Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Despairing Hope ❯ One-Shot
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By: chaoticdemon 
A yami and hikari discuss life and reality as they know it. No pairings.
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense / Supernatural / Drama | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 01.04.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 644 | Visits: 465 | Status: Completed
A yami and hikari discuss life and reality as they know it. No pairings.
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense / Supernatural / Drama | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 01.04.2007 | Pages: 1 | Words: 644 | Visits: 465 | Status: Completed
This is my second foray into the magical land of Yu-Gi-Oh! fan fiction. I’ll tell you right now that I only for sure know what happens in the manga released in the U.S. in the graphic novel format. I know a few spoilers from later on, but not many. So just work with me here. Right. This story was spawned while discussing John Gardener’s Grendel in English class. Due to this, quite a few lines in the story were modified/stolen from the novel. I hope I didn’t try to force the quotes to fit too much… Somehow I managed to make it through the entire fic without once mentioning a single name…
Disclaimer: I own neither Yu-Gi-Oh! nor the lines I took from Grendel.
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My eyes remain locked onto his, and his onto mine. Water drips slowly in the background, whispering patterns of words my sanity can barely resist. His hair glows an ethereal blue. Mine is probably the same. The glittering treasure cast upon the floor with a meticulous lack of care is painted the same hue. In the dark of his soul room, the battle continues.
“You’re lying!” The sound of my outburst sounds ridiculous and pathetic to my ears. I already know I’ve lost and am now only desperately clinging to the few remaining slivers of my shattered illusion.
He shakes his head and grins fleeringly at me. ‘Ah, monstrous stupidity of childhood, unreasonable hope!’ his eyes seem to say. “My poor, gullible hikari”
Those four words shake me to the core for some reason. “He really means what he says about friendship and the Heart of the Cards.” In my heart I know it’s not true.
His eyes bear the same mocking expression as before. “It’s a theory,” he says, “A meaningless theory.” he pauses a moment and rolls his eyes disdainfully. “He’d map out the roads through Hell with his crackpot theories”
“But the stories”
“Are stories,” he frowns, “The storyteller rewrites history to give men hope. Tell me, did Malik’s scars hurt less because it was his duty? Was my village massacred more gently because sweet songbirds sang”
I look down, ashamed. “But…” I trail off and try to gather my thoughts. “But that’s all in the past. You don’t have to be the same as you were back then.”
His amusement is back. “Why wouldn’t I be?” At my blank expression, he elaborates. “I improve them! Don’t you see? I stimulate them! I make them think and scheme. I drive them to all that makes them what they are for as long as they last. I am, so to speak, the brute existent by which they learn to define themselves. If I withdraw, I’ll be instantly replaced. Brute existents, you know, are a dime a dozen. No sentimental trash, then. It’s all the same in the end anyway. No difference, really”
I open my mouth to say something in their defense, but quickly close it. I can think of no words with which to challenge him. My knees give way and I fall to the ground in a lunatic fit of religion, cursing and blessing all I could think of with in the name of every false idol I know.
In the far reaches of my vision I see him watching me almost pityingly. He mutters something so softly I can barely hear him. “Let them wander the fog-roads of Hell.”
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What did you think? I was trying to play around with tension, so if you have any criticism on that it would be greatly appreciated in a review.
Disclaimer: I own neither Yu-Gi-Oh! nor the lines I took from Grendel.
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My eyes remain locked onto his, and his onto mine. Water drips slowly in the background, whispering patterns of words my sanity can barely resist. His hair glows an ethereal blue. Mine is probably the same. The glittering treasure cast upon the floor with a meticulous lack of care is painted the same hue. In the dark of his soul room, the battle continues.
“You’re lying!” The sound of my outburst sounds ridiculous and pathetic to my ears. I already know I’ve lost and am now only desperately clinging to the few remaining slivers of my shattered illusion.
He shakes his head and grins fleeringly at me. ‘Ah, monstrous stupidity of childhood, unreasonable hope!’ his eyes seem to say. “My poor, gullible hikari”
Those four words shake me to the core for some reason. “He really means what he says about friendship and the Heart of the Cards.” In my heart I know it’s not true.
His eyes bear the same mocking expression as before. “It’s a theory,” he says, “A meaningless theory.” he pauses a moment and rolls his eyes disdainfully. “He’d map out the roads through Hell with his crackpot theories”
“But the stories”
“Are stories,” he frowns, “The storyteller rewrites history to give men hope. Tell me, did Malik’s scars hurt less because it was his duty? Was my village massacred more gently because sweet songbirds sang”
I look down, ashamed. “But…” I trail off and try to gather my thoughts. “But that’s all in the past. You don’t have to be the same as you were back then.”
His amusement is back. “Why wouldn’t I be?” At my blank expression, he elaborates. “I improve them! Don’t you see? I stimulate them! I make them think and scheme. I drive them to all that makes them what they are for as long as they last. I am, so to speak, the brute existent by which they learn to define themselves. If I withdraw, I’ll be instantly replaced. Brute existents, you know, are a dime a dozen. No sentimental trash, then. It’s all the same in the end anyway. No difference, really”
I open my mouth to say something in their defense, but quickly close it. I can think of no words with which to challenge him. My knees give way and I fall to the ground in a lunatic fit of religion, cursing and blessing all I could think of with in the name of every false idol I know.
In the far reaches of my vision I see him watching me almost pityingly. He mutters something so softly I can barely hear him. “Let them wander the fog-roads of Hell.”
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What did you think? I was trying to play around with tension, so if you have any criticism on that it would be greatly appreciated in a review.