[FIC]: Spring Things

[northwind_gale]

Ficlet written for Riding Duel's Spring Fling Challenge.

Also on Fanfiction.net...when it shows up on the website in half an hour, anyways.

 

 

Spring Things

A Yu-Gi-Oh!5D’s Fanfiction

Written for Riding Duel’s Spring Fling Challenge on LiveJournal

 

Jack hated spring.

 

He hated it because of the allergies that came with it. And Satellite, with all the smog in the air and lack of anything of medicinal value, was certainly not an ideal place for an allergy sufferer to reside.

 

He hated it because every time spring rolled around, his eyes would turn red and itchy and blind him with tears so that he couldn’t even see what kind of card he was trying to play, causing him to lose (because Jack never forfeited, even if it cost him a victory).

 

He hated it because his skin (as pale and soft as city folks’, Martha always said) would break out in hives and he’d scratch and scratch at them until thin red lines of blood ran down his skin (because there was no cream, only Martha’s homemade soups to take your mind off it for a little while); and then he’d see his twisted reflection in the murky sewer waters or the cracked, filthy shop windows and scream silently to himself (because he was Jack Atlus, dammitall, and he would be a King someday, and the only scars that Kings carried were the scars of battle, not of stupid allergies).

 

He hated it because it would get hard to breathe sometimes, and then he couldn’t go outside and play with everyone else (or else face the wrath of Martha’s ladle), and he’d sit miserably in his room, staring outside his cracked window (because there was no way in hell he would be caught doing girly women’s chores around the house, he was a growing boy, a man, for God’s sake).

 

And so spring came, and he sniffled and snorted as was his due. Eventually, he was confined indoors (like hell that helped, the air inside the house was as bad as out seeing as there was no ventilator of any sort) as it happened every year. He was pretty proud of himself-he managed to stay outside a whole day longer than last year!

 

Some consolation prize that was. It didn’t keep his spirits buoyant for long, and soon, he was huddled under the ragged blankets of his cold, hard bed, wanting nothing more than to go outside (because even if the outside world was as dreary and bleak as inside, that’s where everybody was).

 

“Jack?”

 

He poked his head out from the covers. Oh, what a sight he must be, with eyes and nose and cheeks red and puffy and watering, peeking out from under the covers. He’d have half a mind to hide back in again (except he won’t, because, hey, here’s someone to pay attention to him).

 

Oh, it was Yuusei. The odd kid with an affinity for technology and duels and barely spoke to anyone. Jack was one of the few people besides Martha that he spoke more than a sentence to every day.

 

“What?”

 

(And he didn’t mean for his words to sound as pitiful and whiny as they came out, but damn, he was miserable and feeling pretty damn sorry for himself.)

 

Yuusei blinked and let the words wash over him (kid never seems to let much affect him, does he?), and addressed Jack with the same expression that he came in with: neutrally calm and collected.

 

“You seem lonely.”

 

“…Jack Atlus doesn’t get lonely.” (Hell yes, he was lonely, wasn’t it obvious?)

 

Yuusei ignored that statement and sat down on a chair in the room. A staring contest ensued, in which Jack eventually ended up sulking under the covers again (because damn, it feels like he can see everything with those eyes of his. It’s not natural!).

 

“So, what do you want to do?”

 

“…Go outside.”

 

“…Jack.”

 

(And of course, Yuusei is always the perfect upholder of Martha’s rules. Jeez. Can’t you stand up for your friend this once?)

 

“You shouldn’t be outside.”

 

(Dammit.)

 

“Bored?”

 

“…” (Yes.)

 

Yuusei shrugged and got up out of the chair.

 

(Oh hell no you are not leaving. Even if you do sit around like a useless lump, at least you’re here!)

 

A smile. It was barely there, but there was a smile crossing Yuusei’s face.

 

(You did not just read my thoughts, did you?)

 

He sat down on the bed, next to the lump of blankets.

 

“I guess those allergies must have really tired you out, Jack.”

 

“…Jack Atlus does not get tired.”

 

“Just bored?”

 

“…”

 

Yuusei lay down, relaxing on the bed next to Jack. He looked pretty comfortable despite the hardness of the mattress.

 

“Well, when you stop being bored, Jack, I’ll be ready to play.”

 

And Jack simply grumbled and hid himself under the blankets again.

 

The allergies seemed to be getting better.

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Jack hated spring.

 

He hated it because of all the new animals that seemed to pop up in the streets. Satellite was a literal zoo-but it wasn’t filled with giraffes and elephants and gorillas and all those cool animals that little kids like to gawk at because they’re so radically different from the normal sort of things you’d see.

 

No, Satellite was full of normal, boring, animals, and way too many of them. Jack couldn’t walk one alley without seeing two animals battling over a scrap of discarded rotten meat, or worse, one of the animals being the scrap of discarded meat. Martha, who was the toughest person that he knew, had trouble with dealing with the swarms of rats that would raid her pantry, even with the mousetraps that Yuusei had somehow found and repaired from the trash. (And those mousetraps scared the hell out of him, after seeing a mouse get caught in one and seeing its guts scattered around the trap, and he was scared that he was caught in the large mousetrap that was Satellite, that he would live here and die here without ever seeing the city, without ever escaping.)

 

And whenever spring rolled around, there would be even more of those stupid animals around, little kittens and puppies gamboling around in their litters, crying for food because their mothers could never give them enough milk, or because their mothers weren’t around to give milk, and later on, dead bodies of baby animals being feasted on by other, hungry animals, even by their own brothers and sisters and parents (and Jack always turned around at this, he didn’t want to see that, because he knew that would have been him if Martha and Yuusei hadn’t found him, and he was scared, scared of the unknown-what if Martha and Yuusei turned on him like that, or worse, what if he turned on them?).

 

And Yuusei would even bring some of those stupid beasts home and cradle them and feed them, and sometimes they’d grow up and leave, and sometimes they wouldn’t make it and die (and he hated that when it happened, because then Yuusei didn’t pay attention to almost anyone, not even him, and no matter what happened to the animal, he’d always end up in tears, and it felt wrong seeing him cry-he was supposed to be strong, a worthy rival of the future King!)

 

And so spring came, and Jack was pestered by the cries of newborn animals as was his due. Eventually Yuusei brought a stray home (thank God Martha had a one-stray limit) and of course, showed it to him. He was pretty proud of himself-he kept himself from scowling at the scraggly kitten a few seconds longer than last year.

 

It didn’t matter. The damned thing was still there (right there in Yuusei’s arms, and God, was it smiling smugly at him? Goddamn attention hog.) and not outside dying where it belonged.

 

“So, what name did you give your stray this year?”

 

“Jack.”

 

It took Jack a few seconds to realize that Yuusei was not scolding him for being rude.

 

“…You named it ‘Jack’?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“…Why?” (And why the hell did you name a scraggly thing like that an awesome, powerful name like “Jack”? That name belongs to the future King!)

 

“It has your eyes.” And despite the undercurrent of muted anger at the stray, Jack still found himself being perplexed at how Yuusei could say such things and keep a straight face.

 

Jack found himself face to face with the black kitten, and was startled with the vivid shade of violet the eyes had. They glittered fiercely from its thin face.

 

(The eyes of a King, I’d say.)

 

And then Jack blinked as Jack swiped at his nose.

 

“I think he likes you, Jack.”

 

“…Mm.”

 

He figured that the kitten wasn’t that bad.

 

 

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

 

Jack hated spring.

 

He hated it because it was all a lie. Spring in Satellite was nothing at all like in the storybooks that Martha read, where there were colorful flowers and green grass and blue skies and everything was perfect.

 

No, spring in Satellite was nothing like that at all. Spring in Satellite was like any other day: bleak and dreary, no sign of life except the lowest of the low, no color, no flowers, no nothing. (And Jack hated it, because nothing changed at all, ever, and he was scared, scared that it would never change, never get better, never get a chance to see the city, never get a chance to get a better life…)

 

And Jack would wander the streets, getting himself lost, trying to find some place, somewhere, that was like the places that Martha read about in her books, but it was all useless.

 

There was never a patch of grass to be found: all the streets were paved with cracked and worn concrete (what idiot came up with the phrase “urban jungle” anyway?). The most vegetation he could find were blades of browned grass that had struggled their way out of the cracks, only to be stifled by Satellite’s smog-filled air.

 

There were never any flowers to be found, not even in the small forest that somehow managed to thrive around Martha’s place, so that all he saw was dull greens and browns. But even that was a break compared to the grays and blacks in the wrecked city streets…although it was still boring on the eyes.

 

There was never any break in the thick grey clouds that covered Satellite, never a rip where actual sunbeams could shine through, so that everything was muted and dim, even the bright white that he wore constantly in an attempt to make himself stand out. There was never any bright blue to be seen in the skies.

 

Every year, after his wanderings, Jack would always find himself at the same place-the docks, staring out at the city. It was the only place where he could even attempt to get a glimpse of a normal sky, for off in the distant horizon, the smog ended, and if he got there on a good day, he could watch the sky over the city.

 

(And he would stare and think that someday, he would be on the other side of the sea, staring out at the ocean-definitely not in the direction of Satellite-and watch the bright blue skies, and the white puffy clouds, and the bright green grass, and the colorful flowers, and he would watch it all until the sun set over the horizon and the moon rose up, watch it all from his throne as the King.)

 

Jack would watch the sky over the city until nightfall.

 

And so spring came, and Jack moped around Satellite as was his due. Eventually he found himself running, hood over his head in a futile attempt to stop himself from getting soaked in the rain (goddamn spring rains, always too much water at the wrong time) and getting himself even more lost. He was pretty proud of himself-he found his way to the docks a few minutes earlier this year.

 

So what? The storm clouds encompassed everything, mixing in with the smog to make deep black clouds that covered everything, even the sky over the city (because that sight was forbidden to him, wasn’t it, always the good things reserved for the people of the city, the people he didn’t belong with, but wanted to join anyway…) and it disheartened him. There was no point in him staying any longer, he couldn’t see what he wanted to see, and he would catch a cold (he was still recovering from those stupid allergies, he didn’t need a cold on top of those).

 

So Jack went home. He got a scolding from Martha for being out so long in the rain (“You could have gotten sick, and you know you’re still recovering from those allergies, young man!”), but he didn’t care, didn’t listen. What was the point?

 

He passed Yuusei in the hall.

 

“You’re home early, Jack.”

 

Normally, Jack would have retorted with some sort of snappy remark, but this time, he was staring at what Yuusei was holding.

 

“What do you have there, Yuusei?”

 

“Oh, this?” Yuusei held up what he was holding. “Art project.”

 

Jack stared. It looked like paper birds, animals, and other shapes…even flowers. What caught his attention was that each little figure was a different color-there were varied shades of red, blue, green, yellow, and colors he didn’t know the name of.

 

“What kind of project?”

 

“Oh, I was looking through the trash and I found this book. It talked about the art of folding paper to make shapes. They called it “origami”. It sounded interesting enough.”

 

“Mm.” (But how did Yuusei manage to find what Jack had been searching for all this time? How did he find it so easily?)

 

“Hm. This one suits you.”

 

And Yuusei dropped a bright blue pinwheel-shaped flower into Jack’s hands, the same color as the sky over the city in the morning.

 

“It’s blue. Like that hood on your turtleneck.” And with that he left.

 

Jack stared blankly at him for a while afterwards. He had never really noticed what color Yuusei’s eyes were before-they were the same color as the sky over the city during the sunset he hadn’t gotten to see.

 

He then looked down at the paper flower in his hands.

 

Perhaps there was some truth in this idea called “Spring” after all.

 

-0-0-End-0-0-