Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! King of Games and do not receive profit
from it. Also, one of the events present in the storyline was derived from
the wonderful CLAMP's Clover, and I should add that I don't own that
either. However, the basic storyline is mine, as are all added characters.
PROLOGUE
The boy's eyes shimmered strangely in the haze. Rain was pouring from the sky in waves, and yet not an inch of him was wet. There seemed to be an odd sort of light, like someone had smeared white pestle on an oil painting, surrounding him. His black hair draped about his shoulders, abnormally long; his skin was cream-colored, and his face blank. The scar along his cheek should have been what attracted attention to him; it was thick and knotted and ugly-but it was his eyes that stood out the most; there was no iris, and the black pupil was shaped more like a cat's than anything else.
The eyes were fixed on the mangled body before him. It had once been a girl. Her throat lay open, her body was covered in bruises and cuts, her bones protruded jaggedly from her flesh, her blood flowed freely. The boy remained expressionless at the ghastly sight before him. His long fingers were dripping blood.
Then he turned his head, to look at another child nearby. He, unlike the boy, was alive, but looking at him one would feel he desired a fate such as the girl's. His skin was deathly pale, blue eyes wide, entire body stiff. He was looking as though it was the end of the world, resigned sadness in his manner.
Beyond tears.
"This is what happens," the first boy said softly. "I said she would suffer for taking us apart, and she did. We're together, like it was meant to be."
Affection shaped his face, but eyes remained blank.
"Together."
He reached out to stroke the other's face, but the blue-eyed boy tilted his head away, gaze never leaving the corpse in front.
The pale hand fell back against its owner's side. White eyes widened as the youth felt, for the first time, rejection.
"But."
The other child refused to move.
"You killed her," he said, no emotion present. "She was scum," he replied. "She was our class," said the first, his voice now sounding slightly strained. "I said I would take care of her." The white-eyed boy's pupils thinned slightly. "It was still her fault. She should never have gotten involved if she valued her life." "She didn't." Silence. The blood was beginning to dry on his fingers. He stared unseeingly at the corpse in front of him, breath drawn hard. "No. She didn't." He looked like he was choking. Then, "You did." Anger rushed through him. "I'M THE ONLY ONE THAT UNDERSTANDS YOU! SHE NEVER COULD! WE'VE BEEN THROUGH EVERYTHING, AND YOU WILL NOT LOVE SOMEONE ELSE! YOU LOVED HER, AND I KILLED HER!" Then, with quiet intensity, "And everyone else you love I will kill and kill and kill until only you and I remain because we are bound in destiny." The blue eyes trembled. The murderer stepped back. He stepped back as though suddenly uneasy, as if he was afraid of losing something very dear. Then he looked as though the very idea was foolishness itself. He turned his head slightly, so his scarred cheek was in the other's line of vision, and like a magnet it tore the blue gaze from the dead girl and to the healed wound.
"You see it, don't you," the first boy said. "I took this for you. I marred myself, lowered myself, for you, and it's all here in a petty flesh wound. We came together, we will be together, and if you should choose, we will die together."
The mourning one was now looking at him fully.
"Come with me."
No reply.
The white-eyed one lifted his hand again. The blood was now dry.
"For the Claw," he said, voice compelling, and curved his fingers in the semblance of one.
Self-hate convulsed the other's face. And then it disappeared, with a loyalty, if not a love, that matched the first.
"For the Claw."
The Claw ruled them all.
PROLOGUE
The boy's eyes shimmered strangely in the haze. Rain was pouring from the sky in waves, and yet not an inch of him was wet. There seemed to be an odd sort of light, like someone had smeared white pestle on an oil painting, surrounding him. His black hair draped about his shoulders, abnormally long; his skin was cream-colored, and his face blank. The scar along his cheek should have been what attracted attention to him; it was thick and knotted and ugly-but it was his eyes that stood out the most; there was no iris, and the black pupil was shaped more like a cat's than anything else.
The eyes were fixed on the mangled body before him. It had once been a girl. Her throat lay open, her body was covered in bruises and cuts, her bones protruded jaggedly from her flesh, her blood flowed freely. The boy remained expressionless at the ghastly sight before him. His long fingers were dripping blood.
Then he turned his head, to look at another child nearby. He, unlike the boy, was alive, but looking at him one would feel he desired a fate such as the girl's. His skin was deathly pale, blue eyes wide, entire body stiff. He was looking as though it was the end of the world, resigned sadness in his manner.
Beyond tears.
"This is what happens," the first boy said softly. "I said she would suffer for taking us apart, and she did. We're together, like it was meant to be."
Affection shaped his face, but eyes remained blank.
"Together."
He reached out to stroke the other's face, but the blue-eyed boy tilted his head away, gaze never leaving the corpse in front.
The pale hand fell back against its owner's side. White eyes widened as the youth felt, for the first time, rejection.
"But."
The other child refused to move.
"You killed her," he said, no emotion present. "She was scum," he replied. "She was our class," said the first, his voice now sounding slightly strained. "I said I would take care of her." The white-eyed boy's pupils thinned slightly. "It was still her fault. She should never have gotten involved if she valued her life." "She didn't." Silence. The blood was beginning to dry on his fingers. He stared unseeingly at the corpse in front of him, breath drawn hard. "No. She didn't." He looked like he was choking. Then, "You did." Anger rushed through him. "I'M THE ONLY ONE THAT UNDERSTANDS YOU! SHE NEVER COULD! WE'VE BEEN THROUGH EVERYTHING, AND YOU WILL NOT LOVE SOMEONE ELSE! YOU LOVED HER, AND I KILLED HER!" Then, with quiet intensity, "And everyone else you love I will kill and kill and kill until only you and I remain because we are bound in destiny." The blue eyes trembled. The murderer stepped back. He stepped back as though suddenly uneasy, as if he was afraid of losing something very dear. Then he looked as though the very idea was foolishness itself. He turned his head slightly, so his scarred cheek was in the other's line of vision, and like a magnet it tore the blue gaze from the dead girl and to the healed wound.
"You see it, don't you," the first boy said. "I took this for you. I marred myself, lowered myself, for you, and it's all here in a petty flesh wound. We came together, we will be together, and if you should choose, we will die together."
The mourning one was now looking at him fully.
"Come with me."
No reply.
The white-eyed one lifted his hand again. The blood was now dry.
"For the Claw," he said, voice compelling, and curved his fingers in the semblance of one.
Self-hate convulsed the other's face. And then it disappeared, with a loyalty, if not a love, that matched the first.
"For the Claw."
The Claw ruled them all.