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Title: Toys in the Cellar
Author: Honey Bunches of Death
Pairings: None
Warnings: Darkish. Tried to keep it as much in the "real world" as I could with my own twist. Some nitpickers will need an AU slapped on this, but I consider this one of my more relaxed genres. And I think my idea could actually work with the series, but I'm no plot expert here.
Continuity: While this story is not set at any particular time frame, it should correspond with most major plot points up to about volume 30 of the manga.
Summary: In the mist of an ancient prophecy, a sadistic society and the key to chaos, a boy must survive through the treacheries of humanity and his own mind.
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. I ripped off of everything I could think of. A proper disclaimer will be added at the end.
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When it came to the universe around them, humans were oblivious creatures.
But that statement was only part of the problem and was not specifically what this story is about.
When it came to truth, humans were oblivious creatures – even if the truth was about their own lives.
Human beings were once granted the ability of perception. Instead of just passively observing the world around them, individual humans were able to interpret it as well. People were no longer subjugated to understanding something the same way, and a new era of free thought began. Two people could look out at the same sunset from relatively the same spot and then argue later on what had taken place.
The first person might have noticed the swirling rainbow sky. The vibrant, warm combination of colors had been contrasting perfectly with the cool caressing breeze. Dandelions and supple dirt had tickled their bare feet while they had been completely lost in the sweet smells of the grass. Not even the busy little gnats had been able to wake them from the delights of nature.
The second person may have noticed the ominous black sky dripping down over the retreating light. The bleakest night had finally overcome the day, bringing with it the menacing creatures of the night. The bitter, chilling winds had bit at their skins while the mosquitoes filled their bellies with the viewers' blood. The weeds had reached out to scratch their skin and the grass had itched the soles of their feet. The sunset would not be over soon enough.
From these two viewpoints, many outsiders might try to conclude something about the personalities of the spectators. The first person would be thought of as cheery and optimistic and the second person would be thought of as depressed or restless. It was understood that perception is based on someone's disposition. This was the gift that allowed people to be unique. But even the best gifts came at a price.
Perhaps whoever gave humans this gift underestimated human weaknesses, or perhaps it was simply a test, but humans managed to warp their gift into a curse. It began when humans found their place in the world, or rather, when they conquered the place where they would like to be – at the top. Humans began to exert their will on the planet, but that wasn't enough. They soon turned on each other, betraying their own kind for a taste of control. They built up their buildings, gods and weapons to fit their image, yet they still could not perfect everything. Some things refused to bend down to the will of others. That's when perception became one of humanity's downfalls.
What could not be changed in reality could be perceived differently – in the way that the viewer *wanted* to see it. Humans took up this practice without a second thought, and perception became an escape route from life. People could perceive themselves as intelligent, compassionate, witty or devious. They could make friends out of enemies or lovers out of acquaintances simply by perceiving what they wanted to see in the other's actions. They might believe they understood themselves or their friends, but they only knew what they want to notice. Individuals built up pocket realities for themselves. Their worlds were protected from the truth as long as they could avoid objectively analyzing their lives and reinforce the walls of their reality.
But even the strongest walls had cracks.
Even the strongest walls broke.
Even the strongest people crumbled when they faced the truth for the first time.
Although the tale began in the time of the ancients, this story starts with a seemingly ordinary four-year-old boy. Like every other boy his age, he was hyper and curious. There was a happy, carefree innocence in his life that every young child should experience, but he was by no means perfect. He would find himself reprimanded for his mischievous actions he committed with his small band of friends. His parents tried to be fair with his punishments, but he was their only son and they really only ended up spoiling him with love. But no one could begrudge the parents for that, as he was still better behaved than most children his age. In fact, they only made one mistake as parents.
They had a child.
It was unfair to blame the young boy in this case. The probability of him even existing was next to nothing. Centuries of genetics had to be manipulated perfectly for certain desired traits to appear. The project was nicknamed Yugiou. The product of those years of designing was labeled Mutou Yugi.
Yugi was blessed with magnificence and grace that only occurs with the proper mixing of genes. Even at the age of four it was obvious he was intended to be an exquisite creature. To compare his face to a cherub's would be insulting. His skin was smooth and without a single blemish. His facial features were each situated perfectly for his childish face, as if an artist had measured out the exact position of every element. His delicate nose was centered over gentle lips. But the trait that everyone gravitated to was his wide, expressive eyes. They were an exotic shade of lilac that would sparkle brighter than the morning sky. The purple hue of his eyes contrasted majestically with his multicolored hair, which was full and think. It had a tendency to flow in every direction at once, reflecting his spirit. True, he was petite for his age, but he made up for it with his boundless energy.
Yugi inherited more than just his matchless beauty. There was an anomaly in his genetic code that allowed him greater access to his inner strength, along with a potential for a power level that had not been seen since before the project began. This life force was neither black nor white, good nor evil; it was just Yugi. And this made him even more powerful.
He remained unaware of the plots surrounding his life, the power he possessed and his fate, allowing for a blissful four years with his affectionate parents. This life was destined for failure. Yugi could not be allowed such a peaceful existence – he was not designed for it.
Even with Yugi's destiny over a decade away, Project Yugiou had become more abstract over the ages. Considering Yugi's current surroundings, it was predicted that the product might grow up balanced and in tune with his gift. The child would ruin a plot that dated back to the ancients. Every detail had been planned down to the alignment of the stars – too much had been sacrificed to allow failure. Someone had already managed to sabotage the original plan. One of their own had betrayed the oath and protected the boy with the help of another rebel spirit. After their meddling, the majority of the scheme had been compromised after Yugi's birth, and there were still unknown consequences to deal with. It had been a struggle to rework the plan as closely as possible to the original for the project's director to be satisfied. The product itself could not be allowed to bring further ruin. Drastic measures needed to be taken to stabilize the program. And so the events of Yugi's fourth birthday were considered.
What happened on that day would not be as simple as kidnapping. The attempt to capture the boy at birth had been disastrous. The traitor had managed to protect the boy and block Yugi from entering their bleak dimension. The product was not stuck in his home dimension; he just couldn't enter his designer's. For them, raising the boy on Earth was out of the question. Since the project's beginnings, only the traitor had ever lived on the obtuse little planet and no one else would lower his or her standards to that of the deserter. The power of the traitor could not be overwritten, but it could be evaded. Of course, the boy's mind would have to be rewritten first, which was no more complicated than uploading a type of virus. They sent their best agent.
None of this was known to anyone living on Earth. There had been no premonitions or warnings signs for that morning. The only difference on that day was the time that Yugi dragged his parents out of bed. The promised trip to the aquarium had been too alluring for him to catch any sleep. For the entire day he was going to drive his parents crazy –that's how long his adrenalin rush could keep him unaware of how tired he really was. But his parents didn't plan to suffer alone. They had convinced Yugi's Grandpa to close the shop for a day, but it was another story trying to get him away from his business. The others waited impatiently outside during Grandpa's delay. Those few minutes might have saved his life.
To almost anyone else Yugi's assault would have gone completely unnoticed. A few people might have felt uncomfortable if they passed through the spot where the child had last stood, but even the most powerful of those few would be at a loss as to why. The one sent was known for his carefully woven spells, which could be most simply understood as a fishnet. If his nets had been made of rope, then they would have had millions of tiny fishhooks meticulously placed to bite into skin, no matter if the strongest Kevlar protected it. Even if the subject had remained completely motionless, the ravenous hooks would twist further into the captive's flesh, as if they were in a frenzied hunger after the first taste of a new victim. They would snake their way through their prey's body, never slowing until ever nerve cell was infected with their message of pain. But his spells were not made of rope and metal. They were much worse.
There is a type of irony in life that allows the beginning of the attack to be best equated with a children's show – one of those with singing puppets. Whenever a new word is learned, it comes flying out onto the screen spelt in bright, cheerful Styrofoam symbols while the blue hairy puppet dances around it while sounding out each syllable of "erudition." The kids are happy, the puppets are happy, the music is happy, and while the actors may rely on a strong antacid to get through the day, the message is still happy.
It should be noted that the society was not in the business of giving away happiness so that was not the message they sent Yugi. Nor were there dancing puppets on cheerful sets. So the attack really didn't begin like a children's show – except for those asinine Styrofoam symbols.
The word sent was simple. Daily conversations held the word, although few considered the significance of it. Perhaps that was why it was so easy to rip the word from millions of people's lips that day. It did not matter the language or the context, but people everywhere were willing to part with a word that meant nothing more than a few shaped lines on a piece of paper. So the word grew as it traveled around the globe. Those it passed freely strengthened it with so little as a murmur of its syllables. But the word remained empty until it was almost to the small person whom was its target. Then it was filled with passions that were nowhere near happy. With these shadows of feelings, the word became real.
Reality is filled with sites and sounds that are undetectable to human beings. These phantoms reside in the outer spectrum, which the human mind cannot process easily and therefore are rejected from one's perception. This word had become one of those things. Yet it would be completely worthless if Yugi could not sense it, but that was not a problem with whom he was. Even though Yugi had not been whom the society had intended to create, they still knew what he was and that he was vulnerable.
It was not meant to be a weakness. Yugi had always been able to sense things further than those around him. Never having experienced anything else, he was completely unaware of this ability. Few people will tell children they are wrong and even less listen to the stories they tell so it was not like he had been told any differently. So Yugi contentedly continued being able to discern red-orange from orange-red clearly as seeing black from white. That's how he knew exactly when the word became real.
There are not proper words in any known language for what he sensed. Throughout the ages, most languages have concentrated on their user's primary source for information: sight. If there was a language with such words, the closest one could translate to today would be words like "bitter" or "loud" or "rotten". No matter how eloquently someone may talk or write, there is only so much one can create with bland words. Without those words, people need to experience things to comprehend them.
Remember a time in life where all feelings were heightened to a single point. It could be anger, love, lust, envy, joy or whatever. Just go back to the place of that single emotion.
Remember what was there; who was there; the sights and sounds that coursed through the body; the aromas that can pull the mind back to that place; the taste of the air as it forced life into everything.
Don't think about the events leading up to that feeling, just relive it.
Attach those experiences to a word. The word does not need to make sense to anyone but the person who says it, but there needs to be a word. With that word goes everything from that moment. Each time the word is said, the bearer can experience that instant again.
Imagine if those experiences connected to the word could be lived by others. With a single word, positive and negative events could be inflicted on another.
Imagine if a single word was the strongest weapon ever conceived.
Imagine being four years old and stuck in the middle of an ancient battle. Death bathed the surrounding earth as life was butchered from that place. Bodies littered the ground, both friend and foe. The mothers, the children, the fathers, the loners were all there. It did not matter who they once were. In the end they were only nutrients waiting to seep back into the life cycle. There was a crashing silence so loud it hurt the eardrums while the putrid gust of flesh being recycled permeated every pore in his body. Every dead body was piled on top of his shoulders; every death was that of his own. The blood, sweat and bodily excretions of those now gone were free to dribbled down his shirt, leaving tiny river on his back which could only be diverted to new paths, but never cleaned from his body. There was also a feeling of worthlessness, which was now his. All this was part of that once empty word.
Yugi did manage to see the word before it found him. It was spelt out, almost as if it had been made of Styrofoam. There was an agility there that surprised the boy. One did not expect to see a floating word on his or her birthday, much less sense its movements as it snaked around a leg. One nick of the flesh, one taste of the victim and the spell became a furry. Yugi was only allowed freedom from the pain when he had completely submitted to the self-deprivation. Proper words for the emotion did not even exist in his vocabulary. With the mind infected, he was stolen into darkness. Yugi did not run when he had first noticed the word. It would not have done him any good. The memory that pained him may have been stolen from another time, the word may have been stolen from people's lips that day, but the spell had been made specifically for him.
"Product."
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