A Docile Abyss
Galenchia: A new story idea by Galenchia! Is it possession by a bored spirit? Is it the apocalypse? Is it an act of GOD! Well, if that's how you so choose to refer to me, then by all means, believe the last. x3 Regardless of the reason, I have indeed begun a new story, and a multi-chaptered one, at that. –Eagerly awaits non-existent applause.- Aw..
Fanfiction basis: Yu-Gi-Oh
Rating: T, PG-13; for moderate violence, possible language, and references to a lime
Type: Alternate universe (AU) Genre: Romance/Angst
Summary: (AU, war-time setting) A deserter from a bloody war, Yami must seek refuge from an unexpected ally. But is it already too late to turn his back on his nation? Can he handle the consequences of his choices? (Yaoi, YYxY)
Warnings: Please note that there will be violence, possible language, and references to a lime in this reading material (as stated in the rating); also, this fic is yaoi, or contains homosexuality, which refers to an intimate male x male relationship. If you are not comfortable with reading any of the afore mentioned, please do not continue reading. IN ADDITION, I want to prepare you for descriptions of war and introspective views of Yami as a soldier. I'm rather opinionated, and one can be certain that some of my persuasions slipped into this piece. I hope you are not offended by the images implied: if you think you may be, just don't read it, alright? Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and since this is my story, I have the option to write whatever I choose.
Pairing(s): YYxY (Yami Yugi x Yugi)
Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Yu-Gi-Oh, or any related characters, logos, etc. This is a non-profit work, intended for private viewing, and was written by myself, Galenchia.
Chapter 1: The Repulsive Perfume
He watched the blood drip slowly from the steel blade of his sword onto the dirty path beneath his feet. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak; hell, Yami wasn't even sure at this point if he could still breathe. The guilty, red specks of liquid dribbled along the clear reflection that was his once unmarred sword. The day he'd first received the weapon at recruitment camp now seemed so very distant; he could still remember the first time he'd traced his tanned digits along the engraving imprinted on the sword's thin, steel surface that read, "Republic of Niac army, 54th division." Those few simple words had formed one of the intangible threads that had bound him to his country's military service, as immune to fray as the Fates' own. Now they were smeared in blood that their bearer had not shed.
The glint from the sun on the inhuman metal reflected nothing but the eyes of the innocent man who'd just been stabbed before him, that innocent man's eyes that would never again open to reveal their depths. Yami's division had infiltrated a town suspected of harboring supplies and back-up soldiers for the Leban army. He was certain that his commanding officers knew (they simply had to, after all,) the innocence and saving ignorance of the men, women, and children who had been struggling to continue with their lives while their dear nation of Leba fought a brutal war. If these individuals were not guilty of any crime, why had it been necessary to slaughter them? Yami had approached him: the man in the street who'd braved the walk through a line of soldiers to ask any of these soldiers why they were invading this isolated town. The innocent man had looked up with the naivety of a child to the crimson-eyed young man, and had opened his mouth to speak…
But he'd been cut short, quite literally, as the General Suagi had plunged his blade into the elderly man's heart. Yami's unsheathed sword had been tainted as it hung on his belt loop, and its owner could do nothing but look on in horror and gape while he tried to grasp the explanation behind this. With the murderous general's order, all of the soldiers were given the command to attack any who approached.
They were simply afraid, he knew…but why did any of this have to happen? Was it because of a threat to Niac's security by a few rebels? And here the mountainous country's army was in the barren deserts of Leba, killing 'enemies' that had never housed any hatred to them. Yami almost wondered if such an empty threat as began this war would truly be as unpleasant as the resolution they were attempting to implicate now.
As they retired to their camp that evening, the young man glanced up to the smoke of bombs and the glints of explosions that shone like lethal fireflies in the night's dark span. He found himself shivering in the same tremor that shook the ground when a mechanical tank rambled by with cargo of fatality. It was then that Yami realized he was fatigued by all of it. He was tired of seeing children clinging to the corpses of their deceased parents. He was tired of seeing youthful men, much like he, age immeasurably every day. He was tired of his heart gripping his mind with fear as he passed through the rare patches of vegetation, terrified that one false step would end his life. And sometimes, he wondered if the pain of death could even compare to the mental anguish he felt here. He hated it: he hated everything about this 'duty', and hated all the suffering that he knew, deep down, was his own indirect fault.
It dully registered in his mind that he had left his previous position and was now rummaging through some of his equipment. He took the most relevant supplies, tucking them carefully into a smaller bag. Even Yami himself wouldn't have been able to express his following plan of action. He was on his feet outside the tent, his boots making small thuds as they hit the dry ground. He was leaving. Deserting. Abandoning.
But he didn't care right now. Any consequence of leaving would be worth it; he was unsure how long he'd last like this, in a life that wasn't his own. The physical complications of this movement were now beginning to dawn on him, like the warm ascension of the sun over the cool sands of Leba in the morning. It was breathtaking, but oh how he'd come to dread it.
Primarily, he would have little to no shelter across expanses of grainy sediment for several miles. He would be an easy target if mistaken for a member of the opposing force. Actually, he was fairly certain that the troops would shoot a man in mid-flight even when said man wasn't mistaken for an enemy. Men in turmoil weren't exactly the type to interrogate first and deal punishment later. At the very least, his timing was good. It was nearly impossible to see more than several yards ahead at this time of the evening. Although, lack of vision would also act against him…Yami assumed he'd deal with that once he was past the possibility of being shot on the spot. He assumed that he would never quite escape that danger. 'Oh well,' his consciousness murmured sarcastically.
Secondly, he highly doubted a little cottage with ventilation and comfortable beds would be waiting specifically for deserters (he noted with a grimacing smile that he was already referring to himself as such.) He shook his head, and stepped forward, avoiding any of the patrol areas he was familiar with. Once again, that issue was to be dealt with later. He found that it didn't really matter. Sleeping under and inhaling a sand blanket, he assured himself, was better than constantly not only smelling, but feeling, the repulsive perfume of vengeful bloodshed.
The crimson-eyed man didn't even spare a glance back to his tent as he quietly slipped away into the abyss…but it was a docile abyss. That was acceptable.
Galenchia: That makes one chapter completed! Even though I'll likely edit it a hundred times or so…
I would really like to read your thoughts on the story so far. Whether you liked or disliked it (and why,) and offers of any comments. But please, DO NOT flame me for anything that I wrote in the warnings at the beginning. It was your responsibility to read those advisories before starting the story. And I assure you, Yugi will make an appearance within the next two chapters. Yay.
Galenchia, exeunt.
