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I love life.
Why, I love life so very much that I'm the only one in the world who can take it. I am Death after all. Through the years I've hardly changed, and to the mortals I've not changed at all. Always there, all encompassing. And yet from time to time, I've realized that perhaps death is no tragedy for these men, these mortals of Earth.
I couldn't understand before, why a man would accept me with open arms. Or why a Gato hero on his deathbed would greet me like an old friend, almost as if the thought of it all ending was no fear or crime at all.
Perhaps he knew, he'd be greeted by life and her beautiful white somber presence. But I know better, I knew now—
Death was no cruelty after all, and to those without lives worth living...
I was mercy.
My whistle is many times lighter than it was centuries ago, I step with purpose but not with force. Walking along a meadowy path beside a river in the light of dusk, my form does not disturb the wildlife around me. The scent of blood and fear did not follow me here, no, this was a world I could call beautiful on my own.
The grass, the trees, the sky, the river, the ground.
All essential to the calculus, no death was too small, no life was too tiny. In my arms, they all held the same meaning.
They'd say that the only thing lives are equal in, is in death. Perhaps they are right, yet at the same time— I cannot allow a man to die in peace who has disrespected life to such extreme, you may be equal in that you die, but in the matter of what death can often be my discretion.
Unless of course, you realize your crime and seek to amend it.
But there are sometimes crimes against Lady Life which even I can not prevent, I am not able to punish every jester who dances on the back of life after all.
I turn my red gaze towards the river, I see not a stick nor a log stuck on the small beach of exposed riverbed. But I see something that draws my glare, something that draws my gait towards it.
A child, a kitten, a young feline with blood caked on its black fur even while drenched it tries to limp away from the river, it has somehow survived in the current. It shakily, almost desperately limps over towards me as if I'm a release from its pain. I noticed its right arm missing, cauterized freshly and amaturely. It's eyeslids are sown shut, lacking any sight meant it was relying on hearing to find me.
It was close then, close to death.
I felt its head wobble against my fur only for the kitten to keel over, coughing out blood and water. I can hear it's asphyxiation, my fur stands on end as I reach down and yet—
I do not take its life, not yet, I brush my claws over its body back and forth, holding it in my hand. The beating of its heart threatens to burst from its ribcage, but after seconds of massage, the kitten breathes slower. It isn't a sentient, it cannot understand what is happening, nor does it understand why its owner cut its arm and decided to see if it could swim without sight or the appendage.
"How solemn."
Of course, I couldn't punish every jester... But what I could do for this child— I brought the kitten to rest, letting it fall to sleep in my hand before taking its life, I let life into me without a second question and feel myself smiling despite everything.
A sigh releases from my lips, and I place the now empty vessel down. Grabbing a flower from the meadow, the flower wilts and dies before I can even let it go. But it is enough. I place the wilted flower atop the kittens body.
I wait for a moment, an hour at most as the river rushes by. "Rest now." I say.
Standing to my full height, I feel the kittens soul crawl up my body and perch itself on my shoulder. It does not speak, but even it recognizes what I've come to do.
"Yes, this is the end." I say, walking towards the river and submerging ourselves in it. For I am the ferryman.
The river molds away, and then we are in a cave with a golden circular light at the end of the tunnel. The screams and cries of lost souls beckon all around us, and I can sense the fear from the kittens soul as it tries to hide inside my cloak. It still cannot see, because the kitten refuses to open its eyes.
I suppose death was rather hideous, no one would look back at death. So I whistle a comforting tune and take the kitten in my hand, I urge him on to see. "Come now Gato, the tunnel is just the beginning." I say, watching as the kitten averts its eyes.
But none can when the gold comes into view.
A soft motherly hum reverberates throughout the cave, a golden light etches itself into my walls and silences the souls screaming in the water below. I urge the kitten to look forward now, to see the golden and right. I feel elated when it does, when its fear is chased away by warmth and the understanding it now wielded.
I opens its eyes for the first time, and it sees beauty. "Go now, Gato."
The kitten leaps from my palm, running towards her golden form with a wild fervor. I watched from my hell, from afar as the kitten leapt from my world into the next and into her loving white arms, I was content to watch from here. Even a glimpse of my beloved Lady Life could soothe my soul for centuries, she gave me a smile as if the sun itself was shining on me.
I wish I could take a step further, but this is the precipice, our worlds are opposite, she is life, I, Death. We cannot meet, only once have I seen her in the mortal realm, and not once have I seen her since. But it is worth it, I think.
Perhaps death is no beautiful thing, but to those who suffer needlessly without recourse— I will be there, I will settle your heart in the last moments and you will feel peace. I've realized that above all else, I am mercy. And I pray my mercy is forgotten in the world beyond, because to think of me is to—
My eyes widen as the kitten turns, staring at me from beyond the precipice. It is only a small moment, it is hardly even a glance. But for a second, the kitten looked back at something so unsightly as death. Something so unsightly as I.
I smile, "Gracias, Gato."
There are some good deaths after all, I suppose.