A/N: In one of the reviews (as I was skimming through, melting at all the warm and nice comments!) Someone pointed out that there's not many fics to describe Akabane as 'human' despite what he is like. So…. I thought about it. And just to show I'm truly a lazy BUM, I'm writing this little short piece. Just for you Akabane fans : D
(In my opinion though, it was a weak oneshot…)
Rating: PG (little wee violence. But nothing detailed. Just mentioned.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Getbackers or anything of the sort. Come on its everywhere…
Pairings: None.
First person POV: Akabane
Getbackers
Human Behind the Demon
Noises….Flashes of light…
Human idiocy baffles me at times. The sky always lights up, the midnight only a deafening roar of bar activities. My hands itch at the feeling of touching a passerby, another person; someone quite unlike me in every way. My hat always lowers unless spoken to. My job…my life…my actions… They depend on others. To be a tool and be used as one. To do a job in which I succeed best in, regardless of legalization or not. And yet my mind continues to think like a human. To think about what I am, how I see myself as…
I see myself of something not of this world. I have yet to see someone like me. Not even dear Midou-kun is like me. A close second is the master of illusions, Kagami-kun, but he too, fails to be of significant duplicate of myself.
I sigh, always inwardly, never outright. Habits like my false smile, my eyes curving up. When in reality they shudder and hide behind the wall that blocks them off from a world I detest.
I detest what I can't understand. I shed no tears, know no happiness, and wallow on the streets day after day. Offered jobs on my endless walks until far into the night, when even I must rest and nap. The one thing I believe can truly relate to humans. I've been called a monster, a being that can kill mindlessly and have no shame or guilt. I've been called a demon. Enjoying the senseless slaughter and bathing in blood.
True to that. I deny none of it. Thus continuing my ways of gore and violence. Unable to get my share of pleasures like the average person. They have the entertainment of TV, driving, smoking, traveling, and hobbies of collecting and participating activities. I have my own ways of pleasure. But once…
Once I would like to understand human pleasures.
To engage in them. Take off these old worn gloves. Ignore the scalpels that slip and slide in my skin. My blood and lifeline veins. To run them along the surface of flesh without puncturing the skin and make it bleed. To enjoy something---and have something to smile about.
I stop on the streets. Not because of a red light. Not because of a stop sign. But because something motivates me to stop. My ears pick up the sounds of screaming and high-pitched wailing. Quickening my pace I take a shortcut through the alleyway on my path, hearing the voices grow higher and more frantic at an alarming rate.
Pinching my hat I raise it up, just enough to take a peek with my amethyst eyes at the scene. A woman cornered by three men, clutching a wailing baby and flanked on the side by a small child. The mother I would assume to be, hushed at the baby to cease the wails. Almost certain of what may befall her small family.
I watch like a shadow, like the reapers assistant as the men brutally butcher her. The baby drops against the hard cement and ceases breathing. A head injury fatal to it. The small child, shivers and shakes the motionless bleeding form of the shell, which was once alive and mobile. Crying and yelling her name over and over. Tears coursing down his face.
Through it all I turn a blind eye toward it. Unable to feel what they feel. Unable to offer sympathies, unable to express an emotion. The men, after snagging the object of choice, had run off with a small purse. Leaving their crime behind. I feel no ill to them, if I could I'd congratulate him. But they left one still alive behind…
Four scalpels sprouting from my skin, out of choice from the knuckles. I stride swiftly towards the helpless child. Feet falling but making no noise. No that I could be heard over the consistent wails and tears of the child. Once behind the small form he finally stopped, barely able to utter words between the gibberish syllables. "M-M-mister…you…help mommy! Please!"
The child looks at me like I'm a holy saint, reaching out to grab my jacket between his slim fingers , making it partially halfway before the scalpels impale his face. Another one slips through my other palm, silencing the vocal cords with a swift jab into the neck. And before long the body falls to the ground, endlessly bleeding. My hand doesn't move from its held position, the scalpels between my fingertips drip with innocent blood.
Its nighttime. The bars are singing and lights flashing. No one could care less at what goes on in the alley behind the buildings…
I sit down in the pool of blood, reaching up with a stained glove to remove my hat. Peeking up at the sky clouded over, hiding the moon from the naked eye. My amethyst eyes light up in a strange sense of glee, slipping off the gloves and placing my finger in the red puddle.
Curiously I raise it to eye level, tilting my head before letting my finger run along the brick wall closest to me. Beginning a painting.
I am a human behind the demon…My pleasures, my hobbies, can only be achieved through the death and killing.
I am a human behind the demon…I wish to be human.
I am a human behind the demon…
But a demon at heart.
A/N: That sucked so much words cannot describe it. R&R and tell me your thoughts on it though. I wasn't really paying attention. Rather weak oneshot but Akabane is very hard to get inside the mind. You –never- know hat he is thinking. But…this was a weak attempt. Still hope you enjoy it…