Title: Bruise
Fandom: Battle Royale II: Requiem
Characters: Naoki Jo, Ryo Kurosawa
Prompt: #16 – Purple
Author's Notes: I've been trying to write this for two years and it still isn't exactly how I envisioned it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Battle Royale II and I am in no way, shape or form profiting from this piece of writing even if, for whatever reason, people are actually reading it.
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"Stop. Please stop."
"You ungrateful bastard. It's your fault she's gone, you know." The stench of alcohol permeated the air around him, even his clothes reeked with the tangy smell. Again and again he rained blows with his fists, then his feet on the boy below him, the boy he until recently called his son. Now he was nothing to him. "Get up you piece of shit."
"Please stop." Words escaped him in choked sobs. Not that his father ever listened, no matter what was said, the older man would beat him until he was bored or to tired to continue. He curled into a tighter ball in an attempt to protect his face and stomach from the blows, but it didn't help very much. "I'm sorry, please stop."
"You fucking liar. You're not sorry." He landed a particularly sharp kick on the boy's back, causing him to cry out in pain and arch away from the pain, exposing his stomach again. "I'm the one who's sorry. Sorry that your mother and I weren't more careful and that we let a mistake like you happen."
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Naoki stumbled wearily into the classroom, his head bowed low in an attempt to hide his bruised and battered face from his friends. As usual his jacket was zipped up to his neck to make sure any bruises not hidden by his shirt were covered from view. There were tear tracks clearly visible on his face, but he decided it was worth a day of further humiliation by showing the school his weakness rather than cause himself any more pain by removing them.
"Jo, are you alright?" As obvious as the answer was, it was out of Ryo's character to even bother to ask. It really meant something, even if his thank you was delayed as Ryo squeezed his shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain. His leader didn't bother to ask any more questions as Naoki looked up at him. Even beyond the split lip and bruised jaw, the fresh tears and the dried trail of blood from his nose, the empty, defeated look in his eyes was enough to explain everything that had happened the previous night.
"That's it. You're staying at my place from now on." Ryo's tone was clear, he wouldn't listen to any arguments or suggestions otherwise. "We'll get your stuff this afternoon and you'll never have to see that bastard again."
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That night all five of them went to the tattoo parlor once again to get an addition to their tattoos. Another hatch mark to the tally of people they had to avenge. A permanent reminder of the fact although Naoki wasn't dead, he was broken much worse than they were.