"Sometimes being a brother is even better than being a superhero."
~Marc Brown
"Shit."
The scene was an all too familiar one that he had far since grown accustomed to, but no matter how used he is to witnessing such a gruesome and gory image, it still does not prevent him from uttering one small curse word under his breathe over the brutality was seeing.
He had been hunting, trying to gather some game for dinner for the rest of his group back at the prison, or at least some pigs he could find wandering around so he could bring back. He guessed he had gone a little too far this time when he came up to a camp he was sure had not been there the last time he went hunting, which had been about a week or so ago.
It didn't matter anyway, because when he got there, there was nothing but dead bodies and a few walkers feasting on whatever they could get their rotten hands on.
He could count at least twenty or so dead bodies strewn over the forest floor where the camp was. The stench of blood and walker stink filled his nostrils, but he was used to the smell now and it didn't bother him as much as it had in the beginning.
There were about six to eight tents that had been set up, all decimated and torn up, as well as a fireplace that had long ago been extinguished and only let loose a small amount of smoke. He also noticed an abandoned blue truck hidden within the trees near the camp.
The place looked ransacked, and it was easy to tell that it hadn't been walkers who had done the killing this time. A closer inspection upon the bodies that he found strewn around, two of which were being devoured by about three walkers, let him know that these people hadn't died through bites, but through bullet wounds to the head and chest. And in the middle of doing their daily chores, too.
The thought made him feel uneasy and he tightened the grip he had over his crossbow in case any of the culprits who did this decided to return to check if they missed anything... or anyone.
Deciding to check over the area, he took a couple steps forward and inspected the bodies that had been mercilessly killed due to greed. There were men, women, elderly, and children.
Whoever did this obviously showed no mercy, he thought grimly as he saw the dead body of what seemed to be a five year old. Good news was, they were all shot clean through the head, so he didn't have to kill any of these people twice.
The three or so walkers feasting on two, unrecognizable bodies, began to notice him walking near them. Some of them began to stand up to go after them, clamping their jaws with intestines still hanging from their teeth. He took out his knife and and marched towards them.
He drove his knife into the head of one, then another, then the other, until eventually all were cleared up, but he knew it would only be a matter of time before any more came, so he decided to make this quick.
He stepped over bodies and looked underneath the tents and whatever baggage he could find, hoping that whoever did this was careless enough to leave a few supplies. But eventually he only came up with an unloaded gun hidden underneath a sleeping bag and some food cans that had been left inside a tent.
He put them away in his pockets and went to the final tent, the biggest one that was at a far corner of the camp as well as the least damaged out of all.
It wasn't until he was a few steps away from the tent that he heard it.
It was so soft it was no wonder he hadn''t heard it earlier.
Sobbing. It was the famliar sound of somebody sobbing their heart out and hiccuping at the same time. A sound he had grown accustomed to hearing back at the prison whenever the children threw fits.
It was coming somewhere from behind the tent. Slowly and cautiously, he made his way around it and the sound grew a little bit louder.
He stopped at the scene in front of him and, though Daryl would never admit this, immediately he felt his heart drop just the tiniest bit.
There, behind the tent, was another scene he had grown familiar to, and one he had found himself taking part in.
A small scrawny boy sat hunching over a body. A dead body. The kid couldn't be no older tha fourteen, with the most unruly black shaggy hair Daryl had seen (which is saying something considering how nobody has time to brush their hair nowadays) and he was so skinny and short Daryl was surprised he hadn't collapsed completely to the ground yet. There was a bit of blood running down his arms from some scrapes, and from his right cheek as well. He was wearing a ripped blue hoodie and jeans, and a small bluebackpack was strapped to his back.
From what he could tell, this kid had been the only survivor of this massacre. Which shocked him slightly over how this scrawny little kid managed to live through something like this.
But, upon inspecting the body he was crying over, Daryl immediately knew why and how the kid had managed to survive.
The body was that of a young man, about eighteen years old, with black hair and a facial structure similar to the kids, which made Daryl think that perhaps these two were- had been related.
"Tadashi-nii." He heard the kid whisper. And that confirmed his suspicions. Daryl has met his few share of Japanese people. There were a few that inhabited Georgie before all hell broke loose that Daryl had come across a few times.
He especially remembered two brothers that had gone to his school as transfer students from Japan. Twin brothers to be exact And everytime they adressed each other one of themwould add the suffix "-nii" at the end of the other's name,and the other one would address the other as "Otouto". He overheard a conversation once between the transfer students and a young student by the name of Patty who brought up this in a conversation and asked them what exactly the "-nii" and "Otouto" meant.
Even after all these years,Daryl has never forgotten the exact words of one of them.
"'-Nii' means older brother, and "Otouto" means younger brother," he had explained.
He had been in fifth grade at the time, and he remember thinking it over in his head, the suffix "-nii" and-"Outoto" and their meaning. And sometimes he even thought about how it sounded at the end of his older brother's name: "Merle-nii". Or what it would sound like if Merle called him "Otouto". But he never said it out loud, or even brought it up to Merle. Not just because Merle would look at him like he had grown a second head, but because of Merle's racism and habit of picking up fights with people of different nationalities. If Merle had found out about the twin brothers' attending his school for two weeks, most likely the Jap students would've never wanted to come back to America ever again.
From what he could tell from what he saw, the kid's brother had sacrificed himself so his younger brother could continue living. Nowadays, he would wonder if that was a cruel or noble thing to do considering the current state of the world and the complete craphole it has turned into.
He could see the small firearm the kid held tightly in his right hand which was right next to the corpe's head, and he could see the two bullet holes on its forehead and chest. He swallowed in discomfort over what that meant.
The kid kept crying, oblivious to Daryl's presence just a few feet away from him. Daryl cleared his throat lightly, deciding to grab his attention.
"Hey, kid."
The kid flinched and immediately lifted the gun on his hand to point at Daryl as he backed away in fright. His brown, narrow eyes were red from crying and wide with panic, like a deer caught in the headlights.
Daryl lifted his arms up in surrender, to let him know that he meant no harm. But the kid simply sat there, shaking and crying, with a gun pointing at Daryl's head. But due to the way his hands were terribly unsteady, Daryl knew that even if he shot, the kid would most likely miss.
"Look, kid, I'm not going to hurt you," the boy didn't look convinced, not even as he watched Daryl gently, and slowly, put down his crossbow. He then held his hands forward, as if approaching a cornered animal, but the kid never put the gun down.
But he hadn't shot yet either, so there was that.
"Name's Daryl, Daryl Dixon," Daryl had never particularly been good with children. He didn't know how to approach them or talk to them, which is why out of all the kids in the prison, it was Li'l Ass Kicker that he got along with the best since she couldn't exactly talk yet and only cried when she was hungry.
But he had no idea how to talk to kids like Carl or Lizzie, which made this all the more difficult.
The tension between them was making him uncomfortable, and it certainly didn't help that the kid was still pointing a gun at Daryl. Shaking or not, it didn't mean that he was gonna risk having the kid fire a shot that could probably incapacitate him and call a bunch of walkers to the area. Maybe even the murderers that decimated this camp. And that, would be bad news.
"I just want to help you, kid," he said softly.
"A-are you one of them?" the kid finally spoke through trembling lips.
Daryl's eyebrows rose but it only took him a little while to realize what the kid meant.
"No, I'm not."
"How do I-I know you're not lying?" he asked suspiciously.
Daryl hesitated. How could he prove to this kid that he meant no harm? He had already put his crossbow but apparently that wasn't enough. Sadly, though, it was actually a good thing that the boy had not yet trusted him. In this world, it is always safer to be suspicious no matter how safe you may think you are.
He thought about what he could say or do to get the kid to at least put the gun down, and went with whatever he could come up with.
"Cross my heart and hope to die," he said marking an invisible cross over his heart with his finger.
The kid scowled, seemingly not convinced. "I'm fourteen, I'm not a child," he said clearly irritated, and Daryl knew what he meant by that. Promises in this world, meant nothing.
"Sorry," Daryl's lip twitched, "but I really ain't one of them. I have a different group, one of good people, we can help you."
The kid stared straight into Daryl's hard eyes with his own teary ones that held so much pain and anguish it hurt even Daryl just by looking at them.
And staring into those eyes is what caused a certain memory to come surfacing back to him. One he had buried months ago in an effort to move on from the tragedy in his own way.
He remembered the dead, empty eyes of his brother Merle as he munched into another fresh dead body. He remembered the way Merle had attacked him and tried to take a bite off his skin. And, he rememebred how he drove a knife through his brother's head over and over again in frustration and sorrow.
Never before had he cried so much in his life. Not even when his own mother killed herself when she fell asleep with a burning cigarette. Not even when he got lost in the woods and was forced to survive by himself. Not even when his brother left him alone with his abusive father to fend for himself. Not even when his own father cracked his leather belt on Daryl's spine.
Not even when he saw Sophia come out of Hershel's barn as a walker.
Losing his brother had been the most painful experience in his life. Nothing could compare to it. At least, nothing yet.
And here was somebody who understood his pain. Somebody who had apparently, also been forced to wedge a bullet through his brother's head after being killed by a bunch of sick, perverse people so he wouldn't reanimate into a monster of his nightmares. Here was a small kid who Daryl could probably understand more than anybody.
"I won't hurt you. Not by the life of me. I swear on my family's grave that I will not hurt you in any way whatsoever," he kicked the cossbow hard enough so that it would land just a few feet away from the kid, then got his knife and threw it behind the trees, and held his hands up in surrender while making sure the kid could see that he had no other weapons.
Daryl had practically stripped himself naked in front of the kid. He had to trust him now. There was no way that any sane guy would throw away his only weapons while facing the barrel of a gun that wouldn't even aim right.
The kid continued to stare into Daryl's own eyes, and he hoped that he might just be convinced to put the gun down before any more walkers decided to come their way so they could head back to safety.
Finally, the kid, though hesitantly, put the gun down and his body relaxed slightly. But then, hisshoulders began to spasm along with the sobs that began to rack his body.
It started as a small hiccup. But then, it eventually, turned into a full blown sobbing and hiccuping and Daryl made his way slowly,and unsurely towards the boy who was curling into himself near his brother's body.
He bent down to his level, and tentatively reached out a hand to pat the kid's head. The kid flinched, but didn't say or do anything more besides that. Once he was sure the kid would not grab his gun again, Daryl proceeded to wrap his arms around the boy. It had been hesitant and awkward, but it was the most he could do as the kid gripped Daryl's vest and continued to cry.
"It's ok. It's ok." Daryl heard himself whispering. Which really were the only words he could offer.
They stayed like that for almost ten minutes, with surprisingly no walkers passing by to prey upon the two vulnerable humans.
The kid's breathing began to calm down and the sobbing turned into a few sniffles, though the tears did not stop. He wanted to ask him what had happened here, if the people that did this were nearby so he could look for them and then get his group to go get rid of them, but he knew that was the last thing the kid needed. And he doubted the culprits would come back anyway. They already did enough.
"What's your name?" Daryl finally asked.
"H-Hiro. Hiro Hamada." whispered 'Hiro' in a shaky voice.
"He was your brother?" Daryl asked, motioning to thebody lying across from them. Though he already knew the answer to that.
The kid nodded slowly.
"I lost my older brother, too. A couple o' months back."
The kid stilled for a second, "R-really?"
"Yeah," Daryl nodded, "The old bastard decided to disappear on me to act the hero, and was stupidly reckless." He tried to prevent himself from choking just from talking about it. Despite it being months since Merle's dead, Daryl had never talked to anyone about it, and so far had acted as if he was ok, even if everybody else knew he wasn't.
He couldn't fool Rick or Carol into believeing that he was fine, but he could sure as hell make them stop asking him to talk about his feelings.
And now here he was, talking to this small little runt he had met just ten minutes ago about his deceased older brother.
The kid either chuckled, or choked from his tears, "Guess that's one thing my brother and him will have to talk about."
Daryl didn't really believe in heaven the way the Greene family did, but he nodded nonetheless, and stayed silent afterwards.
He had never given it much thought. How his brother had sacrificed himself for Daryl, and probably the group as well, in an effort to redeem himself for all his wrongdoings. When he was younger, he had cursed and tried to force himself to hate Merle after he left him to fend for himself with his father's.
After he got himself killed, it wasn't much different from that time.
Only this time, Daryl couldnt bring himself to hate Merle just a little bit. He was angry, yeah. Once again, Merle had left him alone to fend for himself, only this time, he wasn't coming back. But unlike last time, Merle did it for a noble cause. In an effort to protect his younger brother and his new family, Merle had gone to rid of as many of their enemies as he could by himself.
And he succeeded. If it hadn't been for Merle, the group would had never defeated the Governor because he would've outnumbered them completely.
He glanced at the body of the kid's brother.
Daryl's brother had died to protect him. This kid's brother had done the same for his own younger sibling. He will not let that be in vain.
He looked down at the small black head still leaning against Daryl's chest and sniffling softly.
"Say, what do you say we give your older brother a proper burial, before it gets dark?"
The kid stiffened, but eventually he nodded softly.
A few minutes later, Daryl found a shovel inside the only truck left near the camp (how convenient) and he began to dig a hole as the kid sat next to the body which had now been covered in a black sheet the kid had found. He was tying two sticks together with a piece of string he had found in his back pack. He was making a cross.
There was silence between them. With the only sound being the shovel digging into the ground and throwing the dirt behind him.
After an hour or so, the hole had been made deep enough to bury a body and the sun was beginning to set. Carefully and slowly, Daryl lifted the body as the kid stood by with his head down and eyes set to the ground.
He placed the body within the hole and then stood back.
Hershel was usually the one who provided a eulogy whenever somebody passed away, what with his knowledge of the bible and all, so Daryl had no idea what to do in this type of situation since he wasn't exactly one of those believers.
"You, uh, wanna say a few words?"He asked Hiro.
The kid didn't answer or moved, but eventually he walked to stand at the other end of the hole from where Daryl stood, and he cleared his throat in an effort to compose himself.
"Tadashi was... my older brother."
He went on to speak of how Tadashi Hamada had been this overly protective older brother who had been the only family the kid had after his parents died at the age of three. Tadashi practically raised him and kept him out of whatever trouble he would get into and how Tadashi always beat up the people who bullied him at school. Daryl actually found himself smirking when he listened to the story of how the kid got in trouble for getting himself involved in bot fights in which he had won a lot of money out of for scamming his opponents.
"He was a nice guy. Sometimes, too nice. And he liked to believe that everybody had some good in them," Hiro paused, but Daryl heard the small scoof scoff he released and the "the irony of that" comment. "And another thing about him, was his damn hero complex." Hiro's voice cracked at the end of the sentence and he had to stop for a few seconds to catch his breath.
"Tadashi always had this incessant need to put himself in danger if it meant helping someone. It didn't matter if they were good or bad, or if he knew or didn't know them, he would sacrifice himself just to save and help them."
Daryl ignored the image that description brought to his head; one of a blue-eyed man wearing a cop's uniform who a long time ago, believed that everybody could and should be saved. How times have changed.
"He was also a guy full of... hope. Even after the whole world had gone to shit, even after everything we went through and saw, Tadashi still... he managed to keep who he was almost intact. He believed that one day we would find a place where we could be safe and live the rest of our lives happily," he chuckled humorlessly. An empty laugh that almost made Daryl shudder, due to the hopelessness it seemed to reflect in the boy's heart.
"Even until the end he never stopped believing."
There was silence for a long while. It was so silent, Daryl wouldn't be surprised if they could hear a pin drop from a mile away. There were no birds calling in the distance, no walker grunts, no squirrels skittering around, just the sound of their light breathing. For a moment, Daryl thought that perhaps Hiro was done, but he wasn't.
"He could be a bit of a knucklehead at times, but-" the kid choked up, and tears once again began to form at the edge of his eyes. Daryl stood by patiently as he tried to compose himself to finish.
"He was the greatest older brother I could ever ask for."
He grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it over the body bag of Tadashi Hamada, a custom Daryl could never understand.
And faintly, so faintly Daryl almost missed it, the kid whispered, "I love you, nii-san."
Once he was done, Daryl began to once again shovel the dirt back in. It took less time than when he dug the hole, and in a short amount of time, he was done.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and dropped the shovel down to the ground. He looked at the cross lying near the burial site with the name "Tadashi Hamada" carved into it that Hiro had made and grabbed it. He looked for Hiro, thinking that he might want to do this, but found him sleeping lightly against the bark of a tree using his backack as a pillow. This had been a long day for the kid, so he couldn't blame him that he had fallen asleep, he just wished he had waited until Daryl took him back to the prison with his group where he could sleep peacefully without having to worry about walkers munching on him. And where he could get those scrapes of his cleaned up so they wouldn't get infected.
He sighed. He really didn't want to wake Hiro up, so instead, he decided to do it himself. He stopped himself just a few seconds before he could stab the cross into the ground though.
It just seemed... disrespectful to do this when he hadn't even known the boy. So, he cleared his throat and once again glanced at Hiro in hopes that he wasn't listening in.
He looked back down at the soft patch of dirt that had Tadashi Hamada buried under and sighed. Again, he didn't believe in heaven, or an afterlife. But, it just seemed like the right thing to do.
"Look, I didn't know ya', I know. But from what your little bro told me, you were one hell of a brother. I have- had a brother, too. So I know what it's like, to want to protect your own kin I mean. You would do anything to protect them, even if they can be huge... boneheads at times." An image of Merle filtered into his mind and he felt himself choke up on his words.
He cleared his throat to compose himself and continued. "I can tell that you did all you could to protect this kid. And I may not know him well, and I never met you, but I will promise you this," he glanced back at the small figure of a sleeping Hiro, who was twitching and frowning in his sleep, most likely from a nightmare from the most recent events.
"I will look out after 'im from now on."
He stabbed the cross into the ground. He took a step back to take one final look at his work and finally walked towards where Hiro lay sleeping.
He stared at him warily, and hesitantly reached out for him. He scooped the small boy into his arms carefully so as to not wake him, surprised at how light he was, and grabbed the backpack to put it over his shoulder.
Hiro shifted and moaned slightly, but did not wake up. Daryl started to walk back towards where he left his motorcycle about a mile back, hoping that for once the walkers would decide to leave him alone.
Once he left the camp, the kid's frown had disappeared and he seemed to relax more into Daryl's arms. He buried his head into Daryl's chest and heard him whisper one name, "Tadashi-nii."
Daryl's lips set into a grim line, but he kept moving nonetheless, hoping to reach his motorcycle before dark finally settled in.
As he walked, he thought about his older brother Merle. His brother, who even though could be a huge jerk at times, had defended him so many times in the past and looked out after him. Whether it was bringing him food when there was none in the fridge, or defending him from the bullies at school, or having his back while they went against walkers.
And then he thought of the story of Tadashi Hamada, and how he looked out after his younger brother, and how he died for Hiro.
Just like Merle died to protect him.
To the end of his life, Merle was a flawed man with issues that he kept himself from facing, but he was never a truly evil man. No. Merle had some good in him, he just didn't believe it himself. He loved his brother, and no matter what he kept fighting in a world filled with despair and still had Daryl in his thoughts and a desire to find him one day.
Sure he had never put it into words, but he didn't have to because Daryl saw that, even though he was frequently absent from his life, Merle had cared about him. And Daryl had cared about him as well. Loved him really. He had been the only family that he had around for so many years who actually mattered to him and loved. He knew that Merle could be complicated most of the time, and this world had changed him for the worse, but never did Daryl believe that Merle was truly evil.
And he showed that in his final moments.
His final act of courage gave his brother and his group a fighting chance. And for the first and only time, Merle had truly found his place among others.
And for the first time, in a long time, Daryl carelessly let a tear slide down his face, one which he didn't bother to wipe away both for fear that he might jostle and wake up Hiro and because there was nobody here to watch him anyway.
He looked down at the peaceful face of Hiro as he continued to sleep in Daryl's arms.
They were both former younger brothers who understood each other's grief, and that made Daryl feel like they could connect, in some odd twisted way.
The only immediate family they had left was gone. But, Daryl made a promise back there at Tadashi's grave. And even though it had been to a dead man, Daryl was not one to break such promises.
Daryl would protect this kid as much as he could. He knew the runt would eventually become a pain in the butt, but he would not fail Hiro like he had failed so many others before. Like Sophia.
Besides, he always wanted to have a little brother.
Yeah, he had never admitted it, but he always liked the way "Daryl-nii" sounded.
A/N: So initially I had wanted to make this into a chapter story when I had written this months ago, but since I already have a story in the works that I want to have my full concentration on, I decided to make this into a one-shot instead. So, if anybody wants to take this and roll with it, go ahead.
I came up with this while watching the entire third and fourth season of the walking dead, it's not that great since I wrote it a couple months back and only recently did I remember it and decided to post it without proofreading, so sorry for any errors you can find.
Also, no, Daryl is not a replacement of Tadashi for Hiro, but since Hiro is still young and his only family was just killed in front of him, he needs a role model so he could grow in this apocalyptic world. Daryl just so happens to become that. That had been the initial idea for this story if I had decided to continue it.
I'm not good at writing stories that are supposed to be emotional and I don't think I got both of these characters on point, so constructive criticism is apreciated since I'm still trying to improve my writing, but please don't be so harsh. And maybe one day, if I'm motivated enough to do so,I'll actually read this and edit it as best as I can.
Well, hope you guys enjoyed it and please review. :) Enigma out!
