(Guess who? Yeah, it's been, uh… quite a while, but I'm glad to say that through much intensive RPing and Grade 12 English I'm actually writing some smart-looking stuff now. o-o Mind you, having lost my HM game, having my DS swiped from me – containing Trauma Center and Fire Emblem, no less. Lyn, my poor unstoppable killing machine… TT – coupled with, well, work and everything else that capitalism uses to stifle creativity, I'll be infrequent with updates. Like, really infrequent. So infrequent you'll actually be impressed by it. Still, enjoy!
Now, before I forget, I'd like to dedicate this first chapter to my very good friend and other such stuff, Corinne. Merry belated Christmas and happy extremely belated birthday. That's kind of what this chapter was supposed to be for. ; Now enjoy your read, everyone, and I hope you all had lots of presents and got Nintendo Wiis and Twilight Princess and want to bite Midna.
…Hey, it is a holiday today. Merry Boxing Day, everyone! Make sure you return everything you got two of and buy the stuff you didn't get or didn't want your relatives to know about!)
Spring was arriving. The city was beginning to wake, snow melting into puddles and streams of water running merrily down the gutters and bubbling on to the grates leading into the sewer. Pigeons were beginning to show their presence, current or recent, upon the statues and architecture. People were beginning to walk instead of bundle up in their warm houses or pitter about the city in their automobiles. A rather normal winter had finally passed through, making way for what was destined to be… a rather normal spring.
The City Regional Minimum Security Institution for Minor Criminal Negligence. This large, wide, forboding structure loomed upon the small, flat hill which it was resided. Three meters of artificial turf and a chest-high chain-link fence separated the scum behind its vigilant walls from the rest of civilized society. Those who entered seldom escaped without a small feeling of guilt for their poor judgement in whatever situation led them to this hall of justice. It stood, creaking occasionally from the change of temperature Spring brought, but otherwise unsurpassable in its silent might.
A taxi cab rolled its way to the curb, wheels turning on occasion and moving back and forth until it was perfectly lined since its parralel park was a bit sloppy. The sound of change dropping was heard, and then it was nothing but the rumbles of the engine until the clunk and bunk of the right passenger-side door opening with neither too much or too little effort needed.
Out then stepped a man of hunched posture and tanned epidermals. He straightened himself to his average hunch, adjusting his white muscle shirt with the hand reasonably attached to his tattoed arm. He took a moment to rub his dark eyebrows, adjusting to the change of light, and heard the taxi behind him pulling away. His solemn face turned to the left and right, and finally to the center, where the Institution lay before him.
Without hesitance, he walked toward the fence, unlatching the gate with a flick of his finger and continuing on until he reached the front entrance. He pulled at the main door, finding it immovable. Puzzled, he glanced around, until noticing the 'push' sign inscribed in sticker paper on the door's glass face. Funny he didn't notice that… He pushed the door open, not giving it another thought.
The staff on-duty, a fourteen year-old girl who seemed to have forgotten her nametag that day, was chewing pink bubblegum while reading over a copy of Bishies' Quarterly and leaning against the wall behind her counter. She raised her head to the sound of the door jingly-bells being chimed. Greeting the man, she offered a candy from the dish, which was respectfully refused. The man then mentioned who it was he was here to meet, to which the girl hummed a moment and then decided to use the quick-search on the counter's computer. The name was found, and directions given.
Trudging down the long hallways, filled with mostly-empty cells other than the occasional bored delinquent or snoozing janitorial staff, he navigated the maze of dreariness until he came upon the one cell he was looking for. B-11.
Bingo.
He approached the cell, his frame becoming clearer as the rather poor lighting fixtures bathed him in what they could provide. Soon enough he was nearly against the bars, staring hard at the shaded figure laying out on the bed at the far end of the cell. It stirred at his presence, but didn't bother to get up.
"Come here," the man requested, voice gruff from wear of age. "Let me see your face."
The figure let out a sigh, shifting where it was until it was at a sit. It then got to its feet, walking toward the front and slowly exposing itself to the light, revealling brownish eyes, a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, a red scarf, overalls, and of course, a blue hat.
They stared at one another a moment, surveying in silence.
"Tak," the figure, a young man by the looks of it, greeted with a hint of mockery. "You haven't changed much."
"I can say the same, kiddo," the man replied, surveying the other for a moment. "You've still got no direction for yourself. No great goal. No thoughts for the future. Barely any thoughts for the present. You've got to get back on your feet."
"I've never been on my feet," the other replied with a smug grin and tilt of the head. He began speaking in a poetic drawl. "I'm a drifter, I drift the cityscape. Like a pigeon on the wind, I travel as I please, shifting course when I decide to… Rgh, but this cage!" He shook the bars in violent defiance. "Do you know what it's like to be in here?! The days are cruel and dark, filled with misery! The world takes for granted its freedom, its open space… This is evil in its purest…!"
"…What are you in for again?" Tak asked, cutting into the dramatic pause in hopes it would keep this from turning into a full-on soliloquy.
The caged wonder paused for a moment, blinking once before replying. "…Hit a traffic cone and couldn't pay the fine."
"Ah… What's the term for that?"
"Four days… max… Two on good behaivor," muttered the reply, tapping his fingers together absently.
"Well, kiddo, I'm willing to pay your bail," said Tak, a suspicious glint in his eyebrow. The jailbird gripped his prison bars again, looking at him in wonderment.
"Really?"
"Yep, but it's not just 'cause I'm a nice guy," he continued. "I came here for a reason…
"I'm taking you back."
He gasped, loosening his desperate grip on the bars. "But… But Tak, the prophesy…"
"There's nothing to say that it won't happen here, either," replied Tak. "You might as well be somewhere safer than this city… That and, well, it's been a dry last generation and the town's short of young men again. You should see what we're calling 'bachelors' now…"
There was a pause. "…Gri-?"
"Yes…" muttered Tak, before the word had even finished. The improsoned one laughed.
"Wow, maybe you'll stand a chance soon!" he goaded. "Takakura, single, six foot two if it weren't for the hunch. Tanned, tattooed, lean, hairless other than the eyebr- Hey hey, wait, come back!"
Takakura, as he now was fully identified as (like it was some big secret or something. One can take a guess at who the so-far nameless prisoner is, too), turned around slowly with a sigh. He remembered why he hadn't missed the kid a whole lot…
"…Back to the point," he said gruffly. "You've got to decide this, and now."
"Wait," he replied, holding a hand out for a second. "…You just want me there to help repopulate town?"
"Kinda."
"Well, that all sounds good, but what's the catch?" he questioned, eyeing the older man suspiciously.
Takakura sighed, glancing away bitterly. There was no point in hiding it from him now. "Jack… Your father has died."
Jack, as his name surprisingly was, paled for a moment. His eyes glazed over, his throat felt dry… He swallowed, trying to calm the lump in the throat under his quivering chin…
Blink. "…Oh, right, I got that letter. Five years ago."
"…Oh." Postage just had to prevail that one time. "Well… case is, we need the farm up and running again. And seeing as farming has been in your blood for generations, it was a little more than pure destiny that brought me here to you."
Jack narrowed his eyes, sticking his head slightly through the painted steel bars. "…You want me to leave my home? My city? My posessions? Friends? This very place I've grown up in? All in a simple town in a simple place with pretty much no future for m-"
"Girls."
"…Hard bargain," Jack admitted, rubbing his chin in thought. "But I'm still not sure about it… I mean, farming is just, well, unclean… You know, I'd rather be serving soft drinks than, say… shoveling cow dung."
With a gleam in his eye, Jack stared at Takakura, a small smile present. Takakura stared back, a single drop of sweat trailing down his right temple. There seemed to be no way around it… He gave a sigh of defeat.
"…I'll shovel."
Jack grinned. "Then you've got a deal!"
-
The bail having been paid – a tough but fair 800g – and a taxi called for their trip to Jack's home, the two waited on the stret outside of the institution. Five minutes of complete silence passed before the taxi finally rolled up in front of them. As Jack began toward it, he felt his shoulder caught by Takakura's hand.
"Jack…" the man began. Jack turned around. "Jack… There is no turning back from this point, you know. Once you've gone to Forget-Me-Not Valley you'll remain there for the rest of your young, adult, middle age and most likely old-age life. There are no video games or laptops or wireless… things or shoe stores; we only have the basics."
For a moment, Jack paused. Then the reminder of no-competition bachelorhood kicked in again and he made compensation.
"Well then, I'll bring a few creature comforts with me," he stated, smiling a bit. "It's all right, I have everything I want right in my…"
-
"…apartment…" he muttered tonelessly, his eyes raised to one of the windows of his living complex. The one that he knew housed his room. The one currently spitting out a constant torrent of flames, between six and ten feet out. It was the only room on fire, too. He supposed the fire crew bustling around him was doing a very competent job of containing the blaze.
Once again, in his room.
"…Well, now I've got to go, huh…" Jack muttered. "I don't have the money to pay back all my stuff, even if it weren't fake insurance…"
"Hm?"
"Nevermind, Tak…" Jack sighed, turning away and looking around. He noticed a firefighter passing by, and took the man's hat from his head.
"Hey!" called he. Jack evaded his grip and cleared his throat.
"You know what happened?" he asked, offering the hat again. The man took it back, narrowing his eyes. "…Don't look at me like that, I'm sure you can beat me up if you wanted. But it's kind of my apartment burning up there."
"Oh," said the firefighter, blinking and lowering his fist. "We're not sure of the cause yet, sir. Witnesses can't seem to confirm anything but the sound of a bang and the woosh of flames. Some suspect karma."
"Karma…" Jack muttered angrily. "So, what, no cause?"
"Well, one witness claimed to see…" Suddenly, the fire hose he was supposed to be helping to carry caught around his leg. He tripped, falling flat on his head, unconscious.
Takakura blinked.
"…Should we wait to see what he said?" he asked, glancing over to Jack inquisitively.
"Nah… it doesn't matter," replied Jack, shaking his head a bit. "I doubt he'll remember anyway. That looked like a memory-clearer…"
"Well, let's get out of the middle of this off-limits area, then," Tak continued, turning and walking over to the police tape barrier. "I think we're getting in the way…"
"Sure, sure…" said Jack, starting toward it as well, passing under and walking to the taxi, parked beside a fire truck. "So next stop, the Valley?"
"Yep. …Say, don't you have a car?"
"…The traffic cones were there for a reason."
"Oh."