Dream[03]
Warnings: ...Sort of semi-spoilers for Devil Survivor? Death? ETA: And headcanon. Copious amounts of headcanon because we only got references about Atsuro and Keisuke in middle school. Should've said.
Dream Effect: Fear and worry at first followed by the careless feelings of happy school days with growing apprehension that buds into horror and ZETSUBOUSHITAAAAAA despair which lingers as regret overwhelms it all. Just follow along.
The classroom seemed, all of a sudden, impossibly large. And the corner that his desk was in? Impossibly small.
"Well, dinner's too much to ask for, isn't it?"
"Yeah, you're right. I guess I'd settle for some juice...if it was right now."
"Nah, five minutes sounds more like it."
He nodded mutely. What else was he supposed to do? The notes he'd been in the process of putting away were crumpled under one of the other boy's hands, and his textbook had been swept to the floor when the other one had made room on Atsuro's desk to sit. The strap of his bag was trapped under someone's butt - it wasn't like he could just grab it and run either. Not that he would.
He was out of the classroom in three seconds flat, his heart pounding like he'd run across a desert to maneuver through the desks. Five minutes, huh? Where were the closest vending machines anyway? Atsuro stood in the middle of the hallway, wondering which one would get him outside faster. Left? Or right?
Right, he picked, and started a mad dash to the outside.
"No running in the halls!"
Oh crap! A teacher. "S-sorry!" he apologised, forcing himself down to a speed walk. Five minutes was impossible, damn it! But it wasn't as if--
"Oof!"
"Are you alright?"
Atsuro looked up to see a boy wearing glasses offering him a hand up. Atsuro was pretty sure that he was in his class, but couldn't quite place him right away. He took the hand anyway, and was pulled to his feet.
"...Kihara-kun, right?"
"Yeah. Sorry for bumping into you!"
"Are you in a hurry?"
Atsuro shrugged, offering a less-than-heartfelt grin. "Something like that, yeah."
"I won't keep you, then," he said and stepped aside.
"Thanks!" And he was running again.
Three minutes and twenty seconds later, Atsuro finds himself back at that same spot in the hallway.
"Kihara-kun!"
(He knows it's three minutes and twenty seconds because Keisuke tells him later, not because he was timing. He had other things to worry about at the time, like if his notes were going to be dumped in the toilet again.)
He stops, hears his name, backtracks, spins around. "H-huh?"
Keisuke is standing there, hands in his pockets. It's an autumn afternoon and not late enough in the year for the sun to be orange this early in the day, but the light from the hall window is tinged with colour nonetheless, the same colour painting the dustmotes that danced like fairies in the hall. It glints sharply off his glasses, but Atsuro can still clearly see Keisuke's eyes staring at him.
"I'll come with you," Keisuke is saying. And again, Atsuro can do nothing but dumbly nod.
There is some yelling, some two minutes later. (This he knows because he kept shooting nervous glances at his watch and silently willing the other boy to walk faster and doesn't he know that his notes are at stake but it's not like he can say anything and oh god oh god oh god why has it been five minutes already and--)
"Tell me if they bother you again."
--and it's over.
"Huh?" is Atsuro's horribly eloquent reply. "R-right..."
(The boy's name, Atsuro discovers, is Takagi-kun. A few months later, they're on a first name basis and Atsuro's fine with calling him Keisuke.
He never does remember what the names of those first few boys were. It never really matters.)
Keisuke hops onto the edge of the shed beside him, their legs dangling off the side. It's sun rise, and they've spent the night cramming for a project due this afternoon. There's school in three hours of course, but right now, neither of them really want to move: Atsuro lies down slowly, pillowing his head with his arms. "Man, I have no idea what I would've done without you, Keisuke."
Keisuke laughs, somewhere in the distance. "I wouldn't put it like that, Atsuro."
"Nah, you were cool." The sun has risen a little further now - the sky is less black and blue and purple and orange and more pink and orange with tinges of pale blue. It's spring now, and Valentine's Day is something in the past while White Day hasn't quite arrived just yet. There's a bit of a breeze - the chill of winter is long gone, but it's still enough to steal the warmth from the exposed bits of skin, even though his jacket provides plenty of protection for the rest of his body. "I totally would've been stuck with those goons for the rest of middle school if it weren't for you."
"Those people don't deserve to live..."
At first, Atsuro wonders if it's a trick of the wind - but... "Huh? Keisuke? What do you mean?"
"Ahh, never mind." Keisuke twists around, a small smile gracing his otherwise eternally imperturbable expression. "You've been working out lately, haven't you?"
It was Atsuro's turn to grin. "You noticed? Yeah, I thought it wouldn't hurt to be able to push back the next time they push me, right? Besides, my parents thought it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to take some self defense classes or something since I live by myself most of the time." He sits up, kicking his legs against the sand. "Thanks for helping me back then, but I think it's about time I could stand up for myself, right?"
"Yeah...If only everyone was like you, Atsuro..."
He tucked his hands into his pockets, glancing back at Keisuke over his shoulder. "Then the world would be a pretty boring-- Kei...suke...?"
It wasn't Keisuke who stared back at him, but Keisuke was there. He was there. Atsuro was sure of it. But no, what stared back at him was a tall figure, imposing, skin red like the figures painted on old ceramic vases in the museums that his parents liked to bring him to. A magistrate's hat was perched on his head and similarly it was an old fashioned robe that he had donned. He? Or was it "it"? The fell heat of hell seemed to radiate from the figure.
Atsuro let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
"Yama..." he said slowly, realisation dawning as the name of the judge of hell left his mouth. "Damn it..." A feeling like a hundred scorpions had crawled into the cavity between his stomach and spine, their pincers nipping at his insides. "Damn it...! Keisuke!"
"Some people don't deserve to live, Atsuro," Keisuke is saying, his voice as calm and unreadable as ever. It's the same voice that scared countless numbers of bullies away from the more friendless members of the first year class, the same voice that reasoned through hours of math problems while Atsuro did his best to explain, the same voice that repeated over and over again that it was alright when once they finally got Atsuro alone and there were far too many of them to his one.
(It's the same voice that talks about judging people for their sins, about casting people into hell, about playing judge, jury, and executioner all in one.)
"...Keisuke! Wake up, damn it! This won't get you anywhere!"
(It doesn't matter, it's as if his words aren't reaching his old middle school friend. What exactly had happened in these two years anyway...? But that isn't what's on Atsuro's mind anymore. It's Yama's flames bursting out in front of him, the scene playing like some dramatized play - there are people dying.
There's a middle aged man with his hair balding at the front-- it takes only a few seconds before he's crumpled lifeless on the ground.
There's an old lady holding out half a loaf of bread to a man who clearly hasn't had much to eat in the past few days when a couple of young people who clearly don't mean well snatch the bread away - their verbal blows match their physical ones as they aim casual kicks at the pair who cower-- before they too are wiped from the living by Yama's judgement.
Atsuro can't even begin to wonder what the next person had done - someone around their age, really - but Keisuke just watches impassively as Yama sentences the kid to hell for his crimes.)
"Stop it...Stop it, Keisuke!"
And before he can stop himself, he's charging - not at Yama - but at Keisuke.
(It doesn't matter, because Yama suddenly appears between the two of them, and Atsuro's fist lands solidly against Yama's body, before he flies back from the impact, landing heavily on his side.)
"Why are you doing this? Go back to the way-- Keisuke!"
His last scream isn't one of fear or worry or sadness at Keisuke's state. No, it's one of fear and worry and sadness because he knows what comes next.
It's Pazuzu who appears behind Keisuke - Kaido and Pazuzu.
"Damn it... Damn it!"
There is a flash (hadn't it been more than that? hadn't it been longer? hadn't something been said?) and it is Keisuke who is lying in a lifeless, crumpled heap.
"KEISUKE!"
- - -
- I said I wouldn't keep you, didn't I?
Keisuke stands in front of him, offering him a hand, but Atsuro's knees are still far too weak for him to stand. Something akin to tears are gathering in his eyes - except it's been far too long since he's cried for them to be tears. It can't be tears.
- You also said you'd come with me.
Atsuro replies quietly.
He doesn't look up. He can't look up.
- Man, you left before I could say good bye again,
he continues. His voice is a little shaky, but damn if he cares.
- ...Sorry.
- Just like the first time too... All I said was "see you later" and we didn't see each other that whole summer. Hell, then the summer turned into a year. And then it turned into another year. And then...
- ...I just wanted to uphold justice.
- I know, Keisuke, I know...! It was just that week... That one week that twisted everything. Damn it... What happened, Keisuke? Why?
- ...Is there a reason to ask?
- Haha...You're right. There's no point, huh? It's not like there's anything I can do... Not even say good bye, apparently. I couldn't even cry for you, at that time. Not 10-BIT, not you. I...pretty horrible huh. I'm still so weak.
- You're a lot stronger now, Atsuro. You stand up for yourself just fine.
- Ha... Kinda useless when I couldn't even help you-- Keisuke? Where... Keisuke, where'd you... Keisuke!
▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲
[The Dreamberry cuts to the video recording as the dream ends. What it catches isn't the usual aspiring programmer, but of a frantically flapping bird, its calls distressed.
The feed, eventually, cuts off.]
Dream Effect: Fear and worry at first followed by the careless feelings of happy school days with growing apprehension that buds into horror and ZETSUBOUSHITAAAAAA despair which lingers as regret overwhelms it all. Just follow along.
The classroom seemed, all of a sudden, impossibly large. And the corner that his desk was in? Impossibly small.
"Well, dinner's too much to ask for, isn't it?"
"Yeah, you're right. I guess I'd settle for some juice...if it was right now."
"Nah, five minutes sounds more like it."
He nodded mutely. What else was he supposed to do? The notes he'd been in the process of putting away were crumpled under one of the other boy's hands, and his textbook had been swept to the floor when the other one had made room on Atsuro's desk to sit. The strap of his bag was trapped under someone's butt - it wasn't like he could just grab it and run either. Not that he would.
He was out of the classroom in three seconds flat, his heart pounding like he'd run across a desert to maneuver through the desks. Five minutes, huh? Where were the closest vending machines anyway? Atsuro stood in the middle of the hallway, wondering which one would get him outside faster. Left? Or right?
Right, he picked, and started a mad dash to the outside.
"No running in the halls!"
Oh crap! A teacher. "S-sorry!" he apologised, forcing himself down to a speed walk. Five minutes was impossible, damn it! But it wasn't as if--
"Oof!"
"Are you alright?"
Atsuro looked up to see a boy wearing glasses offering him a hand up. Atsuro was pretty sure that he was in his class, but couldn't quite place him right away. He took the hand anyway, and was pulled to his feet.
"...Kihara-kun, right?"
"Yeah. Sorry for bumping into you!"
"Are you in a hurry?"
Atsuro shrugged, offering a less-than-heartfelt grin. "Something like that, yeah."
"I won't keep you, then," he said and stepped aside.
"Thanks!" And he was running again.
Three minutes and twenty seconds later, Atsuro finds himself back at that same spot in the hallway.
"Kihara-kun!"
(He knows it's three minutes and twenty seconds because Keisuke tells him later, not because he was timing. He had other things to worry about at the time, like if his notes were going to be dumped in the toilet again.)
He stops, hears his name, backtracks, spins around. "H-huh?"
Keisuke is standing there, hands in his pockets. It's an autumn afternoon and not late enough in the year for the sun to be orange this early in the day, but the light from the hall window is tinged with colour nonetheless, the same colour painting the dustmotes that danced like fairies in the hall. It glints sharply off his glasses, but Atsuro can still clearly see Keisuke's eyes staring at him.
"I'll come with you," Keisuke is saying. And again, Atsuro can do nothing but dumbly nod.
There is some yelling, some two minutes later. (This he knows because he kept shooting nervous glances at his watch and silently willing the other boy to walk faster and doesn't he know that his notes are at stake but it's not like he can say anything and oh god oh god oh god why has it been five minutes already and--)
"Tell me if they bother you again."
--and it's over.
"Huh?" is Atsuro's horribly eloquent reply. "R-right..."
(The boy's name, Atsuro discovers, is Takagi-kun. A few months later, they're on a first name basis and Atsuro's fine with calling him Keisuke.
He never does remember what the names of those first few boys were. It never really matters.)
Keisuke hops onto the edge of the shed beside him, their legs dangling off the side. It's sun rise, and they've spent the night cramming for a project due this afternoon. There's school in three hours of course, but right now, neither of them really want to move: Atsuro lies down slowly, pillowing his head with his arms. "Man, I have no idea what I would've done without you, Keisuke."
Keisuke laughs, somewhere in the distance. "I wouldn't put it like that, Atsuro."
"Nah, you were cool." The sun has risen a little further now - the sky is less black and blue and purple and orange and more pink and orange with tinges of pale blue. It's spring now, and Valentine's Day is something in the past while White Day hasn't quite arrived just yet. There's a bit of a breeze - the chill of winter is long gone, but it's still enough to steal the warmth from the exposed bits of skin, even though his jacket provides plenty of protection for the rest of his body. "I totally would've been stuck with those goons for the rest of middle school if it weren't for you."
"Those people don't deserve to live..."
At first, Atsuro wonders if it's a trick of the wind - but... "Huh? Keisuke? What do you mean?"
"Ahh, never mind." Keisuke twists around, a small smile gracing his otherwise eternally imperturbable expression. "You've been working out lately, haven't you?"
It was Atsuro's turn to grin. "You noticed? Yeah, I thought it wouldn't hurt to be able to push back the next time they push me, right? Besides, my parents thought it wouldn't be a bad idea for me to take some self defense classes or something since I live by myself most of the time." He sits up, kicking his legs against the sand. "Thanks for helping me back then, but I think it's about time I could stand up for myself, right?"
"Yeah...If only everyone was like you, Atsuro..."
He tucked his hands into his pockets, glancing back at Keisuke over his shoulder. "Then the world would be a pretty boring-- Kei...suke...?"
It wasn't Keisuke who stared back at him, but Keisuke was there. He was there. Atsuro was sure of it. But no, what stared back at him was a tall figure, imposing, skin red like the figures painted on old ceramic vases in the museums that his parents liked to bring him to. A magistrate's hat was perched on his head and similarly it was an old fashioned robe that he had donned. He? Or was it "it"? The fell heat of hell seemed to radiate from the figure.
Atsuro let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
"Yama..." he said slowly, realisation dawning as the name of the judge of hell left his mouth. "Damn it..." A feeling like a hundred scorpions had crawled into the cavity between his stomach and spine, their pincers nipping at his insides. "Damn it...! Keisuke!"
"Some people don't deserve to live, Atsuro," Keisuke is saying, his voice as calm and unreadable as ever. It's the same voice that scared countless numbers of bullies away from the more friendless members of the first year class, the same voice that reasoned through hours of math problems while Atsuro did his best to explain, the same voice that repeated over and over again that it was alright when once they finally got Atsuro alone and there were far too many of them to his one.
(It's the same voice that talks about judging people for their sins, about casting people into hell, about playing judge, jury, and executioner all in one.)
"...Keisuke! Wake up, damn it! This won't get you anywhere!"
(It doesn't matter, it's as if his words aren't reaching his old middle school friend. What exactly had happened in these two years anyway...? But that isn't what's on Atsuro's mind anymore. It's Yama's flames bursting out in front of him, the scene playing like some dramatized play - there are people dying.
There's a middle aged man with his hair balding at the front-- it takes only a few seconds before he's crumpled lifeless on the ground.
There's an old lady holding out half a loaf of bread to a man who clearly hasn't had much to eat in the past few days when a couple of young people who clearly don't mean well snatch the bread away - their verbal blows match their physical ones as they aim casual kicks at the pair who cower-- before they too are wiped from the living by Yama's judgement.
Atsuro can't even begin to wonder what the next person had done - someone around their age, really - but Keisuke just watches impassively as Yama sentences the kid to hell for his crimes.)
"Stop it...Stop it, Keisuke!"
And before he can stop himself, he's charging - not at Yama - but at Keisuke.
(It doesn't matter, because Yama suddenly appears between the two of them, and Atsuro's fist lands solidly against Yama's body, before he flies back from the impact, landing heavily on his side.)
"Why are you doing this? Go back to the way-- Keisuke!"
His last scream isn't one of fear or worry or sadness at Keisuke's state. No, it's one of fear and worry and sadness because he knows what comes next.
It's Pazuzu who appears behind Keisuke - Kaido and Pazuzu.
"Damn it... Damn it!"
There is a flash (hadn't it been more than that? hadn't it been longer? hadn't something been said?) and it is Keisuke who is lying in a lifeless, crumpled heap.
"KEISUKE!"
- - -
- I said I wouldn't keep you, didn't I?
Keisuke stands in front of him, offering him a hand, but Atsuro's knees are still far too weak for him to stand. Something akin to tears are gathering in his eyes - except it's been far too long since he's cried for them to be tears. It can't be tears.
- You also said you'd come with me.
Atsuro replies quietly.
He doesn't look up. He can't look up.
- Man, you left before I could say good bye again,
he continues. His voice is a little shaky, but damn if he cares.
- ...Sorry.
- Just like the first time too... All I said was "see you later" and we didn't see each other that whole summer. Hell, then the summer turned into a year. And then it turned into another year. And then...
- ...I just wanted to uphold justice.
- I know, Keisuke, I know...! It was just that week... That one week that twisted everything. Damn it... What happened, Keisuke? Why?
- ...Is there a reason to ask?
- Haha...You're right. There's no point, huh? It's not like there's anything I can do... Not even say good bye, apparently. I couldn't even cry for you, at that time. Not 10-BIT, not you. I...pretty horrible huh. I'm still so weak.
- You're a lot stronger now, Atsuro. You stand up for yourself just fine.
- Ha... Kinda useless when I couldn't even help you-- Keisuke? Where... Keisuke, where'd you... Keisuke!
▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲▽▲
[The Dreamberry cuts to the video recording as the dream ends. What it catches isn't the usual aspiring programmer, but of a frantically flapping bird, its calls distressed.
The feed, eventually, cuts off.]