Death of a Firefly

ACT I.

The firefly, with scarred damaged wings, teetered over a fine line of fleeting life and the inevitability of death. With a mind so primitive, its only instinct was to live.

Yet, the time would come for its demise, and it wanted to live, just for one second longer. It sucked on life as the only energy it ever owned. For the firefly, tranquility was known by such warmth of the world.

A traveling miko, enshrouded in the kisses and mews of her sole extinction, walked the traveled paths of the forest floor. White-tailed servants of the devil followed her. They were her only companions. They floated beside her as her false feet tread the ground. Her somber soles shuffled close to the dying firefly in the dirt.

She no longer cared for the living. She no longer cared to live herself. Why should she care to live when she was supposed to be dead? The memories of her death lingered in her mouth, caressing her false tongue like sacred sake. She couldn't remember what sake tasted like.

She pursed her lips in a small scowl. She was tired of reliving the sad reality of her past and present. She was dead, but her body was still kinetic.

So, she was not truly alive. Her feet shifted on the earth. The weight of her foot came bearing down in a harsh step, expelling the last sacred breaths of the firefly. The heel of her foot ground its carcass into dust, delivering its existence back to the earth.

ACT II.

Once there was a powerful miko who loved a hanyou. Then, she was betrayed, and in turn betrayed him. Their hate had been a lie.

But their love...where was it exactly? Where did it exist 50 years after she was revived? She was revived to learn the truth.

A calling shuddered within her clay frame. It was time to return to the dead. But she would not do it alone. She held her love in her arms as willed the earth to open beneath them. He fell into her, his face full of contentment but his will suppressed. She did not care if he truly wanted this. This was where they truly belonged.

The tongues of hellfire tasted them. She felt her feet grow hot, the intense burning melting away at her corporeal form. She clutched the hanyou closer to her.

Once, he softened her soul. Now, she would repay him. They would be together for eternity. Whether it was a life of madness or agony, they would exist together and sully their souls in the most tantalizing sin.

But then another came along and destroyed everything that Kikyo had ever wanted in death.

ACT III.

Somewhere, sometime, a young miko from another world hugged a beautiful boy with silver hair and demon's blood. He was on the verge of going mad, clutching his sword in rage as amazing power overwhelmed him. He was about to lose himself forever, giving up all hope and letting the acid of the ogre's belly gorge him.

Yet when she held him, he suddenly felt stronger and had the urge to live. Her love for him seeped into his skin, and her scent overwhelmed him among the acrid smell of terror and decay. She squeezed him a little tighter, and he could smell her tears for him.

She wanted him to live. She believed that he could. Then, he began to feel stronger.

ACT IV.

Later, a mother shook hands with the brave half-demon and strangely dressed miko. She and her daughter gave them thankful smiles and gestures before they departed. Six brave warriors saved her and her daughter from a demon who was terrorizing the countryside.

When the mother thought she and her only daughter were going to die, they came in a weak moment, breathing life and hope into their hearts with their amazing skills.

They had insured people's safety by driving the monster away from endangering the village further, and quickly, as fast as they came, they went. They promised to find the monster and get rid of it indefinitely. They followed the monster's trail into the forest.

ACT V.

The monster returned, seeking revenge on the village that had banished it.

Oh, where were the heroes now?

They came, but their tardiness was accompanied with grief. The monster had left horribly destruction in its trail. With melancholy tugging at their fragile compassion, they left the village again to pursue it once more. The monster would inevitably be stopped, but it did not bring back the dead.

Revenge would not bring back the mother and child they had saved before.

Stalking closely behind them, the miko who was attracted to death came to this village. Her eyes inspected the losses, and they burned like festering coals over the pitiful wasteland. She did not have enough energy to feel sorrow. Her mind convinced her that compassion was no longer required.

She brushed past the pieces of the dead, no longer holding warmth in this world. She stopped before the mother and child, bodies cold but energy warm in the fibers of their corporeal hosts. The death-lover bent over them, feeling no emotion from the terror contorted on their faces.

Their final warmth pricked her tainted fingers. She fed.

ACT VI.

The air was frosted and sullen. A group of traveling warriors sucked on silence as residual tragedy caked over their mortal hearts.

Death and dying were real. It was apparent, no matter how horrible or peacefully finalized. Yet, the definition of mortality would always present itself in the most shocking ways.

Who can be prepared for the unexpected lurch of death?

Kagome hung her head down, and she thought of all those she had met or didn't meet, who had become victims and died miserably. She mourned them, feeling helplessness tug at her nerves. She was utterly powerless. She looked around at her friends. The dark shadows that whirled in their eyes told her they had felt the same.

With all their strength and hope, they couldn't circumvent death.

Her eyes shifted to the ground expecting to see nothingness in the dirt. All she wanted to feel right now was numb to the pain of seeing such horrors. Her eyes focused on a strange form carved in the dust. She stopped momentarily, and nobody noticed her lack of movement and interest in the ground. Her friends were all possessed by their own anguished thoughts.

Kagome knelt down and traced a finger over the item in the dirt that had caught her interest. She gasped lightly as her finger pads trailed over the film of wings and the soft velvety contorted body. She could see color under the austere dirt.

It had told her that this mangled lump was once a firefly. She felt tears ebbing at the corners of her eyes as more death washed over her innocent soul.

But she held the tears back and sighed in defeat. "Poor thing," she sobbed quickly, then sucking in the momentary pang of sadness.

It must have been a beautiful firefly, she mused.

FIN