Betweenpart6 Yay!! It's working again!! Well, kind of. Okay, my apologies for the Zidane dominance, but hey, he's got to be the most interesting one at this era. I promise, he won't hog the next few chapters! Nope, Kuja will be taking the reins pretty soon, also I'll be introducing someone else...


Zidane trudged steadily onward towards the belfry. The sun had set and the night crowd had cleared from the streets to their respective pubs and clubs during his trek across town. He was tired and dirty, but at least he was no longer hungry. Well, sort of…I guess you can't mooch every day, even if you are as cute as me. Simply stealing food was no longer simple, either; the patrol at the market place had doubled. Zidane did not fancy winding up in the hellish poke they called an orphanage, from which he'd probably get drafted for the army. Despite his carefree outlook, there were some chances even Zidane wasn't willing to take. So he'd gone up to the "posh" district in search of odd jobs. The first door that did not turn him away was answered by a butler. Why couldn't it have been a maid? The man had decided to have the boy weed the practically mile-long walkway, since the gardener never did "a proper job anyway", so it wouldn't "make much of a difference." Zidane spent the rest of the day wrestling with dandelions that were used to having their way and actually pulling out their roots. Out of the whole ordeal, he had gotten a semi-decent meal. He knew that he had been horribly ripped off, but he lacked the strength to protest. He'd simply taken the food and left. Sleep…was the only thing on his mind, so he wasn't thinking about anything else. He was about halfway through the alley to the back street when he heard a sound that made him spring back like a startled cat.
"It's not smart for eagles to travel at night," came the voice of honey. "It belongs to…larger predators." Zidane could make out Roquel's from leaning against the wall, and as his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he could also make out the smile that rested at his lips. Roquel looked up at him, a full-fledged grin sprouting from his smile. Zidane quickly became aware that about thirty larger, older boys were surrounding him; the realization made him groan audibly. Snickers popped up from various locations about him in response.
"It must be Monday…" Zidane attempted to laugh.
"Not your day?" Roquel finished for him stepping toward him. Zidane now had his tail lashing and started shifting his weight back and forth to get his blood flowing. He held his dirt covered hand up in the lion king's face, visualizing that it matched his eyes.
"Let's just say I'm really not in the mood…" Zidane started to walk by, but Roquel grabbed his wrist saying:
"That's too bad." Zidane's eyes connected to his for a moment before Zidane jerked away, twisting his arm painfully in the process. Zidane saw him wince, so he began to back away, trying to leave it at that. Roquel growled and the Lions began to step closer. "I don't think so…you can't hide behind the police now." Zidane went against his instincts and let them attack first. He would soon realize his mistake. He blocked the first punch and turned immediately caught the one that came from behind in the stomach with a backwards kick. He ducked one, kneed the next in the stomach, and then launched over that ones shoulders to kick the next in the head. He soon realized he had given them control, even if they hadn't even hit him yet. He tried to get up above them to press his attack and then get away, but they were all there now, and now they weren't getting in each other's ways. He was pressed completely to blocking and dodging now, and then he felt a sharp pain in his backside. He was yanked off his feet to fall on his chin. Statcher had snatched his tail. Some of the legs moved away as Zidane moaned.
"That's…that's just wrong!" Zidane complained of the tear-jerking sensation. Man, it's like he was trying to pull my brain out by my butt or something…
"Oh, Yug?" Roquel called sweetly. Zidane saw the hippo boy come straight at him, leaping into the air without remorse.
"Oh, crap!" was all Zidane could get out before some of his ribs gave way under the body slam. It hurt, a lot. Zidane whimpered loudly and his eyes stung with tears. A laughter of approval sounded through the ranks of the Lions. Yug laughed, his enormous weight bouncing with each guffaw. Zidane found this really painful and could hardly hold back more whimpering.
"Ouchie," Roquel came out from wherever he'd been hiding. "I could've sworn I heard something crack." Zidane didn't reply. He was having enough trouble breathing. "So where are your little wimp friends now, hmm? Where are the spoiled brats? The policemen? Huh? Speak up." Zidane slowly lifted his head.
"Fine. You've proved…your point…Nobody cares…about…me," he slowly got it out. It was painful, both physically and emotionally, for him to say it. "I-I knew that… Can I go…home now?" There was a moment of silence, aside from Zidane's pained breathing.
"So…you exist only to annoy me?" Roquel raised an eyebrow as he spoke.
"That's not…"
"DON'T interrupt me," Roquel kicked at his face on the first syllable. Zidane moved just in time, the kick hitting him on the side of the head. This was still painful. Zidane's head cleared a moment later to realize that Roquel was still talking. However, Zidane was through with reasoning with them.
"Dammit, Roquel! Why can't you just leave people alone?!" Zidane was surprised at the volume he got past Yug's weight. He was rewarded with another kick, harder this time. Zidane could barely hear his retort and he was seeing lights he knew didn't exist. A harsh hand under his chin lifted his hand.
"Tribal, the least you could do is listen to me," the honey practically dripped onto Zidane's face. He groaned as he tried to open his eyes; he was seeing two Roquels in front of him. And one's too many… "Hey, guys. I'm getting really mad."
"N-no…kidding…" Zidane barely managed to whisper. He felt hands grabbing his limbs; he knew what they were about to do. He tried to get a horrified expression onto his face; he didn't know if he managed.
"What…are you…trying t-to do? Kill me?" Roquel dropped Zidane's head in response, the chin hitting the ground again.
"I'm considering that…" he stood up as he spoke. Each of his arms and legs were then pulled away from him in opposite directions and more people jumped on Yug. One of Zidane's already hurting ribs gave way and cracked audibly. Dignity no longer mattered; he screamed out in anguish.
***
"I guess I'm just lucky I got you out when I did," the redheaded boy sighed to his older companion.
"Shaddup," the other mumbled as they walked through the deserted streets. "Sorry…alright? I thought I could win."
"What? With your luck?"
"Oh, shut up," the older one growled.
"I mean, any money is a lot of money for us…" the boy continued. "We can't afford to throw it away like that. I mean, gambling? Dang, it's too early to be headin' back. Why couldn't you listen to me?"
"Quit yelling at me!!" he yelled back. At that moment a scream sounded through the streets. "What? You too?" he yelled back at the sound. The boy looked up at him with wide eyes.
"That…" the boy stated, "can't be good."
"Yeah." The two hastened through the darkness.
***
It was a slight relief to have Big Yug finally off his back, but he was broken and bleeding from the gang's "fun." He groaned softly as Roquel lifted him up by his tattered collar. He struggled to retain consciousness.
"Y-you're…n…not…finished…yet…are…y-you?" he slowly put the words together. Blood seeped into his mouth from a split upper lip. Roquel simply laughed.
"Nope." Zidane moaned again, the feeling was leaving his body and the hope was leaving his heart. "You're to be an example to those loser's who look up to you."
"Look," Zidane's whisper echoed a tiredness that threatened to overcome him. "I can't…I-I can't take…it…any more. Either-Either stop…or…or…" Zidane passed out without finishing his sentence.
"Aw, poor baby," Roquel laughed and tapped Zidane on the head. "Come on, wakey, wakey!"
"I heard it over here, Kilmer!" an adult voice sounded from just outside the alley. Roquel dropped Zidane's body; the lions dispersed into the night without a word.
"Wow, you're good," Roquel muttered to Zidane and he vanished down to the street.
"Hey, it worked," the redheaded boy remarked.
"Hehe, of course it did. Kilmer's really scary." The pair made their way over to the still form on the ground. "Dang, they did that?!"
"Holy…" the redhead knelt down next to the unconscious orphan.
"How'd a gang of midgets…?"
"I wish I had some decent light…" the boy interrupted as gently turned his patient on to his back and ran his fingers over the face, neck, arms, and chest.
"Go for it, duckling." The boy looked up, a hurt expression on his face. "It was a joke," his companion apologized.
"It wasn't funny," the boy told him. The unconscious blonde winced as his hand brushed the ribs. Carefully, he prodded at them a bit, producing pained noises from his subject. "Well, he's definitely got some broken ribs, and some sort of head injury…my guess would be a concussion."
"Sooo…he's coming with us?" the older one knelt down as well.
"What? We'd leave him here?" The blonde boy moaned and stirred slightly. "Oh no. Don't wake up yet. That won't be any good… Gently, Marcus." Slowly, the older one, Marcus, took the child into his arms and stood up, the redhead helping to support his patient.
"Poor little guy," Marcus looked down on his load. "He's just a baby street rat." Slowly, the blonde's eyes opened and looked up at him. He squinted a bit before he moaned again.
"If…you're an…angel," he whispered brokenly, "heaven is really…disappointing."
"Hahaha!" the other boy laughed. "Don't drop him, Marcus! He's just a little delirious, that's all. Heeheehee, but just a little." Marcus frowned.
"Marcus?" the blonde whispered again.
"Yes?"
"Ah…so you…are Marcus…um, Marcus?"
"Yes?" Marcus repeated.
"Don't rush," the redhead advised. "You really shouldn't try to talk. You've been through a lot."
"Um…" he persisted. "Marcus…am I…um…dead?"
"No," Marcus answered, slightly pleased that the kid was ignoring his companion.
"Oh…that's good."
"Don't worry, kid," the redhead said. "You're gonna be alright."
"And…you are?" the child slowly turned his head to look at the other boy.
"That's Blank," Marcus answered.
"Blank?"
"Yes," Blank said. "My name is Blank." The blonde seemed to think about this for a moment.
"Ah," he finally said. "I guess…that was…bound to happen…sooner or later." Now Marcus was laughing. Blank hid his face in his hand and tried not to smile himself.
"So, do you have a name?" Blank said quickly as Marcus struggled to calm down.
"Yeah…I do."
"What is it?" Marcus prodded.
"Don't rush him," Blank cut in.
"My name's…Zidane…"
"Zidane?" Marcus looked quizzical.
"Yeah, that's it."
"Zidane…that's a cool name," Blank said.
"…thanks," Zidane smiled slightly and winced at the cut in his lip.
"Nice to meet you, Zidane," Marcus smiled.
"Back…at you…both," he whispered around his wound.
"Look, Zidane," Blank spoke slowly and softly, "we're gonna take you back to our place and see what we can do for your injuries, okay?"
"Um, okay, thanks a lot…"
"No problem," Marcus smiled.
"Sooo," Blank continued. "If you need to go to sleep or anything, go ahead. It'll help."
"I'll…try to rem…member…that." The trio made their way through the empty streets of the Business District towards the air cabs, which weren't really running at this hour. By the time they arrived in the Theatre District, Zidane was sleeping soundly in Marcus's arms. Once they were inside the empty hide out, Marcus laid the sleeping child gently onto a spare cot while Blank rummaged around his bunk in search of medical supplies. Blank pulled out his bag and knelt next to the cot.
"Marcus, get me some cool water and a rag…" he ordered as he carefully pulled off Zidane's threadbare shirt, trying not to wake him. As Marcus wiped the orphan clean of dirt and blood, Blank examined the boy's ribs. Not waking him would not be possible; some of the fractures were complete so the bones would have to be put back. "Hold him down by his upper arms." Marcus complied as Blank prepared to adjust the bone. The two ends made little noise as they rejoined, Zidane on the other hand… Blank pressed a wad of cloth to his mouth, absorbing most of the scream. "Catch your breath…I have one more to do, but then the worst is over."
"Don't sweat it, kiddo," Marcus grinned as he looked up at Blank. "His father was a quack, donchaknow." Blank looked back at him, an expression of genuine betrayal on his young features.
"He was accused of medical malpractice that he never committed! Stop calling him a quack! Doesn't my family deserve at least a little respect?!"
"Geez…I'm trying to stop you from taking it so seriously," Marcus shrugged an apology. "I'm sorry."
"As am I," Zidane smiled slightly. "I trust you, Blank." Blank smiled fully, slightly stunned by Zidane's kind words, but still fully appreciative of them.
"Do you want something to bite? It would be best if we didn't wake the neighbors."
"Who's trying to sleep around here at this hour?" Marcus pointed out.
"Whatever. Still…"
"I see…your point…why not?" Zidane answered. Blank pulled some gauze out of his bag and offered it to Zidane's lips. "When we're done," Zidane said before taking it into his mouth, "can he…get off of…my arms? It…really hurts."
"Definitely," Blank answered as he carefully maneuvered the gauze around the cut in Zidane's lip. "I won't lie—this will hurt a lot, but try to relax, okay?" In response, Zidane closed his eyes and let out a long breath, attempting to relax as Blank had said. He's a real sport, Blank thought as he prepared to adjust the second fracture. When he'd finished, a long stream of air hissed through Zidane's teeth: the remnant of his screams of pain. Marcus let go of his arms again.
"Good job," Blank commended as he relieved him of the gauze, which now carried a permanent imprint of his molars. Slowly, Zidane's fists unclenched from the sheets, his knees unlocked, and his tail, which had death-gripped the closest thing to it, unwound itself from Blank's leg. Blank rubbed the feeling back into his calf as he watched the appendage curiously, but he did not say anything.
"Wow, talk about mind over matter," Marcus remarked. "The first time I thought you were going to break out of my grip, but that second time, you barely flinched." Zidane's eyelids drooped as he breathed out a single statement:
"Ow." Then he fell asleep.
"Ow…my leg…pain…" Blank groaned as he massaged his calf.
"Bro, what happened to your leg?"
"His tail was kinda releasing its tension…on my leg. Ouchie."
"His tail?" Marcus looked down to see the little stretch of blond fuzz drooping off the edge of the cot. "Huh. They get weirder and weirder."
"Dang…I challenge a rat to do that kind of damage with their tail," Blank went back into his bag. "Anyway, let's wrap him up and get to bed before the Boss comes back." He was soon foiled; for no sooner had Blank and Marcus began bandaging the boy's injuries than did the Boss walk through the door.
"'Evenin' boys, Gwahaha," Baku laughed. "I see you're back early for a change."
"Oh! Hi, Boss!" Marcus smiled nervously, remembering his lost bet.
"Whatcha got there?" Baku came over to the cot.
"Shhh…" Blank held a finger up to his lips. "Let him sleep."
"Gwahaha, what pathetic life form didja drag up here this time?" Baku laughed again.
"I wouldn't say he's pathetic, Boss," Marcus continued to help Blank. "He was standing up to the entire "Lions" gang all by himself. It shows too."
"Really…Lemme see!" Baku shoved Marcus out of the way so he could have a better look. "Awww…poor thing. Learned the hard way what happens when you play with fire. He an orphan?"
"I'm pretty sure," Blank answered as he finished binding up Zidane's ribs.
"Yeah, it's not like he was calling for 'mom' or anything," Marcus put in. "And why else would a kid his age be wandering the street at night in rags?"
"Right, gwahaha. Good job, boys. This one's actually pretty cute. He could be useful. Go to bed soon though. And where is Cinna?"
"Maybe he got a date…" Marcus giggled.
"He's got twenty more minutes to show up," Blank laughed. As it was, Cinna rushed in with five minutes to spare, barely avoiding the punishment due when Baku caught anyone coming in late. Pretty soon, the entire house had settled down for the night and the inhabitants of which had gone to bed—all except one. Seeing that his boys had all gone to bed, Baku went over to the tiny newcomer and stood over him for a while, watching him sleep. Baku had been unable to make much of himself, despite his more or less noble upbringing, due to wasted opportunity. Although he continued to reach new lows in society, he was determined to help those who had lacked the opportunities he had been given by giving them chances to follow their dreams. Since he'd found that the ones his age often swindled and cheated him, he had taken to bringing up much younger individuals.
"I hope I can help you," he said quietly then he went off to bed himself.



Phew. That I made up all myself! I mean, it's a good question: how did Zidane get from being the fallen angel of death to the theif-meister of Tantalus, right? Okay, now I'm just wasting your time. You should be reviewing, not reading my lame apologies!!!