Sing me a lali-by
The little opened his eyes. Oh, damnit, he was alive. What a dream. It had been about back when he lost his mother. She had screamed. The vampire had tried to save her. But failed. Now these pictures were flying through his mind again in that nightmare. It was nothing new though. This was the only dream he had had since the terror incident. The only thing that helped him through every time was the one holding his hand the entire time. The Reaper. It's smiling face was enough to encourage the infant. They were the best friends. Together they had sworn full loyalty to the vampire that had saved them. And made sure that everyone else would feel the same pain as they faced every night. Those were justifiable reasons, and justice always wins. So why? Why did some idiot Japanese, though really western looking, high school kid outsmart them?
Perhaps he was also some kind of genius, but it didn't really seem like it. He was well gifted, but nothing like the child and reaper duo. Perhaps he had been lured into a bigger plot. No he wasn't... Or perhaps it was wrong to take revenge? And perhaps that was why he kept feeling worse and worse the more he did it. He had only wished that the damned, merciful, fair-player Japanese wouldn't have had to play it so responsibly and just ended his sufferings already. Instead of carrying him to the are if this stupid organization who would just discard him somewhere else so that he could cause new havoc, hoping for someone to see him and feel pity enough to tell him what it was that he so deeply but unknowingly desired. He was seriously tired of spending his life scaring people to death. But what else could he do? He was a genius, so why couldn't he seem to solve his problem? What knowledge did he lack, why wasn't he happy? The wonder was what was driving him crazy. So crazy that he now saw that the only way out was to put himself in even greater pain: He would have to separate from the Reaper.
'I agree,' it said in his mind, voice loaded with hopelessness.
'Sorry. You are the only one I can trust,' the baby responded. 'But I just can't find a way to fit us into this world.'
'So be it,' the Reaper said. 'I love you.'
'I love you too. Lali ho!'
The infant then made the Reaper take its hoe and cleave it's own head. He also felt the physical pain of his stand. A headache that would turn out to last for a whole month. But it was nothing. Nothing compared to the emptiness that would last his entire life. Nothing. He had no reason to live, cause he had killed his own fighting spirit.
As the child grew up, he would always want his adoptive parents to sing for him in the evening to keep him awake, because if he wasn't awake, he wasn't there. Sleeping was not ever an option.