SCAR
~A Collection of Oneshots~
Summary: A collection of oneshots focused mostly on Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal's IV (Thomas Arclight) and Kamishiro Rio
Author's note: first of all, this is my first attempt in writing fanfic! Yes! I finally gave in the temptation and let myself write something that isn't usually my style, using my second language, even! Somebody, clap my back, please! Okay, enough self-consciousness, on to the serious stuff. I'm serious that English isn't my primary language. Therefore, I can't provide you all with appropriate writing. I'm still getting the hang of writing-grammar, so, if you spot anything weird inside, do tell immediately (and, preferably, including correction). Critic and suggestion regarding writing composition is also welcome! And please be gentle! This is my first time writing fanfic. Ever. Honest! Oh, by the way, I was actually inspired by a few short fic about the same pairing, and feeling the urge to write an elaborate one myself to satiate my lust for drama. I'll try my best putting the reference used in this fic, be it from another fanfic or other media. If I missed something, kindly remind me about it! :) By the way, I drew the cover myself! Ehe! ;p
Warning: This fanfic is specifically themed angst for a couple of reasons. The main one is this being a fic dealing mostly of IV's character study. As we all know (or maybe not, which is why I'm explaining it here), IV is quite an interesting character with a lot of undeveloped backgrounds in the anime. Had it been nurtured by my dramatic flair, it would change almost entire aspects of the show, steering it away from its original purposes for promoting the card game. My taste for IV's flavored drama mentions a lot of mental-instability, madness, and self-inflicted blame. There may be some mild profanities, as well as disturbing imageries about blood, wound, and violence. You have been warned. Oh, and also, this fic consists of several oneshots that loosely connected to each other and with the anime. I fancy myself that this is the anime's off-screen moments written in chronological order (I put note on which episode each oenshot was based on, if any). If you're confused reading it, that's probably my fault for popping out random incoherent ideas in the first place. Now, you have been warned, twice.
P.S. To avoid confusion, let this humble writer clarify that IV's actually just an alias, and it's literally read 'four', after Roman numeral. His real name is Thomas Arclight. His brothers are III (Three/ Michael A.), and V (Vee/Christopher A.), father-slash-leader is Tron (Byron A.). Since the names used mostly in the anime were the aliases, I'll go with that for most part of this story. Their real names might be used some times for dramatic effect. Any other names used in this story were from the original anime series, not the dub.
Ah, it took me this long to explain everything. Do pardon my anxiety-attack. I figured there won't be many readers, anyway, since YGO Zexal was such a long time ago, not to mention that the pairing isn't exactly canon, nor popular. I just recently watched the entire thing over again out of blue moon and browsed fanfiction and pixiv. One thing led to some other, my muse awakened, and here I am! Okay! Enough stalling and keep scrolling down! Enjoy! (I edited this since I didn't know that a chapter full of Author's Note is violating FF guidelines! My bad, for not reading them properly the first time!)
Chapter 1: Burn
(based off the fire flashback scene in episode 58)
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own YGO Zexal, otherwise, IV would be an anti-hero protagonist along with Rio as the heroine, and the anime would be full of dramas instead of card games!
Everything was on fire.
Everywhere he looked, there were only flames, licking everything it touched, engulfing it in its scorching embrace. Debris' of the ruined building were also on fire, scattered all over his path. Even his red-and-blond tresses blended in rather nicely with the flaming background.
IV limped, not because of bad leg, but because of her weight started to burden his steps. The smell of smoke filling his nostrils didn't really help matter either. If he stayed there any longer, he'd have died of lung poisoning. But then, he didn't even know where he was; let alone looking for a way out. He could only see fire, as far as his eyes could see.
The girl, Rio, had fallen unconscious after a piece of debris hit her head—or so IV thought, since said girl was now leaning limply by his side, one arm draped over his shoulder. The blunette was drenched in sweat, face contorted in pain; he didn't have time to check for any injury, but that was the least of his worry.
Every step he took felt like dragging a steel ball, his breathing labored, and the time seemed to slow, as if the fire dulled every momentum around him. He was sick of fire and he wanted—no, had—to get out of this inferno as fast as possible.
Once he was out, the first thing he would do was to confront Tron. That brat had a lot explaining to do, especially about that card. If he could get out of here, of course.
IV cursed that card, the card that had materialized real fire and starting this disaster. He cursed Tron, who had given him that card. The kid knew he could never win against her with his own deck. He never felt so humiliated in his sixteen years of life.
That bastard…damn, go to hell!
He repeated it inside his head like a chant, hoping that if he did it enough, it would actually happen. Of course he knew that was a long shot, but he needed something direct his anger.
Hatred and anger were two things that he understood the most. Determination to bring back his father, along with hatred towards whatever had caused his father trapped in that revenge-seeking child known as Tron were two things that drove him to do more than anyone else. His little brother, III, was too gentle to do this kind of dirty work, while his older brother, V, was too busy going over their plans and making sure Tron stay entertained. So, it was all on him now.
That feeling alone was probably the only reason he kept walking in his half-conscious state while dragging the girl's limp form along. In another normal circumstance, he would have passed out already. But 'normal' was erased from his dictionary after his father's disappearance years ago. Ever since that fateful day, all he could remember were unhappy memories.
Chris was lucky that he had been old enough when it all happened, so he hadn't had to be put into foster care and could continue his research to find out what had happened to their father. But Thomas and Michael hadn't been as lucky.
Almost the entire orphanage had jeered at them since they had come from a high-class background and therefore unaccustomed to the simple way of living there. Of course, Michael, being a kindred soul he was, didn't really mind to be made fun of as long as he could make friends. But, Thomas, suddenly been delegated as the older of the two, couldn't see it the way his brother could.
What had actually happened to their father? Why hadn't Chris said anything about it? Where had his brother gone? Where was he now? How long did he and Michael have to be there?
There were too many questions and no answer. He just wanted his brother back to tell them everything he knew—even if it meant learning the painful truth that maybe, just maybe, even if their father had perished, the still had each other.
But instead, they were stuck there, coping up with a bunch of country children. Thomas wasn't an easy child to begin with, and his current situation had only worsened his volatile temper. Slowly but surely, his heart began to be filled with hatred towards anything unknown to him.
Once he had gotten an answer, there were even more questions; as to how could their father be that creepy, masked child, and even if it was true, what happened to him that he ended up like that? All he could do was do as his brother and that kid told him, hoping there would be some logical explanations when they're finished.
Logical?
IV wanted to laugh at the irony. He was always the most illogical one among his brothers. Public appearances aside, anyone who had ever dueled him knew that he was as stable as Jekyll & Hyde; the one that would do anything to satiate his lust for destruction.
Right. He would make those people know that he wasn't easily stepped on; they were the ones that would be stepped on. That girl, too, who dared to deny his remarks about her twin brother, had to be taught some lessons.
What use was there if she died now?
He ceased walking; his whole body shook from anger, hatred, and heat. He wanted to scream, but he couldn't even breathe properly. He wanted to hit—or even destroy—things to channel his ever piling frustration or he would burst.
"The building is already destroyed. Isn't that enough?"
IV gasped upon hearing that voice and immediately turned his head to its direction. The voice echoed around him, so he wasn't sure where to look. But, even more important was that he knew that voice… there was no mistaking it…
Due to fatigue and smoke filling the air, his sight was slightly glazed, but the transparent figure looked very vivid in his eyes; the small, masked figure floating a mere inches away from him, hands folded behind his back, smirk plastered on the uncovered half of his face, chin raised in a regal bearing.
"Tron…" he hissed through his gritted teeth. The heat around him was nothing compared to the flame building inside his chest. His eyes fixed on Tron, every last bit of his nerves were ablaze, willed him to hit that smug smile off the masked face.
It's all that brat's fault! It's all V's fault!
"TRON!" roared IV, this time with his entire lung's might. All those piled up hatred was put into a single, loud roar as he lashed out his free arm to hit the translucent figure—never mind that his punch would just go through it. He didn't care.
In the midst of his rage, he didn't hear the pillar near his head groaned; its surface cracking. He wasn't even thinking to dodge at all, only his instinctive reflex that made him envelop her with an arm while shielding his head with his other arm, right when the first big piece of the pillar hit the back of his shoulder. His knees buckled and slammed into the ground with a loud thump, bringing her down with him, still held tightly within his embrace, while debris of the fallen pillar pelting down on them. Some of the protruding steel-wires from the pieces ripped through the flesh of the right side of his face and shoulder, and the fire immediately set his clothing alight.
Vaguely, he could hear pained yelp, followed by a scream. Was he the one screaming like that? He didn't even recognize the voice; he must've done it without even realizing it. Could it be that the girl was jolted awake by the impact and screamed? Was the fire…
IV could feel the fire spread over his clothing, and soon, his skin. Was he even at the liberty to worry over someone else's welfare? For all he knew, they would be devoured by fire any minute now, leaving nothing but ashes in a matter of hours.
Ryouga, the girl's twin brother, might seek revenge upon him. But if he died now, that wouldn't be his problem anymore. His only regret was that he didn't finish his duel with her.
It had been a long time since he met an opponent like her; one that wasn't provoked by his snide remarks when they were dueling. If the duel went accordingly, without real fire materializing from that card, the girl could still win over him. The only reason she didn't activate her trap card was because the fire started to burn everything. Any sane person would prioritize their own safety over winning some petty duels.
Well, it didn't matter anymore now. Any regret he felt would vanish along with his charred remains like a crumbling sandcastle. The last thing he remembered was the warm sensation of fresh blood pouring over his right cheek, and the sight of Tron, still calmly floating before him, not even a slightest hint of care in the eye behind that mask. It was probably just figment of his imagination anyway.
Whatever that was, it didn't matter anymore.
Word count: 1,534
Let me know what you think in the review! :)