Prompt 176: Black & White
Title: Unknowing
Author: britedark
Universe: Alternate History
Genre: introspection
Word Count: 247
Characters: Inu no Taisho, Kikyo
Summary: A youkai wonders why he bothered to save a human...
Author's Note: This is a little piece that fits in chapter 1 of the story White To Black.
Unknowing
Black hair twisted and coiled on the silver-white fur. The nameless youkai, who recalled neither what he was-a dog-nor who he been-the Inu no Taisho-glared down at the miko. His skin itched in sympathy with his fur, irritated by tickling of the faint wisps of reiki emanating from that unconscious body.
Why had he brought the miko here? His concern that the distant humans, heard when he had finished the youkai swarm, would harm her, seemed specious now. Something in him had wanted to keep her with him, had wanted to talk to her, apologize to her. That same something had insisted he find food for her.
Why?
Everyone knew that the world of youkai and the world of humans were opposite: and that eternal enmity must lie between them. Humans regarded youkai as evil and corrupt. Youkai regarded humans-well, it depended on the intelligence and strength of the youkai. To most, humans were potential food. To the strong and intelligent, humans were weak, credulous mortals as ephemeral as leaves.
Or a butterfly.
Butterfly? Not knowing why the word had popped into his mind, the youkai irritably shook it off. Why should he even care, he wondered, that he had mistaken her intent, and nearly killed her, for thinking that she had deliberately induced the swarm to attack? What mattered, a sense of fairness, when it came to humans?
It shouldn’t.
It did.
Why?
Who had he been, before the tree had bound his memory, his soul?
Author: britedark
Universe: Alternate History
Genre: introspection
Word Count: 247
Characters: Inu no Taisho, Kikyo
Summary: A youkai wonders why he bothered to save a human...
Author's Note: This is a little piece that fits in chapter 1 of the story White To Black.
Unknowing
Black hair twisted and coiled on the silver-white fur. The nameless youkai, who recalled neither what he was-a dog-nor who he been-the Inu no Taisho-glared down at the miko. His skin itched in sympathy with his fur, irritated by tickling of the faint wisps of reiki emanating from that unconscious body.
Why had he brought the miko here? His concern that the distant humans, heard when he had finished the youkai swarm, would harm her, seemed specious now. Something in him had wanted to keep her with him, had wanted to talk to her, apologize to her. That same something had insisted he find food for her.
Why?
Everyone knew that the world of youkai and the world of humans were opposite: and that eternal enmity must lie between them. Humans regarded youkai as evil and corrupt. Youkai regarded humans-well, it depended on the intelligence and strength of the youkai. To most, humans were potential food. To the strong and intelligent, humans were weak, credulous mortals as ephemeral as leaves.
Or a butterfly.
Butterfly? Not knowing why the word had popped into his mind, the youkai irritably shook it off. Why should he even care, he wondered, that he had mistaken her intent, and nearly killed her, for thinking that she had deliberately induced the swarm to attack? What mattered, a sense of fairness, when it came to humans?
It shouldn’t.
It did.
Why?
Who had he been, before the tree had bound his memory, his soul?