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When the being awoke for the first time, there was nothing. No sound, and the only shed of light emanated from his bright golden eyes. He was surrounded by darkness, and he did not believe he had a reason to be anywhere else.
He was swaddled with limited mobility, like a baby in the womb--comfortable, content, and warm. He could not tell how much time passed while he was in this plane. Was he even aware of the concept of time? If he was, he had no reason to care. He was at peace here.
Occasionally, a slight fluctuation would occur in his void. It was usually nothing more than his surroundings brightening just the smallest bit or his imaginary walls becoming a little more or a little less snug. The changes were usually too insignificant for him to notice. The only event that he paused to ponder for a few seconds was a voice that reverberated in his mind like a ringing bell. He was sure it had not come from him, but he was not aware of anyone else that could have spoken. Once it sounded like heartwarming laughter, another time like an ear-piercing wail. It was always gone as suddenly as it came, so he decided not to rack his brain over it.
However, there was one change that he could not ignore, one that disturbed his peace constantly. It was a cold, aching pit in his throat that made him feel like he was about to suffocate. The first time it appeared, he tried to dismiss it, assuming that it would eventually go away. Despite his best wishes, though, it persisted for longer periods of time the more it occurred. It was as if he was close to bursting, and his usually comfortable surroundings were suddenly cramped and restricting.
The longer he remained alone in this void, the larger the pit seemed to grow. His body shuddered with low growls, and he clawed at the invisible chains that held him in this position. This pit began to feed a new feeling. Instead of a cold, sinking sensation, this one burned and writhed in his very core. It was unbearable. He wished he could douse the flame, but his wishes were in vain as it continued to eat away at his sanity.
When this feeling came, he attempted to fight against it. He tried to unravel himself, hoping that freedom would give him some kind of relief. However, his attempts were in vain, with him only being able to move a few inches before he was forced back into his former state, which felt tighter than before. The more aggressive his movements were, the quicker he would tire out. Once his energy faded, the feeling he was trying so fervently to dissipate gave way to a new one. It was similar to the first, except this one made his body quiver and his vision watery. Hiccups racked his frame, and he curled further into himself.
He could not understand this vast array of emotion. Why was his once-comfortable home suddenly so unwelcoming? Why was the only world he knew turning against him?
He tried to make sound to fill the void. He tried to call out, growl, scream; he was not sure to whom he was calling. Despite his efforts, no sound escaped from him, none that he could hear. Finally, he grew tired of this endeavor and gave up on it for a while. Was there even anyone in earshot, someone who could hear him? Considering that he was surrounded by darkness on all sides and could not even hear himself, it seemed unlikely.
As if in sync with his thoughts, he received an answer. He was just about to let go of the last shed of hope that anyone would seek him out when a voice called to him in the back of his mind. At first, it was so quiet that he was not sure he heard it at all. Even when the voice became audible, he believed his desperation was getting the best of him. Nevertheless, the voice continued to beckon him, clear as crystal.
"Hello? Can you hear me? Are you still there?"
The voice never referred to him specifically, and yet somehow he knew it was meant for him. He was confident that this voice and the laughter and cries that he used to hear before were one and the same. All the emotion that was packed into him suddenly doubled at the beautiful sound. It was heart wrenching, knowing that all this time, someone was so close and yet so far out of reach.
And they wanted him. They needed him.
"Let me out. . ."
The sound of his own voice made him freeze for a moment. This was the first time he ever attempted to utter words, much less to hear them. The very perception of his newfound companion possibly hearing them, as well, filled him with a warmth that was somehow so comforting and so agonizing at the same time.
"Let me out. . .let me out. . ."
The more he repeated this sentence, the further this new feeling bloomed and thrived. He thrashed around as much as he could, ready to escape this eternal darkness, ready to meet the person from the outside.
"Let me out! Let me out!"
His movements became more violent, his body pounding against his boundaries. His surroundings began to brighten, and his movements became freer. Then he realized that, all this time, he was dwelling within this person.
Someone who was just as lonely. . .someone who was just as angry. . .someone who was just as sorrowful as he was.
"LET ME OUT!"
When the being awoke for the second time, his surroundings were different. It was still dark, but he could make out objects, a few of them knocked over or broken. What puzzled him more was that he recognized them, as if he was familiar with them his entire life.
Toppled desk, shattered lamp, scattered action figures.
As he was observing his new environment, he heard it. The voice he was so desperate to encounter rang in his mind once again, clearer than it ever sounded before. "Hello?"
He turned to find the source of the voice. He was surprised to find--trembling in the corner of the room--a child no older than four, enveloped by an oversized t-shirt. His bird head seemed almost metaphorically identical to his own beak-like face, and fluffy black feathers stuck out messily from it. Red eyes peered longingly into his, tears welling up within them. He spoke again in a small voice.
"I. . .couldn't feel you for a while. I thought you might've left me. . ." The boy's voice cracked as he said this, and that aching pit throbbed in the being's soul once again. It was as if his emotions paralleled the boy's. How lonely the child must have been for the being to feel that way for so long! Could it be that his voice, which at one point he could not hear, was reaching the boy all along? Could it be that once his voice was gone, the boy thought he disappeared from his life completely?
"Well, I'm here now." He replied in a way that he hoped would console the child. It was the least he could do after giving up on him so easily. "I didn't leave you. So cut that out." He wiped the boy's tears before they could drip down his beak. Meanwhile, the boy gazed at him curiously before lifting his hands towards him. The being flinched backward, unfamiliar with this gesture. When the boy hesitated, he lowered himself to where he could reach. The child mimicked his actions, wiping the tears from the being's face that he did not realize had fallen. Once he was finished, the boy's hands remained on him. The being had no desire to remove them, so he allowed them to remain.
"I'm sorry."
The being tilted his head to the side as the child averted his eyes to the ground. He was bewildered by this boy's timid behavior; why was he apologizing? If anything, should he not be the one to apologize after making him believe he was lost for so long? "Huh?"
"Mama said to introduce myself when I meet new people. I haven't done that yet, have I?"
Was he really convicting himself over something so trivial? Nevertheless, he humored the child. "No, you haven't."
The edge of his beak tilted up the slightest bit, as if he was about to smile. "Fumikage. You can call me Fumikage." He made eye contact with the being once again. "What do I call you?"
The being pressed his forehead against Fumikage's. It was as if all the light from the heavens was shining down, gifting him with this child after so many torturous, lonely months. He could keep him with only one condition: to nurture and protect him until death separated them. He signed the contract with his name, declaring it as if he always knew it was meant to be.
"You can call me Dark Shadow."