Wedges of love (Ai no Kusabi)/ The Space Between

Memories from the Past - Flashback

Ai no Kusabi Chapter 2

In every time, in every place, the encounter between two beings, human or inhuman, is an exciting and dramatic gamble. Depending on who one meets, luck can either smile on one, or cruelly turn its back.
Which way will the scales tip? No one can know since no knowledge or established theory exists that can explain the spiritual connection between two people...
Whether purposefully or accidentally, this encounter begins something: friendship, treachery, love, hatred, suffering, sadness...
Desiring it or not, nobody can remain immaculate.
Perhaps this is the reason why people, aspiring to swath themselves with maturity and experience, repeat such encounters and separations on the waves of time.
One night, five years ago... Riki met Iason for the first time.
"A Mongrel from the Slum has nothing to lose." That is what Riki used to tell himself then.
That night, the panting breaths of Midas, the city that never sleeps, could be heard. Multicoloured sequins sparkled charmingly, and whispering sweet and lascivious words in the ear, tried to capture the nocturnal calm and silence.
The arched doors that welcomed one into the city were really imposing. The scenes of naked women represented in their bas-reliefs came from the so-called "Vila of Myths", the culmination of eroticism and karma. Those in turn came from old legends native to the Salinas Nebula that had been passed on by oral tradition, and that the fame of Midas had again put in vogue.
The figures in these bas-reliefs were so detailed and beautiful that they seemed real, and so sensual that they made people desire to touch them.
As if trying to weave an even more entrancing spell, the rainbow of lights that washed over and lit up the multitude giddily, was no more than a poison that tore desires sleeping in the depths of their hearts up by the roots and dragged them out.
The zone inside the doors was exclusively for humans. To carry a weapon, even a knife, was forbidden. Doing full justice to the slogan of "Fun and Security" that was displayed on the doors, people were rigorously searched before crossing them.
In the streets, ringed around the casinos, the sparkle of neon never ceased.
Both men and women, young and old, dressed in their best clothes, and the enchantment of their voices, together with the burning atmosphere, seemed stagnant as mud.
The mixed multitude moved happily from one side to the other. But, skillfully avoiding the flow of people, a figure moved with such agility that it seemed to swim among them.
He was too young even to be called a "man", but neither could it be said that he was a boy needing shelter and protection.
The garments covering his long and limber limbs had a peculiar attraction that seemed to sarcastically mock the multitude weighed down by their sumptuous clothes.
He did not have a dazzling beauty, but his figure and, above all, his face gave the strong impression that whoever looked at him (even if only once) would not be able to erase the image from their memory for a long time. His indomitable and arrogant eyes were in total discordance with the surrounding environment, and this made him stand out sharply against the blur of the crowd.
This was Riki. This was Riki during the time that he was called the "Leader of Bison", and there was not a single soul in the Slum who did not know his name.
During the night, the main streets that led to the casinos were brimming with people. Among them, it was very easy to find the newly rich from the neighbourhoods of Logos and Galaria with loaded pockets.
Normally they did not carry a great deal of cash. What weighed down their pockets were credit cards. This was what Riki wanted.
Obviously, making a mistake could be fatal.
The police of the Pleasure-Zone of Midas were well-known for their violence, especially if the one being handled was one as disposable as a Mongrel from the Slum.
In spite of that, the young Mongrels continued prowling about nocturnal Midas because the high price at which they could sell the stolen cards on the sly was a hard profit to pass up. But maybe the reason was that such a thrill was, for them, a test of fire that served as a powerful stimulant, and made them forget their boring and monotonous existence.
In the Slum, all children were raised in Centers of Infancy. The boys were obligated to become independent at the age of thirteen. Each one of them was free to follow the life he wanted without intervention from anyone, but although they made great effort, no doors opened for them. It was not a question of their tenacity.
Besides, the likelihood of having the luck to find a good opportunity was one in ten thousand. The world discovered by the youths leaving the centre was covered in the sticky smell of rot that came of apathy and indolence.
A month was more than sufficient time to become badly infected by it.
Confusion, disturbance, desperation, escape from reality... all this melted and mixed, creating that thing called the stigma of the Slum.
In the lowest morality, that which was necessary for survival in that place, the only valid rule was « each one takes care of his own ass »... That was what Riki thought.
The value of a life was equivalent to that of cheap liquor, but Riki did not intend to justify his behaviour by this. He only wanted action, to be able to say "I'm alive!"
Stealing credit cards was a palpable way to test that this was certain. His alert nervous system and the sharp and furious beat of his heart, combined, generated a totally different excitement than the one produced by Stout - an almost paralyzingly high-spirit.
Midas rose in temperature, with the arrival of night.
Brimming with overdressed provincials and nouveaux-riches who observed everything that surrounded them anxiously, it was the ideal game preserve for the Slum's adolescents who did not have anything better to do to fill their spare time.
Riki pegged a possible mark, and smiled maliciously. He adjusted his step to the rhythm of his target's, maintaining a short distance between them.
In that moment, Riki marked the rhythm mentally, calculating the most opportune moment, and when again that night he was on the verge of being intoxicated by that secret pleasure, suddenly an arm appeared over his shoulder, and encircled him tightly while holding him firmly by the wrist. A chill seeped to every corner of his body, panic at having been discovered causing him a shock that tensed all his muscles. He even had the sensation that the tip of his tongue had become cold and numb.
"Your skill as a pickpocket leaves much to be desired." The voice was deep and velvety.
And yet those fingers clamped on his imprisoned right wrist with such strength that Riki bit his lips, trying to suppress a moan.
Then, another voice of a different quality sounded over his head. "Hey, what's happening? If we don't get a move on, we'll be late... Who's this? What's the matter with him?"