Post by Shun Minamoto on Jan 1, 2017 16:25:10 GMT -5
Drool poured over Shun’s lips, and he felt his toes wiggle and his fingers scratch against the dirt beneath him. The soil gathered under his fingernails and made them ache. The way his legs stirred and realized they were still attached, still alive, also ached. His head thrummed with the beat of his heart, going fast enough to concern even the most lackadaisical nurse in the Third. That, too, burned against his chest. He felt as though he had been forced to run the circumference of the Earth at least ten times, and then jump to the Moon and back as some sort of sadistic finale in the superhuman Olympics.
As he pried his eyes open, he was met with a short expanse of flat dirt, and a wooden wall with black mold along the bottom. His eyes burned too, as if he had been asleep for the longest time he could possibly imagine. When he drew a breath, his lungs protested and caused a coughing fit, which just had him writhe in the dust like some sort of worm, reduced to helplessness because of its arrogant attempt to reach beyond its station in life.
A worm would always be a worm, no matter how hard it tried to become a person.
Everything started to come back to him.
It had been with great reluctance that he tried to leave the first world he found himself in. He though that, after a year of practice and study and meditation with Genshi, that he could find a way to control this unintended side-effect of his power. Although he had found a place to call home, even if temporarily, it wasn’t home. It never would be. The people there, the faces, would never be his people, his Souma, his Itsuki, his father, his mother, or even his Shinpei.
After so long now, he even wanted to see that living headache again.
Shun wiggled his toes again, and felt them brush naked against the dirt. When he looked down, he saw why: His tabi were gone. Not burnt away or destroyed, just gone. Then, Shun looked back at the wall, and up it.
The place looked like it hadn’t been lived in for years. The mold went halfway up the plank walls, and there was nothing at all around him. The whole thing was long enough that Shun could fit two of himself, laying feet-together and heads up against the walls. Then, he could fit maybe two more pairs on either side, for a total of six. The only thing in this hut was a dilapidated chair with a broken leg, off in the corner. Even the leg was still laying there, as if someone just didn’t have the nails and hammer needed to fix it.
As he craned his neck, against even greater protest, he saw that there wasn’t even a door. Just a gap in the plank wall—which matched the plank ceiling—that showed off a dirt road, which gave way to weeds and grass, and then broke off into a stunning view of the star-filled night sky that he so vividly remembered.
Rukongai, one of the outermost districts, if this shack was anything to go by. Shun sat up and, with great relief, felt his leg bump against the sheathed Genshi—just how he left him. He grabbed the sword but, as he went to stand, found that he couldn’t. His foot slipped out from under him when he tried to put weight back on it, and he came back down on his knee.
Seeing no use in rushing, Shun sat back down and laid his sword over his lap.
Just in time to realize that, in that very moment, he was no longer alone.
*****
626 Words
Consequence
As he pried his eyes open, he was met with a short expanse of flat dirt, and a wooden wall with black mold along the bottom. His eyes burned too, as if he had been asleep for the longest time he could possibly imagine. When he drew a breath, his lungs protested and caused a coughing fit, which just had him writhe in the dust like some sort of worm, reduced to helplessness because of its arrogant attempt to reach beyond its station in life.
A worm would always be a worm, no matter how hard it tried to become a person.
Everything started to come back to him.
It had been with great reluctance that he tried to leave the first world he found himself in. He though that, after a year of practice and study and meditation with Genshi, that he could find a way to control this unintended side-effect of his power. Although he had found a place to call home, even if temporarily, it wasn’t home. It never would be. The people there, the faces, would never be his people, his Souma, his Itsuki, his father, his mother, or even his Shinpei.
After so long now, he even wanted to see that living headache again.
Shun wiggled his toes again, and felt them brush naked against the dirt. When he looked down, he saw why: His tabi were gone. Not burnt away or destroyed, just gone. Then, Shun looked back at the wall, and up it.
The place looked like it hadn’t been lived in for years. The mold went halfway up the plank walls, and there was nothing at all around him. The whole thing was long enough that Shun could fit two of himself, laying feet-together and heads up against the walls. Then, he could fit maybe two more pairs on either side, for a total of six. The only thing in this hut was a dilapidated chair with a broken leg, off in the corner. Even the leg was still laying there, as if someone just didn’t have the nails and hammer needed to fix it.
As he craned his neck, against even greater protest, he saw that there wasn’t even a door. Just a gap in the plank wall—which matched the plank ceiling—that showed off a dirt road, which gave way to weeds and grass, and then broke off into a stunning view of the star-filled night sky that he so vividly remembered.
Rukongai, one of the outermost districts, if this shack was anything to go by. Shun sat up and, with great relief, felt his leg bump against the sheathed Genshi—just how he left him. He grabbed the sword but, as he went to stand, found that he couldn’t. His foot slipped out from under him when he tried to put weight back on it, and he came back down on his knee.
Seeing no use in rushing, Shun sat back down and laid his sword over his lap.
Just in time to realize that, in that very moment, he was no longer alone.
*****
626 Words
Consequence
