Falling Rain
[A/N: Just an idea I got one day while standing in the rain. Enjoy.]
It was still raining, just another day in Tokyo, in the land of the rising sun. It had been raining nonstop for almost a week now, perhaps the tears of angels for the tragedy that had occurred seven days ago. One of the original Chosen Children had decided to end it all. Taichi Yagami had taken more than he could bear, and decided that this existence had become too unbearable to endure. He had jumped off the roof of his apartment complex, falling twenty-two stories to his death. Let us look into the past for a moment then, to try and understand why the leader of the most extraordinary group of children ever to have lived decided to end his life, and try to pull from this horror some empathy and sense of closure, for you see, my dear reader, all was not right this time.
"I can't understand why you won't love me!" Taichi sobbed, as Yamato stared at him, complacently smoking a cigarette. In the course of their conversation, Yamato's expression had only changed once—his eyebrows had risen slightly when Taichi confessed to him.
"Because it wouldn't work out between us, my friend. I would have thought you would know that." Yamato stared at his friend, his eyes hard and cold. True enough, he and Taichi had had sex on several occasions, but Yamato felt no emotional attachment to the man. "I find no reason to love you."
Taichi stared at Yamato blankly, tears running down his face. "How can you say that? After all we've been through, all the things we've done together, how can you say that?"
"Easily. You are attractive and excellent in bed, but you're too emotional, a factor I find to be quite a turn-off. So, I find no reason to love you. You are simply a diversion to me, nothing more than one more sexual conquest in an endless sea of bodies writhing beneath me." Yamato grinned cruelly; blissfully aware of the pain he was causing the man.
"What twisted you so much Yamato, that you could become so rotten at the core? You were the one that came to me; I didn't come to you and beg for sex! You're no better than a whore in the red-light district!" Yamato's face twisted angrily, and he viciously lunged across the table and burned Taichi's neck with the end of his cigarette.
"How dare you say that to me! You're wrong!" The rage on Yamato's face showed clearly, cords standing out on his neck, his eyes blazing. When Taichi had recovered, his rose from his seat, and walked out, pausing at the door to say only one thing: "If you can do this to me, someone who's loved you for years, then you're worse than those whores. You're a monster. Goodbye, Yamato." The door shut with a low click, and Yamato stared at it, eyes still ablaze. He threw the cigarette at it, but then realized that maybe Taichi was right. He may have perhaps lived a—no, forget it, he thought; a good night's sleep will clear me up. Yamato climbed the stairs to his bedroom, pausing like Taichi, before closing his door. He paused to wipe off the single tear running down his face, and to convince himself again that he was right.
Taichi walked home, his mind a cloud of despair and agony. He still couldn't understand why Yamato refused to love him, and, in his despair, did not notice his surroundings until a raindrop hit his nose. He looked around him, startled, and found himself on top of his apartment building, and then looked into the sky to see storm clouds gathering. He walked to the edge of the building, and looked over down to the street below. He climbed onto the concrete barrier, and stood, looking down over the waves of humanity below him. People hugging, holding hands, sitting by each other, or simply walking together, enjoying each other's company. He realized that this was not a world he could live in.
As he watched the crowds below him, he came to understand that over the years, he had put Yamato on a pedestal, seeing only his beauty and not looking at what he had gotten himself involved in, the brutalities he committed as a member of the Yakuza, ignoring the way he had gotten more and more violent as the years went on. As he stood there, he came to understand something fundamental about human nature, something life altering. It was then he decided.
It is in human nature to create an endless cycle of self destruction that ultimately leads to the annihilation of what man attempts to achieve throughout his life: happiness. If someone comes to realize this during their lifetime, they have a choice to make. They can either use their knowledge to try and better themselves, a long process with no guarantee of success, or they can choose the easy way out. It is the latter that Taichi Yagami chose. Standing twenty-two stories off the ground, Taichi spread his arms, and as the falling rain began to caress his body, he fell forward, turning over once in space, and landing on his back. Those who reached his body before the police saw one thing in particular that made them all stare. Instead of the mask of terror so commonly seen on jumpers, Taichi wore a contented smile. It seems that perhaps, in the seconds he had spent before the impact, that he understood what happiness really was.
A small memorial service was held a week later, in the pouring rain. The mourners did not stay long, and as they slowly filed out into their waiting cars, no one noticed a tall blonde man in a long black trench coat walking up the path to the fresh grave. He put his hand on the gravestone, and smiled. "Hell of a performance Taichi, but perhaps a little clichéd. But, in retrospect, life itself is a cliché. So then, allow me one more cliché in this life." Yamato then took a handgun from his pocket, and, with one last glance at the grave, shot himself in the head. The rain had stopped.
[A/N: Just an idea I got one day while standing in the rain. Enjoy.]
It was still raining, just another day in Tokyo, in the land of the rising sun. It had been raining nonstop for almost a week now, perhaps the tears of angels for the tragedy that had occurred seven days ago. One of the original Chosen Children had decided to end it all. Taichi Yagami had taken more than he could bear, and decided that this existence had become too unbearable to endure. He had jumped off the roof of his apartment complex, falling twenty-two stories to his death. Let us look into the past for a moment then, to try and understand why the leader of the most extraordinary group of children ever to have lived decided to end his life, and try to pull from this horror some empathy and sense of closure, for you see, my dear reader, all was not right this time.
"I can't understand why you won't love me!" Taichi sobbed, as Yamato stared at him, complacently smoking a cigarette. In the course of their conversation, Yamato's expression had only changed once—his eyebrows had risen slightly when Taichi confessed to him.
"Because it wouldn't work out between us, my friend. I would have thought you would know that." Yamato stared at his friend, his eyes hard and cold. True enough, he and Taichi had had sex on several occasions, but Yamato felt no emotional attachment to the man. "I find no reason to love you."
Taichi stared at Yamato blankly, tears running down his face. "How can you say that? After all we've been through, all the things we've done together, how can you say that?"
"Easily. You are attractive and excellent in bed, but you're too emotional, a factor I find to be quite a turn-off. So, I find no reason to love you. You are simply a diversion to me, nothing more than one more sexual conquest in an endless sea of bodies writhing beneath me." Yamato grinned cruelly; blissfully aware of the pain he was causing the man.
"What twisted you so much Yamato, that you could become so rotten at the core? You were the one that came to me; I didn't come to you and beg for sex! You're no better than a whore in the red-light district!" Yamato's face twisted angrily, and he viciously lunged across the table and burned Taichi's neck with the end of his cigarette.
"How dare you say that to me! You're wrong!" The rage on Yamato's face showed clearly, cords standing out on his neck, his eyes blazing. When Taichi had recovered, his rose from his seat, and walked out, pausing at the door to say only one thing: "If you can do this to me, someone who's loved you for years, then you're worse than those whores. You're a monster. Goodbye, Yamato." The door shut with a low click, and Yamato stared at it, eyes still ablaze. He threw the cigarette at it, but then realized that maybe Taichi was right. He may have perhaps lived a—no, forget it, he thought; a good night's sleep will clear me up. Yamato climbed the stairs to his bedroom, pausing like Taichi, before closing his door. He paused to wipe off the single tear running down his face, and to convince himself again that he was right.
Taichi walked home, his mind a cloud of despair and agony. He still couldn't understand why Yamato refused to love him, and, in his despair, did not notice his surroundings until a raindrop hit his nose. He looked around him, startled, and found himself on top of his apartment building, and then looked into the sky to see storm clouds gathering. He walked to the edge of the building, and looked over down to the street below. He climbed onto the concrete barrier, and stood, looking down over the waves of humanity below him. People hugging, holding hands, sitting by each other, or simply walking together, enjoying each other's company. He realized that this was not a world he could live in.
As he watched the crowds below him, he came to understand that over the years, he had put Yamato on a pedestal, seeing only his beauty and not looking at what he had gotten himself involved in, the brutalities he committed as a member of the Yakuza, ignoring the way he had gotten more and more violent as the years went on. As he stood there, he came to understand something fundamental about human nature, something life altering. It was then he decided.
It is in human nature to create an endless cycle of self destruction that ultimately leads to the annihilation of what man attempts to achieve throughout his life: happiness. If someone comes to realize this during their lifetime, they have a choice to make. They can either use their knowledge to try and better themselves, a long process with no guarantee of success, or they can choose the easy way out. It is the latter that Taichi Yagami chose. Standing twenty-two stories off the ground, Taichi spread his arms, and as the falling rain began to caress his body, he fell forward, turning over once in space, and landing on his back. Those who reached his body before the police saw one thing in particular that made them all stare. Instead of the mask of terror so commonly seen on jumpers, Taichi wore a contented smile. It seems that perhaps, in the seconds he had spent before the impact, that he understood what happiness really was.
A small memorial service was held a week later, in the pouring rain. The mourners did not stay long, and as they slowly filed out into their waiting cars, no one noticed a tall blonde man in a long black trench coat walking up the path to the fresh grave. He put his hand on the gravestone, and smiled. "Hell of a performance Taichi, but perhaps a little clichéd. But, in retrospect, life itself is a cliché. So then, allow me one more cliché in this life." Yamato then took a handgun from his pocket, and, with one last glance at the grave, shot himself in the head. The rain had stopped.