A View From Hell
Focus: Kaoru
Incomplete
Prologue
“If I whet my glittering sword, and mine hand take hold on judgment; I will render vengeance to mine enemies, and will reward them that hate me.”
-Deuteronomy 32:41
Have I fancied myself such a martyr over the years? It's almost comical to think about now. To be honest, I've forgotten what exactly my convictions are anymore, or if they ever really existed with any sort of validity. It seems as though that through the passing of the ages, the burning emotions that I once held with such passion have been quelled to merely smoldering embers and ash. Ironic, huh? The fact that I'm reciting a metaphor that so accurately prophecies the end of my existence. But that's what I have to look forward to, isn't it? Despite the trials I've endured, the atrocities I've seen, the sins I've witnessed and my own achievements in spite of it all, I will inevitably end up as dust. Immortality---what a joke. If I've learned anything through these lifetimes, it's that nothing lasts forever and that all that shimmers in this world is sure to fade...
...and here I go trying to come off as epic by quoting lyrics. How fucking cliché. Oh well, it's not as if anyone who reads this is going to remember some second-rate rock band from the 20th century. If anything, I'll simply be credited with the creativity; and who am I to argue with some meatbag's ignorant assumption? But I digress...
As I said, immortality amounts to nothing in the scheme of things. Everything ends, everyone dies. It is the final and only lasting justice...and everyone is subject to the hand of justice, no exceptions. I know this because I've often acted as that hand, fanatically delivering my all-but-swift vengeance upon those who have earned it. However, I won't sit myself upon a pedestal and claim to have lived a life free of sin---far from it, in fact. Many of those who have encountered me would identify me as a villain, and I can't say that I would deem that inaccurate. I have lived by my own interests, executing my desires in decidedly wicked fashions, reveling in the sadistic pleasure that I gained from my actions. I am, by the very definition of the word, evil. But in all reality, am I any more evil than the next man? Or is it that I simply don't feel the need to disguise my intentions like so many others? Frankly, those who hide it, tuck it away in depths of their subconscious and put up a righteous front, they are the truly profane. Therefore I become the scapegoat, the blame for all that is depraved in the world. I become your so-called devil, the face of the terror lurking in the shadows that you always just know is there watching and waiting for the moment to strike. I essentially become fear itself. I do fit the description well enough, but if you only took a look around your narrow, meaningless little world you would realize that I am far less threatening than the blasphemy that lurks within your own town, home, or even within yourself. At least I don't suppress my nature, I present myself for what I am. Take that for what it's worth before you identify me as your Lucifer incarnate.
I'm not writing this to gain any sort of sympathy or understanding. To tell you the truth, I really couldn't care less about what you think of me---you are merely a speck of filth in my universe and I'd just as soon slit your throat without a second thought. That being made clear, I am actually doing this for my own selfish reasons. As said before, emotions that I had once felt so fiercely are now nothing but dull memories. I remember everything that I have done with absolute clarity, so lucid that I could relive them over and over in my mind endlessly. Though the reasoning behind my efforts has faded into the void of time, a hollow shell of it lingering as a faint spectre of conviction. My intent is based on the thought that perhaps through recounting my past, I'll be able to retrieve something worthwhile from that imprint. Although I am technically “immortal”, remembrance is the only way to guarantee any sort of eternal life. I'm not concerned about the impact I've made on others; ego aside, I'm quite certain that I'll never be forgotten in that respect. The name “Kaoru Shibara” will be one that haunts the souls of many for years to come, I have no doubt about that. However if I, myself, am unable to recall sensations and feelings long lost through this curse, what is the point? I might as well have never played my hand in the first place, or even have existed in this game for that matter.
So, here I sit in this dimly-lit suite with pen in hand, brooding over the days that gave me some semblance of how it felt to be alive. Perhaps it would be more appropriate if I was in a candlelit chamber surrounded by luxurious velvet tapestries and priceless antiques from around the world, but you'll have to settle for sheer ivory curtains, faux plantlife, and a general minimalist Asian theme that this hotel seems to find aesthetically pleasing. Regardless of location, this memoir will be composed all the same. I will summon up memories belonging to a boy forsaken, who began with aspirations of simple revenge, but who reached skyward and became a man of so much more.
This is my attempt at finding myself again. This is my attempt at convincing myself that it was all worth it for my own peace of mind. This is my attempt to make the most of the rest of my eternity through reclaiming the substance behind my infamy.
This is my story.