Radigue is in this one! I'm not even sure if I spelled his name right. -uses caption on the TV, but caption can't spell names for their lives-
...yeah. I was trying to msake an entire chapter of Katana wandering around, but I honestly don't think I can make that much crap up for the poor guy to do.
... -cheek twitch-
Have fun! .
He felt the sun beating down on his back as he groaned. He was laying on his stomach, with his right cheek pressed down into the sand. He felt a great pain by the corner of his left eye, and he had a pounding headache that was not getting any better from the sounds of crashing waves. He closed his fist on the ground, feeling the sand sift through his fingers. The sand between his fingers? The sun on his back? The crashing waves?
He remembered what happened and shot up off of the ground, attempting to open his eyes, but his left eyelids seemed to be stuck together. The movement made him dizzy and the light blinded him. He blinked his one open eye until he got used to the bright sunlight. He reached his hand to his left eye, touching it upon dry blood. The contact made more pain shoot through his head, and he immediately pulled his hand away.
After that pain slowly faded into a dull throbbing, he took his fingers once again and touched upon it, this time much more gentle and wary. his fingers traveled upon the stiff path of blood toward his eye. He felt his eyelids and eyelashes. They were so caked in dry blood that his eye had been dried closed.
He began to slowly and carefully scratch the blood out of his eyelashes and peeled it off of his eyelids, so he could once again open his left eye. Choosing not to touch the blood on the side of his eye again, even though it hurt and itched like mad, he took in his surroundings.
He was sitting on a small beach, a small side shore connecting to the ocean. There were trees and a hill that lead up to a road that cars were passing by on. One such truck pulled over to the side and halted. The boy watched as a middle-aged man stepped out of the driver's side of the truck and looked down at him.
He looked at the man, acknowledging only with his gaze that he heard him.
"Are you all right?" The man asked, shouting down at him.
He stared for a second before standing, not taking his eyes off of the man. This man was wearing faded old overalls and his truck looked beat up, with all sorts of things in the back of it. He was probably just an average guy in the middle of doing his job.
"Here, hop in, I'll take you to the hospital to get that checked out," he said, and stepped back into the truck.
The boy didn't move for a second. He wasn't sur eif he should trust the man. His nanny always told him not to talk to strangers. Of course, the pain under his left eye contradicted that, and he walked over to the truck, stepping in, sitting down in the passenger's seat, and slamming the door shut.
They were driving down the street in silence before the man, one arm leaning against the door and propping up his head, the other on the steering wheel, spoke. "I thought you lost your eye at first, with all that blood there."
The boy gave him a questioning look, and the man flipped down the mirror above the young boy's head. "See?"
The blue-haired boy adjusted the flip-down mirror before peering into his reflection. He took his hand and traced the wide path of the dried blood from his jaw all the way up to his eye. It was thin and brown where the blood just ran, but the actual wound itself was still bright red, and parts of it were still sticky with newer blood.
"You're lucky you still have an eye, kid," the man continued talking. "What happened, anyway?"
The young boy said nothing and looked at his hands that rested on his lap.
"It's going to scar," the doctor spoke to him.
He was sitting on a white table in the middle of a doctor's office in the hospital of the nearest town. The man that brought him in was sitting in a chair by the door. He looked up to the doctor with his one eye, the left one was covered by a bandage intended for the wound. A small television set played behind the doctor, showing images of a reporter lady at some beach. People were running in chaos around her with people on stretchers and large charred metal chunks. He stared at the screen behind the doctor, who turned toward the man that had brought him to the hospital.
The doctor handed the older man a bottle of heavy duty pain killers. "Give him two of these every four hours."
The man waved his hands. "Oh, he's not mine, I found him on the beach like that. Kid hasn't said a word, either."
Both of them looked at him, but he was unaware of the gazes that landed upon him, because he was intently watching the television. The two older men followed the path of his eye and gave the once ignored television their full attention.
"Last night, a cruise ship was caught up in a storm. The ship hit into a large boulder on the left side and immediately began to sink. Lightning struck the ship as well, catching it on fire. We're continuing to find bodies, and some are MIA. Passengers on this ship included famous people, such as the actress..." A picture of the young boy and his parents were thrown up onto the screen. "Her husband, and their child. So far, there have been no survivors found, but people could have easilly drifted off onto various other shores..."
The doctor and the worker looked at the young boy, who clenched his fists on his lap, staring down at them with a fierce gaze, as though if he stared long enough, he would burn holes onto the backs of his hands. The two older men looked at eachother and back to the small blue-haired boy.
Months passed by, and there was no trace of the bodies of his parents. He always made sure he was updated, because that last smile of his mother's that was actually directed at him, gave him a small thread of hope that they could be alive and maybe, just maybe, they would realize that they almost lost their precious son, and hang on to him forever. Childish, wishful thinking he knew, but there was nothing he could do.
He traveled alone, wandering through every town or city he suspected they could possibly be in. He even returned to his hometown quite a few times only to find their house vacant, extravagant in all it's splendor, yet slowly fading away. Nobody lived there anymore, and it was beginning to become rundown. It was a bit depressing, but not as depressing as what was happening to his childhood playground.
It was the place that he went to when he needed to think. It was sort of his sanctuary, where he could retreat into the back of his mind and just dwell there with no worries of the people around him bothering him, or talking about him behind his back. There, he could blend in, though not actually fit in with the other kids, he could just look like any other child whose mother or father was waiting patiently for him sitting on a bench and watching him as he played.
And it was starting to crumble. It seemed that a child fell off of one of the slides and got seriously injured, and the parents sued. The area was marked off with bright yellow caution tape, and nobody could go in and play anymore. All of the different slides, swing sets, monkey bars, all were forbidden, and while they retained their bright vivid paint colors, the sight of them empty, free of happy children, was enough to twist a knife in his heart.
Once he heard the news that, after all this time, his parents remains were found, that one glimmer of hope that he held so dear dissipated into the cold darkness of his broken heart.
After that, he wandered aimlessly, with no purpose. He didn't care what may happen to him, he didn't care that the sight of his scarred face made people in the crowd around him a bit uncomfortable.
Nothing mattered at all. Wherever he fell, he would lay until he disappeared.
He just didn't care anymore.
"Hey, kid!" A voice called.
He groggily opened his eyes and was blinded by the overwhelming white of newly fallen snow. His body was mostly numb, but he could tell that he was cold because he could see his breath floating through the air and his hands were shaking. The only thing he could mke himself do was shift his eyes to see what idiot interrupted his escape.
"Damn, kid, what the hell are you doing?" The blurry outline of a man said, looking down at him.
He tried to blink the man away, but he didn't move away.
"If you're going to die, do it somewhere else! You're in my digging space, and I don't appreciate trespassers - even ones that are trying to commit suicide."
Make him go away... he thought numbly, closing his eyes.
"HEY, kid! Don't you go dyin' now," the man said, but the blue-haired boy either didn't hear him or he finally passed out.
The man looked around. "...ah, damn. I can't have a body here, they've got enough to suspect me of doin' something..."
He shook the boy that lay half-buried in the snow. Olive eyes opened and stared up at him, a bit glazed over. A wide scar ran down from the corner of his left eye halfway down his cheek. His lips were partly open and were slightly tinted blue from the cold. His skin was pale, but it could just be from laying in the snow for however long he did.
The boy narrowed his eyes in an attempt at a glare, causing the older man to smile a little bit. "Threatenin' me, huh? Not gonna do you much good, glaring while you're lyin' in the snow, half-dead."
Before the boy could do anything, the man hoisted him up and practically threw him onto the other's back. The man instructed him to hold on, but he wouldn't be instructed by anyone. He didn't care.
"I'm Radigue. I'm a digger. Why," the man paused to put some emphasis onto the word and to go around what looked like a lump of neatly piled snow. If you weren't paying attention, you wouldn't see it until you triggered it's trap and were lying on the ground, dead. "...were you layin' there to die?"
The boy said nothing. It was none of this man's business what went on in his life.
"No answer then, kid? Fine, then at least give me your name."
He thought back. His name...? He had abandoned that long ago. Was he expected to still use it now, to this lowly digger? It didn't matter. He didn't care.
"Well?" The man asked, dodging more newly laid traps on the ground.
It didn't matter anyway.
Hieica: Umm... how was it? I'm trying here. I'm not sure how this will stand. Did you like it? Did it suck? Be honest with me, please. Did I spell Radigue's name right? Probably not. Oh well. This chapter skipped around a lot, please don't mind it. . This will most definitely have at least four chapters, maybe more, so be on the look out!
Okay, now I need your opinions. Who should Katana be with, Sanada Hajiki, our dense gogglehead, or Kisaragi Takumi, our wimpy champion of justice? I do realize that the majority of you will choose Hajiki, but please tell me anyway what you want, okays? No het, though, I am so much better at writing shounen ai... -sweatdrop-
Of course, I know what Saiyuki-Lvr's answer will be. ¬. She says Katana x Hajiki, all the way! Down with anybody else standing in the way! (Me: That would be Arashi -evil glare-) Yes, I really do NOT like Arashi too much. I mean, she's cute and it's fun when she kicks ass with martial arts, but she's just annoying. Also, Saiyuki-Lvr, my review for your fic What's Already Mine seems to have been cut short. I twas actually very long and serious-ish after that first sentence. O.o;; So, please don't think I'm crazy. ¬.¬;;
I'm sorry to xShatteredSoulx for not reviewing two of your fics. . I try to steer as far away from lemons as possible. Gomen nasai! Maybe when I'm old enough to look at them and not turn my head away going "Eeeewww!", okay? T.T I'm positive that they are awesome and very well-written.
Reviews are welcome! As usual, constructive criticism, compliments, rabid fangirl-osity, flames are all welcome. Any feedback boosts my self-esteem and causes the plot bunnies to visit me. -smile-