Shiroii Aku
Shiroii Aku
"White Evil"

Author’s Notes: The great antagonist of YWT himself (herself?) contemplates some. . . interesting things. Boy, writing from the perspective of a truly evil character is pretty freaky.^^

One would never be able to tell who I am by just looking at me with eyes only. Because what they are bound to see will be wrong. It’s a combination of the shimmering, silken white hair that cascades down my back. My flowing white robes. My almond-shaped, perfect amythest eyes.

I look like an angel. I know it perfectly well and I use it. I have, along with this body, an infinite well of smooth charm that I can tap into, whenever I wish.

It’s quite amusing, actually.

Today is. . .well, ordinary, which for me means that I have managed to find some foolish, greedy human or another, and have tricked them into giving the beautiful orbs of their life away. Those perfect spheres glow with an ethereal luminesce, as if someone had managed to pluck the light of distant stars from the sky and made gems of them. I love human souls. They’re ever so nourishing, no matter what kind of person they came from. They are my main source of power, my favorite source of power.

Ah yes, I love human souls.

The one I had currently taken is the soul of a priest. Ironic, for he had spent his entire life preaching against what he himself wound up doing. Falling for the temptation of the Evil One. The Devil. Satan.

But of course, he never expected Satan to be beautiful, the poor, misguided, naďve, stupid little thing. He thought actually, when I came, that I was an angel, ready to reward him for all his dedication to the holy cause. Another irony. But oh well. He was fooled by false happiness, and I got my power boost. It was a nice trade-off. Wasn’t a fair one, sure, but I don’t hold much for fairness.

What else could one expect from the Soul-snatcher?

Soul-snatcher. It is an amusing name. Humans have such rich imaginations… perhaps that is what makes them so delicious. I don’t know. I don’t honestly care.

I stretch my long, pale arms before me and examine my perfect hands at a distance. Each nail, soft pink and oval and perfectly smooth, just like clear pearls. Each finger, just the right shape, not too knobby or fleshy. I smile, looking at them, revealing my two rows of perfectly white teeth.

Some people believe that even if the Devil could change his form to something beautiful, there would always be some tell-tale signs. A glint in the eye, perhaps. Or maybe even well-concealed fangs. Or—and this never ceases to amuse me—two horns atop my head. As if I couldn’t use a simple illusion spell to hide them, even if I had any of those horns that are supposed to be a ‘telltale’ sign for identifying the Devil. I have none of those traits, to say the least. I can look the picture of innocence, of purity, if I wanted to.

It’s yet another irony. He has fangs, my eternal foe. Small fangs, yes, but fangs nonetheless, and they reveal themselves when he is particularly amused by something.

Now that I think about it, he is like me—and I am not the ridiculous type who refuses to admit that there are similarities between so-called ‘good’ and so-called ‘evil’. Similarities so stark that I’m sure the straight-laced mortals would be unsettled if they only realized.

What would they think if they knew that the only being standing between them and their damnation was one who laughed delightedly when a less-than-ideal mortal spirit is torn apart by the demons outside his door? What would they think if they knew he loved darkness, was surrounded by it all the time? How would they react if they saw how much he enjoyed frightening souls who displeased him?

Perhaps they would throw themselves to despair. Perhaps they would give themselves over to me without resistance. The thought is most interesting, I thought as I smile to myself. That should be the next thing I would try to capture a soul: show another side to the ‘good’ that eternally struggles with ‘evil’.

No doubt he would applaude me for my creativity when he learns of my new, delicious little idea.


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