Chapter III

Yusei

The excitement had been there, and so had the fear and the uncertainty, with hope that some kind of compromise would be found. Finally, after days, at least, of total human solitude, here was another survivor. Here was someone who had walked out of the ashes of the ruined world. Here was someone living and breathing, and from the look of things, not dying.

For a second, Judai recalled his voice in the back of his mind again. Blue eyes. Bright blue. These eyes were darker, more vivid, but blue nonetheless. Johan's had been teal. He remembered them shining with tears, red with fatigue as the man's body convulsed, again and again. Another cough had practically torn through his throat. How he'd wanted to help him, to heal him, to take him close and at least keep him warm -

Yusei. Blue eyes. Different blue eyes.

He thought of the sky. The last time he had seen it had been at night, before the clouds had covered it all two days ago.

"Judai." Yusei's voice called Judai back to reality. The other man paused, as if to taste the name; familiarise it, assess it somehow. "That's good."

What was good? The phrase could not have seemed more vague. Awkwardly, Judai nodded, unable to think of a response. What was he judging? Was there some reason his name was important?

He remembered the dragon, wings beating fiercely against white clouds. Did that dragon lead him here? Judai was certain the two occurrences were connected in some way. Most likely, Yusei was a caller, like himself, with that dragon as his familiar. It otherwise seemed strange. Too much of a perfect coincidence.

"Did you come from far away?" That was the first question Judai could think of to ask. It was a childish question, but one that had truly intrigued him from the start. Was there another place full of survivors? Where were they all? Could there be many of them? Stumbling on his own words, he felt sheepish for not having offered some hospitality sooner. "Are you hungry?" he added quickly, wanting to avoid making a bad first impression. He had never finished that chocolate.

Moving his arms, then legs to sit down amongst the ruins, Yusei gave him the same faint smile as before. He seemed to relax more, even if the two had only made contact for the first time bare minutes ago, perhaps simply relieved to have found any human alive in the wrecks.

"As long as you aren't starving yourself, it would be nice."

Judai wondered if the politeness was genuine or an act. So far, he wasn't sure. It would take a little more time, more conversation to tell. If it was an act, he could still attack first, or even just tell him to back off without the involvement of spirits, or any revelations at all. If it was genuine, then here was a miracle before his very eyes.

He wasn't sure if he believed in miracles any more. Nonetheless, he hoped this wasn't fake.

Turning away, he dug around in his bag, in search of the lost chocolate. He hadn't been as enthusiastic about the stuff as he had before the chaos. The other man could have all of it, for all he cared. It was all the same these days, chocolate or not, sweet or bitter or tasteless.

Finding it after a couple of seconds - thankful it had not melted - he gently grasped it, taking it out. The foil wrapper caught the white light from above, with Yusei's eyes immediately focusing on the brightness. Carelessly, Judai tossed the remainders of the bar to him, his expression unchanging even when the package was caught and stared at again, blue eyes singling out the red shine like a predator catching prey.

Judai gave the other man a glance, wondering how he would react to the chocolate? Would he trust him? Would he inspect it, prodding every corner, sniffing like a hound, checking for poison? Would he just take the damn thing?

"Thank you," was the answer, and a look of gratitude was reflected back at him, as Yusei bit into the chocolate bar. He seemed to be far more content than Judai had been hours ago, gladly savouring the sweet taste, as if he had not eaten chocolate - or anything else, for that matter, for days, even weeks. Judai glimpsed a smile on the other man's face, something he admittedly found refreshing. There was nothing false in that sincere feeling of satisfaction, it seemed to him. One man's trash really was another man's treasure.

Judai remembered loving chocolate once.

"It's no problem." Really, it wasn't. He'd find something else; Yusei could eat the whole thing if he so wanted. Chocolate wasn't the only thing out there.

"Hm?" Judai was startled slightly by Yusei reaching out to him, remaining chocolate in hand.

"It's all right, you take it," he replied, leaving him to finish, if that was what he wanted. Turning away, Yusei broke off another milky square, leaving it between two fingers as he carefully wrapped the rest of the bar up. Taking a smaller bite from the square in his hands, he placed the rest of the wrapper and its contents into the pocket of his jacket. For a moment, he ignored the dust on his gloves, finishing the chocolate piece with a faint sort of happiness in his expression.

A few empty, numb moments followed, in which Yusei did nothing, having finished eating. Judai blinked; the other man shifted, moving to sit down closer to Judai, as if to start some kind of conversation. It only seemed right to come closer; Judai had asked him a question before the chocolate had come onto the scene, and that question remained unanswered still. Perhaps he had not forgotten. Perhaps he had other things to say. Perhaps, Judai was wrong, and the traveller was going to say nothing at all.

Yusei finally spoke, still smiling softly. "Thanks." He paused, as if to work out what to say next. "I've not had chocolate in weeks."

Judai only shrugged. "Sure." At least he'd made someone happy. Deep down, he felt a little more content himself. Other people could be a relief sometimes.

"Are you… alone out here?" Yusei seemed hesitant; it was as if the answer was obvious to him, but the question needed to be asked regardless, out of politeness.

With a nod, Judai sighed. "Yeah. Alone." There was a bitter tang in his throat, dry and awkward. He wasn't going to mention the other group he'd met, and been part of. He wasn't one of them any more, and he wasn't even sure if there was anyone left in it. Johan had been coughing, then Asuka had started. He hadn't stayed long enough to see the outcome, but it all seemed too clear.

"It's just me as well." Yusei responded, turning to one side. "I… I did meet some people, but…" He didn't say any more. Judai wanted to look away too. What had lived had not lived for long.

"It's hard."

"I know."

The words were stale on both men's tongues. There were far more obvious things to say. They needed to speak, to know about each other, yet neither wanted to say anything at all. Around them, the air was stagnant, the earth still. There was no sound. Both, in the depths of their souls, longed for wing and birdsong. Life was no longer there.

Moments of silence followed. Neither Yusei nor Judai wanted to look at each other. Both thought of solitude; neither cared that the other was musing over the same things.

Yusei broke the silence first. "I've been looking, I guess. For others." His gaze moved to where he had left his motorcycle, crimson-red against white and grey and white again. The machine almost didn't belong in the landscape; a functioning, driven, moving thing surrounded by all things broken and shattered and bruised and rotting and dead. Judai looked up at it too, unable to tell the details from a distance but nonetheless fascinated by the oddity; the brightness, the beacon of hope.

"I'm just alone." Lacing his fingers together, Judai spoke in return. "I… I travel too. Going… wherever, I guess. Just… going around. Living." He didn't quite know how to describe himself. He didn't have a place of his own any more. He had no-one to attach himself to, no group. His shelters were the remainders of collapsed buildings, his roofs makeshift. He took what he needed from wherever he could find it, with no-one to punish him if he never paid. There were no other humans.

The spirits were his only companions. They had helped him stay sane, even safe at times. They were precious, but he dared not mention them. Yusei did not seem threatening, and appeared far calmer than he'd expected, but the danger remained. He felt strangely about him. Something was there, with him, and Judai knew nothing about it.

The dragon? The worry stirred inside of him. He knew nothing and had everything to fear. "Somehow."

"…Yeah. I'm just living too."

"It's not that bad, I mean…" Now Judai wasn't sure how best to lie. A little truth, he decided, would sweeten the bad taste of deceit. "There's, I guess, cats." A lie. There weren't even mice. "Dead ones." Now that had been true. He'd seen some. Not even animal instincts had saved the poor, ragged things.

The other man didn't look at Judai; he wondered if he believed him at all.

"I understand." The sigh was clear; a mix of fatigue and empathy. "Anyone could go mad like this. It's better to talk to… something, than to nothing at all." Something about his tone felt genuine; as though Yusei's situation had not been so different from how Judai's has seemed prior to this day. True solitude hurt, that was clear. Both had been alone. Judai knew nothing about Yusei, and Yusei had not been told the exact truth about Judai's experiences - those he did not want to think of again.

If this wanderer, like himself, was a spirit-caller, then chances were high that he was even more similar to him. That, however, was not a fact to be revealed.

What do we really know? I can't read him at all. He's nice enough, but what are the chances? When will he turn on me? Can I really trust him?

He made little sense in Judai's mind. Flicking a stray mud-brown bang away from his eyes, he attempted to think of another decent topic to change to. This talk was too dry, too… depressing, he thought. He wanted to know more, yet feared the consequences. He wanted to speak, yet had no idea how to go about it. He had to keep calm about this.

Yusei's voice interrupted his train of thought. "I know it's strange. You can trust me."

Deep down, Judai wanted to, so badly. It was his voice, something in it. Or something about him, what exactly, he wasn't certain. Yusei Fudo felt trustworthy. Surviving meant coming together, likely.

Judai himself did not want to hurt him, or anyone else, for that matter. If needs be, he would - that he was confident about, he was brave and came armed with familiars - but in the situation given there and then, another dead man on the ground would not solve anyone's problems. Logic prevailed.

He'd not been one for logic much before the chaos. Logic or death was the answer these days.

"I hope." Sheepishly, he tried to smile. Clearly, it took more effort than anything else he'd done that day.

The other man nodded, himself attempting to smile in a show of comfort. Both understood the heaviness of each other's looks. Nobody felt like asking questions. Being brave-faced in these places hurt more than wild tears.

Time passed slowly. Faint breaths were the only sounds for a while. The sky was still white.

"I have fish. It's not much, but if you'd like, we can share." The taller of the two had ended the quietness, offering what hospitality there was to offer.

The other, taken aback but sincere, accepted the invitation. Food was limited. It would be dark soon. The opportunity was taken.

Neither man felt he could speak much that evening, regardless.

The sky was black now; if not pitch-black then certainly almost that. The clouds had begun to move as it had neared dusk, though not enough to see a true sunset. The sight would have been warm and beautiful - something fine to share with another, to celebrate the fact that neither was alone.

Judai was asleep. Yusei himself was never sure of the time these days, what with no watch, though he did have a flashlight. He'd let it shine near the other man, enough to check but not enough to wake him up, or so he thought. He wasn't sure in all honesty, but felt confident somehow.

He didn't want to wake him up. There would be questions. He had his suspicions about the mop-haired boy - he hadn't asked for his age, but he had to be younger - from the strange vibe he gave off to the fact that he was alive in the first place. He'd not seen many survivors.

The ones he had met, he did not want to remember.

Would it be a burden, knowing somebody again? It worried him. Would he even get to know him, before one of their lives came to an end, somehow, at some point in time? It would hurt to lose somebody. He'd lost enough.

Even so, this hope was not something he could rid himself of. Perhaps, it was his manner, or the circumstances somehow, or something in him triggered by the long-missed taste of chocolate and warm hospitality. This was company, no matter how temporary, and he had to be thankful; was thankful.

Kneeling, the survivor began to search the scattered debris that practically made up the surface, his flashlight the only useful tool in the dark. The gloves, he admitted, did help, protecting him from any glass or loose wires or splinters, but the flashlight was a necessity. He'd salvaged the thing the first time he'd decided to raid a half-broken building; the batteries came from his second time. That had been… weeks ago? He wasn't entirely sure.

Spying something of use, he moved the light to take a closer look. A piece of broken wood, or some stick, that with a gentle pull, revealed itself to be the length of his arm from elbow to glove-tip. Gritting his teeth, he turned it around, relaxing when he found it unmarred by fungus. Plain, simple, bark intact. Snapped at one end.

He placed the stick under his arm for safekeeping, then turned off the light and placed it in his jacket pocket, moving to fumble around for something else inside. The gloves did numb his sense of touch, but he would need them anyway. He'd grown used to wearing them for weeks, only removing them when eating - with care - or when sleeping, or to clean his hands with whatever was found to be decent.

Groping around, his fingers found their target and removed it from his pocket. It was too dark to see, but he knew what this was anyway. A safe ration, provided he did not use too many.

The box was small enough to fit with plenty of room and serve its purpose well. He gave one side a gentle nudge, pushing the smaller box out of its casing and carefully - blindly, in the dark - picking out a single, small thing. Careful not to spill anything - everything was precious - he pushed the box back as it had originally been. Clutching it between two fingers, his other hand worked, and with a quick swipe, the small object lit up; a small fire sparked on its dark tip, lighting up the surroundings and its own wooden base.

He moved the match to his left hand, placing the small box back in his pocket, then took the stick from under his arm and held it in his right hand. Sighing, he moved the hand with the match and let the flame transfer. Quickly, its end caught fire. The tip of the match was blown out in response, the thick glove material ensuring the fire was fully out before it fell to the ground.

How did humans first feel when they learnt of fire?

He watched the flame dancing on the tip of the stick, scorching the wood as it slowly worked its way down, the heat inching closer to his hands. He longed to feel the fire in his hands, though more than that, he feared the burn at the same time, feeling fortunate that his gloves were protective enough. Here was fire; beauty and danger and hope lighting up the dark in his hands.

There was a strange feeling of serenity in it all, oranges and yellows moving in the dark as his precious light flickered away. What was harder to see was the charred black the fire left behind as the stick crumbled behind it; he wished that the light would last forever. Life, he thought, would be easier if we could harness true fire.

He thought of stars.

Harmless from far away. Things of beauty. Small lights.

Pain if fire touches skin and fibres.

Such was life.

He let out a sigh, trying hard to push the rising memories out of his conscious. Now was not the time to be suffering. He wasn't alone any more. He was here, now, in this moment, with a companion sleeping soundly behind him. Glancing back, he was met with relief at the sight of Judai curled up, and though he was not close enough to see, he was sure of his body's soft rise-and-fall that signified that the man was still alive.

There wasn't much smoke, and the light was only small - travelling down and soon preparing to die - but he couldn't risk waking him up. For now, the time was his, and his alone.

Smoke twirling in the darkness and small glowing stick clutched in both hands, firmly gloved, he closed his eyes and began to pray. He could feel the approach of the fire, the scent both familiar and inviting, bringing his mind into calmness.

His lips moved slowly, with sound barely present, never enough to be heard. There was nobody alive to hear or to listen, and nobody awake to ask. The flame touched his gloves, material resisting. It didn't hurt. He felt the stick crumble.

He ended the whisper, using a small breath to end the burning of the fire. In the darkness, smoke spun. He let it do so for a few moments, clutching it in one fist to ensure it was out once the heat had begun to dissipate into the atmosphere.

It was too dark without fire to see the charred remains of the stick in his hands. He let the remainders fall to the ground, blowing once to remove some of the dust from his gloves.

All things must die, he thought. All things have their time.

It wasn't his time yet, though. Now was the night. The living slept. He would sleep too.

For a little while more, at least, let me see the sky.

Picking himself up from the uneven ground, he stood up, moving slowly across the dark sea of wood and plaster, pushing past brick and wire and kicking a stray tile, wincing when the latter clattered against more of its kind. Let Judai sleep. With his flashlight, and some effort, he crept past the makeshift shelter where he would rest after, noting that Judai was indeed asleep. He wondered if he was uncomfortable. Perhaps he was tolerant.

People were either tolerant or dead these days.

Moving away, he traversed on, past the crumbled wall, just further on behind it, where he was sure not to awaken the sleeper. The flashlight flickered; he made a mental note to see if he could obtain more batteries elsewhere. He used the thing only at night - energy sources, both human and electrical, were not found everywhere, nor in permanently safe places. There had to be some abandoned store he could raid the following day in the area.

Once he was sure the spot was safe, prodding the surrounding surfaces with the toe of one boot, and turning his head one last time to check that he would not wake up Judai, he moved to sit down, slowly settling next to a small heap of stone and brick. The flashlight was turned off with a click. All around him was silence.

Quiet, he thought. Be gentle. Come here. I'm not alone.

As if in response, with an odd, kind gentleness, the air around him began to stir. Something like a breeze began to form around him; calm, yet with a hint of pure energy, as a familiar vibe sounded out in his mind. He saw faint tendrils of whiteness breaking the dark, light sparks blooming in the space around him, fierce as the light stood out and reassuring as it lit up the darkened ruin.

He sensed the other's presence as the ghostly shape formed, tiny lights flickering in movement, eyes of liquid gold amongst scales painted with silvers and blues, its chest forming firm like dark stones wrapped in shining muscle. The creature stretched its neck, reaching high, silently gazing at the black sky as it spread its translucent wings.

Having emerged almost entirely, the great beast - far larger than the one below it - gave its wings a sharp, decisive flap, letting the membranes stretch and sample the air. For a moment, an afterimage of light remained, stark-bright against the sky.

The caller smiled, ever-enchanted by the sight. He knew this well. With a gentle tug, one glove fell from his right hand. Calloused, work-worn skin met shining scales; those were rough to some and smooth as fingernails to him. The creature let out a gentle growl, crystalline teeth just showing, though not as a sign of aggression.

"I'm glad you're here."

As if in understanding, the creature dipped its head gently, its eyes lit up brightly.

There, in that motion, if another human had been awake, and if they were able to see, and if they were able to understand, they would have seen another afterimage. As one huge wing twitched and moved, they would have seen it; like white and blue, like small sparks vanishing, like some strange image of thousands of lights amongst the darkness.

Stardust.

note

Writer's block and preparations for a convention weekend took over.

If at first characters seem strange, consider the situation. Things may change.

Please do review!

Yours, Celestos