Galatea
Eighth Movement: Lessons Learned
"If you would have me weep,
you must first of all feel grief yourself."
William Bridges
Satoshi did not want to be here.
It wasn't because he objected to taking this as punishment for fighting when he'd last come to school—the day he'd gotten into a heated fistfight with Niwa Daisuke. Nor was it because he had better things to do, or that he didn't like cleaning. Truthfully he actually looked forward to his turns as nicchoku, even though he'd be cleaning the room afterwards—well, so long as the person he was working with wasn't that annoying Harada Risa, he looked forward to it.
But not today. Today was detention—or rather, today was punishment by cleaning in lieu of detention. Punishment which had been put off as he sorted his affairs after the funeral. Punishment by cleaning…with Niwa.
Alone, in that empty room, with no one but Niwa there beside him wiping down the blackboard and sweeping the floor. And worst of all, Satoshi could almost hear the apology already, so he wasn't too surprised when a mere fifteen minutes had passed into their cleaning time, and the words rolled off of Daisuke's tongue.
"Hiwatari-kun…" Satoshi swept the eraser over the black expanse, wiping away the day's lecture notes, and ignored the redhead. "I wanted…to apologize. For everything I said when we fought…" When he still received no reaction from the Hikari boy, he went on hesitantly, "It was…wrong of me to react that way, telling you that—for…for trying to tell you what to do… It wasn't my place."
Satoshi was immutable; he knew what the other boy was thinking, behind those kind apologetic words. He knew Niwa wasn't really sorry for what he'd said—knew that he only felt that Satoshi had "learned his lesson", and would perhaps be brought back to his senses by the murder. Yes, that was just like Niwa—no more reason to lecture now, Satoshi could almost hear the "I told you so" perched on his lips.
But he did not offer any kind of reaction to the confession, instead moving over to the corner and taking an old broom in his hands, sweeping it from side to side along the front row of desks. The faster he finished with this work, the faster he could get out of this uncomfortable situation faced with one of the last people he wanted to be alone with…the faster he could be alone, instead, with the other last person he wanted to be alone with.
Niwa, though, seemed to have other ideas, and pressed on with his stubborn attempts to draw some kind of reaction from the other boy. Biting his lip, he moved towards the middle of the room, grabbing a stack of papers and piling them off to the side so he could wipe down the desks. "There sure were a lot of people there…at the funeral, I mean. I didn't know your father was so popular, since…you never talked about him much…"
It seemed to work, for a cold voice returned icily, "He wasn't popular. Those people only came because it looked good for them to be seen there." He bent down to scrape a pile of dust into the dustpan, then dumped it into a nearby garbage can. "And you know full well he wasn't my real father anyway."
"But…" Daisuke paused and faced the boy, "It still hurt to lose him, didn't it? You were close, weren't you?"
It took all of Satoshi's emotional control not to shudder in some way when the redhead spoke to him like that, the pity absolutely oozing from his lips. "Lose him?" he coughed roughly, more than a little incredulous, "You talk about it as if he's just a thing I misplaced that I'll find again soon enough under the couch or behind the desk." Setting the broom back in the corner, he added bitterly, "And close? Don't make me laugh."
"So you're trying to tell me it didn't hurt at all when you found out that he was dead? That Krad—that he'd been killed?"
Oh—that boy…he didn't know it, but he was really pushing Satoshi's limits with these comments. Satoshi didn't want to think about hurting, about feelings he had for his adopted father, filial though they might have been. He just wanted to sit at home alone in his bed hating Krad, and not thinking about anything more complex like remorse or sadness.
Hate was a simple emotion to experience: he hated Krad. He hated Dark. He…had loved Daisuke, before. Now…he didn't know what to feel for him. Before they'd been so close, but of late the Niwa boy had been avoiding Satoshi for obvious reasons, among them being his pact with Krad and the matter of him telling the redhead he loved him.
But if Niwa kept talking and making comments like this, asking him how he felt…he might have to start confronting emotions like loneliness and such—and that was pretty much the last thing he wanted to go through again.
So he replied with a simple, "Not at all," to the question, brushing it off and letting it slide away, repelled by his usual cold exterior. He moved on to the center and began wiping down desks like Daisuke.
"Then…why were you crying at the funeral?"
Satoshi flinched. Dammit…he hadn't thought about him being seen by anyone other than Kosuke, least of all Niwa—though now that he though about it, their family had been the last to leave, so of course he would have been the center of attention. Busted. Then…did they know of his exchange with Kosuke? Of his words of fear he'd spoken?
…Wait, no… No, Niwa thought he'd been crying from sorrow, pain of losing a parent. Idiot Niwa. Always quick to pick up on emotional changes, but always for the wrong reasons.
No, Kei's death had not been the reason for his tears. Rather, it had been the utter frustration and anger with Krad, frustration that the Niwas would confuse his mind and heart with the golden demon's, that they would just see them as one dangerous being, instead of Satoshi and Krad, separate, with separate wishes.
Kosuke saw it, and that was why Satoshi respected him, and why he was so annoyed with his wife. Niwa Daisuke…he could now never have a long enough conversation with him without getting angry to figure out just how different he thought Satoshi and Krad were…but he suspected the redhead's own bond with his curse would make him understand that they were separate in mind, if not body.
"I…was just…it was for show…It would have looked suspicious if I hadn't."
"Liar," Daisuke spat, a bit more harshly than usual, "You've never done anything like that just to protect your image—not for anyone." Satoshi, though, didn't want to admit that it had been because of Krad, because this Niwa was…not someone he wanted to show weakness before. For reasons beyond family feuding.
He was supposed to feel superior, as a Hikari—that's what Krad always whispered in his mind late at night, when he thought about Daisuke most. But even deeper inside, deep where Krad could not penetrate, a little bit of inferiority had taken hold—all his life he'd been younger, smaller, weaker than everyone else around him, because of his intelligence and prodigal skills.
Better because he was a Hikari, huh? What exactly was it that made him better, was what he wanted to know… Because whenever he looked at his enemy, he always felt inferior…so wasn't that in itself a contradiction?
Daisuke seemed to get tired of pressing with his questioning, and when the Hikari boy refused to respond to anymore of his queries, he eventually gave up, and the cleaning went by rather quickly. Within another hour they had finished and were picking up their own bags by the door.
Red eyes lit up as Daisuke suddenly remembered something and called out to his adversary to wait, who reluctantly complied, ready to get home. "Here—Dad told me to give it to you…said you could use it probably."
Satoshi stared down blankly at the envelope proffered him for a few minutes, before he hesitantly reached out and took it. Without another word, the redhead darted out the door, and he heard the slapping of his shoes on the floor slowly fading away. It was only after they had disappeared entirely that he permitted himself to open the letter.
Relaxing against one of the desks, he ran a careful eye over the scribbled note, aware that there was something else in the package besides the written part.
Satoshi-kunI give this to you; use it how you will.
He shook the envelope over his hand, and a small, intricately made black ring fell out into his palm. After staring at it for a moment in confusion, he turned back to the letter.
A small bit of sealing magic was alchemically infused into the metal of the ring—enough for one use. Use it, enjoy it, and he won't be able to take you, no matter how hard he tries. But just once—you'll retain your own consciousness, though you will transform with the proper stimulus, as always.
Use it wisely, for this is a once-only chance. I hope it helps.
Kosuke
He turned and stared at the ring again. This little thing…he could put it on…and Krad couldn't come out? Was that what this letter meant?
Folding the letter up again and placing it and the ring back into the envelope, he smiled softly. Kosuke was trying to give him a chance to be himself, without worrying about barriers to keep Krad from surfacing…to express his true emotions.
No matter how he looked at it, it was…a very fatherly thing to do.
Another week passed, and Satoshi found himself starting what would become a monthly ritual.
The flowers weren't much—just an arrangement of silk blossoms that wouldn't die in a few days like normal flowers, which he'd had prepared a few days beforehand at a little shop down the street from his apartment. The ground beneath his shoes was still soft and a bit muddy from a recent shower, attesting to the fact that Hiwatari Kei wasn't even cold in his grave, and already Satoshi was beginning to adjust to life after the murder.
Nearly two weeks since the Police Commander's mangled and rent body was found spattered across the innermost chamber of the Hikari Art Museum, a result of Satoshi's curse's perverse possessive tendencies, and—in a strange way—of the same curse's self-preservation attempts. After nearly a week in the police morgue for a full coroner's report, the body was released to his family—that is, to Satoshi himself, and allowed proper burial. The funeral had followed, which many high-ranking and respected members of the community attended—and of course, the Niwas as well. Kosuke's words had imbued in him a silent respect that not even Niwa Daisuke had attained.
Those same respected community members, who apparently had had close ties to the elder Hiwatari, had also handed over the hefty sum to pay for the actual ground burial and funeral costs. Why the man couldn't simply be cremated and forgotten, memories blowing away in the wind like his ashes would, was beyond Satoshi, but for some reason…he was glad, right now, that he could say goodbye, even if it was to the cold gray tombstone bearing simply the kanji "Hiwatari Kei".
It was overcast and a bit chilly out today, and the morning weather report had forecast showers later that afternoon. Satoshi had a small black umbrella tucked under one arm, while in the other he held the plastic bag of the fake flowers. Setting it on the ground, he pulled out the stand and arrangement, carefully hammering the spike into the ground with his bare hands to steady them, and then secured them to the post. Settling back to rest on the balls of his feet as he squatted down in front of the stone epitaph, his eyes drifted to the side, as if avoiding focusing on the death right in front of his face.
"Why…"
His voice was soft, very nearly lost as it was blown away from his own lips by a sudden gust of blustery wind that swept through the cemetery. The plastic bag rolled like a tumbleweed off a few stones away, and Satoshi let it.
"Why…do you kill?"
Krad knew without asking that the question was directed at him. And yet, it was not his Tamer's usual voice that posed the question. The normal Satoshi would be fighting back his own powerful emotions, his anger, frustration, would have been reiterating that once again Krad had done what Krad wanted to do without any thought as to how it would hurt his precious host—even though this would have been a false preconception for the boy to have. They hadn't spoken a single word to one another since Satoshi had blown up at his curse after learning of Kei's murder, and so such a calm query was quite unexpected. The normal Satoshi would have probably yelled the question, or else spit it out with acidic disbelief and confusion. The normal Satoshi was never curious—if he wanted to know something, then he demanded that he be told. But this Satoshi…
It was asked with genuine seeking of an answer…as if the Hikari child actually wanted to know what drove his curse to do what he did, why he carried out his duty with such maniacal glee, why he felt that a mere human threatened him to the point that that same human had to be disposed of, in short…
"Why do you kill…?" the solemnly curious voice asked again, still flat as before, with a bit more volume than the first time.
He was still resting on his heels, hands clasped before him as he settled folded elbows on his thighs, and didn't bat an eyelash when a pair of translucent white boots materialized in his peripheral vision, not even bending the blades of grass underfoot as they stepped nearer to him.
'Why did I kill him, you want to know?'
The pale blue hair fluttered feather-like in the breeze, and he shook his head slowly, moving a hand to fumble with the material at the hem of his deep-maroon school pants on his right leg. "Not just him…anyone…everyone… Why do they have to die?" He looked up at the grave and narrowed his eyes as if he were trying to focus on some faraway object that just eluded his sharp vision, "Is it…self-preservation, that they're threats…? Revenge? Just…a game, maybe? Do you even…see anyone beyond those you focus on as living beings, I wonder?"
'Of course I do,' Krad spat out, a bit more harshly than he'd intended, and caught himself immediately, 'I see you…I see…' He couldn't quite verbalize what else he saw, though, so he answered the first question instead. 'I…the Niwa line has always been—'
"Not just the Niwas…not even…not even Hiwatari…" He pushed himself up into a standing position, then turned his gaze to the blonde, face a blank slate, completely devoid of emotions—then it split into a wry smile. "It's not the first time, is it? You've done it, with Tamers before me, right? Killed?"
Once again, Krad was a bit unnerved by his host's abnormally calm behavior, and a frown flickered across his face before dissipating just as quickly as it had shown itself. For some reason, he felt compelled to avert his gaze, as if ashamed of his answer, 'I…Do you really think mine and Dark's hosts simply found requited love every generation and that was the end of it…? Of course I killed in times past…I had to…'
Satoshi nodded slowly and closed his eyes, "Had to…yes…" He turned away and started walking back towards the gravel path that led to the main entrance. "And your own existence, after all, should be most precious to you, right…?"
Reaching out feebly, and grasping only air, Krad took a hesitant step forward before calling out to the retreating form, 'You're saying I'm wrong?'
A loud crunch of gravel crackled through the still air, and Satoshi stopped in his tracks, hands having now found their way to their pockets, with the umbrella safely still tucked in the crook of his arm. He was so tired of this rambling that Krad never even listened to. "I'm saying that…you don't even know what's right…"
This threw Krad into a bit of heated shouting, frustrated with the strangely serene approach his host was showing him today, when he had every right to be angry. 'Then tell me—tell me, Satoshi-sama. What is right? What is right, what should I do? Throw away my Hikari duty, honor garnered over time? Forget my feud with Dark—forget the countless time's he's humbled me, has humbled our family? Would it please you to see me like yourself, apathetic to all change, immutable as that very gravestone?'
Still Satoshi refused to falter, to revert to the paradigm that Krad kept in his mind. "No…I would have you never change—never change just because I asked you to…but because you truly wanted to change…"
Change…change…change how was what Krad wanted to know. He sighed low and continued in the only manner that seemed fitting for their current location. 'What if…I said I was sorry…would that please you?'
A harsh laugh. "How can you apologize…when you don't even know what it's for?" He finally turned around, tugging on the sleeves of his windbreaker as another gust whipped through the field. "There's more to 'I'm sorry' than simple words and will…there's a petition for forgiveness, genuine knowledge that what you did was wrong, and regretting of the action… Tell me, Krad—were he alive again, would you still kill him?"
It was apparent that the answer didn't need to be verbalized, and Satoshi shook his head, "See? You're only apologizing because you think I'm mad at you—not because you truly understand the implications of what you did. It's an empty apology. Like your own soul—empty, barren, and completely devoid of substance…"
Krad shrank away, pulse skipping a beat with the harsh words issued from still-smiling lips. 'Then…then rather than simply standing there laughing at me and telling me how worthless my whole existence is—rather than watching me all the time as I watch you, and hoping I fall somewhere along the way so you can sneer at how imperfect a being I really am, art though I may be—rather than—than killing me with your own thoughts, why don't you try something new and explain exactly what you think to me?' His voice had crescendoed into something just below a yell by the end of his spiel, though it had begun at something barely a whisper, fueled by the conflicting emotions Satoshi was drawing like well-water from the blonde.
Head whipping around at the demi-lecture and unusual display of emotion from his curse, Satoshi's blue eyes widened unconsciously, but he quickly clamped down on any gut emotions. "You don't…really understand, do you?"
'All I understand is that which has been stoked in me for three hundred years, Hikari Satoshi-sama. First and foremost protect this family, protect my host, protect myself. Above anything else, this is my duty. Murder is a justifiable extension in most cases—'
"But it's not, you don't understand that. In human terms…it's never justifiable!" He clenched his fists, praying words would not fail him now. "Humans…we're…we're mortal… Life is short, fleeting, precious—not a petty gift to be freely given or taken. Not a plaything of higher beings. It's all we have that is truly our own. It's our souls, our essences, our very makeup, through which we justify our own right to exist in the universe. No one has the right to take away another's right to justify his or her existence!"
Something churned in Krad's midsection, and it wasn't a pleasant feeling… Rather, he strongly suspected it was guilt, the sense that he'd just committed a most horrid crime, and he hadn't even realized it. 'Justify…one's existence…?'
"Isn't that what you do, by battling Dark? By chasing Niwa? Give yourself a reason to exist, a purpose for your own life? That's your immortality—you are reborn, generation after generation… Humans aren't. I…I won't be… And not Hiwatari either… Life to a human is the greatest thing we possess…and by taking it from us…you're just as bad as Dark stealing the most precious Hikari treasure in our trove…"
As bad…as Dark? Satoshi-sama was comparing him…to a Niwa?
The blonde's face went slack and paled even more than its usual hue. His eyes were searching in vain for something—anything to focus on, if only to divert attention from the realization plaguing his mind right then.
"You said you killed for me—that only makes me feel as if the blame really is on me. That it's my fault someone else has been deprived of the chance to justify his existence… Hiwatari was…no, I didn't like him, but…I wouldn't have had this done to him if I had known of it… No one deserves to have this taken away…"
There was a stark pause, and it seemed as if he wanted to add something else, but Krad saved him the trouble. 'No one…but me is what you want to say, correct? That only those who would willingly and gladly deny another this gift actually deserve this fate, yes?'
The grating crunch started up again, and Satoshi was walking forward towards the front gates.
"I don't…I don't want anyone to be denied, I don't think. I don't like seeing it that way… No one really deserves that…not even…not even you…despite everything you've done."
The clouds swirled overhead in an ominous black soup by the time Satoshi finally trudged out the front gates of the small graveyard, umbrella ready in his hands. In a span of thirty minutes, the weather had taken a turn for the worse, and people beside him on the sidewalk as he marched back home up the hill were scurrying to their respective abodes to escape the impending downpour. Satoshi, though, saw no reason to hurry, as he had an umbrella, and took his time, slowly plodding along, oblivious to the hustle and bustle around him.
The crowd that had herded along the sidewalks in the temple district he'd just left thinned out as he got into a more suburban area, though this could have been due to the fact that light sprinkles were beginning to dot the pavement, driving everyone indoors. He popped open the umbrella, and continued on, until he reached a small park.
Mothers and fathers were, at the moment, frantically calling their children away from their games to get home, with the approaching storm now almost upon them. The same children, though, saw no problem with continuing to play in the rain, and fought going home with all their might. Little boys held onto posts, little girls pleaded and whined to their parents; some cried, others played "catch me if you can"—an all-around typical park scene on a day that was less than perfect for playing.
Distantly, as he observed the seemingly benign scene, Satoshi wondered why he didn't recall any such memories from his own childhood—nothing came to mind when he tried to remember park play dates or outings with friends or anything like that.
Perhaps he didn't remember any of that…because he'd never experienced it. Childhood, after all, was a luxury he as the heir to the Hikari family curse hadn't been allowed.
Even so, though, he still felt a warm pleasant sensation pulsing in his chest as he watched the children splash through puddles that were now forming from the more-than-simple-drops that were falling from the sky, much to their parents' dismay. A smile tugged at his lips as one little boy in particular climbed to the highest point of a set of playground equipment, refusing to come down, until a bright flash of lightning nearly sent him toppling off in fright.
No, he'd never really been a child, no matter how small his body had been, or how underdeveloped his mind. He'd never been allowed that innocent mindset where one thinks oneself is invincible, where one wants to conquer the world with one's friends by their side. He'd never just played—there had always been a lesson embedded in every encounter he'd had with someone.
Even meeting Niwa, going to school with him, sharing the same classes with him, getting close to him…had all been in preparation of Dark's impending arrival.
Childhood was a lie that he'd abandoned—that's what he'd been taught, and that's what he still believed. And yet…looking at these children barely a third his age now…it was hard to believe that something like this could be…stupid.
These kids, though…of course they were having wonderful times—their childhoods were not fraught with adults constantly looming over them, "guiding" and "monitoring" their progress, weren't followed down halls with whispered giggles as their classmates looked on in contempt, didn't feel eyes watching them everywhere, wondering what kind of a host he'd be for "Krad-sama".
For paradoxical as it was—or perhaps it was actually fitting—the same golden demon who drew such fear and caution from his family also drew a sort of awed pride as well. He was, after all, their best defense against the ravages of the Niwa clan. Sure, every twenty years or so he came around and made some poor fourteen-year-old boy's life a living hell, but the vast majority of the Hikari members weren't affected in any way by this. Krad was like the general of their army, fighting a war with dirty tactics that they tacitly approved, though outwardly appeared to admonish.
They feared him—feared he would turn against them one day, feared he would be their downfall one day, feared he would disappear one day. But more than they feared him, they worshipped him. Krad-sama, beloved blood-line curse, they called him, awe dripping from their voices. That beautiful figure, so perfectly formed, flitting through a black sky on wings white as newly-fallen snow, but with blood-stained hands that betrayed his true persona every time.
No…he was the only one left who fully comprehended exactly what Krad was. Krad was…Krad was…
Krad was Krad.
He was Krad in the same way Dark was Dark—they were simply themselves, the way they'd been created. Not quite perfect, but damn close if they did say so themselves. At least, Dark would be one to take that view. Krad would never inject any element of doubt into the statement.
In fact…Krad was actually a lot like these children…Ignorant, unworldly in many ways…and yet he was different, in that he did understand what was right and wrong, what was acceptable and unacceptable…or so he'd thought, before their conversation they'd just had back in the graveyard.
Did he believe him? Did he—no, could he believe that Krad actually thought that way? That killing in a self-preservation situation was always acceptable? That killing in many situations was acceptable? Could he accept Krad's shock at his pressing statement that one should never deprive another of their right to justify their existence? Could it really have been true? That Krad had never thought that way? And that something might…change…from this revelation?
Yes…so confusing, this curse of his…so confusing. Just like a child.
Absently, he wondered if Krad had ever actually experienced a childhood, or if his whole existence in itself had been a childhood of sorts.
'No…' that familiar voice piped up softly, still wary of further admonishment, 'I was created as I am… I have no real existence, no birth, no childhood, nothing of that sort as you humans have. I simply…was.'
Most of the children, by now, had been rounded up by their parents and were being herded under umbrellas or pushed towards cars, and the rain picked up in intensity—reluctantly, Satoshi continued home as well, now in an even drearier mood from the weather.
He would have liked to have watched the children for a little bit longer, he thought. It was always nice to be reminded of what he'd missed out on. Alright, perhaps it was more a pity-party, but still.
Yes, from the very start, he hadn't even had a chance to have a normal life. What was so special about him anyways that the Hikari elders had seen? Did he perhaps have some strange birthmark he wasn't privy to hidden somewhere on his body that all hosts had? How exactly had they known that he was the future host to this demon?
Or had his education in itself been a factor? No…no, the grand fools who were at the head of his clan were far too frugal to waste their precious time on a normal boy. He was Hikari Satoshi-sama…their precious once-in-a-generation egg that had to be cared for, coddled, and eventually molded and taught.
He was too precious an investment to be allowed to play with normal children. What if he got ideas in his head about rebelling against his family? What if, heaven forbid, he went out not even knowing of his curse, like that stupid Niwa child the girl Emiko and Dark's previous host Daiki were raising?
Shut off from the world, treated like a lab rat—that was his fate as a Hikari…
Wait…
His fate as a Hikari?
Was that…really his fate as a Hikari? He recalled vaguely whispers from his professors, both at the Academy and in high school and college—that he just wasn't a normal child, that eight-year-olds shouldn't be in high school, that thirteen-year-olds shouldn't be in college, that he was a fabulous freak that only the illustrious Hikari clan could produce…
But was it really because he was a Hikari? Part of him wanted to staunchly snap that his mind had nothing to do with his Hikari blood—that it was one thing that belonged to him and him alone, his intelligence, his shrewdness, his cold calculating mannerisms that made him an able head of police in charge of countermeasures against Dark.
Part of him wanted to admit it…
The other part knew that if he admitted that, if he held on firmly to that, he'd have to admit something else as well…
That from the very beginning, he'd been doomed to such a life as he led.
He was a genius, that much was obvious—but was he a genius because he was simply Satoshi…or because he was Hikari Satoshi? Had he not been raised his whole life to be the best of their family? Had he not been pampered and waited on, spoiled and indulged because of what he was to become?
Was he not now one of the most intelligent people he knew—because of his raising?
Well? Was he, or wasn't he? What was the reasoning behind his status?
Had he been born a natural genius? The first part that wanted to take all the credit seemed to think so—that his being a Hikari had nothing to do with it.
But if he accepted that as the gospel truth…then it had all been for nothing, all these years of hating his family…
For then he would have always been fated to be alone, to be an outcast. Even if he hadn't been a Hikari member, if he hadn't even heard of Azumano No. 2 Junior High, if Niwa Daisuke was just another faceless name to him…
He could never have been like those children. It was just a pipe dream…His life was miserable, would have always been miserable no matter what…and there was nothing he could have done that would have made it different.
He would have always been shunned at school, even if he'd stayed with his normal classmates in his normal appropriate grade. He would have craved knowledge and had it denied him by the coddling Japanese school system always catering to the lowest on the academic rung and leaving the over-achievers to flounder in boredom. Would have been, still, socially isolated by his intelligence, one way or another.
With or without a curse, he was inherently damned.
"What would my life have been like…" he whispered in confused shock, "…if I hadn't been born a Hikari…?" If he'd been paying attention, he might have felt Krad stir a bit inside his mind, but as his curse didn't make any comment at this point, he continued on speaking to himself, trying to discern just what was going on.
"…Would Niwa and I still be friends? Would I even know him? Would I…would I be popular? Would I have a real family—a family who actually cared for me, not for…whatever might be locked inside me?"
He stopped in his tracks on the sidewalk. There was no one around at this point to stare at him, and the umbrella slowly dropped from his grip, sliding onto the pavement and opening Satoshi up to the weather's ravages. He didn't care at this point, though, he just wanted to know, "…Could it have ever been different! Was I always…always…damned…?"
Damned for being born, that's what he was. Cursed—but not by Krad. No…Krad wasn't his curse; Krad wasn't his curse…not at all!
His curse…his fate…was to be alone. Always, forever, on his own, with no one to pick him up when he fell, with no one to cheer him on when he faltered, with no one to hold him when he cried and wanted arms around him so badly…
Always alone…always alone…always…
…Alone?
Or was that exactly the problem…that he was never alone? Wasn't that what he'd been wishing for all this time since Krad had manifested? That he'd just be left alone? Wasn't it?
Didn't he hate that grating golden voice perpetually present in his subconscious? Didn't he always wish it would shut up and leave him in peace? Didn't he just want to live in silence? Didn't he!
"No…!" he spoke aloud, unintentionally, "…I don't…I don't want that…"
But—that didn't erase the fact that on numerous occasions he'd thought exactly that: if only he'd shut up, if only he'd leave, if only he hadn't come to me, if only he hadn't cursed me…
Then I'd be all alone.
Yes, that was exactly what he'd thought all those times. But…if Krad hadn't come to him…he would be alone. And he absolutely didn't want that! That was his curse, after all, to be alone—and even Krad couldn't help that!
I will always be with you, Satoshi-sama…or so the voice had told him on numerous occasions, in a less-than-loving tone, one that almost threatened him and burned into his mind an image of the same haughty smile the blonde always wore around him. You cannot make me go away…
But he didn't want him to go away—!
YES HE DID!
"I—no!"
Well? Could he not even make up his mind? Did he or did he not want Krad in his head? Did he or did he not want to be left alone? To be alone?
…Gods, he hoped Krad wasn't paying attention right now…
Luckily enough for him, Krad wasn't paying attention, because catching little snippets of Satoshi's thoughts in the past fifteen minutes or so had sent him on his own mental train ride.
The momentary lifting of his spirits brought about by Satoshi-sama wondering about something from his past had worn off—replaced by memories of the same past Satoshi had been wondering about.
No, it wasn't a trip down memory lane, rather, it was a comparison of sorts; he always took the opportunity with a new host to sit back and reflect on how this new one stacked up against the rest. What were his strengths, his weaknesses, his personality, was he shy—outgoing? And he would judge his new Tamer in this way against all previous ones, find their flaws, and inherently dwell on them.
Forever in his mind was that gleaming ideal host, the one he'd dreamed of since his incarnation…Quiet, passive, self-isolated, accepting, everything that was conducive to his having complete control over the body even when he didn't manifest—that was his paragon that none could reach…until this generation.
Satoshi was like a god-send—a perfect Hikari, a perfect host, perfect for claiming as Krad's own… For no one else would ever lay a finger on his precious Tamer, not now that he'd finally found such a specimen as he'd always been searching since his first incarnation.
It was for this reason that he jealously guarded the boy from all outside contact, constantly crooning inside his head that he was Krad's and Krad's alone, that no one else was permitted to have him. For if anyone else should spoil him, dirty him, sully him, then Krad would be…unhappy.
So he killed. Hurt, maimed, injured, disposed of anything and everything that "threatened" him—that "threatened" his Satoshi-sama. For hurting one would inevitably hurt the other as well, it was just how they lived.
Up until now, he hadn't minded hurting his hosts—they weren't perfect, it didn't matter that they were in pain, or that they hated him, or that they wished he'd die and leave them to live their lives on in peace. He would have sooner wished the same on them if it weren't for the fact that he was dependent on them.
Then came Satoshi, who had to go and blow all his plans out of phase. Had to be passive and apathetic, had to not care about any family honor or whatever Krad fought for. He was shy and quiet, neither wanting nor needing relationships of any sort (or so he claimed—the incident with Niwa Daisuke attested against this), and Krad found this quite conducive to his existence—as expected from the one who had turned out to be the perfect host so far.
Until something happened that shouldn't have, and he started wanting the boy to respond somehow. And Satoshi did—quite violently, too. He did not want to be cursed by Krad, and he made this known in loud vocalizations whenever the blonde had tried to start a conversation. When conversing didn't work, he instead resorted to forcibly taking what he wanted.
When he wanted a distraction, he manifested forcefully and fought Dark; when he wanted company, he projected and watched the boy until Satoshi grew tired of fighting Krad's gaze; and when he wanted pleasure, he retreated into his worlds of fantasy locked away in his consciousness where Satoshi's waking mind could not tread.
He did all this without caring what the boy thought. Sometimes Tamers themselves had to be tamed, even one so beautiful and pristine as Hikari Satoshi. He would never—could never—physically hurt him, but there were so many ways to wound a being without even laying a finger on them, this Krad knew well.
He'd had to do it before, with Tamers who were just a bit too willful and self-reliant—teaching them that though they as the Host were there first, that body was his as well. And one by one they had all fallen, eventually giving in and ceding some bit of control to their curse.
Yes, he was a virus, an infection, an invading force in their bodies, but they had to accept him or live forever in the pain that came from their minds rejecting him.
That was his true purpose: not to kill any Niwas, not to stop Dark, not to protect Hikari treasures. But to cause pain. To the Niwa clan, to his hosts, to anyone who dared get in his way; he was to stop them all with the utmost force possible and teach them that none crossed Krad of the Hikari and survived unscathed.
His purpose, his fate, was to cause misery to anyone near him, no matter if he loved or hated them—though it was always easier when he hated them. He had, in fact, never loved, so it had always been easy.
Until he was reborn this generation in this perfect host body—never had he felt so strong a bond to a Tamer as this boy Satoshi. "Wise" his name meant…and he was indeed. Krad had watched him grow, from behind locked Astral doors that would not open to let him invade that sharp mind until the fateful fourteenth year struck. Watched him surpass adults in genius, breeze through the Japanese educational system, and gain a prominent position to fight Dark, all in preparation for his arrival.
It wasn't love. What he felt for his host when he realized what he'd stumbled into was far from that. It was lust, base desire—that body was all open to him now, his for the taking and using. Apathetic, passive, introverted, isolated—through and through a perfect host. Perfect for him.
Then that day—so long ago? Or had it only been just the other day? The human timetables seemed to run together after so long. That day…when his host had taken down all his barriers and opened himself up to—of all people—the Niwa boy.
That was the first time that Krad had truly felt sorrow.
No matter that it wasn't his own at the time—it was a stale echo from his host's heart, wracking his consciousness with sobs he couldn't comprehend. It was then that he began to understand what it was like to be hurt like this—hurt like he'd hurt his other hosts, like he'd hurt Satoshi so many times.
And so, at the grave, confronted with Satoshi's remarks, he solemnly swore he would not, so long as he could manage it, hurt the boy again. Emotionally, physically, mentally—in any way.
It was his purpose—to hurt others.
So he would change, as Satoshi-sama wanted him to—on his own, of his free will. He would go against his purpose, his fate to hurt others.
For Satoshi had been the one to make him realize exactly what to be hurt was—how it felt, how it tortured, how it seared the mind with sorrow and braised the skin with misery. That was everything he was: pain.
'But I…I don't want that to be it! I want…I want a purpose beyond simply making a life miserable! Especially…the life of the one who woke me…'
He had purpose—he did! Dark was still—still…Dark really meant nothing, simply a manifestation of the bad blood that still ran between the houses. Dark didn't exist to pain his hosts, seeing their relationships was evidence enough of that. So why did he have to exist for that reason?
He didn't, that's why!
Or, at least, he was bound and determined to prove that. Satoshi-sama had even said that he deserved the chance to justify his existence too! He would give him a reason—either a new reason to hate his curse, or a reason to accept it. But either way, he would no longer live to hurt his precious Tamer.
…Gods, he hoped Satoshi-sama wasn't paying attention right now…
Author's Note: And fun times abound. Just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone who's reviewed—it really lets me know that I didn't slave away on this thing just for my own pleasure, that others enjoy it as well. I hope to continue to surprise you all as we head towards the end of the story (yes, we're on the downhill slide now!). Ah, and regarding the ring Kosuke gives to Satoshi—he actually does give him this gift in the manga (Book 9—under different circumstances), for the same purpose as stated above. Quite a nifty little bit of jewelry. Update in one week!