A/N: A rather out there fic, but I don't think it can be called AU. I have no idea what category this would fall into; weird theories?
Disclaimer: Matsui Yusei owns all of the characters portrayed here.
-The Gatekeeper-
The land evenly divided by an unwinding river. Not quite life, not quite death. Between life and death. One and zero. That was the land she inhabited, standing vigil before the Gate on the far banks of the river.
Every moment, she dealt with billions and trillions of souls that had crossed the river. Each had to be sorted into different realms, or convinced to go on. Sometimes, they didn't. There were souls of various forms from animals to bacteria. Humans, she thought, were a pain to deal with. It was often human souls she had to convince to continue through The Gate. She found it fortunate that on good days she only had to deal with a few thousand.
The system was simple really. Once the physical shells ceased to function, the souls would be taken across the river by the ferrymen. Souls went through the gate and awaited rebirth in whichever realm they were assigned to and then once the time came, they would step out of the gate, simultaneously being cleansed of every memory and pieces of 'self' they had during the previous life.
For some reason of another, that made her feel strangely sad.
Millennias came and went, and still the gatekeeper guarded. She had already seen so many souls she couldn't remember what the first ones looked like anymore.
The first souls were very different from the current souls; that much she did remember. It was understandable since whoever made them must get bored with making the same sets over and over again. Thus, one type of soul would inhabit the worlds at a time before they decayed back into nothing, at which point, a new type would emerge and begin to populate the worlds.
That was entropy for you; the moment something was created, it began to be destroyed.
The physical shells of the souls decayed quickly, the souls were a little hardier, but still only lasted a few trillion years at best.
That's what separates us from them, her superior had told her once, they become nothing while we will always be something.
Nothing was powerful, she thought, much more so than something. Why else would those souls that came through try so hard to avoid the false nothing that lay behind The Gate? She supposed that it must be the instinct of souls to fear nothing with the true nothing being the only outcome available for them. Truly, she pitied the souls and their fleeting existences. It made her shudder to even think about becoming nothing.
Yet, those who became nothing had their advantages. For some reason or another, only non-permanent things had the right to stake out and experience the world. The tales the souls brought with them enthralled her. There were ideas and concepts which were completely alien. Emotions, much rawer than those of her peers, seemed widespread and common. The stories varied from type to type, individual to individual, but each captivated she who had known nothing but the Gate. From the epic slayings of monsters or bloody wars to love and mundane daily matters; she listened to each raptly.
In her eternity of life, she had guarded the Gate. Every soul had an adventure in the world, and even though she knew that each adventure was ephemeral, she wanted to experience one as well.
Permission to have a life was not given. The gatekeeper persistently pestered her superior; continued to do so for many cycles of souls until the superior snapped at her.
Don't grasp at air! There's nothing there for you.
As the gatekeeper later found out, that wasn't necessarily true.
What're you doing? The father stopped walking to face his dawdling daughter. Your mother is waiting.
Wondering, the child replied seriously, hands waving through the air.
As usual. Of what this time?
Daddy, what's in the air?
In the air? Why?
Because, I can't see anything but I can feel things. Isn't that strange?
Weeell…there's bacteria and dust and atoms and whole bunch of other microscopic things.
That's it?
Looking back, that wasn't accurate.
Still, the gatekeeper persisted.
Why not? She would ask.
Who would watch the Gate while you're gone?
It'd only be for a few decades in the World. That's hardly anything, I'm sure someone can take the job.
You're essential to this place. You can't be spared.
So essential that I can't be spared for even a few decades?
Yes.
…that's not all, is it?
What else could there be?
How would I know if you haven't told me?
…Come with me.
The superior led the gatekeeper to the edge of the river dividing the land. Look in there.
The river was a murky green, but the water itself was clear. Billions, trillions of souls, no longer allowed to continue on to the World, was what fogged the water. They lay there—heaped from the endless bottom – existing, but wiped of the ability to do anything and thus achieved a state of 'nothing' while still 'something'. In the center of it all, a giant mouth dominated. Chains shackled the corners, pulling the head of it back so that only the mouth was visible. It was the only movement in the river as it slowly swayed, continuously eating Time.
You know what that is, don't you? The superior said quietly.
Doesn't everyone? That's Fate.
Yes. It controls everything: you, me, and anything that passes through to the World. Gatekeeper, you are a being of the Gate. You don't belong in the World.
I know.
It won't let you stay there for long.
Of course, a life isn't very long.
Stop trying to avoid the truth. We of the Gate have only one thing to fear, and that is Fate. It has us chained up and stringed along better than any being of the World. Most individuals in the World have some free will; we have none. Everything we do against Fate will only lead to punishment. There's not even a chance of escape. Every thought, every decision, it will manipulate. If you go into the World, your 'life' will be even shorter than the others.
I know. I don't mind.
And everyone you meet, everyone you may come to care for will be chained up by Fate too. Your contact with them will draw enough attention for that.
I know.
Did you really? And, do you still want life?
Yes.
…do you really understand? Nothing good will come of it. Not for you, or anyone you meet.
Yes.
And you're still willing?
Just once. That's all I ask for.
Selfish.
Yes. I know.
Now, now, don't cry. She'll be fine, the father said—trying to be comforting—as he approached his daughter who was curled up in the roots of the large gingko tree in their backyard.
I wasn't crying, the girl said calmly, turning herself to look at her father. Somber as she was, there were no tears in her eyes and not a sign that there had been any at all.
Oh. Guess I should have expected it, I can't even remember the last time you cried. He sat down by her. Don't worry, then. Like I said, she'll be fine.
The girl's frown only grew. I think you're lying.
Who told you that?
No one, but the doctors suggested it, and you did too.
No I didn't!
Yes you did. You didn't say anything when the doctors went over the report with you. You agreed.
How do you know?
I eavesdropped.
Let's go back inside, the father said hurriedly, it's getting cold.
Cold? Daddy, the cicadas are singing.
Well…it's past your bedtime. But tell you what, I'll read you an extra story anyways.
The girl faked a smile and stood. Okay then.
The man was somewhat relieved. What will it be tonight?
As they chattered away on trivial things which only served to cover the troubles with a feather-light blanket of joy, the girl could only think to herself, Mommy is going to die.
You're really going then? the superior asked, one more time.
Yes, the gatekeeper replied, preparing to board the ferry across the river. You'll watch the Gate while I'm gone?
Yes. More troubles for me, but I doubt you care. The superior waved as the boat, full of cleansed souls ready to enter the World, pushed off from the shores bearing the Gate. Don't cause too many deaths.
The gatekeepers said nothing back to her superior. She said nothing to the Ferryman, and nothing to any of the other talking souls. When the boat landed on the other shore, the gatekeeper stepped off and walked to her assigned vessel.
This was it, her one shot at life.
At first there was only darkness, and then, a myriad of colors accompanied by a flash of light flared into existence.
You be good to father. I don't know what he'll do without me, honestly.
Aren't I always?
Yes you are. Saves me a good deal of strain on my heart.
C-can't you stay?
No. I can't.
But…what'll happen then? Nothing good ever happens when the mother dies.
Ha, you've been listening to way too many stories. You'll be fine, he'll be fine, even without me here to watch you two.
That was untrue.
She remembered nearly nothing of her early life. A couple of fuzzy images, like a photo distorted by too much exposure, were all she could remember. There was some crying, she knew that. Mindless crying because that was the only action available. Hunger. Discomfort. All she could do was cry. Not that she meant any of it, not really.
Then, things came into tighter focus. She could think coherently and realized some things then.
It was very awkward for her to only be able to focus, truly focus, on one thing at a time. No longer could things come in the billions and all be taken care of in the same exact instant. Even at her fastest, she could only take care of one thing in one instant, and another in the next. Life slowed everything. The concept of one action at a time—speaking only one word at a time, listening to only one thing at a time—was alien to her. Still, she learned.
Learned it along with those things called emotions. The range of it all was amazing, from the weightless happiness to the heart-grabbing pain of sadness. She still wondered if maybe hers weren't as broad as some of the other children's. She smiled and laughed, and even for a few select people or things, she loved, but she never felt sorrow that would force tears from her eyes. She could never get quite as excited as the others or as angry.
She had a name.
Her father said that he had done it out of mathematical reasons, that her name was based on a rearrangement of the numbers in her birthday. A single child born on the eighteenth of October. One, eighteen, ten. One over ten to the eighteenth power.
Setsuna.
He had laughed at how like him it was.
Her mother had rolled her eyes, somewhat peeved that even with their child, it all went back to mathematics.
It was a fitting name. A unit between one and zeros. Not belonging to one, but never touching zero. Not belonging to life, but never becoming nothing. She wondered if Fate wasn't reminding her what she was.
If Fate wasn't already placing its hands around the throat of her life.
She shook off the feeling. Life passed fast, and this was her only one. There was no time to worry about Fate.
So she ignored it for five blissful years.
And then her mother died.
She didn't cry. She never cried. Not really.
There were plenty of sobs from the crowd of family gathered. Each shrill cry escalating as they neared the body.
Her father didn't cry either. There were no more tears left to cry. All there were left were sleepless eyes and a grief that the daughter could not feel.
Long after the other mourners left, the two stayed.
The sun set and abandoned the world to a moonless night.
What was it that she had said? Take care of your father now. Yes, that was it.
Daddy, she said, tugging at his coat, Let's go home.
He didn't say thing. She wondered if she could really do anything in the face of that grief.
Looking back, she realized that she ought to have noticed Fate's movements. But so caught up in her desperation to 'live', she didn't see Fate move the pieces around her until it was already a checkmate. All choices sealed, only a wait for death remained.
But she had few regrets.
'Life' was rich, even if imperfect and most likely because of that. And even as she waited for death, she was, for the most part, 'happy'.
After she returned to the Gate, she only wished that she had done something about her father.
Not that she could've done anything anyways.
I don't see your dad around much, a friend said one day as she crouched next to the girl, bent over a project.
He's at work more often now. I only see him in the early mornings before going to school.
So it wasn't always like that?
No. Just these past couple of years. I remember when he used to do most of his research at home.
Why doesn't he now?
He says that the research can't be done at home. I think he's employed by someone now. It's not just independent research anymore.
I wonder what he's doing.
Something to do with cardboard. It almost always is. They both laughed at this.
It was wrong too.
The cause of her death stuck suddenly. One day she was perfectly fine, and the next, the disease was already encroaching on her 'self'.
It had started out as a normal enough day. She woke up, with a raging headache to be sure but nothing out of place besides that, and prepared to leave for the university. Then the pain culminated until it was as though someone was squeezing her skull hard enough to crack it. She almost thought it did crack when everything suddenly turned black.
When she woke up, she could hardly move. Most of the muscles in her body had been torn.
Muscles weren't the only things that were torn. Most of the room was: chairs, tables, cabinets; all crushed. Her father stood in a corner of the room, clutching his arm, eyes wide with fear.
Her father seemed shocked by it, but not quite as much as she would've expected him to be. He arranged it with his peers so that she would be studied and hopefully cured. She let him hope that there'd be a way of stopping the disease, but she knew that this was it. Her one shot at life was nearing its end.
We'll be taking a scan of your brain today and a couple more blood tests as well, a doctor said, not looking at her as they walked down the hall.
Alright then, she replied. It had already been done, but still they tried again, as though it would work the second time.
A specialist would also like to observe you while you are in that state.
So do I wait in a room until I throw a fit?
More or less. The doctor nodded toward a door they were about to pass. That room has been set up with cameras and reinforced glass. You'll be in there.
Alright then. Useless. Useless.
The disease brought her to her second regret: Harukawa Eisuke.
He was the doctor her father had switched her to after a few years at the other clinic and her last. A genius even her father acknowledged.
He was also sarcastic, rather 'bristly' (as one assistant put it), and in general intimidating. So, she was a little surprised to find herself liking him very much, but even more so to find that he seemed to like her equally.
She was less than surprised when she noticed that he was in love with her and strongly suspected that she was with him. She had laughed joylessly to herself at this.
There were many things she could've done differently. She could've not befriended him in the first place. She could've stayed quiet and not say a word to him. She could've resisted that one, rash, selfish impulse of hers.
Don't forget the Setsuna of this moment, she had told him.
It was shocking how far he had taken that statement to heart. It would've been thought that someone such as he was incapable of all that he had done in his existence.
Or at least that's how it seemed to others. She could only smile sadly.
And sometimes, she wondered if she really regretted it at all.
The guy must be a freak, the father said grumpily.
The girl lifted an eyebrow. And why do you say that?
He's a genius. Geniuses are always freaks of nature.
Like you, dad?
I'm an exception!
Of course, and I'm not, I suppose?
Ahh, well…
Oh, relax. I'm sure it'll work out fine.
I'm not so sure…
Actually, she wasn't either.
A length of black. Flashes of confusing images. A brief light.
And then…it was over.
It was back to the Gate.
Back, I see, her superior had said to her.
Mm. The gatekeeper knelt down before the Gate, just as she always had.
Caused any deaths?
Not that I know of.
Well, we'll see. I'll leave you to your job then, gatekeeper.
The gatekeeper paused. …I have a name.
What was that?
Nothing.
The superior left. Again, she was surrounded by billions of souls. Again, she had to see each of them pass through the Gate. Again, some needed convincing.
But she wasn't the being she was before. The things she had while she was 'alive' were still there.
She felt ridiculously alone.
…I'm really sorry about the other day.
It's fine.
You could probably use some of that ointment of my dad's. He says it helps with the bruising and soreness.
I'm fine.
No you're not. You can't be fine after having a chair thrown at your back.
The doctor sighed. Shouldn't you be more worried about yourself? With the amount of strain put on your body, I should think that you need more help than me.
Surprised, the girl blinked. Pfft. She laughed.
What?
It's nothing. It's just that no one's ever thought of it that way before.
Lonely as she was, the gatekeeper had been glad that she hadn't caused any deaths. She had almost thought that maybe Fate had decided to overlook her little defiance and that she had gotten away with it scot-free.
Then she realized that it was in fact her father who had caused her disease. Fear came again. Fate, obviously, had in fact toyed with her life.
Seven years following her 'death' in that section of the World, Harukawa was killed. Or was it suicide? He had had no desire to live, she could see that.
I could stay here, he had said before.
It would've been easy just to say yes. Ehh? No, don't. There's really nothing here. Go on, I'll go too eventually.
I doubt that, somehow.
I promise. Go on. She waved her hands, as though shooing him away. After a time, Harukawa went through. She had smiled and waved again.
Once he was gone, the gatekeeper curled up, ignoring a few of the souls for a moment. He had gone through, and that meant he would forget everything when he returned.
Cicadas are amazing, don't you think, doctor?
Depends on what you mean.
Well…every summer they remember to sing.
Of course.
You don't find it strange?
Why would I?
Because, the cicadas are different from the previous summer's. Even though they die, the following summer, there's still the sound of cicadas. It's etched so permanently in their genes that even death can't make them forget to sing. In a sense, it's like they got the better of death, don't you think?
…yes, if you think about it that way, it is amazing.
Etched in our genes, there must be some things that we can't forget too.
Things don't have to be in the genes to be remembered.
It was illogical of him to say that, and a bit unlike him too.
But he was right.
It didn't take long before Harukawa's copy, his killer, too died. He couldn't die though, not really. He, in the end, was only made by a non-permanent being, and thus, imperfect. His soul was incomplete and would fall into the depths of the river, achieving a state of nothing while something along with the other souls accumulated in it.
The death count was rising. It had been her fault, she knew that. Everything that both Harukawa and his copy had done. She had observed Harukawa for the seven years between her death and his. It was terrible to see how he spiraled into an obsession border lining insanity. Yet, she couldn't help but feel a little happy that someone cared for her to that extent.
His copy only did what Harukawa himself would've done if Harukawa had had the capabilities to do so. And thus, he too, in the end, knew what Harukawa had known and wanted what Harukawa had wanted.
A girl had been the one to delete him after a demon immobilized the copy.
For that one instant that the copy hung above the river, the gatekeeper reached out to him. He looked at her, stunned.
Then he sank into the river, still and blank, moved only by the lulling waves.
Dad…is something wrong?
You're not getting any better.
Oh geeze, how many times have we gone over this? Give it some time. If it's a disease, I'm sure the doctor will find a cure.
The father cringed.
…what?
Nothing.
Then why'd you—
You know, your mother said the same thing to me. 'Everything is going to be fine. I'll get better.' I wish she had told the truth sometimes.
And she wished her father would tell the truth as well.
Everything worked out horribly. It was almost funny how it all played out.
Her father committed suicide after the same girl who deleted Harukawa's copy managed to draw the truth from him. She gave a short laugh at how that one high school girl was the catalyst for both their deaths.
Her father fell into a river in the World and woke to find himself on the shores of the river before the Gate. The gatekeeper kept her head down, trying to send her father through the Gate quickly and without him recognizing her.
It didn't work. S-setsuna?
She didn't say anything. It was strange. Somehow, it was disappointing to see him standing there before her. It was the reality of it. He, her father, had really committed suicide, driven by guilt. He had really killed her. Was that just the sort of place the World was? She knew that it was what the World could be. So many times, she had heard the stories of murder and betrayal similar to this, yet to experience it…
Setsuna, I-I…
Don't say anything.
I-I'm really s—
Don't say it. It won't do anything.
Her father looked away, shaking slightly. He had nothing left to say, nothing he could say.
Mom's probably waiting for you.
He laughed bitterly. She'll have to keep waiting won't she? I'll never go where she is.
No. You won't.
I wouldn't have even if I could.
…Harukawa didn't either. The gatekeeper looked at her father for the first time since his arrival. Taken aback, he took a half-step back and swallowed nervous. He must've expected her to say something since he stood there quietly, but she couldn't say what she wanted to. Emotions had frozen her tongue; guilt, sorrow, and even joy.
The silence stretched on, but in the end, all the gatekeeper could manage was a quiet goodbye.
Goodbye then, Setsuna.
Bye, dad.
And then he was gone. Her last connection to the World. She might've as well have not ever existed there.
Long after her father left, the gatekeeper finally realized what it was she wanted to say. Briefly, she left the Gate and edged towards the river. In the waters, she saw Harukawa's copy and a deep loathing filled her. She turned her eyes to Fate, still chained to the bottomless floor of the river. The corners of its mouth were twisted slightly more upward than usual, as though smiling.
You have a terrible sense of humor, the gatekeeper said. Is this how you entertain yourself?
Fate merely continued to smile; mocking, knowing.
Mocking that there was nothing the gatekeeper could do. Knowing that the gatekeeper's hate worked in a cycle that would feed itself for eternity.
There were times when the girl would still go out to the large gingko tree in their backyard and curl up at its roots. A tree of memories for the girl who could only forget.
The cicadas are back, dad.
Ah… Her father stopped in his tracks. He hadn't expected her to notice him.
She turned herself towards him. Today was excellent, she said as he opened his mouth to ask her. No, there hasn't been any progress. Yes, he's still trying.
Her father blinked rapidly. Wait, so how was today excellent?
Because it was there, even if in pieces.
Then tomorrow can't be very hard to top.
Yes. She laughed shortly. Tomorrow will be excellent as well.
So many good days ahead of you, huh?
Mm.
But she was running out of tomorrows.
It was an accepted fact that every soul which fell into the River achieved a state of nothing while remaining something.
Yet when the demon Neuro slid beneath the waves, he resurfaced and returned to the World. Even more strangely, the Gatekeeper could've sworn that she had heard the Copy speaking. Again, she kneeled by the River, but the Copy's form was as still as it had been since it first fell.
It was impossible.
Then again, 'zero' was impossible.
Keep dividing, but what starts at 'something' could never reach 'nothing'.
That was entropy for you, she supposed; the moment something is created, it begins to be destroyed. And so it would continue to be for the rest of eternity, because 'something' would always remain to be broken down.
Hehe, look! I finally got permission from the officials to build my dream-house under the bridge!
Uwahh, you're really going through with it? The girl asked, smiling uncertainly.
But of course. I went through a lot of trouble to get this, and now nothing can stop me!
All out of cardboard?
What else would it be?
But what would the building inspectors say?
Who cares what they say, it'll be a mansion and an architectural masterpiece.
Ha, I guess so.
…you'll see it too, of course.
Hm. She glanced around the room. At the bare walls that showed bloody residues as though someone had tried to tear their way out of it. At the barred windows that somehow still allowed light in. At the one door that could only be locked from the outside. At the bed she sat in with restraints attached.
Maybe.
Against everything she had been taught to believe, just as he had once said he would, 'Harukawa' remembered.
Not everything, but he never entirely forgot either, and that was something considering how many times he was reincarnated back into the World. Each time, he (and sometimes she) remembered less, until finally; it was only the name that was still there.
But the name was enough, enough to almost make the gatekeeper weep in joy (of course, she didn't). It was proof that she had been in the World, no matter how fleeting that time was.
And then….then she would remember and the joy would recoil. The name also meant that Harukawa still, could not move on. Still bound by a memory of a time that had long since faded.
The girl never cried, not really. Well, almost never.
Summer was ending, cold winds already seeping in, leaves already loosing the vivid green of life and turning into a bloody red. It would look like the world was bleeding, she thought, when all the leaves become like that. As she lay in the bed of the research facility, she listened to the cicadas' song. The last of the summer.
Until dawn came, the girl listened. Slowly, one by one, the singers ceased.
They only lasted so long as summer stayed, those songs, and then they would be unheard. The girl liked the sound of them, they were familiar, constant. Yet, they were too short. Much too short.
She chuckled softly to herself. Too short? Nothing lasted long enough.
Laughter turned to sobs as the fact made itself more obvious to the girl until finally, her entire frame shook.
The doctor entered when morning was just settling in. He had stayed overnight again, working. He was rather startled by the girl's tears and turned away, not sure of what to do.
…I won't let you die, you know that. You don't have to be afraid.
Afraid? She smiled weakly at him. I'm not afraid of dying, I'm just sad that it's over.
True, Harukawa did the impossible and remembered, but not everything could be turned possible and the day still came that the souls were to disappear to make way for the new set.
What are you waiting for, gatekeeper? The superior glared at her. Empty the Gates.
…it's too soon, isn't it?
Too soon? Nothing ever lasts long with them, remember?
The gatekeeper laughed shortly. Of course, how can I forget?
Well then? Let them out.
Slowly, the gatekeeper stood and turned to face the Gates. With shaking hands, she pulled their towering doors open.
Billions upon trillions of souls rushed out, flooding the land behind the river. They lit up the land, running everywhere, spinning around the confused souls that had not yet gone beyond the Gate. They filled the land with a profound noise: the laughter, sobbing, chattering, and wailing of every soul that had existed at the time. It swelled and melded together like a bizarre piece of improvised music formed through random notes. As the souls swirled around her madly, the gatekeeper moved towards the River.
Kneeling, she could see that the souls in the deeper depths of the River had already dissipated. The gatekeeper stared at the copy; it had remained unchanged, as though an artifact of her time on the World.
Look, she said to Harukawa, who had somehow found her (she never knew how he could do that). Still there.
What is?
Nevermind. You can't see it. She turned to him, smiling despite the tears (that was the second time in her existence that she cried). Guess it's my turn to remember, huh?
...you don't have to.
Ha! If you did, then of course I have to. Thank you.
For what?
For remembering, of course. It…made it seem that life was longer.
Does it really matter that it didn't last?
The buzzing of the souls was quieting. By the thousands, they were dissipating into nothing. The song was ending.
The copy dissolved and Harukawa was fading. The tears were coming in torrents. It couldn't end. Not yet…
Are you afraid of being alone?
Afraid? No, I'm just sad that it's over.
Harukawa smiled.
The song ended.
Nothing.
Darkness.
Pain.
A flash of colors.
A figure making noise that cut into her skull.
Fear.
More darkness.
More pain.
A prickle.
No movement.
More darkness.
Darkness.
Darkness.
Darkness.
Darkness.
Too many confusing things.
Nothing.
Nothing. There was no World, no souls, no time and no space. Not yet.
She remembered fearing 'nothing'. Now, she feared 'something', or rather, always being 'something'. It was terrifying: never would there be an end, never would there be rest. Always, always in existence.
Why can't we rest? She asked the superior.
Because that's what separates us from them. They will become nothing, while we'll always remain something.
It seems so long…
Che, first you complain about things not lasting long enough. But…I never said that separation made us luckier.
She had her memories of course, a small comfort to last for the rest of eternity. They hardly seemed enough.
Does it matter that it didn't last? Harukawa had asked her that. She never answered.
It was only an instant, but did that matter? No, she supposed, it didn't.
Was there really nothing left for her now, for that matter? She gazed at the empty land, the river almost invisible in its clarity without the souls clouding its waters.
Grasping at air.
Grasping at the atoms of 'something' she knew were still there.
So close to 'nothing', yet no less significant.
A/N: It's official. Nothing feels right to me upon completion.