A/N: Hey, thanks for checking this out. I guess you could call this my initiation into the world of fan fiction. I didn't want to do something extremely lengthy for my first published piece, and when this came to my head, I knew it would work perfectly. It's a little rough around the edges, I'm sure, but I'm just now developing my creative writing skills (as said in my profile, I'm usually writing essays, research papers, speeches, etc…). Comments are welcome, especially constructive criticism (I would like to improve), but flames will be promptly ignored. So flamers, don't waste your time and energy. On to the fiction.
Standard disclaimer applies.
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Addiction of a Hitokiri
**
"This isn't the way I pictured me
I can't control my shakes
How the **** did I get here
Something about this so very wrong
I have to laugh out
I wish I didn't like this…"—wait and bleed, slipknot
**
The sound of steel slicing flesh, the screams of the victims. The stench of fear, and the
warm feel of splattered blood on my face. It's addicting. And haunting. It becomes a part of you that will never fade, no matter what sort of facade you put on. Don't let anyone tell you different.
It's not that you don't regret the lives you've taken--no, that's not it at all. The reality of the lives lost hits you after the deed is done, but before...before the job is finished, there is an odd satisfaction in having the power to control someone's fate. Holding the life of someone in your hand and having the ability to either have mercy or lower judgment blinds you to the consequences of your choice. You don't think about the possibility of the victim having family and friends awaiting his return. You don't think about the devastation they will feel when they find that their loved one is forever gone. You only think about the power which you hold, the power to give or take life
...and you're consumed.
You're consumed with this feeling of anticipation--the anticipation of what you are about to do. Suddenly, all the motives (however pure and well-meaning they are) are forgotten.
All that's left is you, your victim, and the anticipation. Time freezes in that moment and burns a memory in your head that will never fade. Then, the adrenaline takes over and you shove the blade through your victim. One last burst of excitement registers within you, and then...
Then...
Guilt. Horrible, mercilessly taunting guilt. It tears into your soul, laves at the wounds on your heart, and floods your system so fully that all you want is release--to take your own life. But your motives come back to you, and you try to convince yourself that the ends justify the means. Giving into your logic, you search for your next victim and the accompanying high, only to be sobered once again as the guilt takes over.
This vicious cycle becomes repetitious, but with each passing round, the extreme of the excitement and the sharpness of the guilt pains begin to dull as your soul grows callous to the experience. Soon, you have become numb to emotion and continue in your duty only due to the logistics that remain--the logistics of your motive and the outcome you had once been so passionate about achieving. More time passes, and even your motives become foggy. The only reason men continue to fall by your blade is because you've been ordered to kill them.
Congratulations. You've earned the title of hitokiri. Rather pathetic, really--you don't have the emotional capacity to enjoy your achievement, though I doubt you'd really want to (unless you're a really sick freak).
Don't give up hope just yet. Change is possible. Retrieving your humanity is a realistic goal. After all, I did. Sure, it took a little over ten years of agonizing over my sins before I allowed myself to settle back into society and attempt to live as a normal swordsman, but it happened. I've settled down, for now, and my emotional capacity has returned.
One thing, though. Don't get too idealistic. The consequences of your deeds are still there. Those demons are impossible to destroy. They'll follow you the rest of your days in many forms, whether they be old rivals wanting revenge, maniacs simply wanting to have the chance to defeat you, or nightmares plaguing your thoughts and sleep.
Those around you will say that your past has been laid to rest and you shouldn't worry. Just smile, nod, and agree. They won't really understand when you try to explain to them the flashes of remembrance-those flashes where you see a terrified face of a victim, where you hear the final shriek of a dying man, where you feel the warm blood dripping down your face, where you suddenly get an urge to plunge your blade through human flesh just one more time...
What? You look surprised that I said that. I told you that it was addicting, that sensation of steel against meat, that power of holding a life in your hands. You'll wrestle with that urge until the day you die. You can win; I'm living proof. If you have the discipline and willpower, you can stand up to that demon. If worst comes to worst, you can always go out with that sensation.
And yes, I'm talking suicide.
You might think me crazy, but it's better for a bloodstained hitokiri to die than an innocent person just trying to make his way through life. At least you'd get to feel that wonderful sensation one last time before made your way to see Hades. Of course, I hope it should never come to such. I find that if I remember those I love around me and the pain that they would feel should I die, I can control my occasional urges, and each time I defeat the overwhelming desire, I gain more strength with which to win the next round.
It's a difficult life to live, the life of a hitokiri. Even if you turn from those murderous ways, it will remain part of your nature until your last breath. Becoming a hitokiri is not merely attaining a position from which to fight during a war; it is completely changing yourself from human to a whole different being...an emotionless being that is essential to winning battles. Once you have transformed into that being, you can never truly turn back. But you can certainly try, and whereas the human you change back to may sometimes be forced to fake kindness while struggling with an internal demon, at least the effort is there. Who knows? If you're lucky, you might get amnesia and forget about that part of your past so that you can live as a normal swordsman, without constant temptations presenting themselves. Just don't count on it-that's rather unrealistic.
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Now I know you want to press that lil' button down
there and leave a review! Please?
--whisperingdreams
