The Gypsy's Curse
The bed upon which he wakes is uncomfortably hard and worn with old age. It is small besides, fitting with effort into the corner of the caravan. Above his head there are wooden shelves containing his few personal possessions he always carries with him – a few books, a portable CD player with old earpieces one of which is functioning badly, the collection of CDs, his pride, an old stuffed green dragon. Amulets given to him by his cousin are hanging directly above his head, sometimes meeting painfully with his head when he snaps awake from a nightmare. The sound of wheels carrying the caravan over endless miles on dirty roads lulls him asleep again.
But now it is morning and they have arrived. Another stand, another opening night, and in a few hours his training begins. For now he is supposed to help with putting up the tent. With a sigh he climbs out of bed, feet clammy from the sudden autumn chill that has somehow managed to find its way inside his personal little shelter. As he stretches, yawning, he notices that the bed on the opposite end of the caravan is already empty. So his little brother is up and about again, exploring the place they have arrived at. He is too young to help with the tent, so all he has to do is take care of the animals. One day he will be a respectable member of the circus, he thinks, a fond smile gracing his lips. Then, quickly to escape the cold, he puts on warm green socks, blue training pants and a tight red shirt, and finally a yellow pullover to keep him warm. The colours don't match but none of the others will care. After all, they are gypsies, wanderers on endless roads without a true home, so he might as well take up their look.
Sporadically, he brushes his teeth and washes his face in the toiletry caravan, saving the rest of his body care for tonight, for after the show when he's sweaty and in need of a shower. Splashing water onto his face, he stares at the pale skin, the tired eyes of dull crimson returning his gaze from the mirror, rubies lost in the dirt of a dusty road. The soreness of performing every night has long ago left him, it usually only bothers him the first few months of the tour. Now that summer, the peak of the season, is over, he feels tired more often than not. Sighing softly, he leaves the caravan to join the workers outside.
They raise the tent in silence, the movements repeated so many times they have become second nature to them. Joining them he begins to pull at one of the ropes. For him too this is a daily routine.
"Good morning, Yami", he is greeted by the man working next to him. He is short, barely reaches his height, although there is an age difference of about 50 years between them. He could be his grandfather. And in a way, he is.
"Good morning, Jii-chan," he replies, and Sugoroku gives him a smile before he turns back to his work.
"Have you seen your little brother this morning?", the old man wants to know. Stretching to pull down the red plastic canvas and tying it to a metal post, he chuckles to himself. "He is too fast for an old man as I am to follow. I just hope he stays on the lot"
"He will," Yami assures him. "Yugi is a clever boy. I do not know any other child of eight years that is as smart as he is. Not to mention talented. Pegasus is teaching him well."
"You are proud of him, Yami," Sugoroku sighs, "That's what he needs to be one of the great ones, someone who encourages him and is always by his side." Averting his eyes, Yami acknowledges this statement with a nod then pulls harder on the cords, attaching the plastic.
He feels a bit dizzy as he passes his hand over his forehead, narrowing his eyes so he can glance up to where the morning sun only now appearing on the horizon is glinting on the metal poles of the tent.
"I'm going to take care of the animals now", the older man mumbles and leaves for the hastily erected stables. Yami is lost in the sight of the glinting poles as a small hand reaches for his pullover, fisting in the soft fabric.
"Yami"
The soft voice breaks through his thoughts and he leans down with a light smile on his face. "Yes, my hikari?" Small eyebrows soften where they were drawn together in a slight frown and Yugi returns his smile.
"You won't believe what I saw," he murmurs furtively. "It is a secret, I can only whisper it into your ear" With a delicate movement of his hand he beckons him closer.
Yami feels his little brother's hushed breath ghost over his ear. "There is a pond, just behind those trees. I think it belongs to the townies, so you cannot tell Jii-chan. He will not like my being there, he will be afraid I could fall in. But I might as well, I would not drown. There are dark creatures down below, with strong, smooth arms, rusalki, Yami, for sure they would lift me up and carry me back to the shore."
Yami barely hides his smile. "You really think the townies would have ponds with rusalki in them, my hikari? The townies don't believe in rusalki, they believe in nothing."
"They believe in my magic," Yugi replies firmly, voice less hushed than it was when he was talking about the water spirits. He giggles. "They do, Yami! You should see the little towny kids when I show them. How could they believe in the simple tricks Pegasus is teaching me but not in rusalki? They are difficult to understand, Yami."
"They are, my hikari," he murmurs and runs his hand once through wild spikes of colourful hair, so much like his own. "But you will make the little children believe in your magic, and maybe then they will find a way to believe in rusalki, too." His little brother rewards him with an enigmatic smile before he bounces off, towards the stables where Sugoroku is awaiting his helping hand.
When the small boy has vanished from sight, Yami turns to one of the large trucks parking just behind the tent, and goes to retrieve from there what he needs for his training. Another boy is already standing next to the truck, waiting for a third to lower down their equipment. Long bars of steel, cable ladders, safety belts, ropes, pedestal boards, swivels, carbines, and a net are lifted out of the truck's back by a boy just about to reach manhood, shoulders already firming and broadening, blonde bangs slightly damp from sweat. The other boy, closer to Yami's age, places the equipment on the ground and smirks at him as he approaches. His red hair is cut just below his ears, his stature is more delicate, even more so than Yami's. It is the stature of a flyer, whereas his companion's built seems perfect for catching.
"Hey, Parrot. Ready for some fun?", Amelda, the red haired boy, son of Pegasus, the ringmaster, greats casually.
"You mean fun as in besting you once more, Woodpecker? Always" With a matching smirk he accepts the light competition that has become so commonplace it no longer manages to spice up the dull everyday routine. The thrill of flying, however, remains. A true flyer, parrot or not, will never allow his wings to be cut.
As a catcher, Raphael does not get a bird nickname. He is too silent for nicknames as it is, too removed and serious as he carries most of their load of rigging towards the large tent, muscles in his arms flexing. They are both watching him for a moment then, shrugging, they follow with their own load.
Inside the tent, the roustabouts have already erected the poles and larger parts of the rigging, transported in a different truck. Gracefully and fast as squirrels, the boys begin to climb the poles, attaching ropes and ladders where they are needed, securing the net in place, double checking the carbines and knots before they add the flying bars. It takes them a half hour to complete the setup of the rigging but when it is finally raised high above everyone else's heads, Yami and Amelda climb up onto the pedestal boards while Raphael takes his seat on the catching bar.
The heavy spotlights which are going to illuminate the tent at night are not ready yet, and only a few small lamps cast their light onto the ring. The ground beneath their feet fades into darkness and their deep breaths are the only audible sound, up there where the air begins to tingle with the singing of ropes slicing through it. No loud orchestra breaks their concentration, no anxious heartbeat betrays their calm. Raphael tilts his whole body back, hanging upside down now, knees firmly locked around the bar, and for a moment the world seems to narrow around them, sucking in a whisk of air and holding it. Then Yami leaps.
Head first he jumps down, falls only for a millisecond, barely enough to feel more than a faint jolt of excitement, before his hands close around cold steel and he is swinging forward, vision narrowing further until all he sees are Raphael's hands, outstretched there before him. When his feet reach forward to almost touch those hands, he lets the bar go. The motion he performs next is far too fast for his brain to fully comprehend, but his body works on impulse, knows where to twist, where to turn, where to thrust out his hands so they are going to meet with Raphael's just at the right moment, grasping securely. In that single second in the air he can finally feel it, the pleasure of a fleeting moment's weightlessness.
Briefly, his gaze falls upon Raphael's eyes, hardened and sharpened in concentration and then the swing is reversed. He feels hands letting him go and again there is this eternal second of freedom before his own bar, steadied by Amelda, makes contact with his palms. As his feet touch ground again, as he knows the flight is over, at first there is disappointment, but almost immediately it is replaced by pride, by satisfaction, by the soft glow inside of his veins that is the after effect of a high dose of adrenaline. But he has no time to close his eyes and savour it, for Amelda is leaping now and he has to steady the bar for the other boy.
In perfect silence and shrouded in dim light they go through their routine, the whole program, the list of acts they know. It is not a long list yet, for both he and Amelda are young and have a lot to learn still, but it is as good as it will get.
"Well done, my boy", Sugoroku welcomes him as he playfully slides down one of the poles. "You have been watching?", Yami wonders, a spark of happiness gleaming in his eyes, just barely.
"Yes, I came by, coincidentally. I am needed with the camels and I thought I could shorten the way by passing through the tent. It seems it has taken me longer instead, but I had to stop to watch for a second. One day, my boy, one day you will be as good as your father was, and you will make us all proud."
Hastily, a smile creeps over Yami's face, then quickly he guards it again, glancing over his shoulder. Of course Amelda has heard the words. Yami knows Amelda hears them far too often, from far too many different people. For now, the redhead glances away discreetly, speaking silently to Raphael. They seem far away from the others as they hold their conversation, as if they share their own personal language everyone else will always be excluded from. Yami sighs and throws over his yellow pullover once more.
Slowly, Yami's body comes down from its adrenaline-induced height, he wipes his face with a towel and walks slowly, tiredly towards his caravan. After a quick change of clothes, though never abandoning the pullover, he prepares to do his schoolwork. He starts with English where he is supposed to write a short characterisation. With a smile, he chooses Sugoroku, beginning to describe his looks, his habits, his belongings and his occupation in elaborate writing. He is good at writing and he likes to do it for the helpful distraction it provides.
Today his teacher will be pleased with him. He gives the sheets of paper he has filled with line after line of flowing words to him at lunch. Siegfried, the conductor of the orchestra and Pegasus' nephew, accepts his schoolwork with a smile and puts it onto a pile of papers that have been given to him by the other children he teaches. There are two folded neatly, lying just on top of the pile. One is Amelda's and the other belongs to Yami's cousin Malik. The next one seems horribly mangled, as if it has been smeared with various kinds of make up and food, it belongs to Katsuya, the clown, called Joey by his friends in reference to his surname, Jounouchi, and in honour of the famous English clown Joseph Grimaldi. Honda, whose sheet of schoolwork seems to have gotten into his friend and fellow clown's destructive path, looks up from his food when Yami takes his seat, helping himself to some salad and rice.
Just then the door is pushed open and the young ones are storming in, first Yugi and Siegfried's brother, Leon, then Anzu, Pegasus' granddaughter, followed by Shizuka, Joey's sister who is clutching her hand and holding onto it frantically as she stops and stares with wide eyes. Blonde Rebecca pushes past her, chasing Yugi and Leon, while the last boy, a rather shy one by the name of Ryou, reaches comfortingly for the hand that doesn't clutch Anzu's and together they walk towards the table where the others are already enjoying their food. From the mud stains on their clothes it is not hard to guess they have been looking for rusalki in Yugi's pond. They do have their own schoolwork with them, though, and give it to Siegfried before they start eating.
Again the door flies open, revealing a boy of Yami's age, wild hair the same light colour as Ryou's, identifying him as his older brother. Bakura does not resemble the gentle boy in character, though, as he stalks over to Siegfried and hands him a paper with a large rip going straight through the middle of it.
"Sorry about this, got into the way of one of my swords", he explains disdainfully before he too sits down, briefly exchanging a glare with Amelda.
The redhead's eyes light up when Raphael comes in, finally having finished setting up the tent with the roustabouts, followed by his sister Mai, the horse trainer. Mai is chatting with Malik's sister, Ishizu, who, together with her brother, trains two beautiful Egyptian camels.
The last to arrive is Otogi, Pegasus' second son, one of two children he has with his first wife, whereas Amelda is his son out of second marriage. Otogi trains dogs whenever he is not making bets with or playing dice games against his friends.
As the latecomers settle into their chairs, Yami pushes away his empty plate. Nonetheless he remains seated for a few more minutes, leaning back and letting the voices and laughter of his large family wash over him. A soft smile dances on his lips when he deciphers Yugi's voice, replaced by an annoyed frown when Joey is yet again provoking a fight with Otogi and sneered at by Bakura.
"It's like they can never shut up", Malik complains, pressing his forefingers to the place on his forehead where the third eye is believed to be. "I only wish for an hour of peace and quiet"
Even Raphael, who never complains, joins in the chorus of affirmations around them.
"Hey, shut up over there!", Amelda calls, attempting to sort out the problem. Of course he is unsuccessful since Joey is about to attack Otogi over the table as he dares to take his seat next to Mai.
With a sigh, Yami finally pushes his chair back and leaves. Outside of the cookhouse, the sun is breaking through the clouds and Otogi's dogs bark on the other side of the tent. He can also make out Sugoroku's voice, and concludes that the animal caretaker has most likely eaten earlier.
"Wait, Yami!", Joey calls after him, hurrying to catch up as he stops and turns. "Hey, buddy…", he pants, falling into step beside him, "I hope we didn't upset you earlier, 'twas nothin', honest." He looks genuinely worried. Everyone is always worried about Yami and Yugi, ever since they have no one left in the world but Yugi's grandfather, their Jii-chan.
To reassure him, Yami gives him a smile. "It's ok, Joey, I know you didn't mean to fight again, and I know it's nothing serious…I just …sometimes I wish….I…had more time to read, so I decided I'd spend my free hours reading. That's why I left so early. You should not worry, in fact, you can go back to eating, I'm really fine."
Joey is not convinced by his poor act, unsurprisingly. After all he is a clown and no one can fake emotions to a talented clown. And Joey, despite his goofing around and his incessant fighting, is as talented a clown as they can get. Being all too well aware of people's emotions he also knows when to retreat, as he does now. "See you later then, buddy", he calls as he heads back to the cookhouse.
With a sigh, Yami turns back to his original destination, his caravan. Reading seems a good option, although it has not been on his mind when he left family lunch before. The caravan is dark, compared to the bright daylight outside, so he pushes his bed closer to the window, trying to make the sun fall directly onto the sheets where he is going to read. All his books are an escape from reality, as fantastic as they can get. His special favourites are The Lord of the Rings, The Neverending Story, anything involving King Arthur, Arabian Nights and the Nibelungen saga. What he loves most of all are fairytales, but he does not read them. He keeps them in his memory and tells them to Yugi and the other young ones who greedily take in story after story, eyes on him, full of rapture, lips moving furtively to recite the wondrous magical spells, the three times repeated warnings, and the final "happily ever after"
From his tiny shelf ornamented with many a pendant of luck and protection he picks Tolkien's The Hobbit, his most recent read. Mirkwood is awaiting him with dangerous secrecy and a slumber of death, and the thought thrills him. Yet it takes a few minutes for his mind to stop reeling and detach itself from the world he knows, the one which he tries to escape from, a few minutes to allow him to fly into one of those many others where he feels free.
Time has lost count as he follows the dwarfs and Bilbo through the dark forest, where they encounter elves and spiders and seem to him so very fortunate to live true adventures. He is so engrossed that he does not hear his cousin Ishizu call his name until she finally loses patience and pushes open the door with a loud banging sound.
"There you are!", she exclaims. "You had almost got me worried!"
"I am sorry", he answers and puts his book away. The dark haired girl is still in her training outfit, so she has been with the camels after lunch. On the opening day of a performance every act has to be rehearsed, even if only for a short while, simply to make sure the camels are in shape and have not suffered from the long journey on the road.
Now, his older cousin's eyes are staring into his with careful intensity. Most likely she has heard of the cookhouse incident. "It is alright", she finally concedes, "You should start your exercises now, the performance will begin in another three hours and you want to be in costume before the first spectators arrive. We are in a large town, today is certainly going to be special."
Yami nods and turns around to look for his discarded training clothes, finding them in a pile on the floor. From the door, Ishizu comments this with a disapproving snort, but he knows without looking that there is a smile on her face. She was the one who always told him the fairytales, along with his mother, when he could not sleep at night, when he missed his father who had gone off with the circus people and they had to stay at home because with four he was still too young to travel with them. The separation from Ishizu when she became old enough to go with the circus has been hard on him, and the five years they have been apart changed them in many ways. Still, her sisterly love for him has remained.
In a secluded spot of the circus lot, Yami sits down on a blanket on the hard ground. He puts the earpieces of his CD player into his ears and begins with stretching exercises, leaning over, easily grabbing his toes with his hands, holding the position and breathing in and out, slowly, putting his head onto his knees, then spreading his legs as far as they will go, holding again. He continues for almost half an hour with different exercises, concentrating on the music instead of his body until his mind once more detaches itself from the flesh and floats free in the realm of imagination. It does no longer let him feel the exertion of countless push-ups or the sweat running down his forehead, he feels entirely weightless.
And finally he hears Amelda call for him, "Hey, Parrot! It's time" The music fades from his senses slowly, even after he has taken out the earpieces, and he carries the CD Player back to his caravan. In thebackyard, he takes his costume out of the large trunks, trousers of gold and leather straps decorated with glorious crimson feathers running over his torso, back and arms. He paints half of his face with gold make-up and both of his eyes with black eyeliner then looks over at Amelda who returns his gaze with their usual smirk of competition. The other boy's feathers are lavender, otherwise their costumes are the same. Whereas Yami has painted the left side of his face, Amelda now applies the golden make-up on the right side.
"Are the two of you ready? It is time.", Raphael asks from the door. As usual, he is already in costume, silver trousers covering his legs and silver straps wrapped around his muscular arms.
Nodding, Yami pushes himself up from the wooden chair, straightening out the costume.
"We have another hour until it's our turn", Amelda pushes his hair out of his face, carefully trying to protect the still drying make-up. "What are we going to do?"
Outside Yami can hear the faint murmurs of the crowd, growing steadily as more and more people move from the midway into the tent, finding their seats, munching popcorn and cotton candy.
"I want to watch the performance", he decides. "I would like to see what kind of audience we have tonight."
"You have watched it a thousand times all over again", Amelda states, rolling his eyes, "And the audience is the same every night"
Shaking his head, Yami contradicts him passionately, "No, they are not, Woodpecker. Every audience is significantly different from the last, and often a single person can alter the performer's reaction to the audience. I will show you. Follow me"
There is a secret spot between two curtains, one red and one black. Climbing onto a small pedestal it is possible to overlook the whole ring without the blinding disturbance the spotlights provide from every other point of view. Yami pulls Amelda next to him onto the pedestal and opens the gap between the curtains just ever so slightly, giving them both a chance to look. The picture is familiar, a lively bunch of men and women, children and grandparents, small families or entire school classes. And yet Yami nods, satisfied.
Briefly touching Amelda's shoulder, he motions to the left. "See the blond man over there? My cousin Ishizu likes blond men a lot, and he sits exactly where she will pass withSitah, her favourite camel. Ishizu is going to move more confidently than usual, her walking changing slightly. It will alter Sitah's pace, and Athak, Malik's favourite will pick it up from her. This will make the pace just the tiniest bit faster when it comes to the most difficult exercises, which will give Malik a chance to do that special flip on Athak's back he only does when he is sure Athak is fast enough. Do you understand?"
"You are crazy, Parrot", Amelda comments, but sounds intrigued anyway, and continues to stare at the audience. "Well", he states after a minute of silence, "if you let me have a good guess, I think the tall man just next to the quarter pole is going to influence the performance a lot, he certainly looks it."
Yami cranes his neck a little further but it is fruitless. "He is hidden by the pole, I cannot see anything. Let me look from your spot."
"Definitely not", Amelda glares, "You can watch him at the spec, there is no way you could overlook him"
"Alright", Yami agrees.
They watch in silence as Siegfried slips through the back door unnoticed and talks to his orchestra as they tune their instruments carefully, undisturbed by the noise in the tent.
"It is time", Raphael mumbles behind them.
"Do you have to keep saying this?", Amelda teases him, "Are they paying you three words only?"
"Watch your cocky mouth", Raphael replies, but he is not serious in his insult. "The spec is about to start."
With a loud flourish Siegfried's gypsy brass orchestra begins to play a joyful fast paced tune, rhythm reaching out to the audience and pulling them closer, summoning them from their seats into the magical world of the circus. The first to step out of the backdoor, from behind the curtain, is Pegasus, the ringmaster.
"Welcome, Ladies and Gentleman, at the Gypsy Circus! Encounter the gypsies and mystical creatures of the ring, let them take you to the bonfires, let them perform their magical dance, let them tell you stories of former days. Let them entrance you! Welcome now the stars of the ring!"
The artists are standing in long lines behind the curtain, Yami and Amelda among them, nervously pulling on the fabric of their trousers or the straps over their chests. But this is their cue, they are supposed to run. And out they come with the other artists, their family, their friends, to wave a first hello to the audience, to catch the marvelling eye of whoever looks their way with a little fast back-bend or a handstand. Malik even drives in on a unicycle, Bakura has a burning torch with him. Yami knows he has taken a gulp from a small bottle attached to his waist just before they have entered the ring, and now he is moving the torch towards his mouth and there is an explosion of flame that makes the ladies and little kids in the first row scream with fear and delight. Bakura smirks, probably this is his favourite moment of the evening.
In the middle of all this Yami is reminded of the man Amelda wanted to show him and his eyes search the quarter pole as he and Amelda hoist Raphael up, who performs a handstand, palms firmly gripping their shoulders. And there he is. In the same instant his eyes meet those of this particular spectator, Yami understands what Amelda wanted to tell him. The young man's blue eyes are staring into his with intensity unbroken, hard and cold and challenging. Suddenly he knows that tonight he is going to give them the best performance he has ever had up to this moment.
The spec is over as darkness falls all around them, as the curtain is pulled shut again, and Otogi is getting ready with his dogs. Dazed, Yami stands in the backyard, unsure about where to go, where to sit, where to await his turn. A few minutes later, Otogi is back, sweaty and a little exhausted, and Sugoroku helps him lead out the dogs who are excited by the performance.
Bakura is next, this time throwing knives at Mai, who strangely trusts him enough to let him perform his tricks with her aid. There is hardly anyone but Mai and Bakura's little brother Ryou who trusts the white-haired spitfire, and it is expected that Ryou will take up Mai's part in the act when he has reached a certain age.
Then the older circus members move into the ring, it's time for the cycling act. By this time Yami has decided what to do to clear his mind of this intense gaze. Carefully, he approaches Pegasus who wipes his forehead with a towel.
"I am sorry to disturb you, Pegasus…."
"It isn't a problem, my boy", the white-haired man answers, throwing the towel away, and letting himself sink back into a chair. "What is it you want?"
"It is just…do you know the tall boy next to the third quarter pole? He looks familiar, but I cannot place him anywhere, and he seems so important to me."
Pegasus smiles and takes a sip from a bottle of water. "Well, Yami, my boy, if we are thinking of the same man it would be no wonder he looks familiar. He is a trapeze artist too, Yami, and one of the most popular in the country. He has just finished the international school of trapeze arts and he is their best student. Now he is travelling from circus to circus, choosing one to join. I did not know he was going to be here today. No need to be nervous though, Yami, you will be wonderful, you are one of the great ones."
Suddenly, unbidden, the echo of Sugoroku's words rings in his mind, "That's what he needs to be one of the great ones, someone who encourages him and is always by his side."
Only half-heartedly, Yami returns the reassuring smile with one of his own and walks away. His mind is still racing as Raphael comes in.
"Do I have to say it again?", the blond boy grumbles, "It's time. Joey and Honda have already finished their performance, Ishizu and Malik are out there with the camels. We are next."
"I know", Yami sighs, standing and straightening his clothes and hair.
Together the three of them wait at the entrance. When Yami's cousins finally lead out the camels, Raphael pats both his smaller partners on the back. "Time to show them", he growls, almost dangerously, "Let's get out" And together they run.
The music is insistent and intense in Yami's ears, crawls into his body, claiming him fully. And although he can almost feel those blue eyes still on him, instincts are taking over as he climbs the ladders and poles until he reaches the pedestal just beneath the top of the tent, unfastening the flying bar.
Once more the ground below vanishes, in light this time as the spots are turned up to illuminate their faces, and all he sees are Raphael and Amelda, the flying bar and the stars on the blue canvas. Excitement is cursing through his veins and with bated breath he waits for the drum roll. And then he jumps.
There is only the feel of air, Raphael's hands that grip his hard, and the reverse spin as he takes off again, meeting with Amelda in the air and landing on the pedestal as the other boy swings on Raphael's hands. The second trick follows, then the third, he does not think about it, simply feels that he has to give everything, as he stretches as much as he can, as he performs the somersaults with special grace.
And then there is the final drum roll and there is only one act left. Of course, the most difficult, the one Amelda is forbidden to do because he is not yet ready, as they say. Dizziness takes hold of Yami all of a sudden, gently, but insistently, dizziness as he searches the blinding light from below for a hint of blue. Slowly the odd sensation leaves him and Yami jumps and soars through the air. With all his power and all his speed he launches himself into the air, twisting his body, hearing the audience scream –
And then he realises he has come to high. Raphael's hands are too far away. He is not going to reach them. His mind processes the information logically and none of it actually reaches his body as he comes down far too slowly and yet too quickly. There is the stricken expression of horror in Raphael's eyes as Yami's palm makes contact with his fingers for a brief moment and slips from them innocently and inevitably.
Yami is falling, the screams are deafening him and suddenly a wave of fear surges up and he blindly reaches out, turning somehow and grabbing a single rope hanging from one of the pedestals, clinging onto it with the sheer determination of his refusal to give up. The force behind his fall makes him slide down several metres, painfully burning his palms on the hard rope, but the pain is dulled by the surges of adrenaline cursing through his veins.
And then he slumps down into the net and remains, lying and wondering bleakly what has happened and why everyone is running towards him. He turns, frantically, tears of pain already stinging in his eyes although he does not feel the pain yet. All that he sees, feels, notices are the fierce blue eyes staring at him.
He does not understand why everyone is screaming, crying and clinging to him, why he is being carried out and into his caravan, why Ishizu brings the first aid kit. But as she begins treating the rope burns on his hands, his mind finally catches up and he realises the horror of the situation. He has fallen. He has failed. He has ruined the performance.
Sugoroku storms in, banging the door and screaming at him in his old, hoarse baritone, but the words do not matter. It does not even matter when Sugoroku takes him in his arms as Ishizu finally closes the first aid kit and leaves the two of them alone.
"Oh gods, Yami. How could you do this? How could you be so careless? Oh…dear gods…Yami…don't ever do that to me again, my boy….does it hurt?...there, there, it is alright."
Yami has not noticed that tears are streaming down his face. He no longer cares about the performance or his reputation, or the audience. All he sees are blue eyes filled with disappointment, confusion and anger. What he has lost is the respect in them, the challenge in them. He will never be a challenge to those blue eyes again. He will never be worth another glance of them. He will never see them again. The tall man has turned from him, is leaving and will be gone forever. Those eyes full of promises are now cold and hard as ice...
"That's what he needs to be one of the great ones, someone who encourages him and is always by his side."
"Curse you!", Yami screams, making his Jii-chan stumble back from him, "Curse your pride! Cursed be your self-confidence, cursed be your skill! One day you shall be bereft of them all! Just you wait! Just you wait!" He collapses down onto the bed, crying hysterically.