Title: Gray Skies

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh 5Ds.

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The black stayed with me everywhere I went. It didn't matter who you were or where you came from. If you lived here, you were trash. Everyone knew it. Everyone said it. They mocked and scorned us, treating us no different from the garbage and rubble that littered our homes. In a sense, that insulting connotation was comforting. We were all trash. Because of that, we were able to deal with our lives as best we could, I guess. Knowing someone out there is suffering just as much as you? It's a small comfort. Twisted, perhaps, but every one in the Satellite was messed up.

There was no one to turn to. No one to save us from our troubles, from the misfortune of our births into this uncaring landscape. All we had was ourselves.

I was a young kid back then. Hanging out in vacant lots, playing hide-and-seek in the landfills with the other orphans. Making the most out of a dreary situation, while the adults drank themselves into oblivion. It was the only life I knew.

The decrepit shack I lived in was nothing to gloat over, but it was more than what some people had. It was scary at night, all alone with the monsters of the dark, but I was afraid of going deeper into the city. Security almost never patrolled this area, too busy locking up the thugs and drug lords in the deeper sectors. It was quiet and lonely, but the view kept me from seeking another home. I would spend hours perched on the roof, staring across the murky waters at the impressive skyline in the horizon, dreaming of what life would be like if things were different.

But that was what every one in the Satellite dreamed of.

I woke up to the foul odor of burnt rubber and gasoline. Dusky clouds hung high above in the somber sky, threatening to drown the world in its palette. I forced my aching body to stand, shrieking as my elbow exploded with pain and I fell down again, the rough, jagged rocks scraping thin streaks of red into my skin. I wiped away my tears with a dusty hand, lamenting my pitiful state. My shirt was stained with the dull brown of dirt and the black of oil. My pants were torn and shredded, and my legs were scraped and bruised as much as the rest of me.

That's what I got for picking a fight. The burning agony throbbed with each heartbeat, but I pulled myself to my feet. The rain would start soon. Limping, I dragged my feet along the scarred alleys, slowly making for home.

In those shadowy streets, a glitter of light caught my attention. Taking care not to aggravate my injuries, I knelt down and picked it up gently. It was a card. With a picture of a gorgeous bird. It sparkled beautifully, and in the dim orange glow of the lamps, its beady red eye almost seemed to wink at me. My head swiveled left and right, and when I realized no one was around, I pocketed it and hurried back home.

I wasn't fast enough. The sky roared and the clouds unleashed their torrent of water. I headed into the nearest building for cover. I shivered from the chilly winds that blew into the building. The doors were broken and useless at keeping out the cold, but it was better than getting wet. I sat on the freezing linoleum floor, waiting for the storm to pass. It was an office building, with drapes and carpets and everything. At one point, it might have been a luxurious lobby. Not anymore. The sofas were gone and the walls were lined with graffiti. That was common in the Satellite. Robbery, vandalism, mugging, murder. The daily life for Satellite scum.

Booming thunder cracked the skies, shaking the building. I jumped with fright with every bang, praying the storm would end soon so I could go home and sleep in my bundle of sheets. I gasped, remembering the card I had found, and I pulled it out. Thankfully, I hadn't been in the rain long enough for it to seep deep into my clothes. It really was a pretty card. In the gloomy light, I could just make out the picture of the black bird. I inspected the card, drawn in by it. There were small silvery letters at the top, and even smaller black words at the bottom, but I paid them no mind. No one had ever taught me how to read. Reading was something you learned at school.

The sky lit up in a bright flash, and the card burst to life with color. The black bird winked at me again, soaring happily in a sky of shining blue. For just an instant, it seemed alive. I ran over to the window, my fear of the storm forgotten. I waited impatiently for the next bolt of lightning, waiting for the vivid colors of the card to flare again. I was mesmerized by it.

It was a new sight to me. The sky of the Satellite only had one color. There was no blue, no purple no red, no orange. Nothing but the various drab tones of gray. Much like the Satellite itself. There were hints of color here and there, remnants from a time when the Satellite and the City had been one. But that was a long time ago. Even those last small slivers of color would fade away one day. This was our home. A land void of saturation. A world of gray.

But the sky in the picture was something else. It was blue and the clouds were white. The brilliant rays of sunlight were golden, reflecting off the primped feathers of the bird. How envious I was of you, little crow. For living in that world of color.

People in the Satellite hated crows. They were nosy and opportunistic little devils, swarming down in packs and stealing whatever they could get. But in the end, I guess they were just as bad off as the rest of us. The crows of the Satellite...they were stupid. Their wings could carry them to a different land, to a place where the sky wasn't so dark and ominous. But they chose to stay here.

Except for this one.

The raging skies calmed, the world awash in darker shades of that dreaded color. Why? Why am I here? What am I doing? I kicked the door in anger, grinding the glass to dust beneath my heel. But I still felt as empty as ever.

What can I do, little bird? How do I go on?

I walked to the local play area, where I knew some of the older kids hung out. It was an old parking lot of cracked cement and chipped glass, surrounded by pale walls barren of decoration. Old car shells lay about uselessly. In the corner, a wooden board balanced on top of a barrel served as a table, two duelists sitting on crates playing cards. I often saw them here, though I had never been brave enough to make contact. I steeled my nerves and walked over to the group of kids.

Some turned to face me. I was terrified. One of them asked my name. What was my name? Who was I?

Nobody.

Who are you, he asked.

I was like a crow, drifting around and stealing whatever I needed in order to survive.

Wait for me, little crow. One day, I will fly out of this gray world.

Who are you?

And I will meet you there, in that wonderful sky of color.

Who?

Crow.

My name is Crow.