Fan Fiction ❯ Tragedy ❯ Tragedy ( One-Shot )

Tragedy

Sometimes I think this world couldn't get any worse. But then I see that the people never change: they continually make the same mistakes… Even the same mistakes that they've made thousands and thousands of years ago. Sometimes I just give up on them.

Satori Hirowa walked through the crowded subway station, after crossing the pass where one would buy a ticket. The subway station was always crowded, and Satori seemed always to get there at the worse possible time.

No one ever saw Satori, he would try to push through a crowd, being polite and saying excuse me. Eventually having just to shove through the crowd, receiving dirty looks for his rudeness.

Satori stopped in front of the tracks, waiting for the subway car to come. He sighed.

Maybe I could just jump. Back against the tracks, eyes looking at the dirty ceiling… Like anyone would notice… Satori though, sighing again.

Satori was somewhat suicidal, though he never brought himself finally to end it. Many times, he tried to slit his wrists, and even once a failed attempt to hang himself. He always seemed to mock himself after attempting to kill himself, often wondering why people would choose to kill themselves in the most elaborate ways.

The sound of the train coming caused little sensation in Satori, through his deep thinking. He finally recognized the sound, looking in the direction the train was coming from.

I could just… jump now, the driver wouldn't even have time to stop… Someone would say I was accidentally pushed, with how crowded this place is, it wouldn't be too unbelievable… But I doubt anyone would know what the car hit.

The train came to a stop, Satori slowly walked in, his sullen and depressing walk seemed to affect everyone. Satori didn't sit, everywhere he tried to a person would move and take the seat before he even got a chance to sit. The person wouldn't even look up when Satori glared at him or her, as if he wasn't there. With Satori left standing, he reacted with each jolt in the track, throwing his body this was and that. No one even noticed, just wondered what that small voice was when Satori would attempt to defy laws of physics.

The train stopped at the subway station, the first along the route. This being Satori's stop, he walked off the train in the same state. Seeming to become conscious, he picked himself up, making himself seem as casual and ordinary, as to avoid stares… If anyone would stare.

It was night, the moon waxing, almost one day from being a full moon.

The streets were brightly lit with street lamps, their halogen glow showing more of the street than an ordinary light would. Satori continued to walk to his home, a small little apartment in the worst housing complex in the city. Satori walked through the business district, the neon signs giving off a bright and, for some, iridescent glow along the streets. Expensive cars passed at a slow speed, almost as if they were showing off their fancy spending.

Satori didn't bother to look into the store windows, as he had done so a thousand times before, and he could predict almost anything that would be in the display case. He didn't need to keep up with current trends; people did it for him. Those that talked loudest generally spoke of fads, so he was always able to overhear all the latest.

The business district, while teeming with high-end entrepreneurs and high-class citizens, was small. He came to the residential district, a crowded metropolis of buildings, mostly apartment buildings. But also were hotels and motels, right along the edge of the residential district. High-class citizens could afford the climbing rate of home-ownership, while the rest of the population had to live with another family while more apartment buildings were being built, expanded into the wilderness that surrounded the small city on one side, destroying part of the city's history. The city was meant to hold twenty-five thousand at first build, but has grown to a tremendous three hundred thousand through childbirth and newly found longevity. The expected years of life amounted to one hundred twenty with new technology.

Satori lived in the old part of the residential district. The one first built, which comfortably holds twenty-five thousand of the city's vagrants and other occupations not "accepted" by society.

Walking past the soft glow that inhabited the residential district, he came upon the old district, warmly called the slums. Apartment build number thirty-two, which had the occupation space of five hundred. The largest in the area, even surpassing the new buildings. Unfortunately, the building was deteriorating faster than the city and life itself, and was predicted that all ten thousand residents would have to move out within the next year, or face possible death. The city doesn't care about the old citizens and those unrecognized, just what new could be had.

Apartment building thirty-two. Satori climbed it's rotting steps, his worn boots making no sound, except for the creaking of the boards. Whores waited along the peeling walls of the building, stoned generally, occasionally offering Satori a small "favor." Satori ignored them as he climbed.

Well, I guess some people notice me… Satori though with a sigh.

Room thirty, three floors up. Ten rooms on each floor, the apartment building holding ten thousand. To avoid an unbelievably tall building, it was cut in two, each holding twenty-five floors.

Taking his key from his jacket pocket, he unlocked the door, not bothering to be quiet, even though it was the middle of the night. Half of the residents drunk or stoned, he found no point in trying to be polite. No one ever was to him.

He walked in, throwing off his light grey jacket, and sat on his sofa, which was to the point it could break at any moment. With only a broken television, he had absolutely nothing to do. So he thought. He would always think.

What would it be like to die? Is it a release? Do it bear more grief than this world does? Would I be forced to come back, as though I had not done something I was suppose to do in this life?

Endless questions, he always thought of new ones. Somehow, in the deep recesses of his mind, always lingered a question he had not thought of. Always a question he had never considered would come to him.

Do we ever really die?

Tonight's question. Thinking and thinking, his endless thinking. For long hours, he thought of this question, exploring all possibilities of every answer, every question that would come from that question.

If we don't die, what happens? Do we live through another person? Does our spirit - our soul - continue to do what it needs to do, finally gaining "death" when it ends it's task? Are we recycled, immediately after dying we return to somewhere, something, and never truly get to experience death?

Into the morning he thought, eyes bloodshot from staying awake all night, stomach rumbling from lack of food, mouth parched from lack of water. He did not care about any of this. He only wanted his answer. Every question he could think he could find an answer. But this eluded him. He had no idea how one would know, how one could find out.

Ask one already dead.

But so unreal. He never believed you could communicate with the dead, as he believe death brought something the newly-dead would find more comforting - better - than life itself.

Die.

Just die. His last thought. His breath caught in his chest. He had found it. The only way he would find the answer to this question. Die. His heart beat more rapidly, he mouth became dryer and dryer, forgetting his stomach's groans. His eyelids closed; his body had forgotten everything, save for breathing and heartbeats. How he would die, though. How would he do it? Some many choices, yet all had failed him times before when he had attempted it. Slitting his wrist, he supposed, was the best method, but he couldn't bear the pain, the soft liquid oozing from the open slashes. Always he soon covered it. Hanging would not suffice; he did not like the cruelty and primitiveness it brought upon him and others. Although there were no others.

A knock at the door. Satori's mind returned to him, he was reminded anew of the pain and aching of his body.

A drunk… Just leave me alone! He yelled in his mind.

The knocking continued here and there, the drunk seeming to stubborn ever to give up.

Satori walked to his sparse kitchen, the wallpaper peeling at a vicious rate. He opened his refrigerator, finding but condiments and deli meat a day away from expiring. Taking the meat and only pure water he had, he viciously ripped into both, the smell of the meat overwhelming his senses.

The knocking continued.

Finished, Satori walked to the door, looking through the peep hole to make sure it actually was a drunk, as he had come to trust nobody in this neighborhood.

Satori opened the door, "What do you want?!" he groaned.

"Why didn't you open the door earlier?!?" The stubborn and obviously angry drunk question maliciously. He was holding a bottle of emptied liquor in his right hand.

"I was busy. And I didn't hear you knocking until just now." Satori lied.

"Like a bag of shit, you didn't hear me. I woke your neighbors for Christ's fuck!"

"Look, would you please leave? I really have things I have to do…" Satori started, pushing the drunk, who had stumbled into his apartment, out the door.

"No! You don't have anything to do… I've been watching you for the past three days!! You never do anything!" The drunk pushed back.

"Well, now I do have something to do!" Satori yelled with urgency.

The drunk continued to fight against Satori, trying to push his way inside. Satori continually pushed back, at times getting him out of the door, but not fast enough to close it.

Satori, with a lack of sleep, had no emotionally and rational control. After so many failed attempts and weakening of himself, he broke down in tears, his mind a torrent of thoughts.

I wish I could die! Give it to me! God, please!!! Let me die! One of Satori's thoughts, the most prominent of them all.

As if granting his wish, the drunk seemed to take on a new anger, tired of his rejection from Satori. He yelled, bringing his emptied bottle into the air, Satori collapsing to the floor, feeling the drunk stop his advance into the apartment. The drunk brought the bottle down on Satori's head, causing Satori to fall onto his stomach, convulsing at random times. Blood poured from Satori's head at an aggressive rate, the drunk standing confused and bewildered.

He looked at the broken bottle, staring in disbelief. He dropped the bottle, running from Satori's body.

"God, that stupid drunk has finally stopped…" one of Satori's neighbors, a whore, said.

"Good… Now back to where we were…" Her client said, grabbing her hips aggressively.

The woman slapped his head, causing him to withdraw from his advance.

"Stupid whore! I'm only paying you half for that!"

The woman looked back in disgust, "I don't care what you pay me, stupid fuck!"

The woman stormed out of the room, closing the door and attaching a string across the door to a broken side of the wall, as if this has happened before.

She sighed and walked across the hallway to Satori's open door. She looked inside and saw Satori's body, a pool of blood around his body. She gasped and covered her mouth with her hand, tears starting to well in her eyes. She ran across the hall and busted open the door, walking in on another whore and her client. The client yelled angrily and embarrassed, but the woman walked past them into the apartment's kitchen. She grabbed the phone and dialed emergency…

So this is my answer…