1998
Standard disclaimers apply.
The boy walked among the ruins of the building, poking at fallen concrete blocks and broken furniture with a salvaged metal bar. Lots of things could be found in wrecks like these, he knew. He'd found not a few valuables himself this way. They weren't very valuable of course. Those had probably been taken by the salvage crews already; or by the other street people who clambered over chances like these like vultures as soon as the authorities had left.
But he had been lucky now. The vultures hadn't discovered this wrecked house yet. Most of them were too busy squabbling over the ruins of the larger houses on the street. But they would come soon, the boy knew. Then he wouldn't have a chance. His small child's body would be no match for the larger, stronger ones of the other scavengers. But he had the speed and that would stand him in good stead. He had learnt when to hide and watch, and when to run. He had seen how the larger houses were always the first targets, the smaller ones left for later pickings. Which was fine by him anyway. It was easier to search smaller ruins when you were small yourself. Besides, he usually worked alone so he couldn't cover much territory during his scavenging.
Bitterly the boy smirked. Strange how and when Lady Luck decides to smile. How one's misfortune could be another's gain. Not that he was complaining. In times like these, it was get what you can and the hell with those who can't measure up.
The ruined building he was searching had been a pretty good-looking house, he remembered. All the houses on the street were. And there were families here too. Happy ones. But after the mobile suits had gone through them, they didn't look very pretty anymore. And there weren't any families anymore. Those that survived the blitz were no longer around, probably taken to shelters or taken in by other family members. Not that he cared, the boy sniffed disdainfully. He had no use for family. He never even remembered having one. He'd survived pretty well so far. Guess one didn't need families to live, after all. Being alone was just fine with him. Solo.
War wasn't pretty. And it wasn't kind. It doesn't choose its victims. And those who survived had to make sure they prevailed. Even if it meant scavenging on the remains of those less fortunate.
Something glittered in the rubble, igniting a similar glitter in the boy's dark eyes. Quickly, small, grubby fingers dug into the dirt, prying out the little treasure.
It was a locket.
The chain still hung from it, thin and broken. But the shining, yellow metal of it brought a brilliant smile to the boy's face.
Gold! It had to be!
The fence would be able to give him a good price for it surely. The boy laughed. Tonight there'd be dinner and he wouldn't have to go to bed hungry.
He turned the chain over in his small hands. Yes. Even though the clasp was broken, but there was still enough of the chain to fetch a good price. His meals were guaranteed for the next few days at least.
Silently, he gave thanks for his good fortune.
His thin fingers stroked the smooth locket. He'd never seen the like before. It was almost egg-shaped, but flatter. There was a small raised carving of a white lily on it, covered by an epoxy-like substance that was hard and cool to the touch.
"Hmm, I wonder how much this will bring?" Muttering absently to himself, he continued to examine the small object, tracing the lattice-like edging. It was delicately-worked and he knew that the craftsmanship alone was enough to guarantee an instant buy.
Soft footsteps shuffled before him, hesitant yet sure. Insistent.
The boy's head snapped up, his hand instinctively clutching the locket to his chest covetously.
"Huh?" The boy exclaimed in surprise, eyeing the small figure before him suspiciously. It was another boy, smaller and younger than himself. He couldn't have been more than four years old, the bigger boy judged.
"Whaddaya want, runt?" the older boy asked roughly, his back stiff and body poised, ready to run at a moment's notice. It wasn't unheard of to have other street children steal from one of their own.
However, the boy saw that the smaller child wasn't dressed as shabbily as a homeless child. Granted, his clothes were dirty, but it was an everyday kind of dirt. Not the grime of sleeping wherever there was convenient and safe shelter, nor the dirt that resulted from dodging and ducking the authorities whenever it became necessary to steal a few of life's basic necessities, like food. The boy's shock of short chestnut hair was reasonably clean and shone healthily.
No, this was no mere street child that stood before him, the older boy realised.
The smaller boy remained silent, looking up into the taller one's angry face with large violet-blue eyes. His cheeks were tear-stained, the tracks obvious from the grimy lines left on his skin where he had obviously wiped away the moisture. Slowly, the smaller boy raised his hand, palm up.
The taller boy flinched, growling at the other child's audacity. His fingers curled possessively around the locket and chain.
"What?!? Ya think ya can just walk up and ask for what ya want?" he yelled at the smaller child who began to tremble at the other's outburst. But the child held fast, his mouth set in a grim line as his hand remained in its former position. Demanding.
"Eeeh," the older boy sneered, taking a step backwards. "Get lost, runt! Go find your own stuff! Go back to your mommy!"
"That is my mommy's," the smaller boy whispered, his voice low and husky. "Please." The smaller boy's head bowed slightly, his eyes falling away from the other boy's face.
The older boy stared, dumbfounded. Slowly, his grip around the locket loosened. This was just another trick, wasn't it? A ploy to part him and his treasure. Street kids were born actors. It was nothing for one of them to come up with a sob story. Everything was fair on the streets. It didn't matter how you got it, just that you did.
But there was something in those eyes, and there was something in the quiet plea...
"No! It's mine! I found it!" he shouted at the child, clutching the locket once more.
The smaller boy looked up and for one moment, the other boy imagined a slight crazed veneer flashing behind the dark violet of his eyes. Without warning, the smaller boy growled and leapt for the taller boy, pushing him to the ground and wresting the locket away from his fingers. Just as quickly, the smaller child scrambled off the older boy's midriff, working at the locket with small, trembling fingers.
"You little piece of shit! Give that back, you bloody little - !"
The older boy's curses died on his lips as he sat up and saw the smaller child. The smaller boy knelt in the dirt, holding the small locket in his hands. The gold chain that came with it had slipped unnoticed onto the ground. Briefly, the older boy's eyes lit up and he snatched it away, grinning happily. The other child did not even seem to notice his actions. Or care. Fine! He can have the locket, the older boy decided. It probably wasn't worth much anyway. The chain was, and he had that.
That was all that mattered.
The bigger boy scrambled to his feet, brushing at the dirt on his already dirty clothes. As he did, his gaze fell upon the quiet figure of the smaller child. He still knelt immobile, the only movement being small shudders that wracked his small frame slightly. Once in a while, the child's breath hitched and the small head would bow lower, long chestnut bangs hiding his face from the other boy's scrutiny.
"Hey," the older boy called softly. It didn't matter that the runt had tried to steal something from him. The little kid had guts, he grinned. He admired that.
"Hey runt," he called again, nudging at a small shoulder. His eyes fell to the smaller boy's hands. The hands that held the locket in small, dirty palms. Only now, the locket was opened, revealing two small facial portraits - a man and a woman.
The older boy peered at the photographs curiously. They were a good-looking couple - the man was dark while the woman had dark honey hued hair. Both were smiling happily, their eyes lit up with youth and happiness. And life.
Just photographs.
"Your folks?" the boy asked of the smaller child, still huddled in the dirt.
The bowed head nodded imperceptibly.
A drop of moisture dropped onto the woman's photograph, blurring the image. A soft sniffle bridged the silence.
The older boy sighed. He didn't need to ask. It was obvious. Another casualty of war. Another unfortunate one.
Like him, another war orphan.
The boy stood up, walking away. After a few steps, he stopped and turned. The smaller boy still knelt in the dirt, small shoulders hunched.
"Hey, runt!" he called out to the seated figure. "Ya gonna sit there all day?"
Silence.
"Stupid kid," the boy muttered, marching back towards the smaller boy and crouching down before him.
"Hey," he whispered, peering into the tear-stained face. "They're gone. Your crying isn't gonna bring them back," he said softly, brushing back the long bangs. "Ya got other family around here?"
The smaller child shrugged, still silent.
"Ya got a name?"
Again, silence. But the small head nodded slightly.
"Well, ya wanna tell me?"
No response.
"I'll tell ya mine," the boy goaded.
Still silence.
The older boy sighed.
"Well, you can stay here and freeze tonight," he ventured again. "Or you can come with me."
Slowly the small face tilted upwards, glancing at the older boy warily.
"Hey, I ain't forcin' ya, runt. It's up to you," the older boy grinned crookedly. "But a little kid like you wouldn't last long in the streets alone. But with me around," the boy laughed confidently, letting the implication hang.
The smaller child turned his gaze back towards the opened locket, flicking it closed in the same instant.
The older boy smiled somewhat sadly. He'd been in this situation once, but there had been no one around. Nothing had scared him more then, than being alone. But he had remained alone and he'd survived. But he'd never wish that same fear on another child. Not then, not now.
"Come on," he sighed softly, standing up and extending an open hand towards the small boy.
Hesitantly, small fingers closed over his and the smaller child rose shakily to his feet.
"My name's Solo," the older boy chattered happily as they walked away from the ruined house, smaller boy in tow. "It's not my real name of course, but I don't know that one. But it's a good name, I think. I work alone, ya see..."
The smaller boy abruptly glanced up, alarm lighting up the wide violet eyes.
"Eheheh!" Solo laughed nervously. " Not now, of course, eh? Now we're partners, right? Now I ain't a solo act no more, right runt? Now, we'll be a...a...what was that word again? For two people?"
"Duo."
-owari-
End Part One
Author's notes:
Yes, I know. There are some differences from the events in Duo's Episode
Zero, but it works out. Trust me ^_^ Besides, this is an alternate reality
thing, remember? I plead creative licence!!!
Duo: Insanity! She pleads insanity!
Shi-chan: *bonking braided Shinigami pilot* Shut up!
Shirin
Please send comments to: shirini@pc.jaring.my