This poem thingy is something I wrote as an addition to the second chapter of my story "More Than friends" though it can't be read on its own.
I like writing short things, though it might not be exactly poetry, I kinda like these deep dive into the mind kind of things. I made one of Elder Toguro called "The price of immortality", check it out if you haven't yet.
Enjoy the read!
If I Hadn't Died
Beaten, bruised, bleeding and broken is how he usually saw his friends. There was a time when he would enjoy that feeling, the thrill of a fight, how a bruise indicated a victory or a wise lesson for the future.
He didn't think of the future when he lit that cigarette on the school's rooftop, he didn't think of the future when he flipped the bird to his teachers, running out the school gates as if death was on his heels.
He didn't think of death when he confronted Gouki multiple times.
He didn't think of death when he joined Kurama on the rooftop of that hospital, offering his own life for the then still stranger.
He didn't think of death when he fought Hiei.
He didn't think of death when he entered Genkai's tournament for a new pupil.
He didn't think of death when he faced toguro for the first time.
He didn't think of death when he entered Genkai's training program.
He didn't think of death when forced to compete in the dark tournament..
And then Genkai died. No, she did just die. She was murdered by the thing he had faced before, life taken away by the person she had loved with every cell in her aging body.
He thought about death when he was defeated by Yomi in the Demon tournament.
Thought about death when he saw his two friends fight, the other building his own life in the human world.
He thought about death when Toguro seemingly punctured Kuwabara's heart.
He thought about death when Kurama fell, his final attack manifested with his life energy.
He thought about death when Genkai returned.
They should've been dead.
He thought about death when he himself actually died.
Restless nights were for contemplating, thinking about his life, where he was going and who he was dragging down with him. He didn't want to drag anyone down, yet he was. It's all because he died. He had seen the pain in their eyes, blades cutting through skin, bombs blasting through tissue. He had stood by helplessly as they fought for both his life and their own, they fought for family, for love, for pride.
He wished he never died.
None would have to suffer, not for his death, not for the loss of a teacher, not for the fear and threat of death which shook the core of every human, demon and whatever was in between with each match inside that concrete ring. Blood would not have to spill, the blood of his friends would not have to run through the gutters between the concrete tiles. No more broken bones, no more bruises and cuts.
Were he not to die that day, that useless death to save a child with whom he had no connection nor would ever have one in the first place. To almost sacrifice the ones who are dear to him. For they stood brave, enduring the flames, protected his body and secured his mind. To throw away his only chance for life to save others, not once did he hesitate.
He never hesitated. When losing his first life he started to appreciate life itself. Meeting the fox, he realized the importance of life, how one life can be so much different from the other yet work in harmony. He realized how much impact one life could have on another.
A rehabilitated thug, a tamed dragon and a reincarnated spirit. Their lives changed when he died. If it was for the better? He would never know.
Were he not to die that day, he would've never met most of them.
He would've never gotten this close to who he considered annoying and arrogant.
He would've never gotten to give freedom back to the innocent
He would've never gotten to save the life which had changed another.
He would've never met his friends.
He would've never learned to live.
Somehow.
He didn't regret dying.
If he'd be thrown to the past to redo life;
He'd do it all over again.