, who could not take that truth. I became alone; I no longer felt the other presences. And as I mentioned before, (remember?) I went insane. Sometimes I was blank, others I was simply raving mad. And I remember every second of it.
At the end, I sought to destroy myself. To destroy myself with Touda's Hell Fire. He listened to my command, as all Shikigami should. He respected my decision. I finally felt calm. But - my other inner selves did not. They screamed and pleaded to be let out, they didn't want to be destroyed. I told then this is the only choice I can make, to finally free myself from my sins. As you should know, a Shinogami's job is to kill. I have killed too many. I am no different to the kids that have condemned me in my earlier life.
But then - Hisoka! He, knowing he can be killed as well, saved me. He jumped over the fire and landed beside me and gathered me into his arms. He kept saying, "Don't leave me. Live for me. Live for me".
I refused, though. He didn't understand. My pain, my torture. I tried to explain, but no sounds came from my throat. He kept mumbling, "Live for me. Don't ever leave me. I need you".
And finally, I fainted. Darkness consumed me.
And then I woke up, realizing one of the other Shinogami, Tatsumi, saved me with his shadow warriors, encasing us and keeping us safe from the fire.
I can't say I'm grateful, but I am glad. There are ones who care for me. I never doubted them, but perhaps I really just needed to see. With my own eyes.
Oh. I have spoke too long. I apologize, it seems the other inner selves want to speak after all. They are different then me, much more different.
But don't worry, if you enjoyed my company, you'll surly enjoy theirs.
They have their own story and point of view to tell. But for now, I must go. I'm glad you came to visit me and to hear me out. Thank you again.
Oh, you must be on your way. Well, go right ahead. The next inner self will introduce them self to you and begin the story.
Oh, have I told you who I am? I am Asato Tsuzuki, his Inner Truth.
