Fuchou Haplidon - District 2 (Fin)

And here he has been, and here he will always be. His body, that of some frail body that has not matured to the point of being monumental. His skin clings close to his bones, and his muscle strives to grow. But he won't exert himself. No, he will wait for the day it is necessary. He only does what is right for now. That does not matter. He has no need for muscle anyway. His looks at the moment get him farther each day. With his tanned skin and his complexion so exotic compared to the others, people are willing to be with him. No matter the cost. Does he care? Not too much. And that is all he needs in life, for the praise of others. Not like Chato. Never like Chato. He wishes to be better than him.

And being of a different look than the others came with benefits as well. Many Asians lived within the districts, but were still far from normal. Each gaining a little more approval just for the heredity in their bones. And he would always hold it with him. And he would be more than willing to experiment with his own body, if it came with the proper results. He take his hair, turn it this way and that, learning what would appeal to people. Becoming so self absorbed with it all Not like Chato, never like Chato. And finally the look came to him, the right amount of pressure to the hair, the right amount of chaos added to the flair. It would stand out. Not like Chato did, never like Chato did.

And so his brown eyes would watch the world watch him, stroll down the lane and into the dark. And everyone would want to know who he was. He was being what he wanted, just due to the desire of looking like this. Being like this. Never to look like Chato. Always to look better than Chato. And so he would need to add to the look. Only the finest of clothes would do. Best of the best, top of the line. Things imported here and there, all for him and it would never be enough. He could look like royalty but never feel it.

For What He Really Is

And in those that become so consumed by their own being, he dwells the deepest in those pits of narcissism. His heart is never in the right, but never in the wrong. Somewhere, is justice lies somewhere in the gray. Hiding between the shades of white and black, yet never too colorful. He will always do what is best for him, in the image of Chato. But it's never really for the brother, no, he's doing it to better himself over his brother. So he wants to strive to be more and better. To be noticed over Chato, to be better than Chato, to be more than Chato. And so he would act out of jealousy, over and over, in an attempt to feed the envy that has grown in him. Who was he, the prince, to be robbed of his throne so soon? May the color green eat away at him.

And there is no softness or pity for those that do not respect the loyal king to his grave. He would not dare be with anyone that could not respect him for who he was. The head of his lineage, the end all of this family. Not Chato, no matter what he thinks. So he would only stay with his knights, to hear his own praise and bask in the glory that they would rain on him. He lives for it. He craves it. He exists for it. Friends aren't necessary if they cannot do what one wants them to. If a friend just did as they pleased, he would not take it. The friend did not need him, and he did not need it. Just as much as I don't need Chato.

And he would not know compassion for anyone other than himself for the world was such a desolate place. Where was the use in emotions? Certainly Chato saw them. he does have them though. Sadness, regret, joy, it's all there. He, who tries to ignore those things people have, uses them instead to control them. Make them love him so much so that the other is out-shadowed by a long-shot. Let Chato sit in the darkness for once. He tries hard to be better at things, worries so hard to be the best at everything. That way people will want to be with him and not Chato. He was the bane, so good at everything he tried. And when the brother did things, he would follow. And when he followed, he failed. And he tried again and again. But he would never stop. I have to be better than Chato.

Yes... I am the envious zealot, raising to conquer my own kingdom.

For What Has Made Him

The tempest didn't hit until he was about five. The waves crashed and the moon howled, and before him was the birth of his younger brother, Chato. The boy was going to be something of the family, a new heir in case something happened to him. But nothing would happen to him, he was sure. Chato would just be there to stand by. Something of a chairperson, who didn't matter to anyone. And that's how he would want it to be. Chato did not deserve the same respect he got. He was going to grow and be the king of his family. And they were grooming him to be better than the rest. So then, should he groom Chato? So I would groom him into a failure. And that's what I set out to do.

But only when he was ten did he lose something precious of his. Chato wouldn't understand, being so young and naïve, but their mother had left. And how could that affect the young boy? Chato wasn't to his standard, in the family. Chato was too young to understand what had happened. One day he would be able to tell the brother, though, of his mother. The woman that had craddled the brother and left him out in the cold. How lucky he was. How green I am toward Chato. And the brother would never understand him and his hatred. How his brother would probably grow to be the better man due to the experiences. He never got the love Chato did. He never knew what there was to hold onto.

To vent is what he wanted. He took his brother, trained him as he would, and sought to destroy his brother for what he was. Chato would never be great. Chato could never be great. And he would hurt his brother in the training, just to prove that his brother was nothing like him. The heirloom would belong to him. Chato never deserved what he had. The crown belonged to the eldest, and the king would soon crumble. If only my thoughts on Chato were true. Because Chato was learning, despite the abuse, and he did not want that. Why did the brother get to learn and not he? Why was his brother improving from all this reckless assault? He could not understand the brother.

But the days were coming, he could see. The brother would be able to surpass him, and the father desperately favored the youngest. Wasn't the king supposed to love the eldest? Why would the crown go to the child? He could not bear to see the line go this way, but what could one do? His brother would win this game of thrones, and he would lose his chance at power. I dare not see the day Chato wins. So he grabbed his fathers gun, held it to his head, and hoped that the day would never begin in his mind. But the emotions were strong. He couldn't control myself. The brother had come in, seen him with the gun. Was he really going to let himself fall before his rival. Chato would win, wouldn't he? No, he would not allow that. He let the gun go down, he let himself break, just to make Chato see that any man could fall. Chato would see this, surely, and know that he was not going to be our king. His brother would see.

But times were reckless, and soon the king would fall. He knew time was only calling his aging grace. A new throne master was being called, and he would have to take to the stand and lead the other. Chato or him. And that day came when he was sixteen. His father had become reckless, running through life like a parade. But another firearm entered this court only to take the kings life. And without the king left to decide the crown, the bearer was chosen immediately. He was left to rule the family, and Chato to follow those demands. He would be the one to control their territory, for whatever it was. He did not care. I have won, and Chato has lost.

But the new king had lost his subject. The brother had run off somewhere. He would have to find him, and he would. No one was allowed to leave the kingdom, and that even meant Chato. The brother would come back to him, whether it was by force or willing. He didn't care.

He didn't care one bit.