Chapter Five: Tears of the Sun
"Whatchya got there, Sangre?"
Glancing over his shoulder, Seto's aggressor saw one of his running mates. "Why, you interested in a little dessert tonight?" he asked, flashing his cohort a nasty grin.
"Maybe." replied the hidden individual, lurking in the darkness. "You never know."
"That's true. With you I can never tell."
"So am I just too much for you to handle?"
Shaking his head from side to side, Sangre said, "No, but you are a huge pain in the ass, if that means anything to you."
Laughter, cruel and horrendous, surrounded Kaiba like the wind of death. Through blurred vision, he caught a glimpse of a male rounding the corner of a building. This was another rat that looked like his mother had given birth to him straight on the street, which was probably dropped on the head one too many times by his own biological parent. He strolled over to his friend in a casual manner, treating the entire scenario of attempted rape like a restaurant that promised him the finest fixings. Maybe that's all assault was to him, some scrumptious buffet of fruits for him to sample, lined up in a bound and broken serving line with every necessary trimming at his beck and call.
Casting a ravenous gaze on the blue-eyed child, the newcomer asked, "So, what's on the menu tonight?"
"Something warm and still moving." responded the man who held the tall teen down.
"Mmm, that's just how I like my steak."
"You're in luck then, Karasu. This one's your fresh pick of the day."
Karasu, who had set his head on his accomplice's shoulder, leered at Seto through an oily mass of black bangs. His toothless sneer was chilling enough to make the grim reaper cower before him. He licked his chapped lips, skin that was so dry that a tiny line of red dribbled from the torn tissue. With a flick of his serpent-like tongue, he lapped up the blood, painting his dingy teeth with it.
"So, who's the tyke?" asked the onyx-haired man, reaching over his companion. Carelessly, he slipped a hand down the child's thigh, relishing the feel of cool flesh underneath his fingertips.
"Just some crazy idiot of a kid." answered Sangre ambiguously. Mimicking his friend's lust-driven conduct, he pressed his bulky frame against Kaiba's.
/But I'm not crazy/
"I--I'm not crazy--" gurgled Seto unintelligibly, the words sticking to his throat in an adhesive-based language.
"Then what do ya call stumblin' into our turf at three in the mornin'?" one of the adults inquired dryly, letting his limbs scope out the nether regions of his doll's structure. "Bein' smart as can be?"
/I'm just a little unwell/
"No," said the sapphire-eyed boy, looking up at his attacker with a dazed expression. He lifted his lips and molded his mouth into a distant smile, totally absorbing himself in the reliable excuse he formed over the years. "I'm not crazy. Just a little unwell, but not crazy."
"And how do ya figure that to be true?"
/I know right now you can't tell. /
"Because I'm a good person." replied the brown-haired boy, disconnecting himself from the present situation. "Really, I am. I'm not naturally this way, it's just that--that--"
/But stay a while and maybe then you'll see/
Every time he spoke, it was almost as if he had placed himself on trial, trying to convince a jury of biased citizens to believe the same as him. Although he was pleading innocent, he felt innately guilty; ashamed for who he was, afraid that the allegations brought against him were real. He heard the wavering quality of his voice, felt the restless shifting of his eyes, and knew immediately that his testimony was as transparent as his status of a self-respecting capitalist. Truth be told, he didn't even deserve to be listened to. This was blatant perjury, an offense serious enough to lock him away for life on. Charges, so many accusations were made of him these days, telltale signs that whispered the beginnings of a hardened criminal. An executioner's ax was hanging over his neck, fully prepared to separate his head from his body. Nevertheless, he kept on choking out his statements, attempting to win the judge's favor, biding time until cold steel came down and delivered the ultimate punishment to him.
/a different side of me. /
"--I've tried so much to please everyone around me. I can be good, I know I can be. If I was given the chance to show others that, I know I'd be able to." The more he talked, the more he sounded like he was begging for approval, entreating the men to change their perspectives on him so that they would lower their sharp blades.
Rather than change positions or agree with the frantic adolescent, the males simply exchanged sinister grins.
/I'm not crazy/
One of the tormentors emitted a low whistle, imitating the noise a cuckoo clock made. "You're right, this one's pretty far out there."
/I'm just a little impaired/
"About seven cans short of a six-pack, if you know what I'm getting at." murmured the other loudly. "Glad he's not my problem."
Their derisive opinions hit Seto's heart like an arrow of ice. What happened to the sympathy people were supposed to have for one another? Where was that wealth of human decency and consideration that pop idols illustrated with wonderful catch phrases on the radio? And love…where was all the love pastors on television preached about, the spiritual enlightenment of the soul that every one of God's lambs possessed?
/I know right now you don't care/
/Not here. / Kaiba thought wistfully, the familiar emptiness inside himself expanding. /Having faith in something, belonging somewhere, being worthwhile to someone…it's a lie. / He stared unresponsively at the green and clear shards of glass beside his visage, repeating over and over again in his head what he believed the truth to be. /Every bit of it is nothing but a story with a terrible ending, a marriage of drunken gamblers in Las Vegas, a birth of unwanted children who wished they never came out of their mother's womb. Dreams, fantasies, hopes--even love--they're all falsehoods. Childish fabrications. Just a cache of vindictive tricks and lies. /
/Glad you see things my way now. / his oh-so brilliant conscience chimed in, adding its scathing wordplay to the storm of mixed emotions. / Didn't I tell you that those were all irrational illusions perpetrated by fairy tales? Don't you remember me saying that life's not like the board game Candy Land? /
/I know it's not now. / the tall teen whispered to himself, watching his reflection in the broken beer bottles. In the colorful man-produced materials, he could see a child's face peering back at him. This visage, with its bright cobalt orbs and pure, untouched features, served as a glimpse of what he had been. That pretty boy image was something he lost so long ago, something he knew he'd never be able to retain. /I know there's no such thing as any of that because I've never come across those abstractions in my existence. I never have--/ Numb to the assailants violating his frame, to the grimy corners of Domino City, just whole-heartedly devoid of any real attachment to the world in general, he left his mind to the mercy of his head voice.
/--and never will. / finished the pitiless tone, so gentle in its assertion that it resonated through Seto's head like a runaway freight train. /And you never, ever will. /
"Poor Little Red Riding Hood." Sangre purred at the tall teen, randomly sticking his tongue into the ear of someone who had just about seen and heard it all. "Looks like ya wandered into the wrong neck of the woods lookin' for Grandma's house."
"We'll be quick." promised Karasu, undoing the button on his pants. "That way, she won't have to wait up for ya too long."
/Yes, just go along with it all. / Kaiba's helpful accent threw in. /This is all you're good for, so give yourself up. /
/But soon enough you're gonna think of me/
Somewhere in his memory, in a place that had lost all sense of time and direction, resided a pair of gates. He imagined himself there, in the mists of hazy space, seeing the glint of the newly polished metal. It was a location he had visited once upon a time with his brother, a site that came ever so close to the great myths and legends he had read about in books. Out of all the pain and suffering, hurt and distrust, came to him the recollection of a single occasion. Mokuba was with him, and they were laughing together. There was sunshine in the meadow that day, and the children had soft smiles on their faces as they ran through patches of flowers that their mother used to love. Sunshine lit up their features as the warm rays flowed through their hair, golden petals on the wind that made them feel like they were in heaven. Happiness…angels in ethereal realms, the two cherubs on earth were happy for once. There the sweet little seraphs were, bounding through the emerald stalks, searching for the wings that their mommy promised them they'd grow someday…
/Could today be the day? / Seto asked himself, privately reciting a line from a tragically beautiful movie. /Are you ready to fly? /
/Give yourself up now. / repeated his cold conscience, demanding attention. /Surrender to them. Hand yourself over already. /
And then there was nothing. Fear, wonder, doubt, remorse, self-hatred…all of it was gone, the entire package of negativity, swept into his hand and pulled towards his mouth. In a passing moment, he looked at the harmful ashes. He saw his contemporary self, someone just struggling to get by, a teenager with no one to guide him or help him through his wasted existence. As he blinked, he caught sight of another individual, this one an older adaptation of himself who lacked a meaningful identity. But behind those useless selves, those inadequate slaves of trial and error, an ideal character rested. The innocent one was there, the lovable and caring personality, the spirit of uncontaminated youth that Kaiba desired to hold on to, but could never seem to keep in his grasp. The child in his heart resembled a crystal, a shining jewel with a healthy glow, so rich and vibrant and full of life that it begged to be let out once more. It was a disposition that longed for Mokuba's hand, who wanted to swing so high on a swing set that they could soar to the clouds, that spent every second of their free time making up whimsical riddles that made no sense whatsoever.
/Sunlight…/ breathed the blue-eyed boy, approaching the reminiscing gates in the distance. /I want to taste the fresh air of the saints again…/
Little Red Riding Hood, who had traveled through bad parts of the concrete forest known as Domino City, let Granny's basket of prayers spill out over the pavement. Trapped in the clutches of twin Big Bad Wolves, the hero of the fable felt his long and agonizing journey come to an end. Before him, the golden gates opened up, revealing the landscape of his former nature, the poetry of his soul, everything he needed and wanted to be. Wildflowers…in every possible direction the multihued blossoms poked their heads out of the grass. They swayed to and fro in the breeze, welcoming him with their friendly leaves, beckoning him with their bobbing heads. And in the middle of it all was Mokuba, his sibling, his life-long friend and playmate, running up to him just to say hello. That's when Kaiba got his wish, when he clasped hands with his brother, lifted his head to the puffy white cotton balls above, and felt the yellow rays enter his system with every breath he took. For the first time in many years, he was able to taste the tears of the sun; the vigorous beams of life that he never thought would grace him again. Hand in hand at last, Seto smiled back at his relative with genuine joy, then raced off in the field of dreams they both knew and loved so well.
/And how I used to be. /