Cutscene: stage two - Its Father is the Sun
Its Father is the Sun
Characters: Hideo Matsuda
Date: October 21st, 2012
"THAT LITTLE ANIMAL BIT ME! THE FUCKING MONGREL BIT ME! LOOK AT THIS SHIT!"
The boy barely feels the way the rain spatters down on his small body as he sits on the steps outside a battered, ugly door. He can feel the way the rainwater stings at the ugly stretch of skin from his right ear to his chin that has been violently split open. He can see, from his peripherals, how diluted blood drops thick from the edge of his chin. He can. He just disconnects from it willfully.
"YOU MADE HIM, HE'S YOUR PROBLEM! HE'S NO PART OF ME! I-- SHUT UP -- SHUT. /UP/! ACTS LIKE A FUCKING ANIMAL, HE CAN STAY OUTSIDE WITH THE REST OF THE GODDAMN MUTS! GAIJIN PIECE OF SHIT!"
The voices continue to wage beyond the the sealed and peeling door. One voice, a man, drowns out the softer, more desperate voice of a woman. The boy doesn't listen to either. His vibrant, green eyes have been focused on the small handful of baby teeth resting in his open palm for the better half of an hour now, just feeling as the rain splatters against his skin. He might get a cold. He might be aware of the possibility. But it wouldn't be the first time.
Maybe he simply hopes he will.
He has long discarded the freed teeth into the wet streets below when the rain stops splattering on his pale skin. Slowly, the boy's sad, emaciated face tilts up at the shadow that interposes itself between himself and the sky. Beneath the brim of an umbrella, the boy sees a stern-faced man wearing a red suit and his black-suited entourage. His eyes blink blearily. His mouth opens as he speaks as best he can between bloody gums and gaps teeth once occupied.
"... Who're you?"
"Boy, didn't your parents tell you it's rude to demand someone's name before you introduce yourself?," comes the man's response. He crouches down, staring level and sternly into the boy's green eyes. It's the first time anyone's looked at him with anything other than disgust. That searching gaze continues, until the man seems to come to some sort of realization.
"... Maybe they didn't," he murmurs, in a tone that the boy can't place. "Well, consider this a lesson. Tell me your name, and I will tell you mine. Understand?"
The boy looks up at the man with blank, uncomprehending eyes. His lips part.
Names don't mean shit to most people.
People change them every day. I know over a dozen people who aren't usin' the same name they were born with anymore. Usually because their old names weren't worth shit anymore, but that's not the point. A name's just another piece of clothing. Some crap you throw at the world so it can pretend it knows you. In the end, it don't matter.
Not just on its own anyway. But to me...
"I sure as shit don't need lessons in proper behavior from the wizard of fuckin' Oz."
A snort escapes my lips as I stare at the words being sent to my computer screen. I guess this whole 'voice chat' is a thing now. Pain in the ass having to figure out how to make sure people don't snoop around in this new stupid shit now.
I can feel myself frowning at the new text message on this stupid-ass screen. It ain't that they're technically right. Just that they don't get the damn point. Most people don't.
"I didn't call you like this for you to regurgitate the obvious at me, you goddamn smartass. I know what I gotta do. An' I got that yuppie dragon for some firepower against their weirdo head bullshit anyway." Christ. Like this world wasn't fucking ridiculous enough already. I feel like an asshole even saying any of this crap.
Names don't mean shit. Not on their own. But anything can be important depending on how you get it.
For me, my name's the only thing I got left in this stupid-ass world that means shit.
And I'll go to hell and back to make sure it still means something.