The Frog Ate the Butterfly
Author's notes: I was sort of bored...so yah...Had a long discussion with a friend how a lot of people like to stereotype Weiß Kreuz's characters, making them different from how they really are in the show/manga. Though Schwartz was a little hard, since they're not mentioned as much as Weiß, so it got me thinking how some of them think in the inside, or are they really the same inside and out, thus the birth of this fic.
~
A gaijin with a long mop of red, flaming hair could be seen strolling along casually on the cement paths through the park. He stood out, like a sore thumb, with his different colored hair, paler skin, and of course the difference of height, not to mention his foreign face amidst the thin crowd.
No one seemed to notice, or maybe it was because they were used to the man.
No one really watched or cared, either, as he settled himself down beside the pond, sitting Indian-style, cross-legged on the bare grass.
And there he chose to watch over the small ecosystem.
And watched.
And watched.
And watched.
It was unnerving how he could just sit still like that.
"Alright, what are you doing here?" Someone's voice called out accusingly, disturbing the -somewhat- silence.
Surprisingly, I discover it was my voice, as he turns around towards me.
But it's not Schuldig who turns towards me...or is it? I narrow my eyes.
The face is the same but the expression is totally wrong.
That changes as that familiar "you know you want me" smirk found its spot on his face,
"Balinese" he greets nonchalantly.
"Mastermind" I returned curtly.
He turns his back towards me, gazing over the still waters again.
I grit my teeth as I tried my best to glare at least a dozen or so holes in the back of his skull.
"I'll ask you again, what. Are. You. Doing. Here?" I growled out at him.
He doesn't reply, merely pats the spot beside him on the grass. "I'm not an idiot," I hissed out.
"Could have fooled me." He answers, "Kitten..."
"Don't call me that."
No answer.
I took a step closer to him cautiously.
"I don't bite kitten, you're the one with claws."
I couldn't argue there.
I sat down, sort of; I was half kneeling, the other knee pointing up.
It would be an easier position to bolt up if needed.
Schuldig smirked as he caught the thought, sending one back.
'Mein gott katzchen! You are paranoid!'
I glared at him as I forced myself to sit down normally, instead pulling both knees to me and hugging them against my chest.
Hey, I needed some comfort around my worst enemy.
Schuldig rolled his eyes.
We sat in relative silence, I was uneasy, god knows what he felt.
"Calm."
I nearly jumped; it's a little hard in my position.
"Excuse me?"
"You asked how I felt. Calm." He replied.
"How can you?"
"How can I not?"
"You can't answer a question with a question," I respond stubbornly.
"Just did."
"..."
"..."
"You're impossible."
"No shit Sherlock."
I stiffened at the phrase.
"You should know by now Balinese, I know everything there is to know about you."
"Prick."
And then it was silent again.
"...So how do you feel now?" I asked, I had to admit, this different side of Schuldig made me curious.
"Calm."
I knew I couldn't ask the same question. It was just like a game.
"Why?"
"Why not?"
A checkmate over me again.
"Will you ever answer?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?"
"Perhaps."
I stole a glance at him, this was a challenge, and Yohji Kudou does not turn down challenges.
I turned my gaze to the pond as well, watching as a butterfly with pure white wings flew about, seemingly calm.
"What do you think of that butterfly?" I ask.
"What's there to think about?" He replied absentminded, following his style. "What's there not to think about?" I reply, finally, one point for me.
He turns, a lazy smile, as in a Jesus-fucking-Christ, God-forsaken-real smile, planted on his face.
"Nothing. There's nothing to not think about."
"..."
"Putting it short, there's nothing to think about, but the thought would be my own."
"Come again?"
"An animal's mind is different to that of a human's." He replies.
"How so?"
"They don't have thoughts, nothing verbal. Everything's just instinct to them, nothing to think about. Humans are different, their thoughts pour into you, and there's nothing you can do about it."
I fixed my eyes on the telepath. . "If a bird has a thought, all you hear is chirp, chirp, chirp. It blends in with it's own singing, whether it's mouth is open or not."
"So...?"
"I can escape here. Everyone's sitting on a bench or something, they think they're too good for sitting on the grass. This spot is ideal, the benches are far away. No one's here to bother me or intrude."
Just as I thought, he does come here often.
"Except me."
"Except you."
"Am I a bother?"
"What does it matter?"
"I don't know."
Because honestly, I didn't.
He closed his eyes, smiling slightly.
And silence ensued once more.
"You're that butterfly." The Schwartz assassin spoke suddenly, out of the blue.
"Eh?" If anything caught me off guard that was it.
"You're that butterfly."
"How so?"
"It's white wings, immediately you think of the word 'pure'." His voice had a bitter edge to it.
I don't reply.
"Don't deny it, you did, remember?"
I thought for a moment, "I said pure white."
"White represents pure."
"And I'm pure?"
"Perhaps."
"How so? Why would I be like a butterfly, of all things?"
"It's white. Your Weiß."
"That's it?"
"As soon as people look at you, they'll think 'oh, they're the good guys, they kill for the good.', just like they look at that butterfly." He muttered," No one cares it used to be an ugly caterpillar, they think that's just how it is. Just what they see, an innocent, pretty, pure, white, butterfly."
I wanted to argue back.
But Schuldig beat me to it," Even that Tomoe girl thought it, she didn't care, did she?"
I couldn't defend my side of the debate there.
"Hora." He points out at the water and I follow his gaze," See that toad or frog or whatever right under the water's surface? Right beneath that Oh- so-perfectly-pure butterfly? That's me, Schwartz."
"You're degrading yourself to a frog?" I ask incredulously.
He ignores me," I'm the predator; you never know when I'll strike. You may not even know I'm there."
I shivered slightly, it was true, Schwartz had caught Weiß a number of times off guard.
"You look at a frog. People will go 'Ew, gross it's a frog', grew up from a weird black, mutated tadpole that grows its arms and legs odd. Everything about it is gross. Slippery and slimy on the outside, even more so on the inside where its guts are. That's me. As dumb as it seems, that's me, a frog. Schwartz, never looked at twice, we're the bad guys, and that's just how it is."
His voice was still bitter.
"Everyone has different opinions" I suddenly argue back. I seem to be spitting words out of my mouth before I know it a lot lately.
Schuldig turned and glared at me," Don't give me all that philosophy crap! This world is fucked up! I'm the one who can read people's minds. They. Aren't. Like. That. Not anymore anyways."
"I'm not like that." I defend.
He gave a harsh laugh," You? What's it matter? You're my enemy."
"I still understand, now I do anyways."
"You can still say that? You know what I've done."
"I didn't say you guys were suddenly all 'good guys'," I wince at how that came out " Just...there's a difference when I look at you now."
I thought I saw hesitation flicker through your eyes, but you never really can tell.
Finally, you turn to watch the pond one last time, smiling sardonically, "So, you're a butterfly who understands its enemies need to feed to live."
I nodded along.
The redhead point out again, to where the butterfly is still frolicking above the water's surface carelessly.
"The frog doesn't care about the sympathy it receives, instead it uses it to its advantage."
The frog jumps clear out of the water, snapping out its tongue, drawing the butterfly into its mouth. The frog ate the butterfly.
"And so the innocent butterfly dies, Balinese, I'll be seeing you around." Schuldig said, voice filled once more with the familiar arrogance and scorn as he gets up to walk away. "Remember, the butterfly died. Innocence dies."
I watched as he walks away.
Schuldig really is a frog, he can't escape. Gross on the outside, gross on the inside.
So am I really the butterfly then? In that case, why can't I just spread my wings and fly away from this 'fucked up world'?
~ Owari~
End notes: and that's it, please reviieeeewwwww, suggestions would be appreciated.
P.S.: Does anyone think I should stop writing one-shots and write continuation fics?
Author's notes: I was sort of bored...so yah...Had a long discussion with a friend how a lot of people like to stereotype Weiß Kreuz's characters, making them different from how they really are in the show/manga. Though Schwartz was a little hard, since they're not mentioned as much as Weiß, so it got me thinking how some of them think in the inside, or are they really the same inside and out, thus the birth of this fic.
~
A gaijin with a long mop of red, flaming hair could be seen strolling along casually on the cement paths through the park. He stood out, like a sore thumb, with his different colored hair, paler skin, and of course the difference of height, not to mention his foreign face amidst the thin crowd.
No one seemed to notice, or maybe it was because they were used to the man.
No one really watched or cared, either, as he settled himself down beside the pond, sitting Indian-style, cross-legged on the bare grass.
And there he chose to watch over the small ecosystem.
And watched.
And watched.
And watched.
It was unnerving how he could just sit still like that.
"Alright, what are you doing here?" Someone's voice called out accusingly, disturbing the -somewhat- silence.
Surprisingly, I discover it was my voice, as he turns around towards me.
But it's not Schuldig who turns towards me...or is it? I narrow my eyes.
The face is the same but the expression is totally wrong.
That changes as that familiar "you know you want me" smirk found its spot on his face,
"Balinese" he greets nonchalantly.
"Mastermind" I returned curtly.
He turns his back towards me, gazing over the still waters again.
I grit my teeth as I tried my best to glare at least a dozen or so holes in the back of his skull.
"I'll ask you again, what. Are. You. Doing. Here?" I growled out at him.
He doesn't reply, merely pats the spot beside him on the grass. "I'm not an idiot," I hissed out.
"Could have fooled me." He answers, "Kitten..."
"Don't call me that."
No answer.
I took a step closer to him cautiously.
"I don't bite kitten, you're the one with claws."
I couldn't argue there.
I sat down, sort of; I was half kneeling, the other knee pointing up.
It would be an easier position to bolt up if needed.
Schuldig smirked as he caught the thought, sending one back.
'Mein gott katzchen! You are paranoid!'
I glared at him as I forced myself to sit down normally, instead pulling both knees to me and hugging them against my chest.
Hey, I needed some comfort around my worst enemy.
Schuldig rolled his eyes.
We sat in relative silence, I was uneasy, god knows what he felt.
"Calm."
I nearly jumped; it's a little hard in my position.
"Excuse me?"
"You asked how I felt. Calm." He replied.
"How can you?"
"How can I not?"
"You can't answer a question with a question," I respond stubbornly.
"Just did."
"..."
"..."
"You're impossible."
"No shit Sherlock."
I stiffened at the phrase.
"You should know by now Balinese, I know everything there is to know about you."
"Prick."
And then it was silent again.
"...So how do you feel now?" I asked, I had to admit, this different side of Schuldig made me curious.
"Calm."
I knew I couldn't ask the same question. It was just like a game.
"Why?"
"Why not?"
A checkmate over me again.
"Will you ever answer?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps?"
"Perhaps."
I stole a glance at him, this was a challenge, and Yohji Kudou does not turn down challenges.
I turned my gaze to the pond as well, watching as a butterfly with pure white wings flew about, seemingly calm.
"What do you think of that butterfly?" I ask.
"What's there to think about?" He replied absentminded, following his style. "What's there not to think about?" I reply, finally, one point for me.
He turns, a lazy smile, as in a Jesus-fucking-Christ, God-forsaken-real smile, planted on his face.
"Nothing. There's nothing to not think about."
"..."
"Putting it short, there's nothing to think about, but the thought would be my own."
"Come again?"
"An animal's mind is different to that of a human's." He replies.
"How so?"
"They don't have thoughts, nothing verbal. Everything's just instinct to them, nothing to think about. Humans are different, their thoughts pour into you, and there's nothing you can do about it."
I fixed my eyes on the telepath. . "If a bird has a thought, all you hear is chirp, chirp, chirp. It blends in with it's own singing, whether it's mouth is open or not."
"So...?"
"I can escape here. Everyone's sitting on a bench or something, they think they're too good for sitting on the grass. This spot is ideal, the benches are far away. No one's here to bother me or intrude."
Just as I thought, he does come here often.
"Except me."
"Except you."
"Am I a bother?"
"What does it matter?"
"I don't know."
Because honestly, I didn't.
He closed his eyes, smiling slightly.
And silence ensued once more.
"You're that butterfly." The Schwartz assassin spoke suddenly, out of the blue.
"Eh?" If anything caught me off guard that was it.
"You're that butterfly."
"How so?"
"It's white wings, immediately you think of the word 'pure'." His voice had a bitter edge to it.
I don't reply.
"Don't deny it, you did, remember?"
I thought for a moment, "I said pure white."
"White represents pure."
"And I'm pure?"
"Perhaps."
"How so? Why would I be like a butterfly, of all things?"
"It's white. Your Weiß."
"That's it?"
"As soon as people look at you, they'll think 'oh, they're the good guys, they kill for the good.', just like they look at that butterfly." He muttered," No one cares it used to be an ugly caterpillar, they think that's just how it is. Just what they see, an innocent, pretty, pure, white, butterfly."
I wanted to argue back.
But Schuldig beat me to it," Even that Tomoe girl thought it, she didn't care, did she?"
I couldn't defend my side of the debate there.
"Hora." He points out at the water and I follow his gaze," See that toad or frog or whatever right under the water's surface? Right beneath that Oh- so-perfectly-pure butterfly? That's me, Schwartz."
"You're degrading yourself to a frog?" I ask incredulously.
He ignores me," I'm the predator; you never know when I'll strike. You may not even know I'm there."
I shivered slightly, it was true, Schwartz had caught Weiß a number of times off guard.
"You look at a frog. People will go 'Ew, gross it's a frog', grew up from a weird black, mutated tadpole that grows its arms and legs odd. Everything about it is gross. Slippery and slimy on the outside, even more so on the inside where its guts are. That's me. As dumb as it seems, that's me, a frog. Schwartz, never looked at twice, we're the bad guys, and that's just how it is."
His voice was still bitter.
"Everyone has different opinions" I suddenly argue back. I seem to be spitting words out of my mouth before I know it a lot lately.
Schuldig turned and glared at me," Don't give me all that philosophy crap! This world is fucked up! I'm the one who can read people's minds. They. Aren't. Like. That. Not anymore anyways."
"I'm not like that." I defend.
He gave a harsh laugh," You? What's it matter? You're my enemy."
"I still understand, now I do anyways."
"You can still say that? You know what I've done."
"I didn't say you guys were suddenly all 'good guys'," I wince at how that came out " Just...there's a difference when I look at you now."
I thought I saw hesitation flicker through your eyes, but you never really can tell.
Finally, you turn to watch the pond one last time, smiling sardonically, "So, you're a butterfly who understands its enemies need to feed to live."
I nodded along.
The redhead point out again, to where the butterfly is still frolicking above the water's surface carelessly.
"The frog doesn't care about the sympathy it receives, instead it uses it to its advantage."
The frog jumps clear out of the water, snapping out its tongue, drawing the butterfly into its mouth. The frog ate the butterfly.
"And so the innocent butterfly dies, Balinese, I'll be seeing you around." Schuldig said, voice filled once more with the familiar arrogance and scorn as he gets up to walk away. "Remember, the butterfly died. Innocence dies."
I watched as he walks away.
Schuldig really is a frog, he can't escape. Gross on the outside, gross on the inside.
So am I really the butterfly then? In that case, why can't I just spread my wings and fly away from this 'fucked up world'?
~ Owari~
End notes: and that's it, please reviieeeewwwww, suggestions would be appreciated.
P.S.: Does anyone think I should stop writing one-shots and write continuation fics?