Disclaimer: Klonoa and related characters are copyrighted to Namco and the authoress makes no money out of this story. The authoress does not intend to, as the true intent of this story is for the enjoyment of readers, especially someone special...
Author's Note: Well, I'm back again. Having had the writer's block for about a few months, I'm back with a vengeance. This creativity wave will probably last about a few hundred hours, so better make the most of it.
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Gone.
That's the first thing that comes into his mind as the hunter kneels in front of the body. The body is that of a cabbit, with long ears, white-black face, still clutching a jeweled ring in his gloved hand. He looks peaceful, angelic almost, but amidst the haunting silence of the building, the hunter finds that the cabbit is in peace hard to believe. Agony lingers in the air, coming with it endless silence, and he is once more a young boy again, screaming and grasping his head, denying reality.
Life isn't fair.
It happens to the best of people, Guntz, and you just have to accept it.It's something you'll have to deal with.
You must accept it one day.
He allows those words to drift into his mind, to let the meaning sink into him before childish, harsh, yet desparate denial pushes it away. He clutches his head, not knowing what else the hell to do, trying to deny the reality in front of him.
There, on the bare, hard bed-
-surrounded by darkness-
-only a window with a desolate landscape outside-
-between confusion, stench of evil, condemned to lie half dead for eternity-
-lies his friend, deathly pale and silent. Dearest, dearest friend.
The unfairness, the horrible twist of fate numbs the hunter, much too numb to turn away but much too agonized to move any closer to the bed. He just stares, afraid, sad, bitter, not knowing what to do. Pure pain glazes across his blue eyes as he does so. He's too young to know what to do, how to react.
The cabbit hadn't deserved this fate; he hadn't deserved to be burdened by the hunter's tainted existence. He hadn't deserved all the pain, the cruel taunts...
It was the hunter's fault. Yes, all his fault. No one else's. If only he could turn time back- If only, if only he could apologize, seek forgiveness-
But it is of no use now, he knows.
An older man stands closer to him and puts his hand on the hunter's shoulder. He says nothing, eyes closed in grief, but the younger male knows that once they're out of the room those dreaded words will be whispered again.
Life isn't fair, Guntz.
You need to accept it.
How long has he known that life isn't fair? A full decade? It has been a long time since those words had first been said to him. He closes his eyes and buries his head onto the bedsheets, tears coming for the first time in many years. He pushes them back as an old memory surfaces again:
The young boy sat in the endless rain, eyes staring blankly into space. Beside him lay a bloodstained body, silent, unmoving, cold. The boy slowly reached out to turn the body over, arranging it in a certain position. After that he looked hard at the corpse, staring at what once had been his father.
Let him be saved, he prayed. Please let him be saved.
But the body never moved.
Why does he have to go through this again? Oh, the torment; hasn't he suffered enough? Why does he have to look and watch helplessly as his friend's life fades away? The hunter truly does not understand why this is happening to his companion, his friend...
His love.
He would never freely admit it, but the cabbit lying on the bed is not just his friend. At least, to him, he isn't. All the time the young boy remained unaware, and it's not likely it would ever change. The hunter's the one to blame for that, perhaps, for being so damned screwed up and seemingly cold. After his nemesis was killed the hunter had looked forward to a brighter future, everything would be better-
But now there's nothing left in him, not even desperation or any goddamned thing at all. It now seems so bland, so dismal and hollow. The hunter truly doesn't want any of it anymore, none of it. Nothing. He doesn't know why evil has to triumph over innocence all the time.
Nothing ever goes the way he wants it to go.
It isn't fair.
He can still see how nervous the cabbit had seemed when they first met.
He can still hear, if only faintly, how soft and sincere the young boy's voice had been when he thanked the hunter.
And he can still remember the feeling of the trembling cabbit falling backwards onto his arms, blood spurting from his chest, amber eyes wide, looking scared, so very scared...
The hunter looks up, desperation etched into his eyes, one last plead going frantically through his mind. He's desperate enough to weep, to beg, to pray to a god he ceased to believe existed a long time ago.
Please... let him be saved! Tell me that Klonoa can still be saved! Tell me that it can all change, it can all be alright again! Tell me... tell me that life can be fair, just this once!
Klonoa, hold on... it's my turn to help you! Wake up! Please, I need you! Please don't give up!
He's so caught up in his own pleading that he doesn't notice how fast his breathing has become, how gaunt and crazed he looks. He's too lost in his misery, sadness and regret to notice anything. Reaching to the cabbit, he places one gentle kiss on his lips, pulling away after he feels how cold they are. The young boy's definitely alive, but cotamose, in a limbo between life and death.
The cabbit shifts. And breathes.
He is breathing.
The hunter does not move. He does not speak. He does not think. He can only watch.
And wish for a miracle, of course. He hopes that maybe the impossible shall happen, maybe a miracle will grace this cruel world.
The hunter looks up sharply as the breathing gets steady and deep, and the young boy lets out a faint sigh. Proof that he is alive. The hunter's lips slowly curve into a smile, a genuine one.
He isn't gone.
The boy finally breathes again, a deep gasp for air, for life. He opens his eyes and sits up, smiling faintly at the hunter, and collapses into his arms, shaken and tired, but alive, so much alive.
Pango runs into the room, and he stands there smiling with joy at the two. The hunter holds the cabbit tight, and the young boy laughs again and again, because they both know something special and enchanting has just happened. The cabbit rubs his cheek against the other's, laughing, all pain gone. Tears stream down the hunter's cheeks as he clutches the cabbit tight, whispering three words he thought he would never thought he could say.
The cabbit holds him tighter and more tenderly in response, and for the first time, the hunter is truly happy.
He knows that those horrible words can't be right all the time.
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Well, this is just one of my zillions of interpretations of the Moon world scene. But along with the one in 'Sacrifice', I like those two more than others.
Also, may I wish an early Happy Birthday to Dark Enchanter?