Hell Frozen Rain

[Hiei]

Author's Notes:
Well, this was actually a Monthly Event of sorts where my character had to walk down memory lane and indulge himself in three different memories. And I chose those that shaped the foundations of my character, Cain, which I RP in another board.

I don't really advertise my posts like this, but I just could not help it. With the song and the mood and all, I felt really... Connected to this post, so yeah.

Before you start reading, please click on this. It's 8 minutes long, and it should last you through the whole read.

Thank you.

And Cain laid upon his bed, his eyes staring up at the ceiling, his breathing calm and easy as he tried to sleep, though annoyed at the fact that his body still had enough energy to keep awake. It almost seemed that no matter what Cain tried to do, his eyes just would not stay closed long enough for him to doze off into dreamland. He let out a soft sigh, the sound breaking the steady rhythm of the sound of rain pattering against the window, his breathing and Zen's breathing. Zen...

He turned his head, his hair pressing against the pillow as he looked to the woman that lay by his side, her stomach inflated as she slept facing him, the beautiful peace on her face drawing a smile on the man's face. Yeah, she was peaceful now. No longer did she have to fear her door opening and her father standing at the doorway. No longer did she have to worry about waking up and finding herself alone on the bed. No longer did she feel alone, or afraid. And Cain was glad to have helped her.

He turned back to the ceiling, then, as a familiar string of fears and worries came into his head. It was not going be long until Zen finally gave birth to their twins. And once she had, Cain knew that his life was going to change. He was going to change. He could only hope that it was for the better. He never had much experience as a father, or knowledge, at that. His father was not that well of an example.

His father...

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8 Years Old...
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"CAIN!"

That voice. It was so dreadfully familiar to the young Cain, the 8-year-old turning around slowly, his eyes widening slightly as he saw the four larger boys walking towards him, with smirks plastered upon their face. Cain felt his heart race, though he tried to look as calm as possible. He did not want to look like a coward. He refused to look like a coward. He clenched his right fist as he backed away from them, though finding his back hit the locker for a moment. His heart jumped as he felt his retreat being stopped, the four bullies surrounding him. He gritted his teeth under closed lips.

As brave as he put himself up to be, Cain was still the scared little boy that he was. He had always been scared. Scared of his father bursting into his room in the middle of the night. Scared of his father pulling him off the bed and kicking him. Scared of opening the door every single time he reached home from school. In fact, school had been haven for him. Until this four boys came into the scene. And now, his whole life was a living hell. In school, these four guys did what his father did at home, pushing him around, mocking him and laughing at him. Cain, however, stayed strong and brave, as he did at home.

Apparently, the results were different in school, as it only served to annoy the four boys, who were now more determined to hurt Cain more than ever, as one of them approached him, throwing a heavy right hook at his face, the young boy falling to the side, coming on all fours, tears starting to well up on his face.

"Psh, what a useless little chicken. You know, for a son of a boxer, you sure are weak."

Weak... Weak.. That was the word that his father had constantly described him with too. Cain's hand clenched, his fingers scratching against the tiled floor as the laughter of the four boys reached his ears. He slowly raised his head, his body shivering. He had enough. He was tired of this...

He got up quickly, a loud high-pitched yell emerging from the young boy's lips as he leapt forward, pouncing on the boy that had punched him, pinning him to the ground as he pounded on his face, fist after fist after fist after fist. It was only after three good strikes was Cain pulled off him by the other bullies, one holding each of his arm and the other one proceeding to help his friend. However, the smaller enraged Cain was far from over, as he swung and struggled in their grips, his legs flailing and soon catching one of the boys' groins. The older and larger male grunted, his hands letting go of Cain.

Cain would then come upon his other captive, his free hand clutching and clawing at his face as he bit at the arm that held him, his sharp teeth drawing blood as the boy yelled for him to let go. Cain would not, however, and felt the boy punch his face and pound his head, though with every hit, Cain would only bite harder. The young fighter's face was covered in bruises, his nose and lips bleeding, his right eye swollen and black and his left eyebrow bleeding.

He let go, the boy staggering backwards and holding his bleeding arm, terrified at the rage that they had seeded in the young Cain. And as for the last one, he was a little bit smarter as he dove at Cain, pinning him onto the wall, before kneeing him in the stomach. Cain doubled over, blood splattering on the floor in front of him. Another knee came in, and Cain coughed crimson all over the floor once more, before falling on his knees. No... No... He refused to be weak...

He dove forward, grabbing the guy's ankle and squeezing hard on it, before proceeding to constantly headbutt his knee, the boy yelped, reaching down and grabbing Cain's shoulders as he tried to pull him out, but Cain simply went on, headbutting until his forehead bled and his opponent fell on the ground, crying and clutching at his knee. And with that, Cain would slowly stand up, his face covered in blood, sweat and his own tears, his shoulders rising and sinking quickly.

He had fought back.

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11 Years Old...
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"Stand back up."

Cain let out a soft grunt, the boy on all fours, wearing nothing but a pair of boxing shorts and tapes on his fists and feet. Blood trailed down from his lips to his chin, staining the mat under him red. He would raise his head, looking up with furious eyes at the large man that was supposed to be his 'father'. The man would look down at him, with eyes that screamed disapproval, a soft 'tch' coming from his lips. It was obvious that this man no longer regarded the boy that was on the ground in front of him as his son. His mouth would open, that voice sending chills down Cain's spine.

"I said, stand back up."

Cain would grunt as he pushed himself back up on his feet, his knees shaking as his arms hung lifelessly by his shoulders. He was breathing heavily, his mouth gaping open to make way for the large volumes of air that entered and left his body. He would glance upwards, his father beckoning for him to come again. Cain would grit his teeth, before running forward, a yell coming from his lips as he did, his right hand raised and poised to strike. However, just as he was about to throw that fist in, he would suddenly be swiped off his feet, as his father's right foot came round in a roundhouse kick, hitting him square at his side.

The younger male would fly to the side, landing back first on the mat, rolling to the side and through the gap below the lowest rope, continuing to fall, his body soon crumpling onto the solid ground, his body screaming as it did. He would squirm on the ground, trying to get away as much as possible from his father, blood spraying out as he coughed.

"Are you gonna run away, Cain?"

Cain stopped in his tracks, his father's low voice pinning his whole body down like an unbelievably heavy weight, not a single muscle in his body moving. Hell, if Cain did not know any better, he'd think that even his heart had stopped moving. Slowly, he would turn back, his swollen and wet eyes looking back at his father, who stood at the edge of the ring. Run away...

He had always been doing that. Even as he charged forward, he knew that he was simply running away from something else. Yeah. He was always running away. He slowly got back up on his feet, shaking as he did earlier, though this time with less determination, the young boy simply standing there, his hands unclenched. It was obvious that he had surrendered, as tears rolled down his cheeks, mixing with the blood at his chin.

He closed his eyes, unable to look up at his father, who could only scoff at him, before turning around. There was no need to speak anymore. Cain already knew his punishment as he turned back too, dragging himself to the corner, where he proceeded to sit down, his legs hugged close to his body as he buried his face in his knees, shivering in both cold and pain, as he heard the door shut. And there he was, stuck and locked in the basement, punished to wait until the next morning when he was finally let out for a small bit of breakfast and morning training.

He whimpered, his eyes clamping shut as he cried.

He was afraid. He was cold. He was bleeding. He was tired. And worst of all, he was alone.

He was alone.

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14 Years Old...
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*Thud*

Cain watched in shock as his father fell to the ground, the young boy unable to do anything from outside the ring. As always, he was in the underground arena where his father always fought in. Watch and learn, his father always told him as he dragged him here, although he hated it here utterly. The smell of blood, sweat, smoke and alcohol disgusted Cain. He was still too young to appreciate the beauty of it all, after all. He just wanted to enjoy himself. And this was not the place to do so.

However, that night was especially different.

His father was on the mat, silent and still, facing Cain's direction. And the young boy could only look at him with wide shocked eyes. Everything went slow to him all of a sudden. Around him, he heard the muffled voices and cheers of those who supported the victor. He heard chairs falling to the ground as they stood up. He heard the referee counting down from 10. He heard the victorious yells of the champion of the match. And most of all, he heard the silence that was now his father, as the man's lifeless eyes seemed to stare back at him.

A tear rolled down Cain's cheek as he looked at his father, who laid there, silent and still. Blood seeped out from behind his lips, staining his tanned and rough face red. The shine from his eyes had disappeared. His chest no longer moved, as still as the organs that it contained.

Cain looked at his father, who laid there... Dead.

And all he could do was stand there and stare, shocked and shaken at his very foundations. What was this? Why was he not happy? He should have been happy! The young boy looked at the ground as the tear finally left his chin, falling onto the ground. Despite all the noise around him, he could hear it completely, the tear splashing onto the floor, the sound ringing in his head as it reminded him what he had gone through for the past 14 years. The tears that he had shed. The blood that he had lost. It all came back to him now, like a movie squeezed into a single second.

And he glanced back up once more, as the commotion finally began, the referee kneeling down on the other side of his father's body, fingers reaching down as he tried to find a pulse at his neck, but to no avail. His father was already dead. The last punch had done him in. Despite it all, however, Cain felt as if that last punch had done him in too. His whole life was thrown into a vortex. His father was dead. And yet, he was not happy. Why?

He no longer had to fear hearing the sound of his door opening. He no longer had to cringe at the sound of a low and deep voice. He no longer had to look over his shoulder every time he walked around in his own house. He no longer had to fight just to eat in his own house. He no longer had to train so hard to prove that he was good enough. He no longer had a goal in life. He no longer had someone he wanted to best. He no longer had someone, despite everything, to call... His family.

And, more than he had ever thought he would ever feel, Cain felt alone. His mother was dead. His father was gone. He had no real friends to speak of.

For the first time ever, he was really alone.

For the first time ever, his life felt meaningless.

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Present...
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A tear rolled down his cheek as he thought back on it all. They weren't exactly the best of memories, but they were the memories that had impacted him most of all. They were the ones that had changed his life. And they were the ones that had shaped the image of fatherhood to him. Someone who sought only the usefulness in their child's existence. Someone who cared not for their well-being, but for their contributions to him. Someone who would leave you, before allowing your dream to be achieved.

At least, that was the image, before he grew up. He turned back to Zen, that warm smile coming back to his face. He was going to be the father his own father never was. He was going to be the role model his father failed to be. He was going to give them love his father never showed. He shifted closer to Zen, bringing his arm around her body as he pulled her close to him, hearing a soft moan escape from her lips, his smile widening as she did.

He had a new purpose now, a new goal in life.

And unlike before, he was going to achieve it this time, no matter how long it took and how hard it was going to get. And at the same time, perhaps achieve the goal he had when he was younger in a different way.

As a father, he was going to be better than him.