As the closest person the boy had to a father took his choppy smoke grey hair in his fists, he spat; "You really must learn to obey. Otherwise, you'll become even more useless than you are now."
The orphan boys face was then aggressively shoved into a large bowl filled to the brim with water. Seconds felt like minutes as the liquid filled his lungs like acid, now salty from his tears.
The waters frigid temperature froze the boys fingers as he gripped the sides of the bowl frantically. His lungs pleaded for a drop of oxygen.
Though, this was normal. It happened all the time. The boy was used to it, though it never made him cry any less.
This is all he has ever known. This forced lifestyle.
His home was the orphanage, where he was told malicious lies disguised as the truth;
He was nothing.
He knew very little about the man who told him this daily. The headmaster. All he knew is that he ran the orphanage, running it like it were his very own minuscule country. He was the king, the Gouverneur. Everyone else were his pawns. Despite this, no matter what words spilled from the headmasters mouth, the boy believed they were true. He was the only father figure any of them had, therefore all they heard was the truth.
But meaningless was their truth. Their truth could lead them to lose points, a mere system of when a child is fed.
This particular orphan, had very little points. So these punishments he'd receive almost daily, only became worse with his hollow stomach.
The silverette coughed up the cold liquid as soon as the headmaster had let go. The tall man stood and kicked the breathless boy to the ground.
The silverette tugged on his flint colored shirt with his icy hands, tears spilling from his eyes.
"To your feet at once!"
The small boy shuddered at the headmasters booming voice, but listened nonetheless, shakily standing to his feet.
The headmaster once again took the boys hair in fists, fingers weaved through his hair tightly.
At that point, the boy was being dragged to his "room", where his chains awaited him. Surely his burning scalp would get a break eventually.
Through the cold hallways, filled with the glaring eyes of other infants, their eyes reflecting the gorey sky peaking through the leaves like patch work. down a short set of stone stairs, was a dark room. Although; one of the walls were replaced by sturdy iron bars.
The potent odor of unhealthy urine drifted through the musty hallways, becoming stronger with every step. The odor tickled at their noses, ensuring its entrance into their nostrils through its bitter stench. The bucket emitting the smell hiding shamefully in the corner of the somber cell.
An heavy iron door opend, dancing roughly on its hinges. Metal squealed and cackled as the headmaster shoved the silverette into the depths, palms slapped upon the cement flooring, Small pebbles wedging themselves into the crevasses of his hands.
Smoother hands reached out. They didn't have pebbles, they weren't discolored or swollen. That was a privilege only they held.
Those monochromatic hands wrapped harshly around multichromatic wrists, adding a bracelet of silver shame.
All the boy could do was hang his head as he felt the cold metal hug his wrists. Not an inch of wiggle room between his skin and the metal.
"You understand why you are locked up don't you?" Asked the headmaster, holding a lantern.
"...Because you hate me." Answered the boy, eyes reflecting nothing but emptiness.
"That's right. I hate you." The headmaster said as he took out a needle.
The boys eyes immediately widened with fear as he seen the glare of the sharp syringe.
He desperately tried to get away from his aggressor, but failed miserably as his chains held him back.
"Don't wast your energy."
Skin enthusiastically welcomed the gleaming metal, regretting it deeply when the liquid drug quickly pushed past the abysmal knots of nerves and administered into his veins.
The boy shrieked in pain as the drug flowed through his body like fire. The boy continued to scream, falling to the floor in agony. The pain was strong, and his hands started moving on their own, shakily moving towards his arms, where he attacked his skin unfairly.
The headmaster watched until the boys pain had subsided. Soon after he turned his back to take his leave, his polished shoes hitting the ground in a nauseating pattern.
Eyes burned holes through the mans body, skin melting away from muscles who ripped from his charred spine. He looked back at the boy who still shook on the cold stone floor. His eyes swirled with loathing.
"Outside... there are monsters that make me appear like a tiny ant. And you will be out there someday... when that time comes, continue to hate me, Atsushi. Never hate yourself. Because the worst villain can have the most benign face."
The man reminded, looking down upon the boy, disappearing into the darkness beyond the bars seconds later.
Atsushi Nakajima was the boys name. Though he was most often referred to as trash or a mistake. No need for a name no one ever uses.
It terrified Atsushi when the headmaster spoke his name. He always used it when he was dead serious about something. Usually Meaning a punishment was to be put in place.
Thinking about this, the orphan boy slowly recoiled into himself, face hidden in his knees as he hugged them. This being his only chance of comfort, he did it quite often.
Even in his comfort position, he was still as alert as ever, even as he nodded off into a dreamless slumber.
His period of sleep lasted mere minutes, as he immediately perked up at the sound of something heavy falling to the ground above him.
His eyes focused on the darkness beyond his cell. The stillness sent a feeling of unease through his bones, writhing with its marrow.
Something was not right. He could feel a presence. Not one he had felt before.
He was alarmed. No one has ever broken in before.
What should I do?
He thought for a second, but was then snapped out of his thoughts as soft footfalls followed by a cough echoed through the hallway.
Did the smell bother them?
Atsushi clenched his teeth with anxiety as the footsteps neared his location.
His hands gripped the hard, cement floor beneath him.
The tenebrosity was sliced by the looming orange glow of a candle. Before long, the footsteps stopped in front of his cell, the candle illuminating an unfamiliar pair of gleaming eyes.
The owner of the eyes stepped forward, now showing a boy not much older than the boy on the floor.
A black haired male stood beyond the bars, staring back with naturally wide eyes.
"W-who are you?" Atsushi stuttered.
"It is not your place to ask." Exclaimed the boy quietly, his voice not changing in tone.
"I m-mean you're i-in the orphanage i stay in! So i think it is m-my place to ask."
The stranger stayed silent.
"W-what was that noise earlier?" Atsushi was almost scared to ask.
"A pair of gards hitting the floor." The boy replied with a monotone voice.
"What!? I'll get blamed for that! I'm always blamed for everything!-"
Atsushi was cut off by a quick and quiet 'Rashomon', suddenly sending ropes the same color of the strange boys ragged sapphire jacket. The ropes rapidly wrapped around Atsushis head, acting as a mask to mute him.
The red static emitting from the ropes lit the room, the hum the static released was like that of a television with loose cable connection. It was soft, it would be calming if it weren't for the situation.
The strange boy grabbed the bars of the cell, locking eyes with the boy on the stone floor.
More ropes grew from the boys back, rushing towards Atsushi. He braced for impact, but instead, he heard the shattering of his chains. Atsushi opened his eyes to look but was swiftly dragged towards the stranger and into the rays of the flickering candle. The boy had only heard stories of ability users. He's never seen one before.
Atsushi looked at the boy in fear, but soon his eyes softened.
He was tired.
He didn't care for death, though he thought it might be better then being where he was.
Atsushi made eye contact with the strange boy. His slate grey eyes were wide and dull. Exactly like a stormy sky before the rain. His hair was black with white tips on the longest parts of his fringe, with many misplaced hairs. His pale skin dirtied.
Stormy eyes stared back, looking into Atsushis tired eyes. Atsushi had segmental heterochromia, consisting of magenta on the top, and a yellow as flourished as a sunflower on the bottom. His eyes were dim, similar to a sunset without the suns rays. Atsushis smoke grey hair was cut strangely, as if a child had cut it with blunt craft scissors. As well as his pale skin scattered with purple and blue to match.
They stared at each other, until the strange boy finally let go of Atsushi, who subsequently fell to the floor.
"Are you going to kill me with those strange tentacles?"
Asked Atsushi, looking down at his knees.
The stranger knelt down and narrowed his stormy eyes.
"Do you wish for death?"
His stomach whined for nutrition. "I haven't eaten in a week. I'm going to die e-either way..."
The silverette explained with a wobbly voice.
"So you're giving up so soon?"
The stormy eyed boy asked, almost as if he were offended.
Atsushi didn't answer, he just hung his head.
"Weak."
Atsushi looked up to meet the boys judgmental gaze.
How blunt.
"weak people should die and give way to the stronger ones." The boy spoke quietly, seemingly quite annoyed.
Atsushi looked down once more, tears welling up in his sunset eyes.
"Why did you come here..?"
"Scavenging." The strange boy replied, barely above a whisper.
"I have food. It is a day old though. I couldn't reach it with those chains on. So if you really want to, you can take it."
The ravenette raised a brow.
"It's not like i can eat it anyway. Whatever i eat, just comes right back up." Atsushi said nonchalantly, like it was perfectly normal.
In truth, the headmaster had put the tray there to torment the boy.
Once again, sapphire ropes grew from the boy's back with another quiet 'Rashomon'. The ropes grabbed the tray holding a bowl of what seemed to be dry cereal, two pieces of toast, and water.
After taking the food out of the cell, he grabbed the tray and placed the food back in its place, holding it behind him with his hypnotizing sapphire ropes.
The sapphire ropes pushed the glass of water towards Atsushi.
Atsushi smiled tiredly and took the glass in his hands. "Thank you..." the orphan whispered. He now realized how desperate he was for the feeling of the lukewarm liquid to flow through his throat.
The ravenette watched the boy once more. He was intrigued to say the least. His dull sunset eyes held more than just sorrow. Empathy. Even Kindness. He seemed pure hearted.
The stranger scoffed, fixing his baby blue scarf, then standing to his feet.
The stranger suddenly turned and started walking away, letting out a soft cough.
That was enough social interaction for the day. He thought.
"Wait! I thought you were scavenging?"
Atsushi called somewhat quietly, sticking his head through a gap in the study bars to watch the boy.
"Just by the looks of this establishment, there is barely anything valuable for me to take." The stranger replied, his stormy grey eyes looking back at Atsushi.
"Also," stormy eyes now evolved into eyes filled with lightning. "Try harder. It disgusts me how easily you admitted defeat. For the weak to become stronger, you must fight and stand your ground. Not shiver in the corner like an abandoned puppy." He spat. He had only just met the boy, and he was already criticizing him?
A few seconds passed, and he finally continued his walk towards the set of stairs he had come down. Leaving Atsushi more than confused.
The orphan crawled back to his chains and sat down with his knees to his chest.
With the candle light now gone, Atsushis sunset eyes tried to get accustomed to the darkness.
"I'm going to get in so much trouble for this..." Atsushi whimpered as he picked at the shattered chains.
'For the weak to become stronger, you must fight and stand your ground. Not shiver in the corner like an abandoned puppy.'
"I...don't think i can..." Atsushi once again recoiled into himself, hugging his knees a little tighter than before.
He was still confused. Confused about the boy, the ropes of sapphire blue, and his blunt and aloof personality. Though, he could not stop thinking about his piercing stormy eyes. They felt similar to his own.
He was intrigued.
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Glossary
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monochromatic- containing or using only one color.
multichromatic- containing or using more than one color.
abysmal- very deep.
marrow- a soft fatty substance in the cavities of bones.
tenebrosity- the quality of being dark or shadowy.