Karneval: Innocence Lost

Author's Note: Sorry, I realize this is a pretty short chapter.

Chapter 4: Life Of Crime

"So I was right!" Yotaka confronted Gareki, that night, in the middle of a dark alley way. "A gun? Why do you have such a thing?" He approached the hooded fifteen-year old. "What the hell have you been doing?"

Gareki stood quietly against the wall, keeping his face hidden with his hood and his hair. "It's none of your business," he said. He had left Tsubame and Yotaka's home two years ago, at the age of thirteen. Yotaka and Tsubame had started working to support themselves and to pay for their grandfather's hospital bills. The old man had become bedridden some time shortly after Tsubaki's death. Gareki felt he would be a burden on them if he stayed. He wanted to earn money to help with the old man's hospital bills. He felt he owed them that much. But his method for doing so was something he had to do alone. The last thing he wanted was for them to get involved or even become implicated.

"Gareki? Answer me, damn it!" Yotaka insisted.

Gareki grabbed Yotaka by the collar of his shirt. He took notice of how nice it looked in contrast to the rags he remembered the twins always wearing before Tsubaki died. Clearly, Yotaka had found something to do that paid enough for them to afford a new wardrobe. He pulled Yotaka in closer, so that he could look him in the eyes. His own eyes were still hidden from Yotaka's vision, but they could both feel themselves making eye contact. "Why are you still trying to act as if you're my brother?" Gareki growled. "How long do you think it's been since I left your place?" He threw Yotaka to the side, slamming him against the wall.

"G…Gareki…?" Yotaka groaned, sliding down the wall. He was worried for Gareki's safety, and couldn't understand why he was acting in such a manner. He looked up, wide eyed and almost frightened, when Gareki's shoe slammed against the wall, just mere inches away from his head.

"You asked what I'm doing?" Gareki scoffed. "I'm doing the kind of things that would get dorks like you and Tsubame killed if you became involved." Gareki hated to do this. He hated tossing Yotaka about in such a manner, but he had become good at hiding his emotions over the years. His own innocence had been lost during his years with the Katashi couple. He had survived the slave ship full of cannibalistic slave children and its wreckage. He'd cried silent tears at the loss of Tsubaki. The world was cold and dirty and he was standing alone against it. Yotaka and Tsubame were all that was left good and pure in the world, and all he wanted was for them to be safe. However, that meant the path he was taking was one he would have to take alone. He couldn't stay with them, for their own sake. "Never come here again," he ordered.

"You idiot," Yotaka sighed, lowering his head, trying not to cry, "Go to Hell!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and running off.

Gareki watched quietly as Yotaka ran off. He hated to watch him leave, and almost wanted to call him back and apologize. But he knew it was better this way. "Stay away from me," he thought, "Don't get yourself involved with me. From now on, I only deal with three kinds of people… Scum, prey, and enemies." He turned and walked in the opposite direction, determined that Yotaka and Tsubame were just part of a past that he'll have to put behind him. "Huh?" He stopped and looked down. There was a brown burlap sack full of vegetables right outside his door. He blinked, noticing a note left sitting on top. They're harvested from the field. Hope you enjoy them. Gareki sighed. So that was why Yotaka had come here? He stood for a moment in silence. "Are they stupid or something? Honestly…" he finally managed to sigh.

Yotaka went home, feeling quite dejected. Tsubame greeted him. "Yotaka, welcome home! Did you get to see Gareki today?" she asked hopefully.

Yotaka hung his head and sighed. "That Gareki," he said sitting down, "It seems he's been with some strange people and doing some dangerous things. Even when I see him, he gives me bad looks. I don't know what's going on with him right now Tsubame, but it can't be good. You… You probably shouldn't go see him anymore. He's not the Gareki we've come to know. He's someone else."

Gareki made himself a promise that night. As long as Yotaka and Tsubame were safe, that was what mattered to him. He couldn't bear loosing anymore precious people. From now on, he wouldn't allow anyone else to get close to him. He was living a life of crime, stealing from the filthy rich who had received their fortune through crooked dealings. He only kept a person around him if they were useful for one purpose or another. Any accomplice that was captured or killed was on their own, he was simply using them anyway.

Having started at the age of thirteen, he was a decently skilled thief by the age of fifteen. He moved quietly in the night and took special care that no one ever saw his face or recognized him. He avoided the Security Force at every turn. His childhood interest in mechanics came in handy as well. He had become a self taught explosives expert, which earned him favor with other thieves on jobs where his skills would come in handy.

Gareki slowly began to become cautious about every move he made. He was suspicious of everyone and everything. He slept alone, with a gun under his pillow and his doors and windows locked and bolted. He would have dreams in the middle of the night, usually right before a planed heist, about Yogi and Tsubaki, sometimes even Yotaka and Tsubame, but he remembered nothing of those dreams when he awoke the next morning. When these dreams came, he would wake up, finding his cheeks slicked wet from what he did his best to convince himself was sweat rather than tears, and the words "Don't go! Don't leave me!" ringing through his head.

He stood up and washed and dried his face with a groan. He looked into the mirror, his cold blue eyes staring back at himself, his breath heavy. The dreams were always peaceful and sweet, but the fact that he couldn't remember them made him uneasy. What good was it to have good dreams if he couldn't remember them? Fed up with himself over such stupid trivialities, he threw the towel at the mirror before he turned to leave for the day. The sixteen year old had a big job planned for the night, he couldn't let dreams get in the way.