Prelude
The
ship pushed steadily through the waves, cutting a glistening stream through the
pearly water. The boy stood staring down into the wake of the ship, his eyes
absent as if he was contemplating something terribly important. The other
soldiers watched him vaguely, mostly to make sure he hadn't thrown himself
overboard. There was something sad about the boy—a solemn quietness that set
him apart from the others. The other soldiers had tried to be as kind as
possible to the boy, handling him as if he were made of glass. No one knew much
about him, if there was much to be known.
The boy sighed, and turned towards his fellow soldiers.
They all turned away, trying to not to stare at him. The boy groaned inwardly,
then turned away from the soldiers again, focusing on the water. He didn't care
what the others thought about him. He'd gotten that reaction from most of the
people he'd bothered to associate with in his life—the misunderstanding, the
pity for the "poor little lost boy". It made him sick. He would show them all…
Show them all that he wasn't some helpless kid. He moved his hand to his
katana, and drew it, looking at his reflection in the sunlit blade.
He looked a little older than he was. That was one thing
about his appearance that he could be glad about. At least no one would take
him lightly. Everything else about himself, however, he despised. Every time he
looked at himself in the mirror, it was like a dagger through the heart. All
over again… He shook his head, sheathing the sword. Again he felt the presence
of eyes behind him, but this time he didn't bother turning around to see the
faces. He knew them already—fake concern, the eyes wishing that he would go
away so they wouldn't have to fane worry any longer. He decided to do them a favor.
He quickly turned around, colliding with one of watching soldiers. The soldier
was knocked back, but he leapt onto his feet and immediately began shouting.
"What's wrong with you, boy?!" He cried, his face red with
anger. "Why don't you watch where you're going?!"
"Why were you standing so close then?" The boy replied
coolly. "Am I that interesting?"
The soldier glared more, as a ring of other curious men
began to gather around them.
"You're a scrawny freak, that's what you are!" Cried the
man, bringing his fists up. "Acting like you're on some kinda high horse… Who
do you think you are?!"
The boy smirked a bit.
"Who do you think I am?" He asked. He still stood there as
if calm. The other man stared at him, as if sizing him up. The boy wasn't much to
look at—he didn't seem threatening at all. He was scrawny, pale, and thin. He
had short blond hair that parted to one side, and pale green eyes. The man
glared at the much smaller boy, his eyes burning.
"I think… That you're an arrogant idiot!!!" The soldier
shouted, before dashing at the boy. The boy kept a serious look, then calmly
stepped to the side. He brought his knee up, catching the soldier in the
stomach. The soldier's face lit up with surprise, and he fell back, slamming
into the ground. The boy grinned a bit.
"Who… Are you?!" He choked out, gasping.
"For the record, if you really must know…" The boy said
softly. "You can call me… Rune."
