Chapter Text
Humans wanted to wear the clothes of the god.
They wanted to talk like and rule like gods.
But the god did not allow these thoughts of the human.
People became more animal-like than animals after the world was destroyed...
To rule each other, they killed one another with swords in their hands.
Then one day...
There was a rumour that a girl with special talents was among them...
(T-ARA Day by Day MV, Drama Version)
The wind is roaring as he races down the empty highway, leather jacket zipped tight to protect himself from the sting of wind buffeting past him. The path forward feels endless, an unwinding path of concrete that is bleached nearly white from the sun. On either side, the road gives way to dry gravel and yellow, hard-packed earth. In the distance, rocks, and in the far distance, some more rocks.
It is terribly monotonous, but monotonous as it may seem, there are still cracks and even chunks of road broken or outright missing. Keith keeps an eye out for anything uneven that might catch on his bike’s wheels and send him flying, but for the most part, he knows his way.
Years of traversing these roads have had him memorizing the ins and outs of the obstacle courses making up what used to be a flourishing highway network throughout the country. These days, with no one caring enough to maintain them, they have all fallen into disrepair. It hardly matters since there are very few now who even care to use them.
Perhaps it is no surprise that a government with a rotten core could only lead to its peoples’ ruin.
The new landscape is hesitant, cautious, and difficult to endure.
Too many battles have already been fought in this new world. Uprisings and revolutions; the flooding out of the previous old and corrupted regimes only means a blank stage for a new era, and it is too easy for fresh sets of power-hungry claws to clamber their way to the top in a world of instability. Those with brutal intentions made themselves known with terrific displays of their strength, attracting the ambitious and weak-willed alike.
It’s hard to find a safe haven these days amongst the leftover cities and towns, but they can be found if one knew were to look.
At the same time, there were still those who wished to keep to their own, living like nomads in this barren world.
The increasing volume of an engine’s rumble behind him has Keith casting a brief look into his mirror. A familiar figure, clad in just as much black as himself and wearing an impressively shiny helmet with the visor down, speeds up next to him.
They turn to give each other a quick look and then Keith smirks, knowing there’s no way for the other to see it, before revving his bike up even more. He speeds forward. An indignant yell follows after him and he snickers. They travel that way for a while, racing each other all along the cracked roads.
At some point, they swerve off the highway. Their bikes kick up huge clouds of dust as they continue across the desert. The sun is high in the sky when they finally see what they’re looking for. It looks like a line in the ground from this distance, but it gradually gets wider and fuller. They begin to slow down.
With a flourish, Keith twists his handlebars, his bike angling and skidding to a halt, dangerously close at the edge of a large canyon. Loose pieces of rock knock each other as they tumble down to the bottom.
He tugs off his helmet, propping it against his side. He stares down into the abyss as his companion rolls to a more gentle stop than he did. His bangs are sticking to his forehead with sweat, but he pays it no mind. Instead, he tears his gaze away from the canyon.
“Well,” he says. “Here again.”
Shiro pulls off his helmet before replying, shaking off his cropped black hair.
“You say that every time,” he says.
“Because it’s how I feel every time,” Keith replies, scowling.
Shiro laughs.
“Pouting’s not going to do anything for you. Come on,” he says while storing away his helmet. He pulls out some rope from his backpack. “Ready to go?”
Heaving a sigh, Keith takes the rope from Shiro’s hand and walks around the nearby ledge, peering down. He points to the side of the rockface that seems to go down more gradually.
“How about there?”
Shiro peers over and smiles.
“Looks good, let’s go.”
The rocks crunch loudly beneath Keith’s feet as he finally sets foot at the bottom of the canyon. He dusts his hands off and looks around while Shiro packs away their rope and picks. There are still yellow rocks down here just like there are above, but at this depth, he can also see striations and compact lines of browns and oranges. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out square device and powers it on. A soft beeping begins to emit from it.
“It’s caught scent of something already?” Shiro muses. He peers over Keith’s shoulder.
“Well, we knew where to look this time.” Keith holds the device in front of him, slowly bringing it from left to right and left again. The flashing light is red, but when Keith moves slow enough, it flickers green for a just a second. He grins. “Bingo.”
Shiro lets out a bark of laughter behind him and Keith rolls his eyes at his brother’s mirth. He starts forward without notice in retaliation, although it doesn’t take long for Shiro to catch up.
“You’ve got such old people speak in you,” Shiro says with a final chuckle.
“Yes yes,” Keith says drily, “and you would only know because you’re old yourself.”
Shiro pushes his shoulder at that comment.
“How rude.” He’s pouting. “I’m not that old.”
Keith looks away from the tracker in his hand and looks over with a raised brow.
“You were literally talking about how you found a white hair this morning.”
“That was just one,” Shiro stresses. “And who do you think is responsible for it anyway!”
Keith yelps and tries to duck when Shiro lunges for him, but for all that he is much faster on a bike, Shiro has faster reflexes in general. He protests as Shiro catches him in a headlock and ruffles his shaggy black hair.
“Ugh I get it Shiro, I get it, I’m sorry! I’m sorry for calling you old,” he says, trying to pry himself from Shiro’s strong grip. Shiro sniffs in that fake offended way he does but smiles when he lets go of Keith. Keith immediately takes a few steps away, trying to fix his hair before calling out, “even though you are old, you old man!”
He cackles at Shiro’s affronted expression, continuing to take a few steps back. It’s too late when he notices the worry start to seep into Shiro’s face, too late when he steps back and feels nothing where rock should have been.
Too late to notice the hole that was hiding innocently behind him in the uneven ground.
“Keith!”
He flails as he falls backwards, reaching towards Shiro, but the weight of his backpack works against him and pulls him down.
His cry echoes as he falls.