Depressing story ahoy! I was talking with my friend, and we ended up discussing the idea of Joshua having a younger brother. I decided that perhaps that was why he acted the way he did. Spoilers abound. I think this is set in the 70s or 80s, but I didn't bother to look up any particular details to make sure everything's accurate.
Call of Childhood
Chapter 1: Marcus
Long, pale fingers rifled through the pages of sheet music, stopping here and there to pen in a forgotten note. Skillful hands did their work automatically, as they'd done for years. It was not fun- paperwork rarely was- but it kept his hands busy while his mind focused on other matters. The corners of his lips were turned down in a frown as he reviewed the participants of the next Game. So many young this time, killed in gang fights, fires…car accidents. His hands paused in their work as he came across a particular Player. Only twelve years old, killed in a head-on collision. His entry fee: his 16 year old brother.
He set the sheets aside, rising to his feet. His footsteps echoed in the empty hall as he searched for a particular sheet. The paper felt fragile in his hands; the edges were beginning to curl from age, but the ink was perfectly preserved. The name looked strange on the page- his mother was American and had trouble pronouncing Japanese names. Even the boy's older brother, given a proper Japanese name, had an English nickname. A quiet sigh escaped him, almost deafening in the silent hall.
"Marcus Kiryu…"
--x--
It was supposed to be exciting, he knew that. The due date for his baby brother was in less than 24 hours. Yoshiya had never thought himself to be pessimistic or cynical, but he knew that a younger brother was nothing to be happy about. With almost nine years of age difference between them, bonding would be nearly impossible, not to mention the free reign babies get. Not even being a child prodigy (a fact which his parents had gushed about to anyone they met) would save him from taking the blame every time the precious child did something wrong. Yoshiya knew that the next decade of his life was going to be hell.
--x--
Now Yoshiya knew why hospitals were so cold. At 2 o'clock in the morning, cold rooms and uncomfortable chairs were the only things that could keep you awake. Yoshiya absently watched his father fidget in his seat, looking to the doors every few seconds. He knew his father must be worried out of his mind about the birth. Yoshiya just wanted to go back to bed.
After an eternity that was only 3 hours in reality, they were led into the small room. His mother was sitting up in the bed. Her hair was damp with sweat, but she was smiling all the same. She held a small bundle of blankets, which squirmed faintly in her arms. She handed it to Yoshiya wordlessly, who flashed her a very convincing smile.
The tiny child inside was bright pink and healthy, with large green eyes and the beginnings of blond hair. He reached up a tiny hand to his big brother, blinking curiously. His mother smiled.
"His name is Marcus," she said affectionately. "Marcus Kiryu."
So the Devil had a name.
--x--
"Mother, I'm going out," Yoshiya called, already halfway out the door. "I'm meeting Tsubasa at Sunshine." He paused for a moment, knowing the horrible words that were coming.
"Take Marcus with you, dear!" Like always, the little demon appeared out of nowhere, crashing into Yoshiya eagerly. Even after seven years, the boy was still the devil in disguise and stubbornly devoted to his big brother. Yoshiya pried his brother from his leg, heading out the door.
"Nii-san, can we go rollerblading?" Marcus asked eagerly, bouncing at his side. Yoshiya glanced at him, working on setting up Marcus's car seat.
"We're meeting my friends for lunch. So don't humiliate me." He grumbled. Marcus fell silent, but his smile never wavered. Yoshiya strapped him in quickly, not enjoying the physical contact. He quickly slung himself into the driver's seat, trying to ignore him.
As they drove, Marcus reached over and began adjusting the knobs on the radio, grinning slightly. Yoshiya knocked his hand away. "Knock it off!" he snapped, adjusting the radio back to his preferred station. Irritation tightened Yoshiya's muscles, and he was pressing down on the gas pedal harder than he had intended. He slammed on the brake, trying to turn before he ran off the road. It was basic physics- momentum and inertia. His car couldn't turn quickly enough. Marcus had been trying to adjust the radio again- neither of them saw the telephone pole.
Everything passed in small flashes of clarity. There was definitely screaming, and he remembered smoke and the crunching of metal. His head felt wet and throbbed with pain. Some logical part of his brain told him he probably had a concussion. His face and hands stung where the glass and metal had cut him. He felt flames searing across his already raw skin, but nothing felt important. One thing stood out clearly in those hazy moments.
"Nii-san…" a weak voice pleaded, coughing. "Nii-s…where are you…?" The entire passenger side of the care was a caved-in wreck.
"Marcus!" Yoshiya cried, his voice hoarse and hollow in his ears. He tore frantically at the wreckage, sharp metal shards slicing new wounds into his hands. Nothing mattered to him- his brother was dying. Around that time, his memory blurred. The paramedics arrived at some point, trying to move him away from the scene. They told him that he had struggled. That he kicked and bit like a wild animal, screaming Marcus's name over and over. They said that the blood loss caught up to him then, and that he passed out. Eventually, they pulled Marcus's body from the wreck. When Yoshiya called for him, he tried to fight his way out. He was badly burned, and a piece of shrapnel had pierced his lung. He was dead almost instantly.
Yoshiya didn't recall his first week in the hospital. They said that the concussion might have caused it. Perhaps he simply didn't want to remember. They told him that he refused to be treated. He would rip out his IVs and knock away any medical instruments they tried to bring near him. He would claw at his bandages and would sometimes attack the nurses. He would only say one thing the entire time- Marcus's name. He constantly demanded to see his brother, and if the nurses tried to dissuade him, he only got more aggressive.
The first thing he remembered was being forcibly pressed to the bed by three nurses. They said it was a response to his parents' names. "Don't tell Mother," he had pleaded. "Anything but that…" They said it was just the concussion talking.
Even once he was back in his right mind, he was still stubborn. He would allow them to put the IV in, but it would always 'mysteriously slip off' once the nurses had left. Eventually, they started slipping him sleeping medication to keep him calm. At one point, he managed to press a nurse until she admitted that he cried for his brother in his sleep.
--x--
Time passed as always. He was eventually sent home, but he overheard the doctor warning his parents. They suspected that the combination of the trauma and the heavy concussion might have affected him negatively. That he might have a few personality quirks. Of course, he knew they were mistaken. He wasn't any different. He was just trying to be the best big brother he could be.
Reviews are loved.