Poetic Justice
Dedicated to Mr. Shishio, who is actually not a Mr...but we won't spoil her fun.
Warnings:
1) Probably confusing.
2) Only the prologue to a longer fic.
3) First person POV, using a "character" that has little relevance to the story itself.
Genre: i suppose it's a little mystery this chapter, though afterwards it would be drama...i think?
Author's notes: By all appearances, it looks like Youko Kurama had four tails. i don't know where i got the idea, but i had previously been under the delusion that he has seven. Where did that come from? i must be going stupid...
"I was a son who loved his mother." - quote taken from the translated, American-sold manga
This is only the first chapter to a fic i will post in the future under the title "Poetic Justice." You're not going to get the next chapter, so if i intrigue you, pester me relentlessly to finish the damn fic. Thank you.
Sheerly for the fact that I'm not here, but I am, I can't elaborate on what I am. I cannot elaborate on who I am, because there is no what that I am. And, to be a scoundrel about it all, I'm not going to tell you why I'm here either. But, of course, I'm not here. I already told you that. So, tell me, what could I possibly be that is here, but not here, is a something that couldn't possibly be, and have not a purpose of being but still exists? I'd tell you, but what fun would that be? That is my riddle that I beg of you to answer before my tale is done.
Ah, but I told you I'm not saying why I'm here. No, telling this tale is not why I'm here. This yarn is merely a formality, a hope that you will be enlightened in a sense to enable you to know what I am. Perhaps you will, perhaps you won't. Who am I to tell, especially when I have no identity? I am a faceless name, a word with no meaning, a thought without elaboration, an ever-changing creation that always remains the same. I am incomplete, but very whole. A contradiction, you say? I'm one of those as well. How could I not be? You are as well, because you are human, and demon, and animal, and plant. You are matter, so you are inherently a contradiction in and of yourself. But that's the fun of things, isn't it? To have a variety of resources and tastes, to be able to see through several eyes and understand at least two points of view. And you can't not understand at least two, otherwise you would be one-dimensional, which I am positive that you are not.
However, I am not here to discuss your shortcomings or your advantages, your being, if I may be permitted the use of such a broad term. I have digressed, because I am to tell a tale, to spin a yarn, to convey the knowledge of a peculiar event to you. And this particular event centers around a very infamous four-tailed fox spirit and his human form. Youko Kurama and Minamino Shuichi. Of course, both of them go by the familiar name "Kurama," if I'm not mistaken, which I know I'm not. Don't call me conceited until I prove myself to be, as we've only begun.
For those unfamiliar with his tale, Kurama was a fox in his first life, left to his own devices at a young age and quickly taking to the art of thievery during the centuries that he was excessively bored. Yes, bored. He did this for fun, the little rascal. I use the term loosely, as mischievous is often belied as malicious, and vice versa. As, on normal circumstances, a rascal is mischievous and really intends no harm on whoever the trick is played upon—should there be merely a game and nothing wholeheartedly malignant—this four-tailed fox had a habit of forcing his toys to insanity and laughing about it. He was not much of a fair player, really. And this, his trade, was merely a way to pass the time between his playmates and twisted games.
"What kind of games?" you must surely be asking. Why, I should hate to give away that kind of detail so early in this telling. I don't hate to, but I still won't say. As I already told you, I'm a bit of a scoundrel. Although, "wicked" does seem to understate it a tad.
This fox, the protagonist of our tale—as well as the antagonist, but I won't tell if you won't—made his living as a thief, as previously noted. He slipped on a tree root one too many times, despite it being the first time done, and caught himself at the wrong end of a bounty hunter's rifle. He had a magnificent run, but fate has a way of paying back double what is owed to her. Thievery has its price to pay, you know.
But—here's the part where you gasp—this fox did not succumb to fate! Oh, how aghast fate must have been at such a turn of events. He dashed away from the body that was so nimble, so beautiful, and ran for the human realm. He sank deep into the womb of a human and felt his fox limbs disappear into the tiny embryo of a growing human, pushing away potential souls from having the home they deserved for coming into existence. He'd had his chance and he'd blown it, they exclaimed. He'd died and deserved such a fate. But did this fox listen? Oh, no. He was safely tucked into the womb of a woman that would sacrifice her blood for his. How unfitting that—this coward of a soul, this thief and murderer, this creature so easily detested for acts unthinkable in the human realm—this fox would find a womb within a mother that would care for him so lovingly.
Now, follow closely. We have a murderer and a thief, a fox spirit. Stripped of his tails and bore furless before the towering numbers of human witnesses, he faced the human world, his human mother at constant watch, not because she feared his behavior, but because she feared that harm would come to him. He was a cold-hearted, ruthless, cunning demon in innocent, kind, intelligent human form.
Make much sense? Didn't think so.
However, as the years blew by in a wave of schoolwork, friends, acquaintances, enemies, attacks, motherly love, random demons, and all that he would have had to contend with to earn his place in this human society and avoid getting killed to boot, this fox found love. Please, do avoid jumping to conclusions. I'm not talking about romance love, or puppy love, but a family. That love. If I recall correctly, which I most certainly do, his words to a friend were, "I was a son who loved his mother."
Ah, the plot thickens, yes? Shall we do a few semi-mathematical calculations? Murdering, thieving, diabolical fox spirit turned human (plus) loving human mother that would shed her blood to save his (plus) living a decent life with proper morals (equals) humane fox thief with a sense of judicial actions, plots, thoughts, etcetera.
However, there's something definitely missing from these calculations, if I'm not mistaken. Again, I'm not. Where in there does it claim the fox had compensated for his wrongs in his previous life? Where does it say he learned his lesson? If you point to the "etcetera," I will laugh at you. That in no way means he got retribution.
Ah, but the end has yet to come. He encounters not just a fire demon infamous in the demon realm as he himself had been before death, but he meets with—who else?—the spirit detective of the time! This brings about too many odd occurrences to count, including his being dragged into missions for the spirit world and not one, but two tournaments that he could very well have met his end with. Yes, he entered the second by choice, but that's beside the point, isn't it? Yes, it is.
With these happenings taken into consideration, we're going to say they balance each other out. In previous years of his human life, he did nothing to tip the scale either for or against him. This translates to this: he hasn't been a thorn in anyone's side, but he hasn't taken it upon himself to earn redemption either. So, in the face of his crimes—theft, murder, and all that he'd become an expert at doing in his previous life—added to those things done to atone for that—work for the spirit realm, being a decent influence on others that severely needed it, working for the betterment of human kind as a whole—he'd remained about even throughout the next few years.
Again, no sign of atonement in sight. No punishment for the silver, four-tailed fox. Sad, isn't it? All because fate has a tendency to be increasingly vicious the longer she has to wait for payment. Humans call her karma, and they call her fate. They call her fortune, and they call her destiny. Really, it's all overrated, because one sentence sums up all her qualities and characteristics. Fate is, in a word, a bitch.
So, with that cleared up, I should move on to the tale itself, as I'm sure you're all about fed up with my sauntering down memory lane. Please, bear in mind what all I've told you. Keep with you the knowledge that his previous life and his current form were so completely opposites that it's hardly possible that they could be the same mind, albeit true. Because two personalities are sure to collide. And the fox will get his retribution.
Please, follow me. I'm sure it would be much simpler if you did so, as these forests of the mind are often akin to a maze. Wouldn't want you to get confused, now would I?
Thanks: HalfMetal Homunculus (Mana), miyako14, and Nyte Kit.
What do you think? Have i piqued anyone's interest? (Poke and prod at me to finish the fic, if i have.)
12:00 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time. U.S. Wednesday, September 21, 2005.
Owakare.
Chiisai Mu.
Little Nothing.