Disclaimer: I own nothing involved in this story unless I invented it myself. This is written for fun, not for profit. All forms of feedback eagerly accepted. Concrit is loved the most, but everything is welcome.
Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh GX
Title: End of a Life
Character: Nero's grandfather, Nero
Word Count: 1,000||Status: One-shot
Genre: Tragedy||Rated: PG
Challenge: Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge, section B90, write a fic in the tragedy genre; Written for the 2015-2016 Mini-Advent, write a death fic; Written for the Random Prompt Challenge, 'gout'
Notes: For reference, this guy is the old man that Jim and O'Brien saved from the Battle Footballers in episode 138 of GX.
Summary: He's had a long life and now he must stare the end in the face. All he wishes is that his grandson wasn't going to die with him.
"Nero!" He called for his grandson; the boy had to be around here somewhere. Just where was the question in truth. Nero could seldom be kept down except by extreme exhaustion and not always then.
Keeping track of him was difficult for anyone, let alone someone as old as he was. But there wasn't anyone else who could or would watch over the boy. They didn't have anyone else left in their family. His daughter, Nero's mother, had died fighting Haou's warriors not all that long ago, and his father fell in Brron's arena three seasons earlier.
He had no love for any of the conquerors who declared this world theirs. They'd taken his family from him bit by bit over the years. He'd learned one thing throughout his life: being a duelist meant that one died, sooner or later. Sometimes it could be staved off; his daughter had done so for many years. But she fell to Chaos Sorcerer like so many others did.
He tried not to think about it very much. It hurt to remember that moment when her life points had dropped to zero and her eyes widened in shock when she realized what had happened. He'd managed to flee with Nero at the time, escaping by the barest of margins.
Nero didn't talk about it either, but from that moment on, he'd been obsessed with becoming a duelist and defeating Haou and all of his warriors. The rusted duel disk that he carried now was the one that his mother had used.
He hadn't wanted his grandson to take it, but Nero grabbed it anyway, holding it close. He'd buried the deck, at least, as was proper for a duelist. He did not like dueling or duelists, but he gave his daughter what she deserved. She'd given it her best.
Even if he'd wanted to duel now, he couldn't. Too old, too tired, his body worn to the dregs by weariness, old age, and the ravages of old age itself. His fingers swelled with joint disease, preventing him from drawing even if he'd had a deck to draw from. Some days were better than others, but he never had a day completely free of pain.
"Nero!" He called again, wanting some sort of answer. They'd only arrived home a short time earlier, with those two young warriors who'd saved them from Haou's Battle Footballers. He did not want to anger Burgundy-sama by Nero getting into trouble again.
This was the closest thing to a home that they'd had ever since his daughter's death. Nero's obsession with defeating Haou had had them driven from other villages. But here, people seemed to understand. Most of them felt much the same way.
At least no one had yet offered to teach Nero how to duel. He didn't think he could stand that. He also didn't think he would be able to stand in Nero's way if someone did. He didn't want to see his grandson fading away as so many others had, but it wasn't as if not dueling would save his life, either.
If anything, not dueling would make his end that much worse. He'd seen it before.
"Grandfather!" Nero came racing around the corner of a tumbled down cottage, tumbling to a halt in front of him, his eyes wide and full of fright.
That alone terrified the old man. Nothing scared Nero save one thing.
"Haou's troops are coming!" His voice rose loud enough for everyone to hear it and in moments the entire village resembled an anthill poked by a hot stick.
Nero planted himself in front of his grandfather, rusted and broken duel disk in front of him. "I'll protect you, grandfather!"
"Nero, we need to find a way out of here," the old man murmured, resting a hand on the child's shoulder. "There's nothing that we can do." And there was no way out. He knew the village well from the time they'd already spent here. There was only one gate and it was from that direction that Haou's warriors came.
Nero didn't move. "Don't worry, grandfather," he said, looking up with fear and courage mixed in his eyes. "I won't let them hurt you."
Oh, Nero. He wanted to find a way to escape, to give his grandson a chance to grow up somewhere else, somewhere free of the nightmares that were life in this world. But with every passing moment, Haou's warriors grew closer and there was no chance to get away.
He'd lived a long life in this harsh world, longer than many who couldn't fight in duels. He'd raised a daughter and taken care of a grandson and done whatever he'd had to in order to survive. Now that he could see the end of his life staring him in the face, he knew there wasn't anything that he regretted about the past.
The palisade of sharpened wood in front of the village didn't take very long for Haou's army to get rid of. All of those who could fight, be it in dueling or with weapons, stood in front of those who couldn't, ready to give their lives if that was what it took.
And it was all for nothing. The old man could see that so clearly. The army swept in and there was nothing but slaughter, people falling without mercy in moments.
Nero stiffened and his grandfather saw the cause at once: Haou stood there, watching all of this. The old man could feel those cold eyes, hidden now by the dark helmet, looking at him. Then the warlord looked away, dismissing them both as useless.
They meant nothing at all to him, the old man knew. Less than nothing.
He didn't see who ripped Nero away from him, but he heard a mocking laugh and jeers from those who saw Nero's rusted duel disk and mocked him for dreams that would never come true.
He never saw who killed Nero. Or who killed him.
The End
Note: Thank you for reading and I hope that you enjoyed the story. Please let me know what you thought of it if at all possible.