Work Text:
Seven Days Prior
Naoya programmed in binary. It was how he had learned to program in his last life, back when computers were massive contraptions that ran on punch cards. These days it was a little more difficult, what with programming environments geared toward more abstracted languages, what with the advanced algorithms modern computers were capable of, but that wasn't something a person of his intellect couldn't bypass. He could spend hours staring at a computer screen, at the lines and lines of 0s and 1s, dense white walls of them on his black screen.
In those near-infinite 0s and 1s, Naoya could see the world. He could see all the possibilities at his fingertips, branching if...else statements, while loops. He wasn't just coding a program; he was predicting scenarios, providing contingencies, watching limitless futures unfold. In seven days this program would be unleashed on Tokyo, but he had already seen it run too many times to count, each time a little bit differently.
A quick, upbeat melody took Naoya's attention away from the computer screen. Naoya looked over at his cell phone, vibrating and singing just a few inches from his hand. He picked it up and slid a finger across the screen.
Leaving the train station now. Be at the restaurant soon.
Ah. That was his cue to take a meal break. Naoya left his computer running as he got up, only turning off the screen. Once he made his way to the door he slipped on the flashy haori and geta sandals he preferred, then he was out, off to meet his cousin.
His beloved cousin. They were raised like brothers in this lifetime, but that's what they actually were. The first brothers. Through all of Naoya's lives he was there, a taunt and a reminder. Part and parcel of his punishment. Once glance at him and Naoya remembered. He remembered so clearly, like it was just yesterday, like it wasn't millennia ago. He remembered his hands wrapping around a solid neck. He remembered tan skin turning lily white. He remembered the last breath leaving the body, a quick and shuddering thing. And, above all, he remembered the look in his eyes.
Not fear. Not hate. Just pity.
And afterward. . . he remembered that his cheeks were wet. That his body was shaking. And yet he could still take that lifeless body by the ankles, could still drag it over the field of wheaten gold they had been sitting in, could still throw him down into that deep, deep well. He had watched that darkness overtake him, had watched it consume him , and when he disappeared Naoya could almost believe that what had just transpired had never happened.
Then the Lord said to Cain, "Where is Abel your brother?”
"I do not know," Cain replied. "Am I my brother’s keeper?”
"Naoya."
Naoya was startled from his reverie by his voice. Apparently he had somehow walked through the busy streets of Aoyama lost in thought. But no matter; he was used to these streets and the restaurant, now right in front of him, was close to his apartment. Naoya allowed a small smile to spread over his lips.
"Sorry," Naoya said. "Were you waiting long?"
He had been leaning against the outer facade of the restaurant, but now he shrugged and straightened up. "Not really. Besides, it's not like you're usually a prompt person."
"Now, now, I'm not so bad."
The walked into the restaurant, one of those trendy new places that was continually spouting up in Aoyama. This one advertised sandwiches made with taiyaki dough and Western-style fillings, and Naoya was sure that he would hate them. They sat down at a too-small table in the corner and didn't talk much as they decided what to order. Afterward, though, conversation turned to more mundane things.
"You've been busy," he said, a man of few words this time around.
Naoya nodded. "The deadline for my project is coming up, so it's crunch time. It's an important time for you too. University entrance exams are just around the corner."
He shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Mom and Dad's expectations for me are too high, thanks to you. No matter what I'm bound to disappoint them."
Naoya's smile grew. "Do you hate me for that?"
He gave Naoya a funny look. "Why would I do that?"
Naoya's smile dropped by just a millimeter as he looked away. "You should, you know."
Another funny look, but he didn't ask any follow-up questions. Even if he had Naoya would only have given him some cryptic answer anyway.
And the Lord said, "You will wander the Earth for all eternity, lifetime after lifetime, the object of your greatest remorse always by your side. Your memories never forgotten. Your guilt never assuaged."
They made pointless conversation as they ate. It was even more so because Naoya knew, in one week's time, none of what they talked about would matter. In a week's time his whole life would change. University exams and after school activities. . . it wouldn't matter when Naoya's program was used to call demons into this world. Tokyo would be put into lockdown, barricades put up to contain the threat, the city destroyed if the demons weren't somehow dealt with. And at the middle of everything would be him .
But he was the deliberate wild card in Naoya's program. What path would he take? Which if statement would he follow? Perhaps he would side, once again, with God. Or perhaps he would realize how petty and unjust his God was. It was important, at least to Naoya, that he make the decision on his own.
As Naoya chattered on about how taiyaki dough was too sweet to make proper sandwiches out of, his mind turned to the past. Memories thousands of years old, but to him they could have happened yesterday.
“Why are you angry?" the Lord asked Cain. "Why is your face downcast? If you do what is right, will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.”
Cain turned the words over in his head. What had he done that was so wrong? He had slaved, day in and day out, on the crops he was so proud of. He had spent hours plowing the dirt in the hot sun and had the callused hands and dark, cracked skin to prove it. He had spent even more hours sowing the wheat. And then, after months of meticulous care, he had gone through his fields with a sickle and harvested every stalk, the best of which he had offered to the Lord.
Only to see that the Lord did not care for it and would not take it. And to see Him accept so easily the marbled meat and fat that Abel had given Him. They had both worked equally hard on their offerings. They had both given God the best of their products. And were they both not supposed to be equal in God's eyes? Were they both not God's children? And yet Abel's offering had been accepted while he had been accused of sin. What exactly had he done wrong?
There was a rustling noise then, and Cain looked over to see the stalks of wheat he had yet to harvest rustle and move. He had come out here, in the middle of the night, to contemplate the sacrifice that had occurred that day. He always felt most comfortable in his wheat fields. There was something serene in being surrounded by the tall, swaying stalks, in listening to the music the breeze made as it swept through the reeds.
At that moment the wheat parted like a curtain and, from within the blackness between the stalks, stepped Abel.
"You are not still angry, I hope." Abel strode to his side and sat beside him in the small clearing.
"Was I angry?" Cain asked back. He had been upset. Justifiably so, he thought. But something as strong as anger had not entered his heart at that moment. "Or was the Lord attributing emotions to me that just weren't there?"
Abel frowned and cast his eyes away. "The Lord is all-knowing, Cain. If he says it then it must be so."
Cain burned a little at Abel's words. He had been well aware of what he had been feeling at the moment; it seemed somewhat perverse that he wasn't allowed even his own emotions. He had a thousand and one things to say to Abel in response, but he bit his tongue for now. It was better to keep the peace between them. And Cain had to admit that this was nice, sitting out here with his brother, in this enclosed space. Their world was so small even if the physical one was large. Just the four of them; and here, in this small clearing, their world of four seemed to narrow to two.
Unfortunately, as Abel's words mixed together with Cain's stewing thoughts, Cain felt less and less able to keep from saying anything. Abel was his brother, his only friend, and one-fourth of the world as he knew it. If there was anyone who would understand him, who would empathize with him, it should be Abel.
"I was not angry," Cain said. "And what sin had I committed? Certainly not that of envy. I was nothing but joyful when your sacrifice was accepted. But what reason was there for mine to be ignored?"
"Perhaps you did not offer him the best of your wheat," Abel replied. "Perhaps you did not put in the effort required of an offering to our Lord."
"How can you accuse me of that?" Cain asked, increasingly incredulous. He had not been angry before-perhaps disappointed and confused-but he was starting to feel the embers of anger burn a little in his heart. "How can you take His side over mine, your only brother? You know me the best and you know what kind of character I am."
"He is our Lord!" Abel said, his voice rising in volume. His face mirrored the incredulity that Cain felt. "How can I not take His side over anyone else's?"
"You saw how much effort and toil was put into my crops. You saw how only the best wheat was picked out to offer Him. It is only by His capricious whim that the sacrifice was not accepted." Cain sneered at the thought. "Maybe it is only lust for blood that made Him look so favorably on your offering."
The next thing Cain knew a fist collided into the side of his face. He stumbled to the side but caught himself before falling. He held a hand to his stinging cheek as he turned his gaze back on Abel, shock more than pain intensifying the anger in his heart. "Abel, how could you lay a hand on your own brother?"
"It is only by His grace that we are even here today," Abel said, teeth grit and eyes burning. "To speak such ill of Him, you are no brother of mine."
It was a cool night, but at that moment Cain felt about twenty degrees colder. "Your own flesh and blood, and you would cast me aside? For what? For a few questions, for an unwillingness to follow blindly what I perceive to be unjust?"
"God is never unjust. To even suggest it is the devil's work. I do not know who you are, but you are not my brother."
And the betrayal might as well have been a physical one, so sharply did Cain feel the dagger in his heart. Abel turned to walk away, and it was the sight of his retreating back that pushed Cain over the edge. As though he were turning his back from him forever, as though he were breaking all ties between them.
Cain acted before he thought. It might have started with a punch, he wasn't sure, but then they were rolling into the wheat fields, neither of them taking it easy on the other. The wind was knocked out of him by an elbow in his chest, but then his hands were wrapping around Abel's throat, and then frantic fingernails were clawing at his cheeks, and then. . . and then, there was stillness.
After Naoya and his cousin finished dinner, they walked out of the restaurant. As they did, he slipped his large headphones over his ears, preparing for his train ride home.
"One of these lifetimes," Naoya said, "I'd like to see you take my side over His."
He lifted the headphones off a little bit and turned to look at Naoya. "Sorry. Did you say something?"
Naoya smiled and shook his head. "Nothing important."
Besides, maybe this lifetime would be the one. Naoya would just have to wait and see.