"Searching for My True Self", SG2's Creative Writing school project

[~CT~]

I forget what sarcasim is sometimes.

[~CT~]

from now on.. I will say when I'm being sarcastic by.. doing this *Sarcasim*

[Cumtastic]

no I wasnt being scarcastic... honest.. IN MY FAMILY we get the "normal" names of Mae, Arty, Tericka, Flor, Nej, Demarko.. so on and so forth... but you can't forget my personal favorite... OCTAVIA

\/\/those names=normal

[Suupaa Gohan 2]

Heh, normal...well they ARE normal, just...Japanese. *sweatdrop* Predictable of the Anime fan to go with a Japanese theme, ne?

Well yeah, thanks!!!

[Cumtastic]

pretty good.... i like the really normal names... Alex...

[Suupaa Gohan 2]

Doubt. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never felt the indecision of an obligation. True doubt, the kind that nearly rips one’s body in two, the kind that pushes one to do that which they may not want to…It shows itself to those whose hearts are already clouded by the shroud of uncertainty, and are just waiting for a sign of what to do next…Doubt is a word with no definition.

“A thief? You’re kidding, right?” It has been only 3 days since Hayate awoke in the house of the old doctor Ishida and his grandson. And now, as he stands in the center of the room, still bandaged but mostly recovered, he seriously questions what he has to do to repay the old man. “How is me becoming a thief the best way to repay you for saving me?”
“Look around you, my boy. We are living in a world of crime. And where you are right now, the heart of Shinjuku, is a breeding ground for thieves. It is one of the most profitable ways to make a living, when you are living in a place like this.” says the old man, looking as serious as ever as he helps the boy get prepared for his next task.
“It’s the only way we can afford to live”, a tiny voice chimes out. Wataru, the golden-haired little grandson of Ishida, walks into the room, arms stretched back behind his head. “If we don’t steal…then we don’t eat. Down here in the slums, you have to do what you can to survive. It’s only by our work and the grace of God that we are lucky enough to have a house and food on our table each night.”
“He is correct. Wataru’s parents passed on shortly after he was born. For 12 years I have had to look after him…And it wasn’t long before my practice went other and we were forced to live on the streets. As an old man, I found it difficult to find anywhere that would hire me for my services. Being a doctor was all I knew…but I was soon faced with the knowledge that I would not be able to support my grandson OR myself it I did not act. So, we were forced to move into the seedy back alleys of Shinjuku…and adopt a life of crime.”
Hayate becomes discouraged as he looks into the faces of the old man and the child.
Old Man…Wataru…Yamamaru…It seems I’m not the only one who has had to live through hard times. Shinjuku…you really have to do or die in a place like this…
“Hey, don’t give us that look!!”, Wataru yells, bringing Hayate back to reality.
“W…what?” He didn’t even realize he had been looking at them.
“You’re looking at us like we’re nothing but common thugs. We only steal so that we can survive!! We’re not criminals!!”
“I-I never said you were!!”, defends Hayate, a bit taken aback.
Wataru turns away from him, slightly frustrated.
“It’s not like we WANT to…if there was any other choice, believe us…but if we don’t steal, we’d never enough money to afford food or shelter. We’re no different…than anyone else who is forced to live out on the streets.”
The words hit Hayate hard, making him realize just how lucky he was. Mother may have died…I may have had to live all alone for the past going on ten years, but I never had to live on the streets…He shakes his head, not wanting to be chastised again by looking depressed.
“So, anyway…”, he begins, trying to change the subject, “What exactly am I supposed to do?”
“For starters, go get changed into this.”, Ishida tells him, handing him a bundle of folded-up clothes. Hayate takes them, a confused expression on his face. “These will help you to blend in with the shadows of the night. The work of a thief relies on stealth. The most imperative aspect of the job is the ability to stay hidden, and avoid getting caught.”
Hayate nods, taking the clothing into the next room with him.

He returns only moments later, a…less than pleased expression adorning his face.
“OK old man, blending in and staying hidden is one thing…But do you really expect me to wear THIS?!”, he barks, pointing to himself.
Hayate is dressed in an odd-looking uniform, entirely black except for the red trim around the collar and down the middle. The collar is quite large, coming up to Hayate’s chin almost to the point of covering his mouth. The top is cut at the shoulders, the lack of sleeves leaving his arms bare. There is a zipper in the middle, running from the top of the neck down to the belt that adorns his waist. It is a simple cloth sash, tied off towards the right side. Below the belt, his pants are black and baggy, all the way down to the black slip-on shoes.
“What is this even supposed to be?! The modern Ninja?!”, the boy screams.
“Actually, yes.”, Ishida responds.
“Huh?”
“Think about it. The basic principals of Ninjitsu were to be one with the shadows. If you can stay hidden, then you have already accomplished the mark of a successful thief.”
“Whatever, it’s still a pretty lame costume…Anyway, where are we going?”
“To be honest?”, Ishida ponders, a serious look on his face. Hayate leans in, listening intently to what the old man has to say. “…I have no idea.”
“Wha—?!”, Hayate sputters, nearly falling over in surprise. “What do you mean, ‘you have no idea’?! Who DOES then?!”
“That would be me.”
Hayate spins around as Wataru speaks up for the first time in a while.
“Heh, you look like a dork in those clothes.”, he adds, laughing to himself.
“What? Him? And hey, how come HE doesn’t have to wear an outfit like this?!”
“Don’t you worry about that, Wataru has his own talents…you’ll see soon enough.”, Ishida continues. “Anyway, I have no idea where Wataru goes to do his work. I leave that up to him, and I place my complete trust in his decision. You will be following him tonight.”
“Wha?” Hayate’s face falls. “Taking orders from a kid? Man, this is a new low…”
“That’s enough out of you!!”, Wataru shouts. “I’m sick of everyone treating me like a little kid!! I’ve been living on these streets almost all my life, and I know how to survive a lot better than you!! You nearly got yourself killed out there, and if it wasn’t for me already being out that night, you’d be DEAD right now!! All you concern yourself with is doing what I say, you got it?”
Hayate nods frantically. He looks to Ishida, hoping to get a word in edge-wise, but the old man simply smiles. Hayate sighs.
“OK, fine then. Let’s get going.”
As they prepare to head out the door, Ishida stops them.
“Wait, take this with you.”, the old man says, handing the older boy a sheathed sword.
“What…a sword?”, Hayate asks puzzled.
“Yes. While I do not condone killing…it does not hurt to be prepared for anything in this line of work. And sometimes…A sword can be used to protect. Don’t use it unless you need to. Remember that.”
Hayate nods, turning from the old man and following the younger boy into the night…a silent, peaceful night, ready to be shattered by the sharp sword of doubt.

Fear. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never been gripped in its deathly hold. True fear, the kind that shuts down all rational thought, the kind that cripples the body and leaves one unable to move…it shows itself to those who are faced with that which they can’t accept, going against everything they once believed…It is not the fear of monsters, nor the fear of losing a loved one…Not even the fear of one’s own death can compare with the fear of being wrong…the fear of change, and the fear of trust-that is the greatest fear; the word with no definition.

Two shadows leap through the night, slicing the otherwise silent skies. The air is thick and still, the sheer darkness of the surrounding night so deep it’s as if it is a whirlpool that has sucked all of the stars into the vast void. Through this darkness, invisible to all, two boys continue to run, eagerly awaiting an unstoppable mission.

“OK, here we are.”, Wataru whispers as they finally stop.
“Where…is this? It’s huge!!”, Hayate silently exclaims, looking up at the large warehouse before him. “What’s a place like this doing in the slums?”
“Yakuza.”, Wataru replies, rifling through his pocket. “This is just one of the many Yakuza hideouts in Shinjuku.”
“Yakuza?! The Japanese Mafia?! What do we want getting involved with THOSE guys?”
Wataru turns to Hayate, an irritated look on his small face.
“Keep your voice down, will you? Anyways, gramps doesn’t know that I come to these places or he’d never allow it. Way too dangerous…” Wataru grits his teeth. “…For a kid like me.”
“Well, yeah…illegal gang activity? That’s dangerous for ANYONE to get involved with!!”
“That doesn’t matter to me. When gramps told me we had to steal to survive, I couldn’t do it. I mean…I know what it’s like to live with nothing. So how could I possibly…”
Hayate looks on as tears begin to well in the small boy’s eyes.
“…How could I be the person that takes things way from others? Leaves other people just as broken down as us? I couldn’t. But if I didn’t find some way to get the money, gramps and I would both starve.”
“So,”, Hayate muses, “You decided that by stealing from criminals…”
“That’s right. No matter how you look at it, stealing is wrong, even if you’re only doing what you can to get by. But I thought that by stealing from crooks…it wouldn’t feel as bad.”
Once again, Hayate gives him a look of almost pity.
I think I’m starting to see…That just maybe, everything I’ve thought for all these years…have been wrong…Hayate grits his teeth. But then again, that’s what Yamamaru made me believe as well…, he thinks, remembering how the oxen-boy fooled him into thinking they could be friends. No…I can’t be wrong. Besides, look at me now. Murderer, then thief. We’re all criminals here.
Seeing the look on Hayate’s face, Wataru strives to change the subject.
“Anyways…let’s get going.”
“We?”, Hayate marks, turning back to the smaller boy. “What’s this ‘we’ crap, you little runt?”
“Huh? Well, I mean—”
“No way. You’ve done your part by leading me here. I work alone, I’m not teaming up with anyone. So you can just wait here for all I care, while I go in and take care of this job all by myself.”
“Are you crazy?! You’ll get killed!! You have no idea how to be a thief!! If the Yakuza find you out, they’ll KILL you!!”
“So then I’ll get killed!! I should already be dead, anyhow!!”, Hayate barks. “Whatever happens, happens. It really doesn’t matter to me anymore if I live or die, it’s not like I have anything to live for anyway!!”
“That’s lunacy!! Gramps and I didn’t spend all that time trying to SAVE you so you could go—”
“I said I can handle it on my own!!!”, Hayate yells, running off into the complex. Wataru just stands still, silently watching the dark-haired boy run straight forward to his death. Without fear, without regret…He wondered what it was like to feel that way, to not care one way or another about such things. As if lacking human emotion…It wasn’t possible, was it? Still…He couldn’t just let that fool run off and get himself killed. Not after everything he had done to keep the boy alive.
“Dammit, that big dork!!”, Wataru grits out, running inside after him.

Regret. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never felt the pain of remorse. True regret, the kind that one feels before death, the kind that brings to mind all the chances one had to repent, to right the wrongs in one’s life…it shows itself to those who have all the desire in the world to make things right, but none of the guts to make it happen. Regret is a word with no definition.

“Man, security cameras all over the place…”, Hayate whispers unto himself, contemplating the best way to go about his task. “The old man said ‘shadows’…So if I can avoid all the cameras and just sneak around in the shadows…Heh, piece of cake!!!”

Hayate jumps through the narrow hallways, up and behind the occasional pile of crates that line the way. As he goes, he is sure to avoid the cameras, although the task quickly becomes slow and tedious.
“Damn, these stupid cameras…eh?” His eyes fall to the sword at his side. “Of course!! Although, I’ve never really used a sword before, it can’t be THAT hard, right? At least just to smash a few cameras!!”, he laughs, drawing the blade and swinging it. He lacks precision, but after a few tries manages to get a solid hit and destroy a nearby security camera. As he continues forward, he picks up a knack for it and is soon able to nail every camera in his path with a single blow.

Before long, Hayate is out of the hallways and finds himself in a large lobby room. Looking around, he sees no cameras, but even more surprisingly there isn’t a soul to be found. The entire room is completely deserted, making Hayate’s job all the easier.
“Nobody’s here? That’s…STUPID!! How do they propose to protect their valuables from me if they aren’t around?”
Hayate becomes cocky, not even bothering to sneak anymore. The possibility that he can still be caught eludes him as he strolls through the room, searching for anything worth stealing.
“Man…that little runt claims he knows what he’s doing, but this hardly seems like the place to find ANYTHING to steal…and where IS everyone, anyway? Is it Yakuza Vacation Holiday or some—AAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!!!” Hayate screams, cut off as a hole in the floor beneath him swallows him up. Finally, he stops falling, landing on the ground below with a thud. He rubs his head in pain, looking up to see where he fell to.

A hush comes over the room and Hayate quickly finds himself in a very dangerous position. Still sitting on the floor in the spot where he fell, Hayate looks to the room around him. The walls are high and plain, not highly decorated in any way. Large marble columns reach up to the ceiling above. In the center of the room is a large table, lined with briefcases filled to the brim with money and jewels. And, sitting around the table are twenty or so Yakuza men…forty angry eyes all glaring down at him.

“Who the Hell is this kid? A friend o’ yours, boss?”, one of the Yakuza questions to the man at the head of the table.
“No, no one I’ve ever seen…”, the boss replies. Turning to Hayate, he asks, “Who are you, boy?”
Hayate is at a loss for words…so he sits, silently, for a long while, as the Yakuza continue to eye him in wait for a response. Finally, swallowing hard, he prepares an answer, hoping the result will be successful.
“Oh, me? I’m…”, he trails off, jumping to his feet and dashing from the room. “…Out of here!!!!!!!!!!!”
“What are you waiting for?!”, the boss bellows to his men. “GET HIM!!!!!!!!!”

Crap crap crap crap CRAP!!!!!! I was stupid…careless!! I got so confident that I wouldn’t get caught that I forgot to look for TRAPS!!!!!!
Running through the labyrinthine hallways, Hayate quickly remembers that he doesn’t have a clue where he is going…and worse, the Yakuza on his tail are quickly gaining on him.
Dammit…I can’t outrun them forever, I’m running out of breath…I have to stop and FACE them…, he ponders, glancing down at the sword adorning his belt. Please, let this work…
He skids to a stop, turning to face his pursuers and draw his sword.
“Oh-HO, what is this?”, one of the Yakuza chimes sarcastically. “Looks like we have a little swordsman on our hands, gentlemen!!”
Beads of sweat roll down Hayate’s face as the men around him laugh, not even the least bit frightened. The Yakuza who spoke earlier silences the others with a wave of his hands, turning his gaze back to Hayate with a sly grin.
“Well guess what, little boy? You’re not the only one here with a sword…”
At the signal of the speaking Yakuza, the rest of the men draw swords from their scabbards, adopting various stances around the stunned and confused boy.
“Just who did you think you were DEALING with, kid? We aren’t your average thugs!! You’re in YAKUZA territory!! You’re messin’ with the big crooks now!!!”

Hayate leaps back, desperately trying to hold his ground against the barrage of swords. The blades rain down upon him, gathering like so many droplets gather to create a tidal wave; a tidal wave that could so effortlessly topple him over, to knock him down so hard that he would never rise again. And, for one with so little sword-wielding experience as Hayate, he rapidly finds himself outmatched totally and completely; the wall of swords crashing upon him as the waves batter the rocks. An insurmountable wall…
There’s just too many of them…not that it would matter if there were only one of them…I was far too presumptuous…just because I HAVE a sword doesn’t mean I can WIELD it…

Backed against the wall, Hayate cries in pain as a blade rips through his shoulder, tearing the dam of skin that held his blood from flowing forth. Finding himself cut repeatedly, he feels the familiar sensation of blacking out…the same as he felt as Yamamaru so completely and totally humiliated him. One good slice sends him back into the wall, the force causing him to drop his sword and fall limply to the ground.

Heh…So this is it, huh? I died, then came back to life…only to die again. Serves me right…I should have never been rescued in the first place…I was supposed to die. I was supposed to…I was given a second chance, and for what? Nothing changed…as if I had just died in the first instance…my only regret…I finally saw the truth, and I couldn’t accept it… I could have told him, if only…I realized…before it was…too late…

He watches his sword skid across the floor to the other side, and the sound of the words ‘finish him off, boys’ resounds in his ears as his eyes fall shut. Enveloped by that familiar feeling once more, that feeling of pain, the feeling of defeat, feeling bleeding to death…Hayate smiles, a new feeling accompanying his slow death. Warmth…like the sun. The warm, shining light of the sun…He can’t help but smile at the feel of such wonderful warmth, just before losing consciousness.

Sacrifice. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never risked themselves for the sake of another. True sacrifice, the kind that happens in a flash, without forethought, the kind that begets the willingness to die, and more, if it means to protect someone one holds dear…It shows itself to those whose courage outshines their doubt…to those who are destined to be true heroes. Sacrifice is a word with no definition.

Great. This again. White, white, white. Everything white. Just like last time. The void, the nothingness…just like before. Just like the last time…But wait…I wasn’t dead the last time…Does that mean…The white disperses…again. Déjà Vu. This same scenario…So…

“Hey, you’re awake. That was quick.”

There it was again. That same voice. That same small, squeaky annoying voice. The one that brought him back last time. Last time…It was him. The same voice as the last time…Again. Wataru. But why was Wataru…

Opening his eyes abruptly, Hayate is shocked to find himself in the arms of the little blonde boy…But how? Unless…That warmth…It was…
“Gotta tell ya, you’re a pretty lucky guy to have gotten me to do this TWICE already.”, Wataru snickers. “You’re too heavy, though. It’ll take a lot of convincing for me to ever do this for you AGAIN, you big dork.”
He was being carried by Wataru, who was running down the hallways…those hallways. The Yakuza building. So they were still there? Oh, yeah. He remembered now. He almost died…again. So that means Wataru saved him. AGAIN. God Dammit.

Push him away. Push him away, get away from him. Just like everyone else. Everyone else who’s ever tried to help you. Not that there have been very many.
Hayate swats Wataru away, struggling to stand on his own, still wounded and bleeding.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”, the smaller boy asks, concerned. “You’re still hurt!! We need to hurry up and get o—“
“Why…”
Wataru looks up at the other boy, confused. Hayate stands, fists clenched tightly, eyes shut and head tilted to the ground. Anger…Rage. It was the only way to describe Hayate’s posture as he stood before Wataru.
“You little runt…Why did you do it? Why did you save me…Again?”
Hayate raises his head, and a fist, to the tiny blonde, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and bringing the boy eye-level with himself.
“TWICE!!!! Twice that I was dying…twice that I was SUPPOSED to die!! And you…twice…two chances to leave me there, to let me die, and you saved me…WHY DID YOU DO IT?! WHY DID YOU SAVE MY LIFE?! BOTH TIMES!!! ARE YOU INSANE?!”, he screams into the younger boy’s face. Tears. Tears brimming in Hayate’s eyes…fight it. Fight to hold them back…but he can’t. He loosens his grip on the boy’s collar, lowering him back to the ground as the tears stream down his face. “Both times…You could have just left me to die…But you had…to rescue me…”

Hayate drops to his knees on the ground, crying. Crying like he hasn’t cried since he was a child…since his mother died. Wataru crawls over to the boy, reaching out to lift up his wounded left arm. Pulling some bandages from his pocket, he wraps the boy’s arm tightly, looking into his eyes with a sort of irritation…but an understanding one. Soft, somehow. Something that could only come from a child.
“Why…how can you even ask me that? Are you really that STUPID?”
Stupid? He must have been, then. This boy…the tone in his voice, the look in his eyes…the like of which Hayate had never seen before in his entire seventeen years of life, aside from his mother.
“I saved you because I didn’t want you to get KILLED, you big dork!!”
“W…What?”
“I can’t believe you…You just don’t get it.”
No…I really don’t, Hayate thinks. Why would someone risk their life for someone else? Especially someone who’s essentially a stranger?
“Your life may not mean anything to you…” Wataru turns back to face Hayate, tears in his own eyes as well. “BUT IT MEANS SOMETHING TO ME!!!!!!!! DON’T YOU GET IT?!”
“But…how? How can I mean anything to you? How can someone you just met be so important that you would save their life, TWICE? Risking your OWN life to save them the second time?! HOW?”
“Because…”, Wataru trails off, wiping the tears from his eyes. “…That’s what people do.”
“That’s what…people DO?”, Hayate mimics, still trying to grasp his meaning.
Wataru scoots closer to Hayate, finishing the bandaging of his arm and tossing the bandages aside.
“I like you. I knew it as soon as I found you dying there that night…I don’t know how, but I knew…that you and I, we’re the same. It’s like we were destined to meet…and become friends.”
“…‘Friends’?”, Hayate repeats, the word having a profound effect that he can’t quite comprehend.
“Yeah…And when your friend is in trouble…you’re supposed to do all you can to help them out. Don’t you understand yet? That’s why I did it…both times. I knew that you were just like me…and I couldn’t just leave you there to die.”

‘Friend’…he called me his friend. What is this feeling? I don’t understand…why would he put himself at risk to help me? ‘We’re the same’…What is that supposed to mean? Is that any reason to bring him to save my life, twice? Both times, he…’That’s what people do’…but, people aren’t LIKE that!! Humans…humans are selfish creatures, living only for themselves, and caring only for personal gain!! Humans don’t put themselves in jeopardy to help others…I would have never done it…I thought that…He looks over at Wataru. My regret…the second time I was dying, I thought I saw it, too…That this child…

“OW!!!!!!!”, Hayate screams as Wataru dabs at another of his wounds with an alcohol-soaked cotton swab. “That HURT, you little runt!!!!!!!!!”
“Yeah, well it’d hurt a lot more if you let it get infected!! Lucky for you grandpa always has me bring a couple first-aid items with me before I go out…his background as a doctor, and all…”
Hayate looks over to Wataru, the expression on his face for the first time soft, matching that of the child. Wataru turns away, trying to change the subject.
“Anyway…Those Yakuza guys aren’t GONE, you know. We lost them for the time being…but they could be back at any time and if they find us, they’ll kill us for SURE this time. We got lucky. I say we call it a night, and…Huh? Big guy?”
Wataru is puzzled when Hayate struggles to his feet, cracking his fists.
“What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? I’m going back in!!”
“Are you CRAZY? You’re hurt!! And you don’t even have your sword anymore!!”, Wataru calls to him, concerned. Hayate turns back to him.
“Feh, that sword didn’t do me all that good anyhow…”
“Then, why go back?”
“Hehehe…”, Hayate laughs to himself, scratching his nose.
“What’s…so funny?”
“Don’t you GET it yet?”, he asks, his tone mimicking Wataru’s earlier conversation with him. “You saved my life…we can’t turn back now. We’re going to get back in their and be the best Damn thieves we can be…” He kneels down, placing a finger under Wataru’s chin and bringing them eye-to-eye. “…So that I can repay the favor…and let YOU live.”
Wataru’s eyes widen as Hayate smiles at him.
“So, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!!”, Hayate exclaims.
“Here, follow me. I know where to go.”, Wataru adds.
Hayate nods, following the small boy back inside of the building. This time, however, neither is wary of certain doom, because they know that they have each other’s backs…and from that moment forth will set out to protect one another.

Sacrifice…It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never risked themselves for the sake of another…True sacrifice, the kind that happens in a flash…without forethought…the kind that begets the willingness to die, and more, if it means to protect someone one holds dear…It shows itself to those whose courage outshines their doubt…to those who are destined to be true heroes. Sacrifice…is a word with no definition…

Wataru leaps through an exterior window, followed closely behind by Hayate. Carefully scanning their surroundings, they crawl through the window and find themselves on the upper ledge overlooking a large, Japanese-style room. The bamboo curtain on the opposite side of the room is offset by a nearby door, which most likely leads back into the main hall of the Yakuza building. A small table sits in the middle of the room, traditional Tatami mats covering the nearby floor. On the opposite wall, hanging high up, Wataru spots a beautiful painting of a woman surrounded by sunflowers.
“There…look!!”, he whispers to Hayate, who is kneeling beside him. “Betcha that thing’d sell for a nice amount…”
“I’ll go get it.”, Hayate replies, moving to jump off the ledge.
“Wait, don’t!!”, Wataru whispers louder, reaching a hand to stop him. “You’re still hurt…I’d do it.”
“But, Wataru—”, Hayate is cut off as Wataru puts a finger to his lips.
“Hey…I’ll take care of it, big guy. You stay up here and keep an eye out to make sure nobody comes into the room. See that door over there? Just watch that door.”
Hayate can only nod as Wataru descends down, landing softly on the floor below.

Wataru…be careful…, Hayate thinks to himself, trying to ward off the foreboding feeling creeping over him. Still, he keeps his eyes on the door as the little boy struggles to reach the painting and loose it from the hooks. Finally, he succeeds in removing the painting, grabbing the frame with both of his small hands.
“There…gotcha!! Haha!!”
He turns back to Hayate on the ledge, flashing the older boy a peace sign to notify him of his success. Hayate smiles back to Wataru, taking his eyes off the door…just in time for it to swing open.
“Wataru!!!!”, Hayate calls to warn the boy, but it is too late. Two men, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing to match the room’s décor, have already gotten Wataru in a dangerous position. One of the men stands behind him where the painting was on the wall, holding the boy in a choke hold. On the opposite end of him, the other man stands pointing a gun at the small boy.
“Well, what do we have here?”, the Yakuza guy asks in a mocking child-like voice. “Sorry, little boy, but this painting’s off-limits. It’s very old and very valuable, and we can’t have you getting your grubby little fingerprints on it.”
“Let…GO of me!!”, Wataru grinds through his teeth, struggling to break the hold.
“Ryo.”, the Yakuza guy puts plainly, giving a nod to the gun-holding man.
“With pleasure…”, the other man grins, licking his lips. He cocks the gun, preparing to shoot. Hayate observes the scene in horror from his position on the ledge.
“WATARU!!!!!”, he screams. In a flash, he recalls everything that the boy has done for him…his entire reason for being alive at that very moment. Without forethought, he acts…leaping from the ledge and jumping in front of the tiny blonde as the bullet whizzes through the air.

“BIG GUY!!!!!!!!!!”
Hayate stands firm as the bullet enters his gut.
“Where the Hell’d THAT guy come from?!”, the Yakuza gunman cries out.]
Wataru watches in horror as Hayate coughs, blood spurting through his clenched, grinning teeth. Grinning…yes, Hayate was grinning now, enormously pleased at how well his body functioned as a shield. He stands, shakily for a moment, sending his fist back to clock the other Yakuza before collapsing over himself in a heap on the floor.
“BIG GUY!!!!!”, Wataru cries at the sight of Hayate crashing to the floor. He drops to his knees, shaking the fallen boy for all he’s worth, but to no avail.
“Hehehe…”, the Yakuza gunman laughs, lowering his weapon. He looks down at the pair on the ground, seeming to address the fallen Hayate. “I don’t know who you are, but you’ve got a pretty nice punch to knock out Keisuke like that. Either way, I’m still here, and I’ll kill the kid anyway. And now, there’s no one to protect him…” He spits on Hayate’s body. “You were a fool. And now, you’re a dead fool.”

Wataru continues to shake Hayate’s body, succeeding to jolt the boy back to reality. Wataru’s tear-filled eyes widen as Hayate smiles up at him, his eyes half-lidded as he struggles to keep consciousness.
“Hey…”, Hayate manages. “You OK…you little runt?”
Wataru manages a fake smile.
“You big dork…What did you do that for?!”
“Heh…”, Hayate turns his head to spit a small amount of blood. “You were in trouble…and that’s what a friend does…”
Wataru’s eyes widen at the boy’s words.
“When your friend is in trouble…you’re supposed to…help them out, no matter the…cost…”
Hayate coughs, sputtering more blood. Wataru clutches him tightly, but it seems too late…again. Between his earlier injuries and the bullet, Hayate has lost a lot of blood…
“No, you can’t…I didn’t save you twice so you could die on me…so STUPIDLY like that!! You have to hang ON, big guy!! We’ll get out of here, and—”
“Don’t…be stupid. Look at me. Does it look like…I’ll be getting out of…anywhere…anytime soon?”
He turns his face to meet Wataru’s, noticing the boy’s tear-stained cheeks.
“Hey, now…What’s that for?”
Fighting to move, he manages to raise an arm, reaching his hand to Wataru’s face and wiping some of the tears away.
“You’re…crying? For me? Are you…sad?”
“What? *sniff* You big dork…or COURSE I’m sad!!”
Hayate laughs breathlessly.
“Heh…my third death…and it took me this long to get it. I’m so…stupid…All this time, it took me…”
He brushes the boy’s face again. Wataru panics as Hayate’s hand falls, a sign that he’s lost so much strength.
“Hehehe…he…I guess, this whole time, it’s because…I didn’t WANT to believe it…that there were really people like you…because, I’m not one of them…Because I was…always…”
“Stop TALKING, big guy!!”, Wataru warns. “You’re wasting your energy!!”
“Heh…it’s because…all this time, it was…me…who was the…ignorant, self-centered one…I didn’t open my eyes…to the fact that there were…people like you…that there are probably…a lot MORE people like you…and your grandpa…GOOD people…than those…other ones…I’m just glad that you saved me, both times…so that I could finally see it for myself…before I…”
“Big guy!!”, Wataru cries as Hayate coughs even more violently, a coarse sound emanating from his throat.
“Wata…ru…I just want you to know…that you…in the short time we’ve known each other…have become like a…little brother…to me…”
Finally, Hayate stops talking. And as he lies in Wataru’s arms, still and unmoving, it seems that he has truly died this time. But even as he lies, there is something to Hayate that Wataru hadn’t seen the previous two times he saw the boy like this…a smile. Dead and gone, a smile of true happiness grazing his lips…Wataru releases his grip on the boy’s still-warm body, setting him on the ground.
“Big guy…”, he whispers.
“Hahahahaha!!!”, laughs the Yakuza gunman, reminding Wataru that he was still there. Still breathing, while his friend was not. He turns and looks up at the maniacally-laughing gunman, glaring like a basilisk.
“You…”, Wataru calls under his breath. “What did you DO to him?!”
“Hehehe…What does it look like, kid? I killed him!! And you’re next, you little rodent!!”
As the gunman readies his weapon to shoot the small boy, Wataru reaches into his pocket and pulls out a Shuriken Ninja Star, whipping it forward and knocking the gun from the man’s hand.
“What?! Damn you...where did you get that? Those aren’t TOYS, you little punk!!”
“I won’t forgive you…I’ll make you pay…”, Wataru mumbles.
“YOU? You’ll make me pay? Don’t make me LAUGH, kid!!”
“I’ll make you pay…” Wataru calls, his voice growing louder and he gets to his feet, fists clenched tightly. The Yakuza gunman steps back, warily, as the boy shouts deafeningly. “I’LL KILL YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The sheer volume of the voice shooting forth from such a small mouth knocks the gunman on his back in surprise. Taking this moment, Wataru leaps across the floor, grabbing the gun that he knocked from the man’s hand earlier. The gunman gasps.
“H-h-h-h-hey, now, kid!! What do you think you’re doin’ there? That’s not a toy!!”
Wataru glares, taking a step forward as the gunman scurries back towards the wall.
“Now, c’mon kid, I didn’t mean it!! It was all a mistake!! Yeah!! A big misunderstanding!! Come on, you can put the gun down, can’tcha?”
The gunman swallows hard as the boy cocks the gun.
“NO!!”
Much to his surprise, however, the boy turns the gun to the ceiling and fires. After the *bang*, the man loosens up, noticing what has happened.
“Heheh…hehehe…HAHAHAHA!! Nice one, kid!! Too bad you’re aim’s a little—HUH?!”
Wataru fires three more times into the same spot, knocking a beam loose from the ceiling and causing it to fall directly onto the Yakuza gunman. Grabbing Hayate’s body and the painting, he runs for all he’s worth through the collapsing room…if he can just make it out before the roof falls in on them…there might be…

Friendship…It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never seen themselves reflected in another person. True friendship, the kind that overcomes all odds, surmounts all obstacles, crosses all oceans…the kind that mirrors one’s own true self within the heart of another…It slices through apathy, in favor of love. It crushes loneliness, begetting a desire to be near someone. Smashes sadness, leaving only happiness in its wake. Any thoughts of revenge, rage, uncertainty, impulse…all erased in the eyes of a friend. Forging a selfless love that surpasses all doubt, destroys all fear, and removes all regret from the heart…friendship is the ultimate sacrifice, allowing one to give one’s all, one’s whole heart and soul, to another. Friendship. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never had a true friend. True friendship, the kind that has bonds stronger than blood itself, the kind that is as an eternal scar that can never fade away…it shows itself to those who are willing to embrace life with both arms, and give all that they have to their fellow man…Friendship is a word that cannot be defined by those who cannot say they have a true friend.

This stupid whiteness…I’ve been through this so much already, haven’t I suffered enough? I’m tired of dying…I just want to…

“Hehehe…I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Good, you’re up.”
Hayate jerks awake, sitting up and looking around him. Outside…still dark, but the darkness is slowly fading. The moon recedes into the clouds, light slowly filling the sky.
“Wataru.”, Hayate smiles to himself. “Thanks again…for saving me. Three times…guess I really owe you, huh?”
Wataru smiles and moves closer to him.
“You don’t owe me anything…you saved ME this time. I just returned the favor by removing that bullet and patching you up again. You can thank gramps’ super first-aid kid for that one.”
“Yeah, but you’ve already saved me—”
“Hey,”, he says. “Let’s just call this one a freebie.”
There is a long silence. Finally, Hayate breaks it, just as the sun is breaking through the dark surrounding clouds.
“So, we made it, huh?”
“Yup.”
Another pause…awkward. They had been through so much, and yet, it was still so difficult to sit together in these awkward silences.
“Well then, looks like we had nothing to worry about, after all. We had each other’s backs all along, didn’t we?”
“Heh, looks like it.”
Hayate turns to Wataru.
“Because we’re a team?”
Wataru turns to Hayate.
“No.”
He pats the older boy on the back, looking him deep in the eye.
“Because we’re FRIENDS.”

And then, as if for no reason at all, Wataru laughed. It wasn’t just your average good-hearted laugh, like when you laugh at a joke; this was the kind of genuine laugh that you knew came from true happiness. And as the boys stood there in the silence and drunk in their victory, the laugh sliced straight through the animosity they had towards each other such a short time ago.

Hayate didn’t know what had come over him, but he soon found himself laughing too. He couldn’t comprehend this feeling. It had been so long since he had last felt such a thing, to laugh and feel his heart at ease. It was as if all this time, great weights were shackled to his ankles, and he could do nothing to keep himself from sinking; from freeing himself from drowning in the ocean of his sorrows…

But this laugh, this simple, inexplicable laugh they shared, was the key. The key that had naught but to unlock those shackles and release the weights, and Hayate felt himself floating, rising up from the murky water he once thought he could only drown in. And at last, he finally understood those words. Those words his mother had told him so long ago, but up until now, he had put such little stock into…He had met someone who, with a simple innocent laugh, was able to release this burden that had held him down drowning for so long. And as he clamored to his feet to help the other boy up, it hit him. As his hand met with Wataru’s, he looked into the smaller boy’s eyes, which so much mirrored his own.

Finally. Hayate had finally found someone to ease his pained heart, to take all that hurt and scatter it to the four winds, indefinitely. And with one simple laugh, the laugh filled with such childlike innocence it was infectious…Hayate found that he himself couldn’t stop laughing.

It was then he knew. Hayate had at last truly found a friend.

-THE END-

[Suupaa Gohan 2]

This is my latest project for my creative writing class. It was just handed in, so i dunno what I got on it yet...but I have an A+ in the class so far, and this is a major player in it, so I guess it's good. I'm proud of it, anyway!!! So, here ya go!! BUT!! It's long, so I need to make 2 posts...character limit per post, y'know.

Alex "SG2" Hoffman
Mr. Nevard
Creative Writing/Block A
9/27/05

Searching for my True Self

The crowded streets and back alleys of Shinjuku paint a colorful picture to say the least. The ground is often littered with discarded cans and trash, a suitable environment for the rats that scurry below the feet of the passers-by. The vast and glorious sky seems to fade out of existence, as if itself afraid to enter the dim and dank shanties that expand beyond its walls. A veritable playground for the immoral and ill-mannered. The average passer-by would rather not prolong their stay in such an environment; to get out of this nightmarish ghetto as soon as possible, but to the everyday residents, Shinjuku was a paradise. Its dark corridors and shadowed piers provided the perfect habitat for all manner of criminal activity. Murder, thievery, prostitution, drug dealing, poverty…the daily menu for all who dared to make their living on the backstreets of Shinjuku, Tokyo.

Knowing what a breeding ground for debauchery it is, one could take great surprise in the sight of a well-groomed high-school aged boy taking this route every day. But to Nigetanda Hayate, the sights and experiences that these slums held weren’t out of the ordinary in the least. You could suppose that, for someone like Hayate, it was the truest example of human life: doing whatever it takes for one’s own personal gain.

Hayate, a boy of 17 years, dressed in a bright white starched and pressed school uniform, definitely stood out among the usual crowd of folks in the alleys. But nothing stood out to Hayate. As he viewed it, all humans were like this. Scum. Worthless creatures prowling the corners, giving no quarter and asking for none. Caring only for themselves and their own well-being, Hayate believed these humans to be lower than even the rats that scurried and squirmed below his feet. So, it is understandable that Hayate is able to ignore the sights that would traumatize an outsider. Murder. Thievery. Prostitution. The sights that so richly depict the despicable nature of man.
“This world…is a rotten mess”, he says, turning his head and continuing his walk to school. One could expect nothing more from a boy who has lost all faith in mankind.

Apathy. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never felt it. True apathy, the kind that makes one turn the other cheek to his fellow man in need…the kind that allows a one watch his family slaughtered before his eyes without even blinking…it shows itself to those who have lost all faith in the outside world, and who desire not to be returned to their humanity. Apathy is a word with no definition.

The doors to Tsukimita High School open and the students pour inside the building. Another face in the crowd, Hayate mixes into the flood of students, just as so many drops of water gather together to create one great wave. No single drop stands out from the others, they are all the same. And so, Hayate goes about his business, traversing the narrow hallways before arriving at his locker. As he retrieves his books for the day, the dark-haired boy looks around him. Students mingle in the halls, laughing and chatting with one another. Friendship…another concept that is lost on this boy, as he proceeds down the corridor to his first class.

Friendship. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never had a true friend. True friendship, the kind that has bonds stronger than blood itself, the kind that is as an eternal scar that can never fade away…it shows itself to those who are willing to embrace life with both arms, and give all that they have to their fellow man. Friendship is a word with no definition.

“Hey, look who actually came to school today!!” a boy in the back of the classroom says to the boy beside him. “I thought he was too smart to waste his time in school with us simpletons!!” exclaims. The two boys laugh, but it is only another thing for Hayate to ignore.
“Hey, that’s true…” a girl says to herself. As she rises and approaches Hayate, his turns and faces her with his staple apathetic expression. “Why DID you come today, Hayate? You usually skip out of class and hang out on the roof. You’re so smart…you don’t really need to be in this class, do you?”
Resting his face in his hands, Hayate turns away from her.
“…Aw, I don’t know. Got bored, I guess.” he states, speaking in a monotone style. The girl shifts, smiling innocently at the dark-haired boy.
“Well that’s OK!! We all get bored from time to time…you just don’t have that many friends, do you? Well, if you’d like, I could—”…She is cut off as a hand clutches her wrist and shoves her away.
“Get lost.” He adds flatly. “I don’t need friends, I don’t WANT friends, and it’s none of your business why I came to school today, so get lost.”
As Hayate turns from her, the girl decides to give up and walk away. Walking away, like everyone else…pushed away. Pushed away by a boy who is drowning in a sea of sorrows…and doesn’t want to be saved.

The bell rings and the class is dismissed. As Hayate grabs his bags and prepares to depart as well, a voice calls him back.
“Hayate-kun.” the teacher addresses him. “I was told to tell you to report to your student advisor at the end of the period.” As the boy nods, his teacher turns from him, and leaves him to exit the classroom.

Loneliness. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never felt the cold sting of having no one to care for them. True loneliness, the kind that pierces the lungs and causes one to choke on bitter dread, the kind that strives to fill the void in one’s empty heart, but succeeds only in digging deeper a bottomless hole…it shows itself to those who are lost in the mazes of their own souls, wandering endlessly in search of acceptance…Loneliness is a word with no definition.

The room is small and stuffy, an air conditioner barely regulating the atmosphere in the room and making it breathable. An older man, Hayate’s student advisor, sits in the chair, reading a sheet of paper. Straightening his glasses, he shifts in the chair, but there is otherwise silence. Looking around, the only sight that stands out from the bland décor of the room…the old broken chairs, obviously antique, the small side table in the corner, a desk littered with forms…is the window. A simple pane of glass separating the suffocating room from the freeness of the outside world…Hayate feels trapped, finding himself unable to tear his eyes from the window; the only visible escape hatch from the ship that it seemed would sink within the ocean of boredom.

Just as Hayate decides its time to jump ship, the older man looks up from under his glasses, addressing the younger.
“Nigetanda, Hayate. Age 17, third year student...” The man shifts in his chair again, seeming unable to get comfortable. Hayate tries to stay focused, although failing to see the purpose of this little discussion. As the man goes on, reading from the form, Hayate continues to gaze out the window, into the vast and unending sky beyond. At the moment, of all the many things he didn’t care about in this world, hearing these uninteresting words spew forth from an even more uninteresting person’s mouth was number one on his list.
“Well, you seem to have some outstanding grades here…”
“Thank you, sir…” The words came out, but Hayate doesn’t really think he’s paying attention.
“Very impressive indeed…”, the goes on, his fingers lightly trailing the paper and examining the text before him more closely. “In fact, these marks are easily the highest in the school…what baffles me, however, is the fact that you rarely seem to ATTEND school!! Now,”, his voice lowers as he straightens his glasses, staring into Hayate’s unfocused eyes with a steely, piercing gaze. “Why is that?”
Oh, so now it’s my turn to talk, thinks Hayate. Fine, whatever. I’ll tell the old geezer what he wants to hear.
“Well, sir…” Hayate trails off, trying to come up with a good excuse on the spot. “I just don’t feel my intellectual abilities are challenged to the full extent by this mediocre school system”. Hayate smiles inwardly, satisfied with the response.
There. That actually sounded pretty good. And I guess it IS the truth…even though…
“I see. Well, have you ever considered transferring to a more…intellectually stimulation…school environment?”
“Not really”, Hayate adds bluntly. “Too much of a hassle for me to move out of Shinjuku. Besides, I don’t really have the money…”
Even though, Hayate’s mind wanders, pondering his answers. My real reason is…
“Well, your grades would certainly qualify you for a scholarship…that way you wouldn’t have to personally pay for anything…yourself…” The advisor trails off as Hayate rises from his seat and makes for the door.
“Later.”
“Hey, where do you think you’re going?!”
Hayate turns and gives a wave, smiling a fake, half-hearted smile at his advisor as he steps through the doorway.
“Sorry old man, but I just don’t feel like it. Don’t worry, I’ll be back…when I feel like it. Well, see ya!!”
As the dark-haired boy steps back into the hallway and shuts the door behind him, the advisor extends a hand as if beckoning him to return. But, Hayate is already long gone.

Sadness. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never experienced it. True sadness, the kind that reaches into your soul and seems to yank out your very being, the kind that tears even the strongest resolve to shreds…It shows itself to those who have fallen, and don’t want to be saved. Sadness is a word with no definition.

The air is clean and crisp, a light wind blowing from the east. From such a great height, the great many activities going on in the big city below seem small and insignificant, melting away from the vast expanse of the world around it. From such a great height, the lives of one individual person seems utterly inconsequential; as if something so small could never have a substantial impact on the rest of the planet. And, from such a great height, Hayate could feel how little an impact he HIMSELF had on the world as a whole. The wind whips through Hayate’s hair as he leans over the side, his arms folded on the banking before him as he looks out into the beyond. The roof of his school is the best place for Hayate to go and feel at peace with himself, and thus he spends most of his time there, just assuming to skip his classes.
It’s not like they can teach me anything anyway…I’m MUCH smarter than anyone in that building…Hayate sighs, brushing a thin strand of hair from his face. Not that it matters. It doesn’t make any difference HOW smart I am. I’m still worthless…How do you do it? He asks unto the people below. How do you go about your lives so carefree? Don’t you even know? Don’t you know that life is nothing but pain and suffering? The things you live for…love, happiness, friendship, laughter…don’t you know they don’t matter? When all we do with our lives is cause pain to others…what’s the point of it all? Burying his face in his folded arms, Hayate leans further over the ledge. Humans…we only live so that we can create suffering. We kill, we steal, we rape...We care only about ourselves and our own meaningless lives, until we die…Is that really true? If that’s all it is…than why do we live to begin with?
Mother…Hayate muses, turning his head upward to the heavens. What you always told me…It wasn’t true after all, was it? If it was…you wouldn’t have been taken from me… The boy breathes a deep sigh that seems to carry into the ever great sky…an echo of a hollow empty sadness that is all but bottomless.

Revenge. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never taken it. True revenge, the kind that strives to satisfy a weakened constitution, the kind that wills one to take the most drastic risks to achieve…It shows itself to those who’s souls have lost their way and desperately seek redemption. Revenge is a word with no definition.

During the day, Shinjuku could actually seem like a nice place to live. So long as one stays clear of the bad parts of town, one could have quite a pleasant experience. The people are friendly and helpful, and the streets are lined with flowerbeds and lush shrubbery. The skyscrapers the tower into the sky, as if aiming for the heavens themselves. Truly, like any other place, Tokyo’s ward of Shinjuku is only a bad experience for those who allow it to be. Unfortunately, Hayate is one of those people.

~*~*~*
“My son…No matter how lonely you feel at times, remember that you are NEVER alone. And someday…you will find someone who will mean more to you than you could ever imagine.”
“Really?” the little boy asks as his mother tucks him tightly into bed. “More important than you?”
“Hahaha…it’s a different kind of important, but yes…” she replies, patting her son softly on the head. “And, when the times comes that you meet this person, you will feel as though a great weight has been lifted from your shoulders. And when you are free of that weight, you will be lifted from all of your sorrows.”
The little boy smiles and closes his eyes, resting his small head back onto the feathery softness of his pillow. The woman walks to the doorway, stopping to look back at her son.
“Never forget, Hayate. No matter what happens, you will always have me. And with my memory…you can never TRULY be alone. Goodnight. I love you.”
There is a clicking sound, and the room becomes dark. As the little boy Hayate closes his eyes and drifts into his sleep, he takes little stock in the words his mother has just uttered…the last words he would ever hear her speak.
*~*~*~

As Hayate walks down the pleasant parkways of the Shinjuku streets, he takes a seemingly deliberate side turn to the back alleys…into the bad parts of town. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and glances at it, continuing to traverse the dark walkways, looking for something in particular. Looking up at a small shack, he looks back down to the paper as if to confirm his destination.
“Yup. This is the place.” Hayate fists the paper in his hand, crumpling and shoving it back into his pocket. “I’ve finally tracked you down. Now I’ll finally get my revenge on you…for killing my mother.” Taking a deep breath, he swings open the door and steps inside. Prepared to face anything, even his own death, this 17-year old boy seeks his revenge.

Rage. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never felt it. True rage, the kind that boils your very blood, the kind that blocks out all rational thought of the brain and seeks only blind, unrelenting fury and destruction…it shows itself to those who have already decided to throw cautiousness to the wind. Rage is a word with no definition.

“Excuse me”. At the sound of the words, a woman who stands before a stove turns her head towards the door.
“May I help you?” she asks the strange boy who has stumbled into her house.
“Yes, is this the residence of Asutoki Yamamaru?” Hayate asks curiously.
The woman sets aside her business at the stove and walks over to him, bowing politely.
“Why yes, Yamamaru is my son. Are you a friend of his?”
Hayate scratches the back of his head, searching for the right response.
“Kinda…I have something I need to talk to him about…is he home?”
“Oh, sorry, not at the moment…” she frowns. “He went out to buy groceries for me. He’s such a nice boy. He should be back in an hour or so...”
“Oh, well…can you just tell him to meet me at the 3rd street intersection?”
“Why, certainly!! And who should I say is looking for him?”
“Oh, nobody…” he says, his voice falling in pitch. “Just…an old friend.”
Hayate waves goodbye to the woman and exits the rundown house, his fists clenched tightly. An old friend…I wonder if he’ll remember me? Hayate thinks. Hands tucked into his pockets, he strolls down to Third Street, where one hour from now he will be faced with a decision that he can never revoke.

Uncertainty. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never had to make a tough decision. True uncertainty, the kind that boggles the mind to the point of insanity, the kind that drives a man to decide between his own life and the lift of a loved one…it shows itself to those whose determination matches their indignation. Uncertainty is a word with no definition.

Can I really do it?, Hayate wonders silently as he stands at the Third Street corner, the strong wind whipping through his hair and clothes. Can I…he fingers a gun in his pocket. Can I actually go through with it? Or am I…glancing at his watch, he scowls. 5:00 PM. He should be here by now…I have to do this. What’s the big deal if I do anyway? Killing…it’s just part of being human, isn’t it? There’s nothing…really…wrong…with it…right, mom? He turns his gaze to the sky above. I’m doing this for you…

5:10 PM and he still isn’t here yet. What’s keeping him? Hayate’s eyes widen at the remembrance of his earlier conversation with Yamamaru’s mother.
“He went out to buy groceries for me. He’s such a nice boy.”
“Nice…” Hayate’s eyes quake, clouded with uncertainty. Wake up you moron!!, the voice in Hayate’s mind taunts him. This is the guy who tormented you!! The guy who pulverized you every day, so much so that your mother had to spend the last of her savings to transfer you to a new school…the money she had saved to get the operation she needed to live!!
“Hey, that’s right!!”
Are you going to forget about all he put you through?! How his actions are ultimately responsible for taking away the one person you ever trusted?!, the voice taunts.
“…No…I’m not…and I’m not backing down…” he whispers, clenching his fists. “I’m not scared…And I’m not soft-hearted and weak. I made a decision…And I’m going to stick with it!!” he yells back to the voice.
Conscience vs. Resolve. It is the age old battle that takes place not on a battlefield, but in the depths of one’s mind. It is fought not with blades, but rather the weapons of one’s own willpower. The will to do what’s right against the strength of one’s determination…the outcome of this battle cannot be told by a winner or a loser. Only the strength inside one’s soul can truly put an end to the clash.

Impulse. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never done something spur-of-the-moment. True impulse, the kind that, in a flash, alters one’s entire framework of mind, the kind that prompts a life-altering decision…it shows itself to those who lose their minds and start thinking with their instincts. Impulse is a word with no definition.

“Good, you made it.” A large boy stands at the intersection, a bag of groceries in his arm. He is tall and very muscular, but not fat at all. His skin is a dark shade of tan, his hair black and mussed up. A nose ring adorns his sharp face, making him resemble a rodeo bull. He gives Hayate a curious look as he continues his speech. “So, do you remember me? I’d think it would be difficult to forget someone whose face you rubbed into the dirt on a day to day basis…Yamamaru.”
“Who are you? How do you know my name?” the larger boy asks, his eyes widening in confusion. “If I’m supposed to know you, I’m sor—”
“I don’t believe it, you really don’t know who I am, do you? Unbelievable.” Clenching his fists, Hayate moves so that he is face-to-face with Yamamaru, the boy who had been his bully only a few short years ago. “DID I HAVE THAT LITTLE AN EFFECT ON YOU?! IS THAT IT?! YOU MADE MY LIFE MISERABLE…AND YOU CAN’T EVEN REMEMBER IT?!”
Yamamaru’s eyes fill with a surprised fear, still speckled with a lasting confusion.
“I’m…sorry!! I’ve been through a lot over the past few years, I don—”
A hand rockets forth, gripping the collar of Yamamaru’s shirt. Hayate grits his teeth, race seething beneath his skin.
“I’M NIGETANDA HAYATE, THE KID YOU BULLIED BACK IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!!!!!!!!! RING A BELL YET?! DO YA REMEMBER ME NOW?!”
Eyes widening further, a recollection hits the larger boy, as if bringing something to the surface of his mind…something that he had tried to suppress for the longest of times.
“Little…Hayate? Is that really you?”
“Yeah, it’s me alright!!” he screams, his blood boiling.
“Wow…I guess we’ve both changed a lot since then…on the inside AND the outside.”
Hayate’s expression softens a bit as he queries, “What do you mean…?” releasing his hold on the larger boy’s clothing and stepping back.
Yamamaru straightens his collar, shirting the grocery bag in his arms.
“I mean…I’ve changed. A lot.”
Hayate stands still and listens, his expression an odd mix of anger and confusion, the anger slowly fading into submission as the mammoth goes on.

“Look…I’m sorry I used to bully you when we were in elementary school…but I was just a kid back then!! All kids do things…they end up regretting sooner or later.” His face grows tight, his eyes filling with a sadness that seems to flow as if the tides themselves. “Two years ago…my mom got sick. Real sick. Her bones grew weak and she had a harder and harder time breathing. It wasn’t long before she had to stop going out of the house altogether. We couldn’t afford to do anything about it…we were poor, after all. Well, for that matter, we still are. I mean, we’re living in a run-down shack in the Shinjuku alleys…it can’t get much poorer than that.” He laughs nervously. “I ended up having to take care of her. I don’t have any brothers and sisters, my dad walked out on us when I was a little kid…heh, come to think of it, that was probably around the time I became your bully, Hayate. But I’m not blaming him…what I did was my doing and mine alone.”
He’s…just like me…, Hayate muses. Everything…I didn’t realize…
“Look”, Yamamaru states, snapping Hayate out of his reverie. “I’m sorry about how I was back then…I’m sorry my stupid actions as a kid had such a profound effect on you. I hope you can forgive me. But if you’ll excuse me, I have to get these groceries home to my mother.”

Turning away, Yamamaru begins to walk back down the corner before a voice stops him.
“Wait…Yamamaru!!” Hayate calls after him. The oxen-like boy turns back to face him, stunned by the look in his eyes…the same look of the deep sorrow that he himself was so plagued by. “I…I understand. Everything you went through…it’s the same for me. My mom got sick when I was 8, and I had to take care of her all by myself too. I never knew my father…he was sent to prison before I was born, not that it mattered. He had already walked out on my mom by that point.” He holds back his tears, speaking on. “And when I was nine…my mom died. That was just a little after I transferred schools…to get away from you, ironically…”
Yamamaru walks back over to Hayate, who stands hunched over, fighting off the deep agony that envelops his soul. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Yamamaru smiles down at the boy who he used to beat every day…the boy who, for all its irony, had been so much like himself for all those years.
“You don’t have to cry, Hayate. We can get past this…together. As FRIENDS.”
Yamamaru extends a hand to the shorter boy, an offering of peace and friendship. Friendship…a feeling Hayate had pushed away for so long, tried to escape and get as far away as possible. And now, for a reason that was still so unclear to him, this boy, this boy who had so terrorized him years ago, was offering him his friendship.
Mother…is this what you meant? Hayate wonders, remembering the last words his mother ever spoke to him on that fateful day 9 years ago. “Someday, I will find a person who will mean more to me than I could imagine…Someone who would free me from my sorrows”…Is this what you meant? To have…a friend?
A look of understanding spreads across Hayate’s face, and he smiles. For the first time in years, he smiles, ready to abandon all his old believes and fears…ready to accept this boy as his friend.

“As…friends.” He nods, reaching his own hand to the other boy to accept this gesture of good will. But as he feels his hand touch that of the other boy’s, a foreboding fear grips his soul, freezing his blood and petrifying his body. Paralyzed. Turning his eyes up to Yamamaru, he sees the true face of man…betrayal.
“Ah…aaaah…What…” Hayate cringes in pain as the grip on his hand is tightened forcefully.
“You IDIOT…I can’t believe you actually FELL for it!!” Yamamaru laughs.
“What…are you…GRAAAAHH!!!!” A scream rips forth from Hayate’s throat, accompanied shortly after by the crunch of bones snapping.
“Hahahaha!! What did you expect, loser? That I’d really changed THAT much that I’d want to be your FRIEND?!”
“But…then everything you said…”
“Oh no, it wasn’t a lie. My mom really is sick, and my dad did walk out on us…I have to take care of her by myself, alright. But look around you!! This is SHINJUKU!!! You can’t trust anyone!! How do you think I get the money I need to support her?! From soft-hearted morons like YOU!!!!”
He crushes the dark-haired boy’s hands beneath his own, causing Hayate to drop to his knees in crippling pain.
You FOOL!!!! What were you thinking?! You know better than that!! You know better than to trust people!! To make FRIENDS, you idiot!!,. the voice in Hayate’s head barks at him. I’m so…stupid…
Yamamaru laughs menacingly at the look in Hayate’s eyes, consumed with pain, with fear…and with the realization of betrayal.
“Yes, this is it!! I remember why I loved beating you up so much…it’s this fear…THIS FEAR I’VE MISSED SO MUCH!!!!!!!! THIS IS JUST LIKE OLD TIMES!!!” He screams, launching his other fist into the smaller boy’s jaw. Hayate’s head snaps back and he spits out blood as his face is assaulted.
“Damn…you…” Hayate manages to spew out.
“Hehehe…you’ve too trusting…you should be blaming YOURSELF!!!!!!”

The oxen throws him forward with a mighty toss, launching him into the nearby wall. Hayate smacks up against the wall forcefully, the gun falling from his pocket and sliding across the pavement to Yamamaru’s feet. As he walks over to the fallen boy he bends to pick up the gun, tossing it into the air and catching it as it falls back down.
Crap…I should have used that when I had the chance…
“Hahahaha…how cute. You planned on using this from the beginning, didn’t you? Heh.” He tosses the gun up once again, smacking his fists together as it comes back and smashing it into a thousand pieces with his enormous strength.
“Too bad you didn’t get the chance. Oh well.” The debris falls to the ground and Hayate shudders, amazed at how easily he crushed it. That amazement quickly turns to terror as the boy towers over his weakened body.
No…Dammit, no…I can’t move…but I have to try…if he can do that to STEEL, if I let that demon hit me…
“Hahaha…Look at this. Normally, if you were one of my usual victims, I would just take your money and go…what’s the point in beating a dead horse, right? But you…” Yamamaru licks his lips. “You’re not one of my normal victims...I like you, though. Yeah…So that’s why…” he trails off, cracking his knuckles. “…That’s why I’m going to teach you why it’s not wise to be so soft and trusting in a place like Shinjuku…And maybe, in the future…YOU’LL BE MORE CAREFUL!!!!!!”
I’ve got to MOVE!!!!!!!

Yamamaru lunges at him; fists bared and prepared to crush Hayate to a pulp. Mustering up every ounce of strength he has left, Hayate manages to pull away and dodge the blow, sending Yamamaru’s hand into the concrete wall behind him.
“AAAAAHHH!!!!!!!!! MY HAND!!!!!” He screams, stumbling back and clutching his bleeding fist in pain. “YOU BROKE MY HAND!!!!”
Hayate laughs as Yamamaru wobbles around, trying to keep his steady balance after such a shock.
“Damn…you…you broke my hand, you little bastard…”
“Yeah, well…you broke mine first. I was just…returning the favor.”
“Oh, you think you’re a funny guy, don’t you? Hehehe…Well, my right hand may be broken…but unluckily for you I STILL HAVE ANOTHER!!!!!!!”
Hayate continues to dodge the larger boy’s blows, smaller and lighter than the lummox in spite of his own wounds.
“You little punk!! STAND STILL AND FIGHT ME!!!!!!” Yamamaru screams, flying into a blind rage.
He’s punching like a madman now…he’s enraged and he’s lost all reason…whatever brain he had, he’s not using it anymore…at this rate I may just manage to get out of here and…Hayate freezes. And what? Run away again?
“TOO SLOW!!” Yamamaru cries, catching the smaller boy off guard and sending him sprawling across the ground with a sweeping kick.
“Hahahahahaha!!!!” Yamamaru laughs insanely as Hayate lies motionless on the ground before him. “Not so tough anymore, are we!! And now you’re gonna pay for breaking my hand…” He murmurs, stepping on Hayate’s back.
“Aaa…AAAGGH!!!”
“Hehehe…How’s that feel there, little buddy? Anything like a broken hand? No? Well, I guess I’ll just hand to try HARDER, then!!”
The pain overwhelms Hayate as the oxen-boy stomps on his back with all his weight, the sheer force feeling as though he is crushing his lungs and forcing the breath from his body.
This is…bad…I’m really gonna die, aren’t I? I should have run away…If I had run, I could have gotten away…But…I was tired…of running…Hehehe…he…better to run than to…black out…right? No…I’d rather…Hayate’s eyes fall closed, unable to fight the pain.
“Oh, so he’s unconscious now, is he? That’s no fun…” Yamamaru sighs, bending down and picking the boy up by his hair. “Come on…we’ll just have to wake you up, then!! Rise and shine!!”
Wrapping both arms around the boy’s chest from behind, Yamamaru charges like a mad bull, straight into the concrete wall. As he hits the boy smashes face-first into the wall and falls limply to the ground, at which point Yamamaru grabs him and repeats the process several times. Finally tired, he drops the bloodied boy back to the ground, standing over him. His face tightens, looking down at the boy in anger.
“Hm. Can’t believe you’re still alive…you’re tougher than I gave you credit for, I’ll give you that. But you won’t survive for long in that state…it’s what you get for breaking my hand…”
He bends over and rifles through the smaller boy’s pockets, grabbing his wallet and thumbing through it.
“Hm, not much…but it’ll buy mom some new clothes.”
He spits on the boy in disgust.
“Sweet dreams, little Hayate.”
Walking back to where he set the grocery bag, Yamamaru knees down on the ground and places the wallet inside. His back turned, he doesn’t notice as Hayate stirs, regaining consciousness.
I’m not ready to go…yet…He crawls across the ground, leaving a trail of blood behind him. On the ground beside him he notices the debris from the broken gun, an idea snapping into his head.
This…is…
He grabs a shard in his hand, running his fingers gently over it.
It’s…sharp…like a piece of glass…Yeah…I’m taking you with me…Yamamaru…
Hayate continues to shuffle along the ground, finally reaching Yamamaru. Before he can act, however, Yamamaru spins around to face him.
“Well, you’re conscious again!!! Gotta say, I’m impressed!! But, you look pretty hurt. I think you need to rest a little longer!!” He yells, rocketing his fist down towards the boy…Hayate’s hand flies up, metal fragment clasped between his fingers…directly into Yamamaru’s exposed neck…

I’m…taking you with me…Before I go…

As Yamamaru stumbles back, blood spurts through the wound around the shard, seeping around from where the piece of metal made a home inside his jugular. Wobbling a bit, Yamamaru’s back hits the wall and he freezes, clutching his neck with his good hand. At that moment his body goes loose, as if all his bones have melted. He hacks up one last gob of blood before his liquefied body slides down the length of the wall into a heap on the ground, bleeding profusely.
“Hehehe…Got…you…uh…”
Hayate can only drink in the satisfaction of his victory for a moment before he himself drops back down to the ground, his entire world fading to white.

Selflessness. It is a complex concept that cannot be defined by those who have never seen the hospitality of a stranger. True selflessness, the kind that pushes one to give one’s all for the sake of another, the kind that makes one so self-sacrificing as to take any consequence to help someone in need…it shows itself to those who’s hearts have been purged of all desires; those who care only for the human spirit. Selflessness is a word with no definition.

What…is this place? White walls. White floors. White ceiling. Or, was there even a ceiling? A floor? Walls? Or was it just space? A white blank, nothingness. Nothing in front or behind; on either side; above or below. Just…nothing. A void. Am I dead? Oh, wait…I remember what happened, now…I died…I killed Yamamaru, and then I died. Then this…must be Hell. Heh, not nearly as glorified as all the stories make it out to be, that’s for sure.
Something wet. Water? He couldn’t be sure. Just a drop, after all. And he could feel something on him, like a blanket or something…but it was too light to be a blanket. Something tied tightly around him, maybe. But it was so…the wide began to fade. Color…sound. Slowly but surely, the emptiness fades and begins to take shape. A room…looking up at the ceiling. The above…but what was below him, then? He wasn’t floating in space…actually, there was something underneath him. Something soft and cushioned. Like a…Wait, there was that wetness again. And he could taste…well, nothing really, but there was something there. Something was…

“Good, you’re awake.”
Hayate’s eyes spring open at the sound of a voice. Standing over him is a little boy, who can’t be more than twelve years old. He has tousled blonde hair, a very pale shade as if the light itself. His eyes were a clear cerulean blue, like sparkling water. Water…That’s what that was!! The boy holds a tiny bottle to Hayate’s lips. As Hayate coughs and sputters, he pulls the tiny vial away, looking down at the older boy with a soft expression.
“Sorry about that, but we’ve had to keep you hydrated. You’ve been unconscious for going on five days now.”
Hayate sits up with a jolt, raising his upper body off the bed.
“Five days?! But I—huh?” he looks down at his body, which is wrapped tightly in bandages.
“Yeah, you were banged up pretty bad when we found you…But you weren’t the only one.”
Hayate’s eyes widen at the boy’s words.
“There was this other guy there, too. A big guy. I found him before I saw you there, but there wasn’t anything we could do. He was already dead for a good hour or so by the time I got there…had a piece of metal jammed into his jugular vein. Can be pretty safe to assume he bled to death. Yup, but you were still breathing!!”
“Yeah…that’s because I was…wait, where IS this? What happened to me?”
“Oh, that. Well I was going out for the night’s business, and I came across you, just lying there in the alleys, dying. You were unconscious, so I got you and brought you here. We fixed you up the best we could, but we didn’t think you’d make it!! It would’ve taken a normal person at least six months to recover after that, but you were only out for five days!! Gotta say, you’re tough mister!!”
“You keep saying ‘we’…”, Hayate asks confused.
“Oh, yeah. That’s me and my grandpa. This is our house you’re in now. I brought you to him after I found you, but he pretty much did all the rest. Hold on, I’ll go get ‘im!!”
The boy grins and runs off into the next room of the small house. Hayate sits up in bed, rubbing the back of his bandaged head in puzzlement.
They rescued me…if they hadn’t brought me here, I’d be dead. The saved my life…Thanks to these people, I’m alive right now…

“See Gramps? Check it out!! He’s alive after all!!”
The boy returns to the room, an old man following behind him. For an old man, he looks to be in decent shape, not sickly or broken-down or anything. His eyes are surprisingly sharp, and full of a certain wisdom that Hayate suspected could only come through old age. He has a short gray beard, giving him a sort of distinguished look. He walks over to Hayate’s bed, his little grandson trailing closely behind him.
“Well, I must say I am amazed at the speed of your recovery. I don’t know what happened to you out there, but you took quite a beating. Several broken ribs, a fractured left hand. Not only was your skin badly bruised but your insides as well. You had some internal bleeding, and if you had been out there much longer I wouldn’t have been able to treat it. You should thank God that Wataru found you when he did.”
The little boy folds his arms behind his head, grinning widely.
“You’re very lucky to be alive.”
Lucky to be alive…The words hit Hayate like a fifty-ton truck. What do I have to be lucky for? I have no family, no friends to go back to. School is meaningless to me. And now, on top of everything else…I’m a murderer.

“So mister, how long ya gonna sit here before ya tell us your name?”, the little boy asks.
“Oh, me?” he asks, realizing the boy is addressing him. Does it matter what my name is? I shouldn’t even be alive right now. I should have died…
“I’m…Hayate.” He states. “N-Nigetanda.”, bluntly adding his surname.
“Hayate? That’s a weird name. Sounds like the name of a bird!!! Hehehe!!”
Yeah, like ‘Wataru’ is any better a name, he thinks to himself.
“I’m Wataru. This is my Grandpa!!”, he yells happily, pointing up at the old man.
“My name is Ishida.”, the old man notes.
“Ishida…are you a doctor?”, he asks the old man. Ishida turns his head away, as if his past is something he isn’t proud of.
“I…used to be.”, he says plainly.
“Ishida, Wataru…N…nice to meet you both. Thanks for saving me…I guess.”
As he turns away from the pair, Wataru becomes slightly agitated.
“What do you mean, ‘I guess’? You should be thanking us!!”
“That’s enough, Wataru”, the old man warns.
“Nu-uh!! Look at this guy!! The nerve!! After all we did for him, no less!!”
“Wataru—”, Ishida says again, trying to stop his grandson from saying something he shouldn’t. Hayate just sits silently, clenching his one healthy fist.
“You better learn some humility, buddy!! If it weren’t for me and my Grandpa, you wouldn’t even be ALIVE right now!!”
“THAT’S THE POINT!!!!!”, Hayate bursts, yelling at the top of his lungs. “I SHOULDN’T be alive right now!! I didn’t ask for you to come and save me!! You have no idea what went on!! You said there was another guy, a dead guy? I KILLED HIM!!!!! I’m a murder now!! You should have just left me out there to die!! That’s what I would ha—”
Hayate is cut off at the sharp feel of a hand smack across the face. He looks up to see the old man has slapped him.
“That’s enough!!”, he grits out angrily. Wataru and Hayate are both shocked at the seemingly gentle old man’s sternness. “We didn’t bring you here so that you could talk like that. You are alive, worry about that now. You should be thankful for that.”
“How can I be THANKFUL? I’m a murderer now!!”, Hayate pleads, holding back tears. “What am I supposed to do, just go on with my life as if nothing happened?!”
“You have a lot to learn yet, boy.”, Ishida states. Hayate’s eyes widen in confusion as the old man places his hand on his head and continues to speak.
“What you have done is in the past now. Nothing you do can change that. Do you think that if you die that boy will come back to life and all will be forgiven? Such things do not happen.”
“But, I…”, Hayate tries, balling up his fist and fighting back the tears that are trying to force themselves out.
“Boy…Hayate, you said your name was?”, he asks.
“Y-yes, sir.”
“Hayate-kun, then. It is not in spite of what you have done that you must live, it is BECAUSE of it.”
“What…do you mean?”
“…We, as humans, all have things in our pasts that we cannot erase. And no matter how we regret them and wish we could take them back, nobody can reverse the flow of time. We must take what we have done…our triumphs AND our mistakes…in stride, and just go on and live to the best of our abilities.” He looks down at Hayate, past the rivers of tears that run down his face and into the depths of his eyes…the depths of his soul. “If you live, you can repent for what you have done and set things right. But if you die, that chance is gone. Don’t you see? There are no second chances…But what there ARE, are opportunities to make up for all the wrongs we have done.” He smiles. “So, do you understand?”
Hayate wipes the tears from his eyes.
“Yes, sir.” Two words, and yet, they mean worlds.
“Good boy. Now you lie down and get some rest. You’re going to need it.”
“…How come?”, he asks as the old man walks away.
“We took you in and looked after you for five days. If not for that, you would not be alive. And now, you return the favor, by helping us to stay alive.”, he says mysteriously, confusing the dark-haired boy. “As soon as you are fully recovered, you start your work under me.”
“My…work?”
“Yes. You will start your work as a thief. Now, get back to sleep.” He turns to his grandson. “Come along, Wataru.”

The old man and the boy exit the room, shutting the lights and leaving Hayate to sit in the darkness. In his solitude, he has time to reflect on his thoughts, on everything that has happened. He has time to concentrate on the old man’s words, and decide whether or not he has the power to change his own life…whether or not he WANTS to change.
Humans…we are selfish, lowlife scum who can only live for our own personal gain…, Hayate muses. If that’s the truth…then just what am I doing here? If that were the truth, then at this very moment, I would be dead. So then…just what does that make those two?
As he lies back on the bed, Hayate decides that he has plenty of time to try and understand all of this…but that he would rather just fall back into a deep sleep.