Listen. I know Pitfall is a wild thing to reference. Who the fuck remembers Pitfall?
I'm 37. Sue me.
.
"What was the most interesting place to visit? In your old world, I mean?"
Ryo still seemed unable to call it what Noa did: the cage.
Noa hummed, loudly, as he considered this question. It was like he was chewing on it, testing its texture. Eventually he said: "I liked going to jungles." He offered a sideways little smile that was almost apologetic; like he knew it was ridiculous. "I never did learn much about geography, so I can't really give you specifics. I can't ever remember where I went back then, at any given moment. When you have the whole world at your fingertips, it's hard to remember anything particular about where you go."
"Time, distance, touch . . . I imagine most things lose their meaning, eventually." Ryo looked sad, but also just a touch jealous, as he said this; Noa thought he must be wondering what it was like, and he was upset that he couldn't find out the answer. Had it been anyone else, Noa might have been insulted; with Ryo, though, he understood. He had an intellectual curiosity about anything and everything, including and perhaps especially pain.
"Pretty much exactly," Noa said. "But I do remember that I liked exploring jungles, because they always made me think of that game, Pitfall. I would swing on vines and jump on animals I had no business jumping on. What did I have to worry about? It wasn't like any of them could do anything to me. Even if I let them bite me, scratch me, maul me, eat me. It wouldn't do anything consequential."
"Did you feel pain?" Ryo wondered.
"Eventually I got numb to it," Noa said. "Which is to say, yes. But also, no."
"Have you ever thought about going to a jungle here in the real world? I mean, I can't imagine they're safe in any way, and I wouldn't know where to start if you wanted to do it legally, but . . . I mean. You're a Kaiba. You can do anything. Isn't that right?"
Noa shrugged. "I mean, you're not wrong," he said, "but no, I don't think I want to replicate my old behavior. I wouldn't want to tempt fate like that. I just feel like something must be watching me, waiting for me to do something that stupid. Just so they can punish me for my hubris."
"You've never struck me as especially superstitious," said Ryo.
"I'm not," Noa said, "but I understand there are limits, regardless. I think . . . some things are too blasphemous, even if you don't put stock in sacred things. You know what I mean? It just doesn't sound like the sort of thing I ought to put on my bucket list."
It was Ryo's turn to hum as he chewed on words. "I think I do understand," he said after a while. "Whether one puts stock in divine power or not, whether one has any kind of faith in it or not, some things transcend belief. Some things just . . . aren't permissible. The why isn't really important. You just know it's a mistake, and trying to explain why or how you know is a waste of time and energy."
Noa nodded. "Yes, yes. Precisely."
"I wonder what your brother would think about that kind of . . . what would you call it? Propriety."
"I think he'd understand," Noa said confidently, earning a surprised look. "Aniki says he always knows when he's found the right project to chase whenever there's a part of him that keeps saying he shouldn't."
