Gomenasai! Took me long enough to post the Chapter. *sigh* School's been busy lately...Maa ne, tanoshikatta!

Gintama is owned by the one and only Hideaki Sorachi-sensei, and Nurarihyon no Mago by Hiroshi Shibashii-sensei.

CHAPTER XI: ONCE AGAIN, AN ENCOUNTER.

Sunday.

Morning.

The sun was scorching hot.

All I remember was running as fast as I could on that day.

I never really liked the sun. Could you ever bring yourself to stare at it for a long time? I mean—sure—it looks dazzling when it sets down, but the mixtures of red, orange, and yellow hues makes me feel hot enough. I never really liked warmth.

That's why when it rains, I feel happy just by getting myself wet. Am I weird?

But when night falls, I realize that there is something I even love more than the rain.

And it's the moon.

Whenever I get the chance to sneak out of my cupboard-size room, I always make it a point to climb the sakura tree near our house. From there, I would happily sit over the sturdiest branch, and that's where I get to see the full view of this silver orb.

Nothing is more beautiful than the moon.

I stopped on my tracks, wiping the grease that's been making my pale face itchy. The other children looked at me with scrutiny. I just lost my way, and here I am, roaming like a floating piece of trash over the waters of these children, who had been looking at me like I was some sort of an eyesore. Some girl whispered to another girl next to her. They then giggled. At that instant, I knew they were talking about my ragged clothes. Not that I can do something about it. But hey, can I not do something about these people?

But I chose not to speak. It's better that way.

Because when you fight back, it all gets worse.

Being an ordinary existence—unnoticed, insignificant—it was better this way.

I was born, I exist, and I will die as a human. That's all there is to it. Still, I am thankful to this mind of mine. It is the only place where I get to hit these judging people with all my might. I imagine that I was able to slap that plump cheek. That I was able to punch that kid's jaw. That I was able to pull that girl's hair.

Kusou. Why does it feel painful to be ordinary?

Why does it hurt being a human?

I wanted to at least get my revenge.

I wanted to fight back.

I wanted to tell the world that I existed.

And that I had the power to change lives.

That was when they surrounded me. I did not notice that I had been staring back at them for a few minutes. Apparently, my emotions got the better of me. What else was there to expect? Should I still go into the details? About how they asked me what the hell does a beggar like me doing in some children's playground. About some boy pushing me for not answering. About some girl pulling my hair for not looking at them.

About how they encircled me.

Hurt me.

And me not fighting back.

I go home with these bruises. It was not my habit to cry. I do not know why. Maybe I was a masochist. An exceptional masochist. Come to think of it, I would have not got into this age had it not been for my ability to withstand all these pain.

I was only seven. Seven years, and already a masochist.

I wonder if I'll die young. That would be much, much better.

So I hate those people who desperately cling to all hopes just to live longer. Especially if they're worthless.

I go inside my thatched room, and there I throw myself to the corner of the wall. I crossed my knees, and there I sink my head. I just stayed like that…maybe for an hour. Without speaking. Without moving.

But I was not crying. Now that I realized, the only time I cries perhaps was when the day I came out of my mother's womb. After all, all babies cry the moment they come out to see the world right? If I did not, congratulations to me. At least I carried an extraordinary trait. I should be proud of it.

Now friends. I have never heard of that term had it not been for the fact that a girl laughed at me for not having friends. Stupid girl. Like the hell I care for having a bunch of people who'll only stick with you for something.

Family.

I knew that concept.

But I never felt it.

The next moment, I hear the loud bang of the door and the sound of crashing bottles. Not that I was afraid. Not that I was bothered—wait. I was actually annoyed. Annoyed that this happens again. Again and again. Again and again.

Annoyed that my life revolves around this cycles. And it's having no direction at all.

I might as well be a rock. Wait, am I not one? I get tossed around, get ignored, and even though I've wanted so much to vanish there I was, floating into this disgusting river of life. I exist, and with that I don't know when I will just disappear. Perhaps pain wanted me this much. It was here to stay inside myself.

The old man shouts, asks where the food was, then kicks the table. I grumpily stand and go to where the real deal demon is—well, yeah, he's a human. But I doubt demons can be these bastards. Wait. Yes demons are bastards. They make fun if people. But they were meant to be that way. Humans are not.

I got yelled at again, but I kept my mouth shut. If I talk back I'd get pain the slow way. Not the swift death I've always wanted.

And then I hear insulting words. The usual ones. About how I was a useless daughter. About how it was a fault I was born. About I might as well have died the moment I was born.

Well I've got news for you, otoosan. Yes. I've always wished I was never born.

And so the old man goes on and on about his rants, how he lost into a fight with our neighbor, about how it was the worst day of his life.

The next thing he asks is money.

But that moment, I was not thinking of the answer. I was thinking, why the hell do I not jut commit that deed? If I really wanted to die that much, would it not be the best and last resort?

Suicide. Yeah. I think that would be the way to escape from this hell.

The old man slaps me for not answering.

Come to think of it, I think there was a rope in the backyard. It was pretty long, good enough to hug your neck.

He punches me this time. This time, I felt hot red liquid flow from the edge of my lips.

Yeah. I think I'll do that. I do not even care what they do with my corpse. I'd gladly welcome the second life. Or if there was none, fine with it also. I do not even care.

In the first place, why would I care about these things when the world doesn't even give a damn about me?

I leaned against the wall for support. I probably remained that way pretty long. There was that hellish pain. But no tears.

The old man grunts, and spits to the floor I just cleaned up a while ago.

I smile at myself. And I found it funny that I was feeling pretty excited. For the first time, I was going to do something not those brats at the playground will be able to do in their lives.

Because I will be brave enough to face death. And sooner I'll say hello to him or her.

Walking with a bit of limp, I carefully walk outside and go to that place. It was technically a storehouse, where all sorts of things could be found. How all these things gathered in that place I had no idea. Maybe it was the old man who collected them, but well, I sometimes go there to sleep. I like it better there. Even though it was freezing cold, at least I don't make myself sleep inside—with a demon also inside.

I throw myself to my knees out of the heavy feeling my body had been carrying. Still, pain will not stop me from looking for that heavenly rope. It did not take long for me to find. There it was, lying like it had been waiting for me all these years. I take it like some sort of weapon I was going to use later for some battle.

But then, a thought struck me. If I was going to die anyway, why not die in a beautiful way? I found myself stifling a laugh. It somehow surprised me how vanity could still linger in these bitter thoughts of mine. Oh well, can I just give myself some dignity?

Tonight. At the prime brilliance of the moon. I will grant my wish. Is it not perfect? I have always loved that black blanket. And that silent silvery orb in the sky. And this silence called death.

Night falls. I could hear the cicadas loudly as I made my way outside. I was looking for some tree. A high one if possible. I guess my tree climbing skills would be finally be put to its best use apart from stealing the fruits of our neighbor's trees for the satisfaction of some bunch of some bullies. I do not remember how long I walked, but then I found myself inside that playground again.

I have never really taken notice of this before, but inside this playground stood a huge sakura tree. I gazed at it, fascinated at how the color pink could be that beautiful. Sakura blossoms bloomed proudly at every branch. Momentarily, I forgot my purpose as I stared long at the tree.

That was when I saw the view of that silvery orb between the branches.

I remembered my purposed.

I climbed the tree, looking for the sturdiest branch, because it would definitely suck if I tie the rope into some fragile branch, only to make myself an idiot who's trying to make a beautiful death. At least with this one last moment of my life, I have to be successful. Just as how I wanted to get some dignity, I wanted success.

I found one, and running and poking my pale hands against it, I was assured that this branch would not fail me. It was as if this branch will be my accomplice in this gallant mission. And so I had to trust it, like a comrade. For the first time, I had a friend to rely on.

Tying the rope with all tightness around it, I then take its end and tie it around my neck. I gave one final gaze at the moon. I took one last breath deeply.

I stood up.

Here I go, Death.

I jumped.

And after several seconds, I found myself staring at the sight of the playground I hated. I touched myself. It felt so solid. Conclusion: I'm not yet a spirit. I breathed in. Conclusion: Wait, what the hell. I look back, gazed up, and saw that clean cut that had been made with the rope. Conclusion: I was not dead, and I just failed.

I gazed up to find some boy sitting over that sturdy branch I had entrusted my life with, who oddly bore white hair. His eyes were very much like the color or the red liquid that gushed out from my lips earlier. And he was just staring at me, a sword in his hand. Unlike his eyes, this sword had a much gentle hue. It had the color of the sakura blossoms that adorned the tree.

"Gaki, do you really hate your life that much?"

He then easily jumped from the height where he was. He must have had an extreme light body. He looked somewhat funny as he held that huge sword in such a cool way.

"So yeah. I cut it."

I wanted to be angry, yet I could only stare at him.

"Ah, this must be rude. I'll introduce myself. Nura Ritsuki desu." He grinned, and that was when I noticed his fanged teeth. He then took my hand and shook it. "Anata wa?"

"R-Reiya…Reiya desu." I found myself answering.

"Oho! Sono namae wa kakkoii." He smiled and let go of my hand.

"Why did you stop me?"

"Because it's not worth it.", he said bluntly. "And this sakura tree is sacred for us, it's like the charm of my ancestors. Plus my father loves sakura trees. So if a human like you die here, the tree might get cursed."

Damn. Even my death still brings nuisance.

"This life is not worth living a million times than my death."

The boy looked at me, and he looked like he was thinking of some witty retort.

"Ah well, seems you've been through a lot."

"Yes. I've been through a lot, unlike a pampered kid like you."

The boy laughed. He looked pretty much the same age as me, though I could tell he was somewhat older by his poise.

"You're pretty brave huh. Now I see more reasons for you not to die."

I ignored him and took the rope, fastening the two halves.

He cut it again.

I took the four pieces.

He cut it again. This time, to pieces impossible to be reconciled again.

And for the first time, I snapped out.

"TEMEE NANI ITTERU NO!", I screamed at the top of my lungs. My hands were already clutching her blue kimono., and they were shaking as I felt my eyes turn into glares of hatred.

What I heard as a response was a laugh.

"Oho! OHOHOHOHOHOHO!", he laughed out loud. Was he perhaps a masochist like myself?

"Mukatsuku…", I said with my voice shaking.

"Maa, maa. If you just do that to all your bullies, you would have had a cooler existence, don't you think?"

"Yarou, were you watching me?"

"Pretty much." The boy calmly took my hands off his kimono, straightening out his garment. "I pass by occasionally this time. I hate it when I just get confined within our house, so I sneak a lot of times."

"And that sword. Don't tell me you stole it."

"Pretty sharp aren't you? Yeah well I did. Kakkoii deshou?!" He proudly swung the sword.

"It looks cursed."

"Well duh? It's a demon sword after all."

"Demon sword?"

"Yeah. It's a sword that's made by a demon and a sword which acts like a demon. Do you know? If you don't use it wisely, you'll lose yourself and get controlled by this sword."

All I could do is curse under my breath. "You did not even help me when I was being bullied."

"Huh? Massaka, you're bitter about that?"

"If you have the time to cut the rope to save this tree, won't you at least give your time to save me from one menacing bully…"

The boy mounted the crimson sword over his left shoulder. "As demons, it is not our responsibility to save human lives."

I stared at his crimson eyes.

"If you really want to be that strong, then carry the responsibility. Sumari—"

The boy gave the most demonic grin the girl had ever seen.

"BE A DEMON YOURSELF."