I hate adventure time. If you've ever read any of my stories, you'll know that I spend most of my author's notes complaining about having too many stories going at once. That's because I'm stupid and keep biting off more than I can chew.
I've been slowly cutting down on my stories, diligently finishing them one at a time until I only had four left.
Then I watched The Vault and fell in love with Shoko. She just has too much potential to pass up. I love everything about her, from her tragic background to her hesitant friendship with Bonnibel. Missing arm, tiger, knife, thievery. I love all of it and I couldn't rest until I put her in a story.
Well, here it is. I hope you enjoy it. I'm going to try for one or two updates per week of about 1,000 words apiece. However, since I don't manage time well, it might turn into every other week or just sporadic updates for a month then a whole lot at once. I apologize in advance, but as I said before, I'm stupid. I've been told that I write well though, so I hope you enjoy this.
Part I
The old man watched as the trio progressed slowly across the uneven countryside. The Dojo's position offered an unobstructed view, allowing the opportunity to see anyone approaching for miles before they arrived. It was a unique allowance in a harsh landscape sporting multitudes of equally jagged hills and ravines. In most places, only a second's notice was afforded to travelers and encampments alike.
They'd chosen this place specifically for that feature. It wasn't a large building, and the inhabitants weren't soldiers or warriors. Aside from the old man and his wife, there was only one other adult.
Stephen was only twenty four though. He'd been a warrior several years ago when he came here, but all he did now was help watch the children. He told them stories about the world and taught a few of the older ones things he'd learned. An army of children would do them no good, and it would break the old man's heart to ever see these children enter battle.
That was part of the reason for the view. If they ever saw anything unfriendly approaching, they could retreat into the hills in any other direction.
These three didn't look unfriendly though, only sad. The parents both had helplessness apparent in their eyes, while the child between them carried only the secondhand uneasiness she'd picked up from her parents.
The little girl held a small ragdoll in one hand and left the other one tucked into her pocket. Long black hair ran over her shoulders, running together in thick tangles at the ends.
As they approached, the father asked, "Is this the place? The…"
"The Dojo, yes." The old man said. Stephen had thought of the name and it stuck. Neither the old man nor his wife liked it, but the children seemed to. That was all that really mattered in the end, so it stayed.
The father nodded and said a little shyly, "Good. We want… no… I…"
"I understand. The wasteland is a dangerous place." The old man turned back toward the house and called to his wife. She looked up from the swarm of children and came over, though not before notifying Stephen.
His wife turned to cheery smiles as soon as she neared the child. She reached a hand out to the little girl and led her away, telling her about all the other children there would be to play with.
The girl wasn't quite smiling, not yet. She probably wouldn't smile for a few days, but eventually she'd warm up. It was always heartbreaking. This was a terrible thing, to split up families, but it was the lesser of two evils. Sometimes these children would just be left to wander the wasteland unaccompanied. From there, who knew what would happen to them. Any number or combination of evils.
Bringing children to Dojo was a way for parents to make sure their children would be safe even when they knew they could no longer provide that safety.
As he watched the little girl walk away, the old man noticed something strange. Something awful. While the child walked past, the old man realized that her empty hand wasn't hidden in a pocket at all. The majority of her right arm was missing, removed midway above the elbow.
The old man shuddered a little, thinking about the pain that little girl must have gone through. Pain wasn't meant for children. This world was not a place for children or innocence. It saddened the old man that he couldn't think of a time when happiness had had a place to thrive. The world was all like this. The world had always been like this. As far as he knew, it would be like this until the end of time.
He distanced himself from the unpleasant thoughts and turned to speak to the parents. They were staring off after their child, the unmistakable lines of regret and uncertainty carved into their faces.
"It's the right thing to do," the old man assured them, "This is a safe place, and she'll be happy here. I promise."
They nodded, though the look in their eyes didn't go away.
Taking a breath to ready himself, the old man began the usual questions. "Is there anything I need to know about her?"
The parents looked at him blankly, and he elaborated, "Is she sick? Any allergies? Asthma, sunburns, or sensitive eyes? We don't have much in the way of medicine, but the little we can do can be done much better if we have some idea of what's to come."
He paused for just a moment to steady himself and ready himself for the most difficult question. "And what exactly happened to her arm?"
They were still speechless, still in shock. At what they were doing or at what he had asked. The father's jaw tightened a little and he didn't say anything. It was the mother who broke the painful silence. Her voice was small but insistent.
"Her name is… Shoko, and she's allergic to melons. Nothing really serious, they just make her face itchy when she eats them."
The old man could see in her eyes and hear in her voice exactly how distressing this was. He'd heard it a thousand times before but it never got any better. The sadness was never lighter or easier to deal with.
"Cut them up little. Don't let her get any on her face and she'll be fine."
The mother seemed to be on the verge of tears. The old man nodded and said, "Thank you, I'll be sure to remember that. Is there anything else?"
"Tommy don't bite!" Stephen called out from far behind him. On instinct, the old man started to turn in that direction. There was always a part of him that wanted to rush to the children's aid, even if it was to protect them from the discipline they needed.
The old man turned back to face the couple, but found himself alone. They were already walking down the hill and about to disappear beneath a stand of scraggly bushes.
As always, he wanted to run after them. He wanted to bring them back, give them their daughter and insist that they could do better than him. They were her parents for God's sake! If anyone knew what to do, it was them. She was their daughter and she belonged with them, not two geezers, a twenty four year old, and their herd of refugee children.
He didn't go after them though. He never did. A clean break was best. They would be convincing each other now that this was the best thing to do. He couldn't go after them or call out to them. If anything stopped them now, they would swing back the other way.
As much as the old man didn't want to admit it, this was the best place for the little girl.
So how was it? Leave a review and let me know how the beginning was. I purposefully used God instead of Glob etc. because these are still humans with human culture instead of morphed Ooo culture. Any other questions I'll be glad to answer.