ShardThree, Bankotsu, theme "Whispers"
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30shardsTitle: His First Time
Rating: PG-13 (sorry no smut)
Squicks: violence, but nothing too graphic
Words: 1126
“Strange kid,” one of the men grunted, walking back from the fields.
He overheard them and ignored their words. Just like he always did.
“What do you expect?” the other man whispered. “With that drunkard of a father, there’s no one to keep the boy in line.”
Bankotsu ignored that one too. He didn’t pay attention the whispers, or at least he didn’t react to them. But he heard them all the same and felt the anger slowly building. In the soft green meadow the boy would spend hours alone, pretending he was far away from the village of his birth. He’d lie in the grass and stare up at the clouds that passed by, imagining that they were something else.
Anything else. Not just clouds. That one took the shape of a mighty castle, the one over there was the shape of a great sword. He could dream. They hadn’t found a way to take that away from him yet.
One of the men coughed and Bankotsu lay very still, waiting to see what would happen next. Sometimes they just whispered about him, but sometimes the men of the village would try to force him to do what they said. Bankotsu wasn’t a young man that could be easily forced. He had his father’s fiery temper and a stubborn streak that just couldn’t be beaten out of him.
Although they still liked to try.
“If he were my boy,” one of them said loudly, sure he’d overhear, “I’d make him do an honest day’s work in the fields. Not lie around dreaming all the time.”
If I were your boy, I’d like to see you try it, Bankotsu thought sullenly. His fist curled around a large rock. I’d really like to see you try it now.
The other man made a hushing sound to his companion. “Leave him be, Hiro,” he advised. “The boy’s like his father, you never know what he’ll do.”
Hiro ignored his friend, leaving the road to go stand near where Bankotsu lay half buried in the grass. “I know you can hear me, boy,” he sneered. “You think you’re better than us? You think you’re the only who doesn’t have to work to eat?”
Bankotsu didn’t like working in the fields. He hated the feel of the hot sun beating down on his neck, he hated the way his back would ache after stooping over all day. And they knew better by now than to leave him with the animals. A bad temper and a nasty disposition, not to mention an unsettling desire to see things in pain, made sending Bankotsu to work with the livestock a bad idea.
For the livestock anyway. He honestly didn’t hate animals, no, it wasn’t like that at all. Sometimes he just felt so angry, so…helpless, it seemed the only way to vent his frustration was just to hurt something. It made him feel better.
It made him feel good.
Once he’d found an injured raccoon dying in the woods. It wasn’t like he could have saved it; the poor thing’s bowels had been torn out by some wild dogs. Weak and suffering, it had still lashed out at him when he’d tried to touch it. Bankotsu watched the animal for a while, pondering what to do. Finally, he decided the only reasonable thing to do was to end the creature’s suffering. He felt a thrill of anticipation as he lifted the rock, brought it crashing down on the raccoon’s skull. Then fascination as the body twitched, jerked, and finally stilled in peace.
This is what death looks like, Bankotsu told himself. Curious, he lifted the rock to see what lie underneath and had to scramble away to vomit hard into the bushes. Yes, he told himself, wiping his mouth. That is what death is.
“Hey boy, you still listening?” Hiro yelled, drawing his attention again.
Just go away, Bankotsu told him silently. Just leave me alone.
“Come on, Hiro,” his friend called, starting to walk away. “Let the boy be, it’s near suppertime already.” The other man walked away, whistling tunelessly as he disappeared around the bend where the forest met the fields.
Hiro didn’t move, still standing at the edge of the road. Softly, he called out to Bankotsu. “You know what they say about you, boy? They say you’re just as crazy and mean as that drunkard father of yours.”
Go away.
“You know what else they say? You know what they whisper about your family, boy? They whisper that when your old man goes on one of his drunks, he doesn’t leave any food or money behind for you or your mother.”
Don’t say it. Just leave me alone.
“And then boy, they whisper that your mother has to whore herself out to half the men in the village just to keep food in her ungrateful brat’s stomach. They whisper that she’s pretty good at it too. Next time your father leaves, why don’t you send her my way? If you were my boy…”
“I’m not your fucking boy!” Bankotsu screamed, leaping up from the ground and hurling his rock with all his young strength. It struck Hiro hard in the forehead and the older man slumped to the ground.
Bankotsu was stunned. He hadn’t expected to hit him hard enough to drop him in his tracks. He struggled his way through the thick underbrush to where Hiro lie face down and unmoving. Grunting with the effort, he managed to turn the man over to look at what he’d done. Hiro’s eyes were open, glazed looking, and blood was seeping from under his eyelids.
He was dead.
He hadn’t meant to kill the man, but somehow Bankotsu couldn’t find it inside of himself to regret it either. The rock had caved in the man’s forehead, killing him instantly. Bankotsu picked up the rock and looked at it, suddenly in awe of his own power. He’d always been strong, but he’d had no idea he could put such force behind his blow. It made him feel proud and he contracted his fist around the rock in silent, newfound pleasure.
First things first, he needed to hide the body. If he dragged it deep into the woods, it might never be found. And if it were found, scavengers would have taken care of covering up the evidence of who had murdered the bloated braggart. Bankotsu grabbed Hiro’s ankles and started to haul him away.
It was the first time he’d ever taken a human life. And the act had filled him with pride.
He was just eleven years old.
One blow and his enemy had been destroyed. Who knew what kind of greatness lay ahead for him?
Let them whisper about that.
Rating: PG-13 (sorry no smut)
Squicks: violence, but nothing too graphic
Words: 1126
“Strange kid,” one of the men grunted, walking back from the fields.
He overheard them and ignored their words. Just like he always did.
“What do you expect?” the other man whispered. “With that drunkard of a father, there’s no one to keep the boy in line.”
Bankotsu ignored that one too. He didn’t pay attention the whispers, or at least he didn’t react to them. But he heard them all the same and felt the anger slowly building. In the soft green meadow the boy would spend hours alone, pretending he was far away from the village of his birth. He’d lie in the grass and stare up at the clouds that passed by, imagining that they were something else.
Anything else. Not just clouds. That one took the shape of a mighty castle, the one over there was the shape of a great sword. He could dream. They hadn’t found a way to take that away from him yet.
One of the men coughed and Bankotsu lay very still, waiting to see what would happen next. Sometimes they just whispered about him, but sometimes the men of the village would try to force him to do what they said. Bankotsu wasn’t a young man that could be easily forced. He had his father’s fiery temper and a stubborn streak that just couldn’t be beaten out of him.
Although they still liked to try.
“If he were my boy,” one of them said loudly, sure he’d overhear, “I’d make him do an honest day’s work in the fields. Not lie around dreaming all the time.”
If I were your boy, I’d like to see you try it, Bankotsu thought sullenly. His fist curled around a large rock. I’d really like to see you try it now.
The other man made a hushing sound to his companion. “Leave him be, Hiro,” he advised. “The boy’s like his father, you never know what he’ll do.”
Hiro ignored his friend, leaving the road to go stand near where Bankotsu lay half buried in the grass. “I know you can hear me, boy,” he sneered. “You think you’re better than us? You think you’re the only who doesn’t have to work to eat?”
Bankotsu didn’t like working in the fields. He hated the feel of the hot sun beating down on his neck, he hated the way his back would ache after stooping over all day. And they knew better by now than to leave him with the animals. A bad temper and a nasty disposition, not to mention an unsettling desire to see things in pain, made sending Bankotsu to work with the livestock a bad idea.
For the livestock anyway. He honestly didn’t hate animals, no, it wasn’t like that at all. Sometimes he just felt so angry, so…helpless, it seemed the only way to vent his frustration was just to hurt something. It made him feel better.
It made him feel good.
Once he’d found an injured raccoon dying in the woods. It wasn’t like he could have saved it; the poor thing’s bowels had been torn out by some wild dogs. Weak and suffering, it had still lashed out at him when he’d tried to touch it. Bankotsu watched the animal for a while, pondering what to do. Finally, he decided the only reasonable thing to do was to end the creature’s suffering. He felt a thrill of anticipation as he lifted the rock, brought it crashing down on the raccoon’s skull. Then fascination as the body twitched, jerked, and finally stilled in peace.
This is what death looks like, Bankotsu told himself. Curious, he lifted the rock to see what lie underneath and had to scramble away to vomit hard into the bushes. Yes, he told himself, wiping his mouth. That is what death is.
“Hey boy, you still listening?” Hiro yelled, drawing his attention again.
Just go away, Bankotsu told him silently. Just leave me alone.
“Come on, Hiro,” his friend called, starting to walk away. “Let the boy be, it’s near suppertime already.” The other man walked away, whistling tunelessly as he disappeared around the bend where the forest met the fields.
Hiro didn’t move, still standing at the edge of the road. Softly, he called out to Bankotsu. “You know what they say about you, boy? They say you’re just as crazy and mean as that drunkard father of yours.”
Go away.
“You know what else they say? You know what they whisper about your family, boy? They whisper that when your old man goes on one of his drunks, he doesn’t leave any food or money behind for you or your mother.”
Don’t say it. Just leave me alone.
“And then boy, they whisper that your mother has to whore herself out to half the men in the village just to keep food in her ungrateful brat’s stomach. They whisper that she’s pretty good at it too. Next time your father leaves, why don’t you send her my way? If you were my boy…”
“I’m not your fucking boy!” Bankotsu screamed, leaping up from the ground and hurling his rock with all his young strength. It struck Hiro hard in the forehead and the older man slumped to the ground.
Bankotsu was stunned. He hadn’t expected to hit him hard enough to drop him in his tracks. He struggled his way through the thick underbrush to where Hiro lie face down and unmoving. Grunting with the effort, he managed to turn the man over to look at what he’d done. Hiro’s eyes were open, glazed looking, and blood was seeping from under his eyelids.
He was dead.
He hadn’t meant to kill the man, but somehow Bankotsu couldn’t find it inside of himself to regret it either. The rock had caved in the man’s forehead, killing him instantly. Bankotsu picked up the rock and looked at it, suddenly in awe of his own power. He’d always been strong, but he’d had no idea he could put such force behind his blow. It made him feel proud and he contracted his fist around the rock in silent, newfound pleasure.
First things first, he needed to hide the body. If he dragged it deep into the woods, it might never be found. And if it were found, scavengers would have taken care of covering up the evidence of who had murdered the bloated braggart. Bankotsu grabbed Hiro’s ankles and started to haul him away.
It was the first time he’d ever taken a human life. And the act had filled him with pride.
He was just eleven years old.
One blow and his enemy had been destroyed. Who knew what kind of greatness lay ahead for him?
Let them whisper about that.
:)
Date: 2007-02-10 11:53 am (UTC)Re: :)
Date: 2007-02-10 04:11 pm (UTC)