Disclaimer: Nope, don't own him…wish I could give him a hug, though… (--grin--)
Author's Note: I think this takes the cake for the darkest thing I've ever written. Anyway, it was just sort of something that came to me out of nowhere—read at your own risk…
Thoughts of Suicide
You know, if I ended it right now, no one would know the difference. One less hanyou in the world. It's a surprise that I've lasted this long.
I've got the tools to do it. The instruments of my own destruction are at the tips of my fingers—the very reason they fear me. I could kill them all as easily as I could kill myself. It would be quick, if not clean—but then, who would be around to care? If a hanyou bleeds to death in the forest, and no one is there to see him, does he make a sound?
I curl into myself a bit further, tucking my soaked haori in around my knees and trying in vain to avoid the rain coming down through the trees in sharp, chilled sheets. It isn't really the cold I mind, or even the hunger, or the darkness, or the hard ground beneath me, or the rough bark against my back. These things remind me that I'm alive. They're my anchors. I'm tough enough to wait out the storm. When the rain stops, I'll dry off again, and I'll move on. I'll make a fresh kill with these knives I call fingers and fill my stomach. I'll keep going. I'll survive.
But that's all.
The rain will come again too. So will the darkness, and the hunger, and the cold, and the hard, wet ground. What then? I'll keep moving, keep waiting for the sun to come out again, and after that more rain, and then more sun. Why? Why keep moving? What am I waiting for, really? There's nothing more ahead of me than there is behind me. It's all the same—wouldn't it be easier just to stand still? To fall silent. To forget. To die.
What am I running from? Whatever it is, fuck it—let it come. I'm tired of moving.
I flick the raindrops from the tips of my claws and study them in the gloom. It wouldn't be hard. It would even be fitting, somehow. At least it would be on my own terms.
With a sigh and a wry smile, I let my hand fall back into my lap. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe after the rain stops, and I've had something to eat. Maybe then.
Or maybe I'll just keep going. For now.
A/N: Hopefully this was pretty clear, but this little vignette takes place sometime before Inuyasha first encounters Kikyo, while he's still off living hand-to-mouth in the forest somewhere. I feel like I should have more to say about it, but I think it pretty much speaks for itself. It's a downer, but I think there's a note of optimism in the end (especially since we know what he doesn't—that things will get better, eventually).