Ever died?

It's a very specific feeling, your mind can't duplicate it. When it happens, there's a finality to it- the kind of ending that you can't really imagine. It doesn't hit you the way some kind of horrible fact would, like the death of a loved one. You let that sink in and at the very moment you really realize what it means, there's a flash flood of something- anger, sadness, or joy if you really didn't like them. But that's not what death's like at all. It can only be related to itself. You're starting to put the pieces together and then it happens and there's nothing afterward. There's no real result for you, just the highest note that can be played and then complete silence. Like getting hit by a train, or taking a bullet between the eyes.

Death is my greatest fear. It's a little ironic, admittedly, because of who I am. Maybe not who I am exactly, honestly- what I look like is more accurate. That, and I like a lot of creepy things. Ghosts, cemetaries, zombies- but put me near something that's really dead and I freak out. I guess I don't like the idea of anything just ending. Zombies and ghosts keep going after they die, which kind of gives me hope in that regard. Even if there is something after death, how can I be sure?

I'm too young to talk about existentialism. At least, that's what the other two used to tell me. God, kid, lighten up. or You're only ten, how do you even know what that all means? I mean, it's not like I talked about it often. I think I only said it once in a conversation, and they just kind of looked at each other and back to me. They were always the ones to bring it up after that, I didn't ask for any later conversations to go that route! They kind of make me sound like a downer- and I don't think how I started this helps any- but I'm not, really. I don't try to be, I just want an answer as to why what happened happened.

It was just a stupid card game. How did it end up like this? Did I deserve it somehow? We just wanted to get our feet on the ground. I was never even given a chance, and they'd been dealt a bad hand at the start. Did they deserve it? They weren't even the ones dueling! No, apparently it was better to have the high-school drop-outs cower behind the ten-year old kid who was already bad at defending himself. Jerks.

Note to self- don't trust anyone with white hair. They're probably evil.

Keith would've understood. He went through a lot, too- maybe not literal Hell, but Hell nevertheless. He was sympathetic enough to pick the three of us off the streets before, how would he feel now? Or did he just need some kids to get him into that tournament, and any three would've done? It's hard to tell with him, honestly. I know he wasn't the nicest guy... Okay, let me rephrase that. I know he was a total assface, but he was my idol for a reason. Of all his fans, he picked three homeless ones- and he wasn't even good with children my age- to get him into Duelist Kingdom. I mean, fine, I'm smarter than the 19 year-old, and DEFINITELY smarter than the guy who was a year older, but I didn't even know how to duel until he taught me. Why would he invest all that time and energy if he really honestly planned to backstab us from the start? I don't want to justify him, and I certainly can't forgive him, but I guess I just want to understand.

I'm not too young for that, am I?

Maybe that's why I'm being given a second chance. I don't know where I am right now, but it smells awful here. It smells like cheap air freshener. I haven't opened my eyes yet, but I can tell it must be daytime. I guess whatever's beyond that final high note doesn't want me yet. I remember what I went through back there- where I used to be just before here. Death was everywhere there, and while I am still scared of that, it already feels really far away. Kind of like waking up from a really bad nightmare, when you've been given the time to calm down and recollect yourself. I'm okay now.

It feels like I haven't moved in ages. I try flexing my hand- the nerves are a little numb right now, but so far I'm working properly. I can breathe, nothing hurts (although my head feels sore), and I can feel my own heartbeat. The only things keeping me from being mistaken for dead. To my surprise, I hear someone close by. I open my eyes.

Oh great, it's those two. Sure, I like them well enough, but for some reason I don't feel like dealing with any of their lame jokes or dumb insults. Mostly what I hear are swears and Takaido yelling at Satake to get his ass over here. My vision's kind of fuzzy right now, I can't really see Takaido's face. In sitting up, his attention's back on me.

"Shit, kid!" he says. "You sure took your sweet time waking up. Do you realize what happened?"

"What?" My voice sounds awful right now. I can't imagine I look much better, not that I was ever attractive in the first place.

"We died!" he gets up from his chair somewhat overdramatically. "We died- that fuckin' white-haired demon killed us, but we're back! We're alive and I have no fucking clue- Satake!" He turns to him when he walks into the room. "About fuckin' time. God, your head's not the only thing that's slow!"

They go on to loudly insult each other for a while. It's too early for this- I lie back down and put my hands over my ears. There are a few quiet cracks as my muscles work for the first time in God knows how long. I'm pretty used to this. Even when we were working for Keith, I'd gotten used to this pretty quickly. Every morning was about the same, starting with them waking me up with their ridiculous fights and not to stop until Keith told them to finally shut up. I don't do that because those idiots don't listen to me. They justify a lot of what they say or how they act around me because of my age. Keith used to listen to me- not often, but not never.

If it weren't for their stupid argument (which Takaido always has to start, because he's a cocky jerk), I might've said something about his claims that we died. No we didn't. We went to Hell, he told us that. Literally, we went to Hell- who knows how we came back, but we didn't die. If we died, we wouldn't be able to come back. There'd be that moment of finality and then we'd never see Earth again- unless we came back as ghosts or zombies.

Finally, Satake says something smart: "How did we even get here? If we really came back, we'd wake up at the cemetary, wouldn't we?"

Takaido steps back, having been previously screaming in Satake's face. He adjusts his glasses, scoffs. "Well, we can't stay here, that's for damn sure."

I'm not gonna argue with that, and neither will Satake. I get up again, this time out of the bed. At this point it clicks that this is a hospital. Maybe someone found us unconscious and brought us here. Or maybe someone thought I was dead, called the cops, and they realized the three of us were all alive. Either way, I- and unfortunately, these dirtbags too- have been given another chance.

All I want out of it are some answers.