Disclaimer: I hate to admit it, but I don't own Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic.
After reading chapter 147 and 148, my muse wouldn't stop bothering me until I wrote this. Should I make this into a multi-chapter story? Hm, I dunno…
I'll be using 'Al Thamen' instead of 'Al Sarmen' because the former is closest to the Arabic way of saying it. So it's more authentic, I think. And I'll be using 'Judal' instead of 'Judar' because Judar is just how the Japanese pronounce it since they don't have the letter 'L' in their vocabulary.
Also, I'll refer to Hakuryuu's weapon as a naginata because it looks almost exactly like one. I don't know why people say it's a spear. Have you seen what a spear looks like? Definitely not like his weapon.
You might not like it at first because it's mostly his thoughts, but please bear with it until the end ^^
Edited: 5/11/13: Typos, wording, and added parts for a smoother flow of words.
If you catch any typos, please let me know!
Leaves Were In the Way
It was a slow process for him—a very slow process that began a long time ago when he was made to witness his own brother protecting him from the raging inferno of the revolt with a blanket of his own blood. He could still remember with painful clarity the screaming death, the warm blood, the paralyzing fear, and the suffocating grief and betrayal.
.
But most of all was the hatred. That all-encompassing and vile hatred.
.
It was very unnoticeable, in fact—especially because he had always been determined to gain power by his own strength and effort. It was difficult not to, when he had the powerful and awe-inspiring figures surrounding him to look up to. Kouen, Koumei, Hakuei, Sinbad, Alibaba… all of them were like brightly shining suns who exuded confidence and brought with them a sense of awe, of inspiration, and hope.
He was always 'Little Hakuryuu' the crybaby. The weak little brother who was expected to hold a smile at all times and play up to the wishes of his older sibling and cousins. And while Hakuei was kind and always encouraging, he knew better than to wrap himself in that protective kindness. Her words did nothing to help the truth of his inferiority.
He didn't need a reminder of how pathetic he was. Really, he didn't. But that woman! She just had to go and spit on his efforts and toy with him for the hundredth time, didn't she?! Baiting him to attack with Djinn Equip and not landing even a single scratch on her, and with Al Thamen watching behind her, no less?
It wasn't even an insult anymore. It was downright mockery.
He was a prince.
And then evil spoke to him with a tongue of silver, offering him what he knew Hakuryuu wouldn't refuse—unless, of course, it was exactly what they expected of him.
He was indeed wrapped around Gyokuen's finger, just as Judal had told him. And cursing his fate would be exactly what was expected of Little Hakuryuu to do, wasn't it?
They would probably look at him even lower than they did now.
But it hurt being in the shadows when there was a sun shining so brightly near him.
He wanted to be a king.
If he no longer wanted to play into their hands, then where would he get the power needed to kill Gyokuen? While Zagan's abilities were indeed great, they could only take him so far. And if he used to hold a belief than Zagan's Djinn Equip would finally put him on par with the rest of them, his previous encounter with Gyokuen and her borg was enough to rip apart that belief and leave gaping wounds in its wake.
"Lord Hakuryuu, supper has been finished. Lady Hakuei has advised that you return to your sleeping quarters," a servant behind him spoke with a bowed head.
Hakuryuu nodded and reluctantly got up from his seat on the ground against the trunk of a tree in the courtyard. A brief spike of anger was directed at the nameless person for interrupting him as he gazed at the black night sky through the thin canopy of leaves. He dusted himself off and dismissed the servant.
.
He wished the leaves would stop blocking him from that sky.
.
He ignored the servants and inhabitants of the palace that passed him by as he headed for his room and sighed at those who were prideful enough to feel offended. Honestly, he was no longer in the mood for formalities. His smile had been pasted on for so long that now it felt gross and strange.
Hakuryuu didn't dress into his sleeping garments. He didn't light any candles that would notify others that he wasn't asleep. As he advanced into his room and locked the door behind him, he paused when he stood in front of his dressing mirror. Blue eyes met blue eyes with blankness until his blatant defect taunted him, until his damaged eye and wounded mind screamed for vengeance. Anger flooded his veins at the image and it was unfortunate for the mirror that this time he could no longer contain it. He gritted his teeth.
The glass cracked and shattered and his magoi-enveloped hand remained uninjured.
Hakuryuu stepped over the glass shards and sat by the large ornate open window, rested his naginata on his lap, closed his eyes, and meditated. He delved into his thoughts, analyzed his options and probabilities, thought about his next step, about his future, and patiently waited for the answer to arrive.
Four hours passed.
Multitudes of people were cheering, all of them with smiles on their faces and awe in their eyes. However, he couldn't make out the name they were all chanting. He followed their line of sight, but it was difficult—he was right in the middle of the sea of bodies and everyone was pushing and shoving, yelling and screaming. And suddenly as if by command, there was an opening and his eyes were laid upon figures in the distance on a raised platform. While he couldn't make them out specifically, he could tell that the figure in the front was most likely a king, with his council behind him. The sunlight made their golden headdresses and other equipment send a blinding light into his eyes, momentarily blinding him and making him flinch away.
Surprise filled his chest. Why did the light hurt?
Yelling.
Screaming.
Fire.
Pain.
When he opened his eyes again, the setting had changed. He was now looking down with a strange detachment at a war-torn land stained with thousands of corpses, all charred and blackened.
And the sky.
It was black.
The moonlight streamed down through the gold framed open window and bathed the large room in a dull glow as the silent boy opened his eyes. The glow darkened the contrast of shadows, sharpened his features, and blanketed him in an ethereal air.
He thought about Morgiana's beauty and who had stolen it. It was painful—the soft look in her eyes when she thought about Alibaba and Aladdin. Even as he proposed and dared to open his heart up to her, the first person he had done so ever since that time, she had already been stolen.
Actually now that he thought about it, not only had everything started with Gyokuen, but now it was also Alibaba.
He was the sun that eclipsed him, he was the comparison people made when they stood side by side, he was the one people flocked to and were drawn in by. He was the king they wanted, and so was Kouen and Sinbad.
A shadow was what he was—nothing more, nothing less. Inferiority was his fate, after all.
He thought about how to make that into a strength. Was it even possible?
And as he thought, the shards of his past, the jealousy, the hatred, the fear—it burrowed deeper and deeper until finally something tore and released a buried realization.
The boy was falling faster and faster, becoming frantic and fearful. He didn't know how to stop, who to call to for help. He screamed for his sister, for Alibaba, for whoever came to mind. The speed was increasing and the adrenaline was becoming too much to bear.
No one answered his calls. He wasn't aware that in some other land, and that very moment, Alibaba had woken up from a nightmare screaming Hakuryuu's name. He didn't know Aladdin was growing fearful and concerned. He didn't know.
No one answered his calls.
Shards chipped off the glass when the cracks got too deep. And as he stood on the edge, his fears, the sense of being lost, it shattered the pressure.
And he felt lighter. His shoulders slumped in relaxation and he smiled. Finally, finally after so much searching, the hollowness was gone! He looked inside, he probed curiously, discovering himself without the pressing cover of gray. It was liberating—an answer acquired after so much searching. It was clear, the personality and possibilities and capabilities and the wishes.
The wishes.
Selfish. So selfish.
But who cares?
So selfish.
The glass shards tipped over
And flew until their wings grew weary
And they stopped to rest and sleep in a black sky.
The bedroom was silent. Nothing changed and the wind outside the window was still. Hakuryuu gasped and his eyes widened in surprise. The tension leaving his shoulders and the relaxation blanketing him was such a blessing. Hands shook, but he released a shaky laugh when he realized the truth was finally stripped bare right in front of him.
It had been there for a long time, actually.
And he vocalized it, as if it would then break some mental barrier and cement it. He lowered his head, wondering why shadows of regret were still there, eating away at the very edges of his seams. The young boy opened his mouth, pulling and tugging and coaxing the words with bated breath.
.
.
"My hatred for Gyokuen and Alibaba stands equal."
.
.
And he was swimming through the painful sea of fire and dark skies and wishes.
.
.
There was a strange buzzing in his ear and a small part of him knew that it really didn't make much sense. It was probably immature. But it caused him such sudden and sharp pain, that he was forced to tear at that doubt until it was destroyed and forgotten, left for dead in some empty corner of his mind.
.
.
The glow of the moonlight dimmed, the shadows lengthened, and the air danced with familiar black rukh.
.
.
"Took ya long enough, little king," Judal smirked as he lazily lounged on the edge of Hakuryuu's window. "Keep it up and I might start considering you over Kouen. So tell me, what're you planning now?" The boy knew to be wary of that amused edge in his voice. He knew to be cautious of those laughing eyes that sought only the creation of chaos and war.
But maybe, just maybe, that was his door? His escape? His chance?
Silence hung in the air for a moment before the prince relaxed his composure and rested his head back on the wall beneath the window. He gazed up at the black rukh above him that covered the ceiling and, with a small, forlorn smile, thought about how familiar the scene was.
How nostalgic.
"Hatred will never be erased. The only thing you can do is erase the ones you hate."
The black magi grinned.
"How are things progressing?"
"Everything is going as planned."
"Good. Now all that is left is the catalyst."
A murmur of agreement rose from those assembled in the circular sanctuary. One masked form smiled.
.
"We'll surely welcome you with open arms, Black King."