| Bwee x.x long section... but that's ok << It's needed... lot to put into it, really... well... actually, most of my plot is kinda... mixed up x.x so a lot of the stuff I put in is like...character development or something I threw in just for the hell of it... so I dunno... but enjoy anyway << |
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Gym class; his favorite class of the day. Not only was it physical, which he liked, but it was his las class of the day. After this, he could go home and relax a little, providing he could get dinner done quickly and avoid his father the rest of the evening. That was the only hard part about going home. Most of Shiva's day had been pretty much better than the morning, considering he didn't see hide or hair of the new boy. He heard whispers, but that was it.
Changing into the tanktop and shorts of his gym outfit, Shiva rushed from the boys' lockerroom to the mian gym building. They were going to play basketball that day, which, despite his short stature, the blonde boy loved to play. He liked to see the reactions of his taller peers when he managed to steal the ball and make a shot without them realizing it before it was too late. Unfortunately, his elation died as his eyes landed on a certain tall brunette figure who seemed oddly familiar.
"Don't tell me you're in this class?" Naoi growled, glaring daggers at the smaller male. Shiva just ignored the comment, taking a seat on one of the bleachers. It was a daily routine as people waited for the rest of the class and then teacher to get there.
"I thought I told you to stay away from me."
"Give it a rest." Shiva muttered, shooting his own glare of death to the dark figure. "It's not like I can; I've been in this class longer than you. If you have a problem, you can leave, ok?" He snapped. Naoe snorted and turned away, his arms folded over his rather broad chest, views of which were allowed by the sleevless gym shirt.
Class progressed rather badly from there. Naoe ended up arguing with several of the other boys of the class. About what, no one really knew. Or at least Shiva didn't know; he made it a point to ignore the brunette, as well as the boys he had picked the fight with. Punches would have been thrown if the teacher had not intervened. Shiva had almost ben dragged into the whole thing, despite his ignorance, but he had managed to avoid it with silence and averted attention.
Back in the lockerroom, however, the fight started up again. Boys will be boys, as they say, and the fact that the teacher was not there at that point only helped to provoke the argument. So, no matter how much he did not want to, Shiva jumped in to break it up.
"Knock it off, you guys!"
"Back-off, Pipsqueak!" One of the boys growled. A rather large individual, broad in figure and dark of complexion, anyone could tell he was more than likely a jock of some sort; probably even one of the football players. "This aint your business!" A thick fist connected with Shiva's jaw, sending him sprawling to the floor. Before his assailant saw him coming, however, Naoe returned the punch, forcing the other to take a step back.
"Why you little...!" He took a swing at the brunette, but Naoe was too fast. He was behind the other like a flash, containing him in a headlock as if it were the most natural thing in the world to do. The other boys took a step back each, obviously not wanting to get in on the action at just that moment.
"You should evaluate your opponents better. Touch me again and I'll kill you." Letting go, Naoe gave his opponent a push and then headed out of the room, managing to escape before there were any further problems.
"That stupid..." The large male growled, his eyes seeming to glow with that burning inner rage created when the pride is bruised. His dark eyes turned a glare on Shiva, who had managed to carefully pick himself up off of the floor unnoticed until that moment. "This is your fault, Keijimura!" Came the accusation, and the boy was quickly grabbed by the front of the shirt, pulling him off of the ground as if a feather.
"Rokuta, put me down!" Shiva cried out almost angrily, his legs kicking to reach the flood. "You brought it on yourself!" Of course, that was not the best thing to say to an enraged male teenage much larger than himself.
"Shut up, Shorty!" Rokuta shot, landing a punch to the boy's stomach. Air quickly exited Shiva's lungs and he gasped for breath, his eyes widening slightly at the hit he had not seen coming, but seemed to know was quite possible. He was then dropped and instantly he collapsed to his knees, his body unable to support him while catching breath. Rokuta laid him flat with a kick to the side of the head, recieving a cry of pain in response.
"If he won't pay for it, you will, you little punk!" The jock growled threateningly. Shiva could not help but curl into a ball as numerous kicks connected with his ribs, back and legs. However, it did not take long before one of the other boys interfered, obviously not liking the thought of misdirected rage.
"Hey, Rokuta, let him go! I think he's had enough."
"Did I ask your opinion?!" The torture did stop, though, and footsteps trailed from the room, followed by soft whispers and then silence. Shiva was left there on the floor rather beaten. It took a few moments before he was finally able to push himself up to sit on his knees, his body shaking fiercly and unable to support him quite yet. Quietly, he glanced over himself, seeing the bumps and bruises that he had acquired. But he was used to it by now; he always seemed to end up the scapegoat for anger or boredom. Unfotunately, every time it happened, he was suprised to even live through it, especially in one piece. He was grateful, even though his pride always took a heavy beating as well.
With a shakey sigh, Shiva stood, coughing softly as his lungs sucked in the air that had barely been able to come to him. There was no doubt in his mind that he had at least one bruised, or possibly cracked, rib; he just hoped that was the only extent to the damage. If he was lucky, that was it, and he would just have to be extra careful for the next couple of days.
"I knew this day was going to suck; and it's all that Naoe Atsuko's fault..."
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"I'm home!" Shiva called as he arrived at the small house, wincing at the pain that simple yell insued. It was lucky that his clothing could cover all of the evidence of the beating, or else his father might not be all that happy to see him. He would ask questions and want to know why he had not defended himself; as if he could.
Shiva's home really was not all that big a place. Of course, it was only housing two people, so it did not need to be big. It was only his father and he, and his father was usually out working or something, while he was in school all day. It was not, however, by any means a nice home. Anyone could smell the alcohol and cigarette smoke drifting through the air, especially in the sitting room and kitchen. Most of the house was relatively messy, and all of the furniture was old and dirty. No matter how much Shiva cleaned, it never helped.
"Where've you been?" His father asked, a hint of anger evident in his rough voice. Mr. Keijimura was a big man with a powerful, dangerous look about him. It was hard to see a resemblence between he and his son, aside from the blonde hair. Most of Shiva's looks had come from his mother, which was probably not a good thing in the long run, and a reason why he was always mistaken for a girl. Dark blonde clumps massed about the man's head in waves, with a thick, bristled mustache under his nose, giving him a rather sinister appearance. He looked like the kind of man who was constantly outside, doing something that required a lot of manual labor.
"I missed the bus, so I had to walk home." Shiva explained quietly, his eyes downcast as to not provoke his already miffed father. The man merely snorted in contempt, pointing toward the kitchen as he cut across to sit on the couch in the living room.
"Since you weren't here, I had to make dinner. So, go eat and then do your homework. I don't want to see your face the rest of the night."
"Yes, sir." The boy murmured as he quietly trudged into the kitchen. His shoes made barely any noise against the yellowed floor tiles, his gaze drifting toward a pot on the counter. He really was not all that hungry after everything that had happened, but he knew that he had to eat.
When Shiva was young, his mother had left his father. Mr. Keijimura had been devastated, but he hid it with his anger and resentment. Shiva had been heartbroken, but there was nothing he could do but cry. However, every time he cried, his father would yell at him, telling him that he should not be crying because real men did not cry. Either that he should not be crying because it was his own fault that his mother left in the first place.
Not long after his wife left, Mr. Keijimura took to drinking his pain away, much like others who had gone through the same circumstances. He was able to keep his job, but he still had a tendency to get drunk. Shiva tried to stay on his good side, keeping up his grades and doing as he was told. However, it didn't always work, and the brunt of that stored anger would be tossed at the boy in the form of a punch or a kick.
"Whatcha do in school?"
"Work..."
"Good." The basic conversation between the two; his father was never interested in anything that Shiva did, as long as he did something. If his grades ever slipped, however, he would be in a world of trouble. He sighed softly and stared down at the pot of beans, feeling his stomach churned at the mere thought of consuming it.
With that sick feeling, he was unable to force himself to eat. So, the boy trudged down the hallway to his room; his sanctuary where no one, not even his father, entered, and he could be safe and alone. It was more clean than the rest of the house, since Shiva could manage to keep the smells and alcohol from sticking in there. Just a homey little room, it had barely any furniture to speak of, including a bed, a nightstand, and a desk. But that was it. The small closet across from his bed held his clothing, or what little he had, and was more than enough for it.
Dumping his bag on the floor by the door, he quietly eased himself onto his bed, checking the wounds and touching them tenderly. He reflected on the day and figured all of his problems had started with meeting Naoe. Not that he could honestly blame it all on the other male, considering he had been beaten before, but it just felt better to cast blame somewhere, if only for a short while.
Honestly, what had he done to deserve this?
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Bombay's Random Writings
Random randomness from the mind of a wierd little person.
That would be me.
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