One Afternoon

Part One: Mind

This is the first section of a three part story, four parts if you count the alternate ending. It's about two years old, and I've seized the opportunity to do some minor revisions . . . so it's slightly different from the version on my webpage. The second and third section will probably be even more greatly altered.

"You filthy mazoku!!!" The golden dragon shrieked for at least the third time that day. "Stay away from me!"

The "filthy mazoku" raised an eyebrow. "I'm ten feet away from you, you know."

"It's not far enough!" she replied, turning to look in the other direction.

"What," he said, narrowing the distance to seven feet, "are you afraid of being contaminated? Is your holy purity as a priestess of the Fire Dragon King that precarious? You must think some simply dreadful thoughts to be so easily corrupted?"

Her blue eyes narrowed, and he could see her jaw tighten. "Purity and holiness are not things that a mazoku would know about!"

He leaned casually against a tree, looking amused, though she couldn't see it as her face was still turned away from him. "I would know about corruption and contamination, though, wouldn't I? You know, Filia, I didn't ask to be a monster. I was created this way. There isn't any particular virtue in being born a dragon, either. So, you were born of the light. You can't claim responsibility for your own natural inclination to goodness and nobility and so on."

She sniffed. "Typical of mazoku to refuse responsibility for his own actions."

"To be quite honest, Filia, Amelia is a better example of true goodness than you are. She chose goodness. You were born with it, thrust upon you or gifted to you. Where is the goodness and nobility in. . . ?"

She wheeled around and slapped him. "How dare you - !"

He allowed his head to follow the momentum of her slap, reducing the impact. "Well, that should teach me not to try to talk seriously with a dragon, shouldn't it?"

"Urgh." She reached for her mace.

"I suppose that's my cue to leave." He vanished.

The golden dragon let out a frustrated breath. "Stupid mazoku," she muttered weakly. "Stupid, stupid mazoku."

"Oh, then you want me back?" he asked, looking down at her from a tree. "It looks like you're crying from up here."

"Go away!" she snapped.

"Did I upset you?" He teleported back down. "My, it seems that I did. I'm sorry." There's was everything but sincerity in the apology. "No, I am." This time the apology rang true. "Why don't you explain why you're so angry with me all the time?"

"You expect me to talk to a mazoku?" She glared at him.

"What? You're afraid to tell me the truth?" He took her wrist gently in his hand and seated her beneath a tree. "Talk."

"Don't touch me," she said dangerously.

"If it pleases you," he said formally, amused smile returning to his face as he sat down beside her. "Now, why are you so angry with me?"

"Obviously," she answered coldly, "You're a mazoku, a creature of pure evil who thrives on the dark side of humanity's emotions. Why shouldn't I despise you?"

"As I said before, it is not my fault that I am a mazoku. I was created this way." He continued calmly, "For another thing, is petty violence really the best way to demonstrate your goodness, as opposed to my darkness? If you hate the darkness, very well. Destroy me. Isn't that a much more appropriate way to defeat darkness with light than yelling at me and hitting me with a little toy that can only cause pain? So destroy me. I won't even fight back."

She looked at him with astonishment. "Really?"

"Really."

She hefted her mace thoughtfully. "Alright, I will." She concentrated a moment, and the mace shone briefly, before changing into a sword. Both the blade and hilt were golden, not like metal, but like sunlight. None the less, it was remarkably solid in appearance, nothing like the ethereal Sword of Light.

"Demon-slaying blade?" he asked with mild curiosity.

She nodded with satisfaction.

"I'm assuming it is a manifestation of your will? Very interesting. I always wondered how you kept it hidden so neatly." He folded his arms across his chest and waited. "Go on. Destroy me with the force of your will, dragon. Or must I make you angry first? You have heard how I destroyed a clan of gold dragons with one finger, surely?"

She made a sound of rage, as she plunged the sword towards his chest. The sword vanished up the hilt, and she stood above him, still holding the hilt inches away from his body. No blood spilled from his chest, and he made no sign of pain.

"I didn't think you could," he said softly. "Didn't it occur to you that a weapon of your will would only work, if you truly wanted to kill me?"