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YUUTO ~ CHAPTER TWO
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The sounds of metal and ground was ringing the outside sections of the grey area, sounds of beeping, people walking, and the silent but obvious sounds of lust were happening around the place. Everything was alive in the grey, and it was only but just the beginning. The hums of silence watched as everyone lived their lives, had their fun, while toxic green eyes watched everything that was down below.
It was only fair for them because in actuality he was the only – twisted – savior they had in these parts of town. Of Musutafu. The night was cold and the light was only getting brighter; there was a reason why the grey area was called grey for a reason. It was to poor attempt to hide the actual name of it, and to this day only small changes happen in this place, the entertainment district.
It saddens the beast because this is where he grew up in. This is the place that caused his insides to churn the hour, to blow away the life that was staining it to black. No, this will not become a black section! That's the last thing he wanted; however, he was no God nor a son. He was just a thing. A thing with hands, and a scythe.
Friends? Perhaps, he talked to a nice chestnut once, and a blonde idiot that thought this was a good place to visit for fun. Oh, how wrong that young boy was. Shaking his head, the monster overlooked the buildings, sounds of almost everything was happening and only for so much would he tolerate it all till he decided that playing some games would be fun.
This area was not kind but it was all they had. It was all the people had. Honest truth, the chained thing just didn't like being here despite being raised under the guise. He sighed and stood up, the lights reflecting off the metal and colours of his jacket, mask, and irises glimmered under the night. Like a wolf howling to the moon, the boy jumped down and whisked himself away from the light.
Away from the grey that was staining his clothes black, yuck. He better do something about that. He just hated the colour black, overall. But it was ironic because he had black all over his outfit, am I right? He was probably right, black just wasn't his strong suit.
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The days of shelter were a sacred thing, everything seems to become so little as times comes to an end. The days shorter; the days were longer. Everything was so far and in between; everything was just not kind enough to the children of the night. It was more of a fact to them to anyone else.
It was more of a fact to the kid covered in blue, he watched as the sky was covered in jewels, in a secret heaven protecting its predecessor from the dark truths of an inferno at dawn. It was just a fact he had to accept if he wanted to believe these days were for the best and not for the worst. It was the honest truth.
He looked down, holding the railing stabling himself as his world was crashing down, it was one of those days where those voices were loud and clear. He hated those voices, it was calling him like a mantra to fall, to believe that their ways were the truth and not just some messed up creed. He knows those voices are loud and clear, pressing him to believe them.
He doesn't know if someone else heard these voices but he knows people did fall through as he watched a batch of green have those figures behind his back. Having those eyes watch behind their back – he wished he could've done something; he doesn't know how but he knew – he felt that he could interact with them. With that boy covered in green solitude.
How was everything falling down till now? Why now? Why were people so cruel to the different? To the weak and useless? Weren't they all human? Weren't we all born into this world to thrive? To live? To survive?
The boy wasn't dumb, he basically knew what was going on in sections that weren't his own. The monster was basically told to anyone who knew how the underground worked, he knew what the scythe can do. He watches it through his dreams; through those visual pockets that basically call to him. To learn from him.
But he won't.
He wouldn't dare in a million years.
He was to be a hero. And a great one at that! He didn't need the help of those voices, of that killer! He could do it on his own. He could do himself justice by doing it on his own... but for how long? 'For how long?' He wasn't a fool to everything; he heard the stories of a monster lurking in areas you shouldn't find anything. In alleys, in rooves, attics, you call it, the monster will be somewhere.
He heard of a rumor once that they were an ordinary person, a person with a lovely mother and a present father. They lived in the grey area where something must've happened to cause the underground to rumble. No one and folks meant no one could tame the monster that basically haunted the place.
If you heard a humming sound to an odd lullaby or a sound to metal meeting ground you had to pray because whatever you did, whatever that person did... there wouldn't be but a body in said place. The white doesn't know what to expect from it, he doesn't want to believe in the rumor because it was just a rumor! Nothing else but he knows, the folks, the people, the stain in world knows it's true.
Whatever the monster became or what it used to be is unknown... to anyone for that matter. The blue looks up, the clear white stars that shimmer down, the twinkling, the serenity is refreshing; calm for that matter. For that disastrous day; people can be cruel and he knows it's true. Maybe, perhaps he can find tranquility through the night, even if that... moment... is just...
"A second."
The toxic green dodges narrowly a grey-scarf like object that tries to hunt him during his fight. During his time at night. Oh, how much it irritates him to see a spirit full of white.A spirit full of that colour he hates so damn much; black.
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