Chapter Text
The cycle of life contained two components to function. Life and death. Life is an obvious necessity. Mothers had to give birth to young to continue their legacies, their empire, their genes. Death, however, was a foreboding necessity. A force keeping the population under control. Many feeble mortals clung to the belief that death was cruel and unnecessary. Such corporeal ideologies were something to be scoffed at. And yet…
Gundham Tanaka lay staring at his ceiling, watching the gentle sway of the ceiling fan. The tall darkly-dressed boy could hear the loud buzz of cicadas just outside of his window, softened just so by the closed glass. The house had seemed to grow quieter and colder without his mother, despite the fact it was the dead of summer. Giving a sigh, the boy closed his eyes.
It is the natural order for death to take those into the beyond. So why… Why is it painful?
Mulling over the thought, phrased over in a thousand different ways, Gundham placed the back of his hand over his head. It had been nearly a month since the passing. Life was supposed to be parading on, he at the forefront of it all. He was supposed to lead all of his beasts into the fatal battle of Life, in which he knew all of his loyal friends would lose the inevitable battle to death. Even he, Gundham Tanaka, Overlord of the Ice and Shadows, was not immune, he just had a longer battle.
“Is he still there..?”
“Of course he is, just look at him!”
“Don’t be harsh, he’s so lonely without the Matriarch… “
Gundham heard each of the voices, the voices only he could know. A solace he took, knowing that they could not betray him amongst his own spiteful species.
“I can hear you, my Devas.” Gundham gave a half-hearted chiding. He heard a quiet, worried chitter amongst his closest beasts. Gundham’s voice lacked a certain firmness to it now. They were concerned for him, after all. Not just because he was their caretaker, but because they had such a close bond. Perhaps what mortals would call ‘friends’ .
Gundham held a hand on his face, dragging it down. His Devas were not even an arms-length away, squabbling amongst themselves on the coffee table. With heavy movements, the lanky boy sat upright. His legs sprawled out on the floor, dangled from the couch’s seat. His arms were beside himself just as haphazardly placed. It was not physically difficult, however, he found that his heavy mind made every menial task a feat in and of itself.
Because of this, Gundham couldn’t help but feel a heavy weight of guilt. He could hardly take care of himself. It was pathetic , it was lowly , it was unbefitting to someone like himself. Hope’s Peak seemed as if it was just around the corner. It was only a few months until he would have to make the move to the city where Hope’s Peak was located. He was counting the days not out of excitement, but rather a dread. It felt like marking down days until he had to make a march to his very death.
How would his classmates take to such a piteous human-- No. He was anything but that. I may be evil, but I am not human. Humans were terrible creatures that destroyed themselves from the inside, destroying all that was precious in the world.
Without realizing it, his fingers were digging into the blanket draped around himself, gripping into the soft fabric.
He was shaking, and he could feel his eyes beginning to water. Beginning to betray him. Gundham hated crying, he despised it. It made him think about when he was younger, and couldn't help crying, being punished by that demon. But no, crying is not weak, he reminded himself. He repeated this in his head a few times, holding a hand over his eyes as he fought back for control over himself.
Uncovering his eyes, he was met with a nervous chitter among his most beloved animals. They had helped him through this curse over his mind, and they still were. After his mother's passing, he did not become overtly suicidal, but very self-destructive with no intent of self-preservation. In his mind at the darkest hours, the week after her death, he did not care if he died while harming himself. If he did, then that was fate's decision to bring him back to his mother.
At the very least, once he was in a better mindset, his beloved Devas made him cover his damaged, scarred arm in gauze. At the very least, it was a reminder of their care. He cursed himself many times over for going against his own morals. The weak do not survive, why had he? It filled him with a vast discomfort. Gundham tried to wave this lapse of character off as a hex of some sort. Of what caliber he did not know. Yet, he had convinced himself of it thoroughly.
"If it will cease your fervorous worry… I shall go out and get some fresh air." Gundham's words were filled with promise, yet his body seemed reluctant to follow through with the orders. He stood up with a disgruntled noise, looking absentmindedly over to his room. Perhaps he should change into something a bit cooler, it was summer, after all. With a bit of thought and a click of his tongue, he walked to his room to change into more appropriate clothing.
The Devas were left amongst themselves once more on the coffee table.
"This will help him feel better…?" San-D, the hopeful white-and-orange chirped.
"He needs something different!" Jum-P, the sleepy white-and-brown yawned, stretching his small limbs.
"It could be dangerous..." Cham-P, the large golden-orange shook his head.
“He's just a pup!" Maga-Z, the white-and-brown aggressive one trilled, gathering the attention of the rest.
The chatter hung in the air. It was true, he was still technically a child. His care for them often made them forget that he was relatively inexperienced navigating his own kind. Socially, his kind seemed to push him away due to his loud and unforgiving nature. They knew the dangers of human beings, yet every beast had their danger. Hell, they had their dangers. The four Devas tried to push him to make friends with other humans. Gundham merely entertained the fact, before dismissing it completely.
“ The poor pup is hopeless.. ” Cham-P sighed. The rest seemed to chitter in a low agreement, with no more real conversation starting up again.
The silence was finally broken as the tall boy wandered back into the living room, fussing with the sleeves of his light white jacket. Giving a sigh, he placed each one of his small friends in a pocket of his jacket. San-D and Maga-Z were placed up top on two separate chest pockets, with Cham-P and Jum-P being placed into the lower pockets at the bottom of the jacket.
The boy glanced over to a mirror his mother placed upon the wall. It took him a moment to recognize himself. He was paler than usual, and dark circles laid heavy under his eyes. In a way, he saw the same fragility in himself that he saw in his mother. His thoughts always connected everything to her. Gundham groaned, placing a palm over his eye. It still harbored a dull ache. Tattoos did hurt even a few days afterward, didn’t they? Patting over his face with both hands, he attempted to get a better grip onto himself.
This is not the time to lay weak and mope. The Devas want me to move on. They despise such a wretched curse as much as I do. Ridiculous. How feeble have I become?
Gundham found himself taking his first steps out of the door, out into the sunlight, softened by trees just nearby his quaint house. He took a moment, looking around. His small little town, surrounded by a grandiose forest. Normally, he would give an ever-so-faint smile, admiring its beauty. It’s not that he didn’t admire it any longer, it just somehow wasn’t enough. Slowly, he moved his buckled combat boots, sinking into the soft dirt just beneath it. The dirt began to ruggedly fade to concrete, and with a fumbling step, he found himself wandering the crumbled streets of his small hometown.
An odd, overwhelming feeling came over him. Homesickness, yet… With a somber undertone just beneath. Why? This place was his mortal home. Aimlessly, his legs wandered on their own, and Gundham could feel his thoughts, his brain, go numb. In those quiet moments wandering the town at sunset, he felt neither happiness nor pain. Just… A vast emptiness. He was unsure if he preferred this to moping, but he could not think like this anyway. It was frustrating, yet did not bother him.
An odd juxtaposition… he noted.
Thoughts drifted and flitted through the air like butterflies in the soft breeze. It was rare especially now for his thoughts to calm like this. Gundham began to wander into the forest, his balance swaying ever so slightly. He stopped once he reached his grove, his own personal oasis he had created. It had grown quite dark now, and he sat himself down into a tangle of roots, just perfectly forming a space to sit and rest. His heavy head tilted upwards to the sky, and he could start to see the beginnings of stars peaking out just behind clouds. He closed his eyes, and before he knew it, he drifted down hard into the enchanted land of dreams. Even his small companions, the Devas, were curled up snugly within the pockets of their caregiver.