Salvation of the Scum Fifth Prince

The skies were beautiful, colored in their purple-blue haze, with twinkling sprinkles of light dancing across the dark canvas. It was beautiful, even when this land was anything but.

From the windows, through the clear glass, the town could be seen. Gentle lights illuminated the edges of the buildings in their soft hue, and silence filled the stone streets. Almost as if everything were normal, when normal was so far away.

Soren stood up, pushing the doors open as he stepped outside, crouching to the floor lazily. His legs stuck between the railings, icy eyes reflecting the thousand crystals of night sky.

It was a pretty view; he found.

A strange time to think of such things, but was there ever a right time? Under the night's gaze, he found himself thinking of several things.

They would expose the Haze King for who he was, crushing one of the Third religions' support. If the leader wished to become a God, then Soren needed only to take away his ability to do so.

Then what?

Where would he go after?

Raphael could deal with the rest, and the end of the world could be prevented so long as Soren left behind the information he knew. Because that was his only use, really. The knowledge of the original novel.

As used to he was about the current situation, the chattering people around him, the bonds that clearly existed, he felt unsettled.

That everything would disappear, as it always did.

He closed his eyes, the breeze brushing against his skin and submerging him in his own memories. Of the apocalypse.

"I'm sorry." they’d say, after leaving him behind with guilt painted on their face — along with relief, that they'd live, even if he did not.

"You're a monster!" they'd scream after watching him emerge from the collapse of corpses littered on the ground, drenched in his own crimson colour.

Yet, "Save me!" they'd plead, when he was the only option they had left.

Apathetic, he was, when he'd watch their sobering pleas and turn away. He didn't want to be involved. He wanted to stay away. From people, from feelings — both theirs and his own.

A lurking hatred simmered in his soul, buried beneath indifference and apathy.

Soren despised himself.

"Little prince, what're you doing?" The voice tore him away from wandering and meaningless thoughts, rippling through his mind.

Soren lifted his eyes, still clouded in his murky thoughts. Something crossed Raphael's eyes — worry, confusion, curiosity — as he noticed the haze. But he didn't pry. No, it wasn't necessarily the time to.

Although pry he might, at a later date.

The prince turned his eyes back to the skies above. "Thinking."

"A bland reply as always." chuckled Raphael as he draped his arms over the railing, staring at the same sight as the other.

Earlier, Raphael had murmured thanks into Soren's ears, and the latter had been struck numb, unable to respond. It was only several moments later than Raphael got off, excusing himself .

Soren had been left still lying on the bed, confused.

Thank you for what? He couldn't understand.

Only Raphael knew the many meanings behind the thanks. For coming back, for returning, for not betraying. It was necessarily thanks that Soren survived, but that he didn't abandon Raphael after the raw truth of what might happened crashed onto him.

Saving the world was not easy, and it was idealistic, too. It was easy to make promises without understanding the gravity of the situation.

And Soren had understood them. Yet he still returned.

But Soren couldn't predict these thoughts of Raphael, and glanced at him lightly from the corner of his eyes. The moonlight on his jawlines, enunciating his features as his night eyes peeked from under dark lashes. A history in his gaze, intertwined with more emotions than Soren could ever begin to imagine.

Raphael was a hero, and that was undoubtably true. A person normally far away from Soren, from the hellish killing and chilling cruelness.

"Say, little prince, what will you do after all this is over?"

Soren hesitated. "Leave."

"And where will you go this time?"

"I don't know." The night must've made people strange, and these floating memories even stranger. "Anywhere."

Raphael was quiet before his low murmur filled the air. "Are you happy, Ren?"

"Do you think I am?" said Soren. He didn't know the answer to the question.

"The person who decides if they're happy or not is the person themselves. I can't answer that for you, little prince."

"You're not very motivational. I'm uninspired to be happy."

"....." Raphael heaved a sigh, lowering his eyes. "It's not that words don't inspire you, it's that you don't let them. Why would I bother sprouting motivational words if you'll only deny it?"

"You haven't tried."

"And if I did, do you think you'd listen?"

Soren was honest. "No."

".....right. That's what I mean." There was a slow pause before Raphael continued. "If you have nowhere to go, then won't you stay?"

"...why?"

"Because I think I don't dislike your presence at all, little prince." smiled Raphael rather softly, as Soren stared, mesmerized. "I don't have anywhere to go either, so why don't you stay a little longer?"

For this prince who seemed to walk on a fragile balance of life and death, Raphael couldn't leave him alone. Not now, when those melancholic eyes remained in his mind. Therefore, he offered his hand.

And in his stupor, Soren almost accepted.

"I'll pass."

"And why is that?"

Soren frowned. "I don't wish to travel with an idiot again."

Raphael smiled and said without missing a beat, "Then isn't it great we don't have to invite Brioc along?"

"You want to travel alone?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to that." shrugged Raphael, tapping on the railing absentmindedly. "I haven't had a chance to explore, after all."

"Sounds horrible. So, no."

A wide grin stretched across Raphael's lips, playful and teasing. "You say that, but you hesitated when I offered."

Curse the perspective eyes of that protagonist whose only good point seemed to be his relentless empathy.

Then, as Soren was questioning the intelligence of Raphael, or at least, how long it would be to silence him, the man's fingers swiftly reached down, a heat brushing past his hips. Then, there was emptiness where a pouch should've been.

Raphael straightened, holding onto a bag of candy.

Soren frowned. "Give it back."

"It tastes good, though. And I have an inkling for some sugar."

"Don't care."

"But I do." said Raphael without a care.

He flicked through the bag with strong fingers, grinning as he peeked inside. He already knew what was hidden, but found the contrast between Soren's apathetic front and his habit of carrying candy extremely endearing.

Soren lifted a hand from where he lied against the railings, lazily looking up. "Give it."

Raphael glanced down and stuck a piece in his mouth swiftly, enjoying the mellow taste of sweetness that wasn't sickening, but soothing. It melted, wrapping his tongue in a calming taste.

He pulled another out a moment later, stretching down a hand as he tilted his sharp chin at an angle, eyes littered with starry amusement under the moonlit skies.

His dark hair swayed in the light breeze as Soren stared, frozen. The skies seemed to coat his hair in its dark blue shade, as if his entire being would merge with the world above and become a wonder that could be reached.

For a second, it was as if the skies weren't the beautiful night but the violet red skies he was once used to.

The railing had crumbled, now rusting at its corners and falling at the edges — a sign of worn and disaster. It fell on the ground, in an equally terrible state, broken and disconnected in various places.

And Raphael, from where he stood leaning over the rails as he stared out into the boundless world with eyes that were ever so alluring, now coated with the heavy scent of apocalypse.

"Hey."

The voice overlapped with the one lingering in Soren's memories.

"Do you want a piece of candy?"

A nostalgic taste as Soren dazedly placed the candy in his mouth. A familiar, comforting taste that curled around his body in its flavor, an embrace long forgotten.

One from long ago.

In his daze at the flickering memory which merged with his own reality, he wondered,

"Do you remember a person... called the Undying Reaper?"

It was unlikely for Soren not to know of the justice seeking Raphael even vaguely, but it wasn't impossible. But if it was Raphael, he would know the names of people, especially disasters like Ren Suzuki.

If it was Raphael, he would remember.

And for a second, Soren almost hoped he would.

"I don't think so." replied Raphael with slight confusion in his expression, swallowing the candy he was chewing.

The illusion faded away, and Soren returned to the moment. He blinked several times, and looked away, absentmindedly chewing. His jaw felt a little sore.

"Why?" asked Raphael.

Soren didn't look up again, instead closing his eyes against the gentle caress of the wind. He was growing crazy from all this work, really.

 Absolutely mad.

Yet he couldn't call it a delusion any longer. There was no possible way to deny it, or call it a lasting dream. Not when he saw the scenes flicker before his eyes in a mirage he could almost touch.

Not when these images flowed in his mind, softly lapping against his thoughts as the memories pieced together and formed.

Because he was starting to remember...

"Nothing." replied Soren.

...those forgotten glimpses of lost history.

———xxx———

"You're still reading?" wondered a voice that irked Ren in the recent days.

Had it been the third time? Or the fourth? The youth didn't care enough to count, yet it was annoying all the same. 

Ren flipped another page, a little more violently this time, though he took care to not damage the pages. 

The other person noticed — of course he did. Through those piercing raven eyes that seemed to see through everyone, examining them to the bone. Ren disliked such a gaze, as if he were stripped with all his vulnerabilities laid bare.

He curled his legs in more, fixating his eyes on the words. 

"Hey, don't bully the books." said the man through arrogant thin lips, his tall shadow enveloping Ren in its shade as he stared with deep, bottomless eyes. "Aren't they your friends?"

Hearing no response from Ren, Raphael continued. "What, are they strangers, too? How cruel."

Ren sighed, scowling deeply as his gaze dripped with venom. "Go away."

"I don't want to."

"Don't care."

Raphael grinned lazily. "If I don't want to, does it really matter if you care or not?"

"Then you lack basic human decency." remarked Ren in a drawl, stretching out to grab another book from the stack that stood beside him. "Do you lack that, Mr. Hero?"

The words were sarcastic and biting — anybody could see that. Raphael did too, the corner of his eye twitching. But then again, this strange, lonely person always seemed to carry a fierce coldness, one Raphael figured he'd get used to, eventually.

"No," said Raphael with a raise of his eyebrows. "I just want to accompany the friendless kid who spends the apocalypse alone in an abandoned library."

".....I don't need company."

"But you're admitting to the rest of my words?"

Ren fell silent once again, turning back to his endless pages. If he pretended the other didn't exist, maybe he'd go away? It was a hopeless wish.

Raphael almost sneered in victory. It was childish, but his mental age seemed to regress in front of this boy who so carelessly spoke rude or insulting sentences without blinking. 

“Do you want a piece of candy?" offered Raphael leisurely, walking over to lean against the wall. 

Ren smelt the scent of blood and grime, coated his clothes in its permanent presence. The apocalypse was a scent one could not wash off, and heroes were especially vulnerable to it. His eyes flickered to the side.

He squinted at the candy in Raphael's hand suspiciously. "What is it?"

"Some candy I picked up somewhere. I think it's licorice. It tastes good, and that's all that matters anymore."

"No."

"Why not?"

"You touched it."

"....." Raphael heaved a frustrated sigh and stared pointedly. "You're not a clean freak, and I know it."

There was no excuse Ren could give. Their first meeting had been in a place that was anything but clean, and Ren had been painted to the very bone in dirt and blood.

Raphael raised his chin, waiting for what sort of reply he'd get.

"I don't care for germs, I care for you."

The man paused, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath. The sentence was strangely sweet when taken in another way. But when it implied Raphael was more disgusting than any germs... it was rather offensive.

"Ah, geez. Just try it, won't you?"

"No."

"You're so stubborn. If you don't accept it, I'll assume you want me to find something else to amuse you with."

Ren blinked at him, and at the stilled hand which hung in the air. It would be rude to reject, and Ren had typically been polite at various times. Not to mention awkward, if Raphael kept his hand hanging.

Also... Ren was a little curious.

He cautiously stretched out a hand and picked up the piece, looking it all over. As if examining a treasure, a newfound object.

Raphael chuckled. "Have you never eaten candy before?"

"...no." said Ren slowly, sniffing the piece.

"What? Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Hurry up then." urged Raphael. "I have more if you like it."

Ren looked it over for a while locking, cautious. He was a reckless youth, but this was something quite foreign to him. 

Finally, Raphael couldn't help but ask, "What country are you from, that you have to examine a regular candy for so long?"

Ren didn't blink, staring intently at the spiralling stick in his hands, the faint scent of sugar in the air. "Don't know."

"You don't know what country you're from?"

For a second, Ren seemed to be confused. "I don't remember when I was young. But I was adopted by a Japanese couple."

"And they moved all the way here, to Canada?"

In his fascination with the candy, Ren seemed to not mind answering. "Yeah."

"Well, I'm Korean." announced Raphael, as if the other cared. "Although my parents have lived here for a while, as did my grandparents."

"Okay."

"Could you pretend to be more interested?"

"Hmm." Ren was entirely distracted, and Raphael gave up on trying to form a friendship at this moment. Not that he wouldn't try again later, however. 

Then, Ren nibbled on lightly, and Raphael resisted the urge to laugh.

The youth's eyes widened slightly, and he quickly ate up the rest of the candy, eyes glittering. Sunlight cascaded through the broken glass, melding with his velvety black strands of hair, and making his expression all the more tranquil. 

An innocent reaction, one that Raphael had not expected when he offered the candy.

Looking at Ren's faintly curved eyes and the glimmer of a smile on his lips, satisfied by the taste, Raphael couldn’t help but smile warmly. 

"Want another one?"

Ren nodded, stretching out a slender hand shamelessly as his eyes blinked up at him. Raphael paused and chuckled, pulling out the small bag he had in the side of his pocket. 

"Take as many as you want."

And from that day on, he'd always carry a bag of candy on him.