Part 3 "KUJA!" Came the all too familiar voice, reverberating throughout the spacious halls of the Invincible. Kuja smiled to himself. Garland was so predictable, though it had taken a little longer than Kuja had estimated to discover his little "surprise". Kuja turned over onto his bed to lay on his side, facing the door of his quarters as the sound of heavy boots thudding angrily against the metal floor grew closer, shortly before the door was flung open, revealing an enraged Garland. In one tightly clenched hand he held a handful of long, silver locks of hair. Kuja's hair. "What is this?" He asked, glaring down at Kuja who simply shrugged, brushing back a few strands of hair with a hand. "It looks like hair to me," He answered, smiling innocently as he watched Garland's changing expression, watching as his eyes grew bigger as he took in Kuja's appearance. His long, waist length silver hair had been freed of it's ponytail and had been cut in a layered style, the shorter front strands curling below his jaw while the longer strands trailed lightly down his back, grazing his waist. And somehow, the four silver feathers that grew out from the part in his hair seemed all the more vibrant. Around his eyes, especially the outer corners, traces of a reddish color could easily be seen, glowing against his light skin and clashing with his blue eyes. For a moment, Garland just stared in horror at Kuja who, in his eyes, had completely maimed his appearance. But that moment soon passed, and in the next instant, Garland was laughing. A dangerous laugh. "Kuja, is this your idea of some kind of subtle rebellion?" He asked, not even attempting to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Kuja shrugged again. "Is it?" he asked simply with the same indifference that Garland had showed him so many times. "I never realized that wanting to change one's appearance was a rebellious act," He added, unable to hide his smirk any longer. Of course it was a rebellious act. Both he and Garland knew that. For a genome to change his appearance to one that was completely different from the rest was a sure sign of a strong will, of a strong soul. Kuja was already quite different from the other "golden haired zombies", but now that was even more apparent. He had changed his already unique appearance, and done so without his creator's consent, an impossible task for any ordinary genome. The feel of a strong hand striking against his jaw silenced any further remarks. Kuja winced, biting down on his bleeding lower lip to keep quiet even as his wounded cheek burned with pain, the redness the blow had caused gradually turning black as a bruise began to form. "I gave you a life and a soul, Kuja, and I can just as easily take them both away," Garland growled. "The creator's will is absolute. Remember that." And with those words said, he strode out of the room, the door closing behind him. He was no doubt leaving to go check on his darling Zidane. Yes, that was perhaps the only thing that was good about that puppet's existence. Garland spent so much time fawning over him that it saved him extra lectures... And beatings. Did Zidane get the same treatment? Was he lectured, scolded, beat? Probably not. Such treatment might stain the boy's perfection! But he... He was a defect. He was already imperfect. A few bruises would only serve to compliment his imperfection! He rolled out of bed and stood upon the floor to pace across the floor, gazing into the one small mirror that was in his room. Blood streaked down from his lip to his chin and the stricken part of his face was a dark, ugly purple, sensitive to the touch. No amount of any substance would be able to conceal the dark blotch on his white skin. He had to admit, though Garland looked old and frail, he was quite powerful. Too powerful for him... At the moment. The red color about his eyes was smeared and, in some places, it cascaded freely down his cheeks. Kuja quickly wiped the tears away. He couldn't cry, he couldn't show any emotion that might lead Garland to believe he was weak. If Garland thought he was in any way weak, it would only strengthen Garland's assumptions that Kuja was but a mistake and Zidane was superior to him. Such assumptions were false, of course, but, as Garland said, "The will of the creator is absolute"... Wiping away the last remaining traces of hurt, he walked from his gloomy quarters--And tripped over a small body that cried out in alarm. Luckily, Kuja was quick to regain his composure and save himself from a rather ungraceful fall. "What are you doing?" He snapped, spinning around to find Zidane sprawled on the floor, rubbing the back of his head sorely as he gazed up at Kuja with humorously large blue eyes, filled with the innocence of youth. An innocence Kuja never knew, even at his nine years of age. "Nothin'..." Zidane replied sheepishly, getting to his feet clumsily, his head tilted back to peer up into Kuja's face. "What's that stuff on your face? Did Garland yell at you again? Are you mad?" He poured out in one breath, cocking his head to the side curiously, his little tail twitching. Kuja rolled his eyes, turning his back to the boy. "It's called 'blood'," Kuja replied dryly. "And if you were to get smacked around a little, you'd be angry, too." "Why?" "If you want a demonstration, I'd be more than happy to oblige," Kuja growled, turning to face Zidane, who shook his head quickly. "Hmph. So you do have some sense, after all." "Kuja, why was Garland mad at you?" "Zidane, why don't you ever shut up?" "Where you goin'?" "Anywhere you won't go." "Where's that?" "You tell me: Where won't you go? And why do you insist on following me!?" Kuja asked irritably, stopping so suddenly that Zidane bumped into him and fell backwards. "'Cause... 'cause I'm lonely..." Kuja laughed. "Well, then why don't you go and make friends with the other genomes, hmm? It's a bit difficult to figure out how best to kill you with you frolicking around me." "But they're no fun..." "And I am?" Kuja asked, crossing his arms across his chest, a sardonic smile on his lips. So, this was Garland's new angel of death. This was what was to be his replacement. An innocent child who knew nothing of pain, death, or hate, who suspected nothing even when Kuja didn't even try to keep his intentions from him? He didn't even know what blood was, the very liquid that kept him alive, the very liquid that, very soon, would be spilt by his brother's own hand! Yet this was what Garland viewed as perfection. This was what he himself feared! It was all so hilarious in it's own twisted way... And it was a good thing that the child was so unsuspecting. His naivete would play to his own advantage. "Kuja?" Zidane asked as he began to walk away. "Kuja... the other genomes... they're a lot different from us, huh?" Kuja threw an annoyed glance his was. He just had to remind him, didn't he? He just had to remind him that he was no longer the only special genome. He just had to remind him that his place was now threatened by a little clueless boy... "And whatever caused you to arrive at that startling revelation?" Zidane looked down. "Well, 'cause Garland told me. He told me that you an' me both have souls, too..." "And did he also tell you that you were a defect? A mistake?" Kuja spat, not even attempting to hide his contempt. And, with those words said, he stormed away, leaving a very confused Zidane behind. *~*~*~*~*~* Well, whatcha think? R&R, please! And remember: Only constructive critisizm! Oh yeah, since I am at the moment grounded, the other parts should be coming sooner, since I have plenty of time to work on them! Teehee... And I must say, I am having fun writing this :) |
