Chapter 8: Seven Years of Johnny
Johnny Labuse, Age 5
Johnny stared anxiously at the bundle of blankets in his mother's hands. Supposedly, he had a new baby brother in there. The doctor was cleaning up, and his mother sat on her bed, exhausted. Despite her tiredness, and evidence of strenuous labor (he had been removed from the room for 'delivery', but he had heard his mother scream a variety of words he had been told never to say) Johnny had never seen her look at something so happily. He didn't like that.
"Mom, I want to see him!"
His mother smiled softly, and leaned over so Johnny could get a look. He made a face. His little brother was wrinkly, oddly shiny, and had a scrunched up face. "He looks gross."
His mother let loose a laugh that sounded like out of breath tinkles. "He's your brother, Johnny. You share looks."
"I don't look like that!" he cried indignantly.
"No, but he'll look like you eventually, so watch what you say, alright?" She ruffled his hair a little.
"Alright," he muttered. "Doesn't change the fact that he looks gross now, though."
"George, you ass! You've corrupted my baby boy! He's every bit a wet blanket as you!" Catherine cackled. "Ah, don't say that word, Johnny."
"Ass?"
"Yes, don't say it. At least until you're older."
"Roger."
She stared at him, then smiled. "Are you excited for your baby brother, Johnny?"
"I don't see what the big deal is," he muttered, turning his head away. He was sure his mother wasn't going to like that.
His mother merely chuckled. "You say that now, boy, but listen up. I feel like passing out, but this is important. To you, this is a very big deal. He's not your little brother; you're his older brother. He's going to follow you around, ask for advice, and you're going to help him out. You're not alone anymore, kiddo. You've got a responsibility now."
"But I'm not alone! You play with me!" Johnny pouted.
She smiled. "But you won't always have me. But you and your brother will have each other for a very, very long time. So treasure him, okay?"
Johnny continued to pout. That made no sense. Why would his mother ever not be there? And why would his brother remain if she didn't? But when he decided to question her, she was sound asleep. A firm hand tightly gripped his shoulder. He stared up into the face of his father. "You should go read in your room, John. Your mother is very tired."
He nodded and dashed off to his room. Dad liked it when orders were followed. He dashed passed the nursery, an ornery "James" adorned on its door. Mom had decided his name, because it was "alli-tuh-ray-shun" with his and Dad's names. When she told Dad, he just grunted. Johnny assumed that meant "yes", because whenever Dad grunted, Mom went along with whatever she asked. Dad agreed to a lot of things.
He walked into his room and closed the door silently. He grabbed a book from his bookshelf and tried to read, but it was a new book Mom had given him, one that was all text. Pictures made things easier, and he couldn't focus on the wall of words. Instead, he decided to do his daily exercises. Dad had started teaching him the Six Powers, a super-cool martial arts, but for now, he just had to practice the basic stuff. Push-ups, crunches, basic stances, normal things like that.
He went through all of his exercises, and even then, Mom hadn't woken up. Babies must be really tiring.
"Do we have any long-lost treasures on Teluca?" Johnny asked.
"Don't ask stupid questions. Of course we don't," his father snapped .
His parents were sitting in the living room, his father was looking through papers and his mother was cooing James.
Johnny frowned. Dad didn't have to snap at him. He didn't think it was stupid. They might have one. He felt tears coming on from the harshness, but he sniffed them back. Crying only made Dad angrier.
"George!" his mother hissed, so as not to awaken James. She turned to him and smiled. "Why do you want to know, sweetie?"
Johnny held his new book up to her for clarification. "They find one in this book, and the clues and stuff didn't seem that hard, so I thought if we had one, I could go find it."
His mother glanced at the book. "Seems like you're pretty interested for a 'boring no-picture book'."
Johnny frowned. Right, he had said that. He didn't like being wrong. "Well, that's a rule. And Dad said that there's an exception to every rule, so..."
"I did say that, but that doesn't mean it should be that way. Remember that, Johnny. And you said that you understood all of the riddles and such easily?"
Johnny nodded. "You see? I told you that garbage was a waste of time, Catherine. He needs something challenging."
Johnny smiled proudly. Dad had given him a 'backhanded compliment'. (He had heard Mom call it that months ago.) He didn't give those very often.
"Oh, hush. Are you enjoying it, Johnny?" Johnny nodded again. "See? Not a problem. All books expand the mind, George."\
"No, information does," he corrected. "And some of it is more expansive than others."
"Information is expensive?" Johnny asked. "How come?"
Catherine laughed. "ExPANsive, Johnny. It means big. And to expand means to making something bigger."
"Oh, okay."
"And as for your initial question, no, I don't believe we have any ancient treasures. George, you always paid attention in history, any mention of hidden wealth?"
"Certainly not," he frowned. "And if there was, the Marines would have found it ages ago."
Johnny's face fell. Of course, the Marines. They were the elite, full of smart people like Dad. He couldn't possibly compete with them.
"What would you have done with the treasure if you had it anyhow?"
Johnny paused. He had never considered that. What would he spend all of that treasure on? All he had really wanted was the adventure of finding the thing. "I guess, since I really wouldn't know how to spend it, I'd hide it again, and create a new treasure map to find it." He brightened up. "Yeah, that'd be fun! And then other people would find it and do the same thing, and it'd be a never-ending treasure hunt!"
His parents reacted to his idea with silence. Johnny's confidence faded. Was that a bad idea? He had liked it a lot.
"John, have you ever heard of a man named Gold Roger?"
"He was a pirate, right?"
"Gold Roger was referred to as the 'King of Pirates'," George explained. "He had the most treasure out of anybody, and he had an idea very much like yours. He placed all of the treasure he had in one place, and when he was captured, he told everyone to go search for it. Now, you think it would be fun for people to go on a treasure hunt, but it bred a new age of piracy, which caused massive amounts of crime and bad things."
"So it is a bad idea," Johnny lamented, hanging his head in shame. It had seemed like so much fun, too.
"It's lovely in theory, Johnny," his mother placated. "Some people just do very bad things for treasure. If the world was full of people like you, then treasure hunts would be a wonderful thing, but the world just isn't like that."
"Why not?" Johnny asked.
"Because people forget themselves and become greedy and selfish," George declared. "That's why the Marines exist, to keep those bad men under control. 'If men were angels, there would be no need for government.'"
"Aren't angels all dead though?"
"Don't be smart with me, John. The Marines exist because people cannot control themselves properly."
"But why can't they?"
George scratched his chin. "Simply because that is what it is to be human, I suppose."
Johnny frowned. Humans were good though. His parents never did anything bad, certainly. He didn't argue the point though, since his father didn't like it when he was argued with.
"Well then, Johnny," his mother whispered. "Your father and I need to talk about things, so why don't you continue reading your book in your room?"
Johnny nodded and scuttled out of the room; however, before he had entirely left earshot, he heard his mother: "Must you always bring the Marines into everything?"
"What do you mean? John needs to learn their purpose."
"Yes, but shoehorning it in to such an innocent conversation? There's more to life than just being a Marine, George. Let him be a boy."
Johnny frowned. He was a boy. A boy who would eventually become a Marine. That was his life. He didn't understand why his mother had a problem. The Marines were champions of justice, who wouldn't want to be one? But, then again, he supposed being an adventurer would be pretty fun too.
Johnny, Age 8
He watched as a group of people poured into the house. He, James, and his mom were standing by the door, all of them in their nicest clothes. Johnny didn't really think much of the tie and buttoned shirt, but Dad had called it "professional wear" and had told him that he would be wearing it a lot more as he got older.
It was Johnny's 8th birthday. He was now officially going to train in the techniques of the Six Powers martial arts.
Johnny immediately identified one of them as Spandine, the head of CP9. He had seen glimpses of the man occasionally, as he visited the house on business every so often, but they had never spoken. He gave his father a cool handshake and exchanged cordial greetings, then stepped to the side to let the members of CP9 greet him. The next, a bright red-haired man, clapped his father on the shoulder. "George! I haven't seen you since I joined CP9! Great to see you again!" he cried jovially. Evidently, this man and his father were great friends.
"Oi, Rob! Show some respect to the Vice-Admiral, why don't you!" Spandine shouted at the man.
Rob turned to Spandine with an irritated expression. "Why don't you shut your trap, Spandine? I think I've earned the right to use his first name, for God's sake." Spandine grumbled but said no more, choosing to sulk rather than speak.
Johnny's eyes widened to dinner plates. He couldn't believe it. Rob had not only defied a superior's order, but he had back-talked while doing so, and nothing happened. His superior had not punished him, and had even obeyed his command. This flew in the face of everything Johnny knew about military order. Rob should have gotten court-martialed for that.
"I see your impeccable respect for authority has not changed, Robert," George remarked. "And don't worry, Spandine, he's not under my jurisdiction. He can technically refer to me however he likes."
Rob laughed. "As staunch on the rules as I ever I see! One of these days you'll end up firing yourself on a technicality." He shifted to the side in order to let the other members greet 'George'. The men in black moved up and shook hands. Finally, there was one left, one Johnny hadn't noticed before. Standing at the entrance was a slender teenager with long, black hair, a piercingly emotionless expression, and silent as air. Johnny felt like he should have noticed the boy earlier due to the fact that he had a pigeon on his shoulder, but he was just so quiet, almost as if he was detached from reality. The boy gracefully strolled up to his father and shook hands. "Nice to see you again, Master," a cold, formal voice oozed.
"It's always a pleasure to see such a prized student, Lucci." George remarked. Johnny seldom heard his father say something so nice.
Robert clapped his hands. "Alright! So where's the birthday boy?"
Johnny nervously cleared his throat. "Here I am," he replied. He looked towards them and bowed. "Johnny Labuse, it's nice to meet you all." That was the politest way to introduce himself, right?
Rob whistled. "What a polite, young man. Well, Johnny, happy birthday!" He smiled brightly.
"Thank you," Johnny replied. He rather liked Rob. He felt his father's hands on his shoulders. "John will be joining your ranks in roughly ten years' time. I assure you, the boy will do wonders in the program. He's a natural prodigy, one who's Power Level is higher than Lucci's was at his age."
Johnny struggled to keep his composure. He had never heard any of that before. He knew his Power Level was high, but not prodigy-level! Why had he never been told?
"Oh, is it now?" Lucci spoke in a way that made Johnny's blood freeze. He stared directly at Johnny. "I'm excited to have such a member on the team," he drawled, never taking his eyes off Johnny, like a leopard stalking his prey. Johnny trembled. This man terrified him. Something about him screamed danger. He desperately wished that Lucci would go away, that Dad would notice his discomfort and kick Lucci out.
"Well, let's not all just stand around," his mother declared, breaking the tension-filled silence. "We have enough seats for everybody in the living room, so sit down and relax!"
They all shifted to the living room, Johnny took James and sat in the seat that was farthest from Lucci. The room was remarkably silent until Rob decided to speak up. "So Cathy, George, how have you two been holding up lately?"
Johnny's mother practically jumped to answer. "We've been doing great! You know how it is with George, he hasn't changed much since you last saw him, so consistently great to say the least."
"I can imagine," Rob chuckled. "And George? Haven't thrown your back out yet, have ya?"
"Naturally," his father replied. "The dojo is running as ever, we have a fairly good crop we'll be sending your way shortly."
"Kaku and the rest?" Lucci mused. "They were all quite skilled as I recall. You're not sending that mangy Jabura, though, are you?"
"Jabura is currently our best fighter," George responded. "So naturally we are."
Johnny was pleased to see a look of irritation flit across Lucci's face. There were indeed things that bothered Lucci. He wanted to meet this Jabura person. He felt a face pressed into his chest. He glanced down to see that James had turned away from the conversation. "Jah, Silly Eyebrows Man is scary," James whispered, in such way that it was immediately obvious James did not know how to whisper.
There was a pause as everyone attempted to understand, then Rob started laughing. "Look's like little James has already got you pegged, Lucci!" he gibed jovially. Lucci smiled in a very non-jovial manner as the rest of CP9 sniggered. Johnny could see that his mother was only holding herself back because she was the hostess. He allowed himself a chuckle. Lucci's eyebrows were pretty funny-looking.
"Well, to each their own style, I suppose," Lucci replied smoothly.
"Oh, style huh? Is that what you think those things are?" One of the other members teased. Lucci immediately shot him a glare that shut him up, but Rob only laughed louder.
The party continued like that, Rob tossing jokes around, Lucci making the occasional icy comment, and the rest merely engaging in general adult chatter that Johnny couldn't follow. When James started getting squeamish, Johnny took him to the nursery to keep him occupied, wondering at what point he would start understanding and talking with adults.
After a short while of playtime, James got tired, so Johnny put James in his bed for a nap. Johnny pondered what he could do. He didn't really want to go back out and not talk with the adults, and the only other non-adult had fallen asleep, so he was by himself. Johnny decided to imagine himself on an adventure.
He leapt off the boat, effortlessly landing on the ground below. He was Johnny Labuse, the prodigy of CP9. He and the team had been instructed to take out Donquixote Doflamingo and his crew. The Donquixote family had been giving the Marines hell for years, so they had been enlisted to finally be the ones to take him out. The ground crunched underneath his black boots as he strode towards their hideout.
"Don't let your guard down, boy. These pirates might be too much for you," Lucci remarked.
"Shut your trap, Lucci," Johnny advised coolly. "Or do you want to have another one-on-one spar?"
Lucci quaked indignantly, but didn't say a word. Even he couldn't hold a candle to Johnny.
The family's main force strode out in leagues. It was a veritable army, but Johnny didn't even flinch. He lifted his leg and flicked it at them. A massive Tempest Kick burst forth, sending them all flying. He continued on without breaking his stride.
When they reached the hideout, maniacal laughter broke out from the roof. "I've heard rumors of the members of CP9, but didn't think that they were this strong! Well, now that I have a decent playmate, I think I'll come out and fight you myself. How about it, Johnny Labuse? Want to-"
"-eat?"
Johnny glanced up to see his mother at the doorway. "Huh?"
His mother smiled. "I asked if you wanted to eat."
"Oh, that would be nice."
"Come to the dining room, then."
Johnny followed his mother down the hallway. As they walked, his mother looked down to ask, "So, were you having fun in there?"
Johnny nodded. "What were you imagining?"
"CP9 and I had to take down Doflamingo and his crew."
"Doflamingo, huh? He's a tough one," she remarked, with a little trace of laughter in her voice.
"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure I would've beaten him."
Catherine smiled. "I'm sure you would have."
Johnny and his guests ate, and the adults engaged in more unintelligible conversation. He ate in silence, making sure to eat everything on his plate. He glanced over at his brother, who had haphazardly managed to not eat enough food for it to cover his entire plate like an extremely gross painting. The plates were cleared away.
His mother sprang up and ran to the kitchen, turning off the lights as she did so. Johnny glanced around curiously. Was something going on? His mother reemerged with a cake that had eight candles, glowing brightly. Immediately the table broke into a chorus of "Happy Birthday". "Chorus" might have been a strong word, however, as the only one who was actually trying to sing the song in not monotone was Rob, and he was an exceptionally terrible singer. The cake was put in front of him. He remembered that you were supposed to make a wish and blow out the candles. He wished that one day he would be a big hero of CP9.
Everyone clapped and the cake was cut. Johnny stared at the slice of cake in front of him silently. "Mom, what's it taste like?"
"It's a vanilla cake with lemon frosting. It tastes great, eat up, Johnny."
Johnny glanced over to his father. "Go ahead," he grumbled. Johnny had never seen someone eat reluctantly, but he had to imagine that the way his father was eating was the epitome of that notion.
Johnny pensively forked a piece into his mouth, and bit down on it. His eyes widened. It tasted like heaven. He wasn't much a fan of sweet things, but it was just so fluffy and nice. The lemon was also a delicious complement to the sweetness, making the whole cake an extremely enjoyable experience. He took another bite, and another, and another. He couldn't get enough. It was by far the best thing he had ever tasted in his life. Then his fork collected nothing. He stared down at the plate. All that was left was crumbs and frosting. He scraped them off the surface and ate them, trying to keep alive the taste in his mouth as he did so. When even those ran out, he felt a budding despair. He really wanted more cake, and the only hope was a slight one.
"Mom?" he ventured. "Can I have another-"
"Absolutely not," his father snapped.
Johnny's face fell. He had expected that result. He tried not to feel so dejected over such a small thing, but it had been really, really good. The thought that he'd only be able to have one slice a year, if that, was like, like, he couldn't even think of a comparison. It was just crushing.
"Hoo, boy! I am stuffed!" Rob declared suddenly. "Sorry Cathy, might not be able to finish this cake you worked so hard on."
Johnny stared at his slice. He had barely eaten any. "Any of you boys want it?" he asked, lifting the plate to his fellow CP9 members. They all shook their heads. "Well, we can't just let it waste. Cathy?"
"Oh heavens, no," Cathy replied. "I'm watching my weight. And it wouldn't be good for James to have too much sugar before bedtime."
Johnny found it extremely odd that even though his mother was rejecting cake, she was grinning.
"I know you aren't going to eat it, George," Rob continued. "Which I suppose just leaves the birthday boy!"
"You could just toss the stuff," George noted.
"George, I spent hours on that cake," Cathy hissed. "Somebody will eat it, willingly or not."
"Dad, please?" Johnny begged.
"Another piece of cake isn't going to kill the boy, George!" Rob proclaimed, moving to get out of his seat. Johnny's father maintained a stony silence. Rob plopped the cake down in front of Johnny. "Here you go, kiddo. Happy Birthday!"
Johnny beamed up at him with as much gratitude as he could physically muster. "Thank you, Rob!"
He dove back into the land of delicious cake, eating more slowly so as to imprint what would undoubtedly be his last slice in his mind and taste buds. He ate it slowly and delicately, savoring every bite of the fluffy perfection. When he finished, the plate was practically clean. He bowed his head towards the right of the table. "Thank you, Robert. Thank you, Dad."
Rob smiled back, but his father merely grunted dismissively. Cathy picked up all the plates and carried them to the kitchen. She walked back into the room and clapped her hands. "It's gift time!" she declared.
There was an immediate shuffle as various people got up to get gifts. They placed all of the gifts in front of Johnny. There were two envelopes and one rectangle wrapped in festive wrapping. He opened the gift from his guests first. He carefully broke open the envelope and peeked inside. His eyes widened. Inside the envelope was more money than he had ever seen. "500 beri from each of us," Rob grinned. "That's enough for over a year's supply of gumballs, if you budget correctly."
Johnny bowed his head. "Thank you all very much."
"Johnny, what do you plan on doing with that money?" his father asked.
"20% to keep, 80% in savings," Johnny replied automatically. Smart budgeting is important for any self-respecting person.
"Good man."
Johnny smiled. He liked it when he was complimented, particularly by his father. He opened his father's gift next. In it was a key. He glanced up at his father, confused. "That key is the key to the dojo's workout rooms. With that key, you have 24-hour access to it. I expect you to use it wisely."
"Thanks, Dad," he breathed. His father was giving him a huge responsibility. Training machines were dangerous, as his father told him many times. To give him complete access to them meant that Dad trusted him very much. It was a really big deal.
He slid the key into his front pocket, feeling the new-found weight. He then went to the final package, his mother's. Opening it carefully, so that they could reuse the wrapping, (he couldn't think of a situation where wrapping would be used again, but his father told him that conserving things was important) Johnny discovered a book. It was the final book to a fantasy series that he had been reading. "Wow! Thanks, Mom!" he cried excitedly. Now he could finally see how the war between Eongon and the Shadow King ended. He felt himself squeam with excitement over being able to finish the series. He bet it was going to be a good ending.
Catherine smiled at her son, while his father stood up. "Thank you all for coming to celebrate my son's birthday with us. It means quite a lot to us. Of course, you are free to stay for as long as you'd like, but if you have appointments or duties to attend to, we understand."
And so, because they all took the same boat home, and only one of them seemed particularly keen on staying, the members of CP9 bid them farewell. As they were leaving, Rob leaned down and ruffled Johnny's hair. "So long, Johnny," he said. "It was a pleasure to meet you."
"Um, Rob? Can I ask you something?" Johnny asked.
"Sure, go ahead."
"Are you going to get court-martialed now?" he whispered, afraid that it might come true now that he said it. "You snapped at your boss, and you even gave me cake when Dad said no."
Rob chuckled. "Ah, you've been listening to your old man too much. Lemme give you a life lesson. Y'see, there's a lot more to authority than rank."
Johnny shook his head, disbelieving. People of higher ranks told people of lower ranks what to do. That's how it worked.
"Now, don't just shut me off like that. While rank does decide authority mostly, what really matters is strength."
"Strength?"
"Strength. Spandine has a higher rank than me, and I do obey important orders, but his power over me is made-up, because he can't actually do anything to me. I'm stronger than him. You understand? Let's say you were stronger than your father. He wouldn't be able to stop you from eating as much cake as you would like in that case. Then again, if you ate that much cake, you probably wouldn't be stronger for long. Basically, the stronger you are, the less people get to boss you around."
With that, Rob winked at him, wished him "Best of luck" and walked out the door. Johnny stood there, shocked and awed. He had never thought about it like that before. The "rank" system was made up. Strength was the natural decider. It made sense. Being strong was awesome!
Once that was over, the party was declared as over, and everyone commenced with cleaning up. After a while, James started whining, so Johnny took him back to the nursery.
James, tuckered out from all the activity, was put to bed, while Johnny went to his room to read his new book. An hour passed, with all being calm. The warmth of the day was making Johnny just a little tired, but he pressed on, because it was quite a good book.
"HAVING A NORMAL CHILDHOOD NEVER KILLED ANYBODY, GEORGE!"
Johnny looked up from his book, shocked. He didn't know his mom was capable of screaming like that. He heard stomping, steadily approaching the door, and his mother burst through, slightly red and out of breath.
"Johnny," she stated. "You and I are going for a walk."
Johnny nodded immediately and leapt to get his shoes on. He didn't entirely understand what was going on, but he had didn't dare disobey his mother when she was in this state. He had never seen her this angry, and it was scary. He wordlessly followed along as she marched to the entrance to their flat, and continued to do so as she stormed down the stairs, giving a quick bow to any of the Marines they saw on the way down.
Johnny and his mother strode out of the base. The island was bathed in the soft orange glow of sunset. Johnny stretched out his arms and gazed at them,. The light danced across his hands, giving them a tint previously unappreciated by him. He stretched and flexed his hands. It was as if he were seeing everything for the first time again. His mother marched on, presumably unappreciative of the visual phenomenon.
Johnny anxiously followed behind her for a minute, then decided to venture a question. "Mom?" he asked. "Are you okay?"
"Perfectly fine," she replied angrily.
"Uummm, were you and Dad fighting about me?" he asked, trembling. "Did I do something wrong at the party? If I did, I'm really sorry."
His mother immediately stopped in her tracks. She crouched down so she was at eye level with him, and clasped his shoulders. "John Elliot Labuse, look at me right now. Your father and I did have a fight, yes, but it is not because of you. We simply have a difference of opinions on some things, and I wanted to take a walk to get some air. It is nothing to worry about, and it is most certainly not your fault. Don' worry, we'll have made up by tomorrow. Okay?" she smiled.
"Roger," Johnny replied, sniffling. He was still a little worried, but his parents never lied, so it would all be okay tomorrow.
His mother stood back up. "Alright! Let's go into town! Since it's your birthday, I'll get you anything you want, so long as it's within reason of course."
Johnny stared up at her, amazed. "Another present?" he asked, amazed.
"Well, most kids get more than three presents for their birthday."
"They do?" Johnny asked, surprised. He had thought that people only got one gift from everyone invited to the party, and that was normal. "I always thought other kids got less presents than me."
"Why did you think that other kids got less?" his mother asked, curiosity laced in her voice.
"Well, the other students at the dojo always call me 'pampered', so I figured that they don't have as much stuff as I do."
Catherine turned her head to look at him. "The other kids call you pampered? Since when? How come you never told me?"
"Well, I told Dad about it, and he just said that I had nothing I shouldn't be proud of, and that their words should be considered with a grain of salt. That seemed like pretty good advice, so..."
His mother frowned. "Even if your father helped you out, I still want to hear about things like this. So if you ever tell your father something, make sure you tell me too, okay?"
Johnny scrunched up his face in confusion. "But isn't that why you guys sleep in the same bed? So you can tell each other about this stuff?"
"Excuse me?"
"Parents sleep in the same bed so they can have, like, meetings about the way the day went and about their kids and stuff, right?"
His mother started howling with laughter. "Meetings?!" she choked out through her laughter.
Johnny's face flushed. "Well, I mean, I couldn't think of a better word!"
Still laughing, his mother ruffled his hair. "No, Johnny, we don't have 'meetings' about you, so, if something big happens, make sure to tell me, okay?"
"Roger."
They had made it almost to town by this point, and the rest of the way was made in silence as Johnny attempted to think of another reason as to why parents slept in the same bed.
When they arrived on the main street, Johnny looked up and down the street. "Pick anything you want, Johnny," Catherine said. "No matter how frivolous or impractical it is, I'll get it for you."
Johnny's eyes widened. He wasn't sure what that first word meant, but 'impractical' things were what Dad frowned upon, because they offered no real value. He scoured around for something impractical that he wanted. Towards the end of the street, he found something.
Sitting in a booth he had never seen before, an old man hummed a tune. The old man was sitting on a stool, surrounded by three walls loaded with pinwheels. Pinwheels of every shape, size, and color were abound, all spinning to different rhythms. He had never seen such a pretty sight. He wanted one of them. "Can I help you, young man?" the old man asked, a wrinkled smile on his face.
"Umm, I'd like to buy a pinwheel, please," Johnny requested.
"Ah, well, which one would you like?"
Johnny glanced around at all of them. They were all really pretty. But one of them caught his eye. A purple and pink one, with four curved wings. He pointed to it. The old man handed it to him. "That'll be 1,500 beri," the old man said.
"1,500!" his mother cried out from behind him. "You can't be serious."
The old man fixed his mother with a look. "Ma'am, I don't sell normal pinwheels. These pinwheels are built to last. They're built from Adamwood, coated in a solution that makes them water and rot-proof, why, he would have to live to be my age to see the thing fall apart."
His mother glared back at the man. "And I'm just supposed to believe that?"
The old man chuckled. "They say you should never lie to a Vice-Admiral; I'd imagine that's doubly so for their wives."
His mother pursed her lips, took out her wallet, and handed him 1500 beri. Johnny's eyes widened at the sheer amount of money being exchanged. The old man took it and didn't move a muscle. "Well, do we get the pinwheel or not?"
"Now hold on ma'am, that covered the costs. The lad needs to promise me something to."
"What's that?" Johnny asked, nervous. He had heard about bills and mortgages and things and he wasn't quite he sure he understood them enough to give one to the old man.
"A dream, lad. Before I give you this pinwheel, you need to tell me your dream and swear to me that you'll keep it," he said, a smile across his face.
Johnny thought to himself. A dream? There wasn't much he wanted, really. He knew he was going to be a Marine, and he knew that he was going to be a good CP9 operative. The stronger you are, the less people get to boss you around. He thought about Rob's words again. He liked them. He thought about his imaginary battle with Doflamingo. He really liked that. He decided he would make it a reality. "I want to be the strongest martial artist ever," he declared. Nobody would be able to stop him from eating cake then.
The old man laughed. "A tall order for such a small child! Well then, here, take this pinwheel with you to the top!"
Johnny eagerly took the pinwheel and gazed at it, spinning in the light breeze. This was it, he had sworn to it and this was a manifestation of his dream. He would become the strongest ever. He felt a hand on his back. He looked up at his mother.
"It's getting dark now, sweetie. We should be going home."
Johnny nodded. He turned and grinned at the old man. "Thank you!" he said brightly. Then he bounced after his mother.
As they were walking along, his mother decided to speak. "So, the world's 'strongest martial artist', huh? Where did that come from?"
"Rob said that people who are strong get to eat as much cake as they want," Johnny explained. "Plus, imagine it, Mom! Johnny Labuse, the Strongest Fighter! Even the Warlords don't disobey him, for fear of his fists of lightning!" He demonstrated his dream with a few excited punches into the cool air.
His mother giggled. "Well, that sounds perfect for you. I think you can pull it off one day."
"You really think so?!"
His mother nodded. "Well, you'll have to train hard everyday, harder than everybody else. And if you do, you'll get stronger quicker than anybody else, which means that, no matter how strong they are, you will beat them one day."
Johnny stared at his mother, awestruck. That was amazing! His mother was really smart! "Thanks, Mom! And, uhh, thanks for the pinwheel, too. You spent a lot of money on it, so thanks."
His mother's smile changed. Johnny wasn't quite sure how or why. "Johnny, since I'm on a roll in terms of parental advice today, I'll give you another lesson. The value of a gift isn't determined by what it is, by how practical it is, or by how expensive it is. The value of a gift is determined by the feelings behind the gift. Do you understand?"
"Not really."
"Well, you will someday."
"Why can't I now?"
"The same reason you can't be the world's strongest now: Because you're eight."
"Huh."
They walked back into the loft, and they walked by the living room, where Johnny saw his father looking over some documents. He walked up to him. "Dad, do you know who the strongest martial artist in the world is?"
His father put down the documents and looked at him warily. "Yes, why?"
Johnny showed his dad his pinwheel. "Mom got me this pinwheel, and I promised the man who gave it to me that I would become the strongest martial artist ever. So I figured that I should find out who it is. Is it you?"
His father pursed his lips. "I do know who it is, but I am not going to tell you."
"What? Why not?"
"Because that man is not someone you will ever be able to defeat, and he is not the kind of man who will let you live once he beats you. I would greatly prefer it if you didn't waste your life on an impossible effort."
Johnny stood there. He felt tears welling up in his eyes. That hurt. That hurt horribly. Why couldn't he beat him? His father didn't know that for sure. He could get strong like his mother said.
His father leaned down and held his shoulder. "John, I'm not trying to be mean. You are going to be above and beyond an exemplary fighter, but, in the field of martial arts, you are limited by the body given to you at birth. We have no instruments, no powers, only our muscles, and those are decided at birth. There are walls we cannot breach, and that is one of them."
"But, but I can try!" Johnny insisted.
"Absolutely you can," his father responded. "But in this case, trying means death, so I am forbidding you from trying."
Johnny hated crying, but he couldn't help himself. Tears began to stream from his eyes. He had been really excited about it, and Dad had just shut him down. He hadn't ever really had a dream before, and he was not about to lose this one.
"Dad, Rob... Rob told me that true authority lies in your strength. Is that right?"
"Yes, I suppose."
"So... If, if I get stronger than you, will you tell me the name of the strongest fighter then?"
Catherine and George shared a look. This was the first time Johnny had ever done something even slightly rebellious. George shifted in his seat. "Yes, I will. Only when you become capable of defeating me in a fight will you hear the name of the world's strongest fighter."
Johnny nodded. He had made a promise with his father. For the first time in his life, he and his father stood on equal ground.
Johnny, Age 9
"Ow, Mom! That stings!"
"Well, maybe it wouldn't sting so much if you hadn't gotten into such a fight in the first place, sweetie."
Johnny and his mother were sitting in the bathroom while his mother did first aid. "But I had to fight 'em! I'm going to be the world's strongest so I need to see how I stack up compared to the older kids!"
"I understand that, but you picked a fight with several of them. And more importantly, you really hurt them and yourself."
Johnny nodded excitedly. "Isn't it great? I'm already as strong as they are!"
His mother stopped administering first aid, and flicked him on the head. "Johnny, fighting for fighting's sake is never a good thing."
"What do you mean?" Johnny whined, rubbing his forehead. "I didn't just fight to fight. I fought to get stronger. And I did! I beat up all those older kids!"
"That's what I'm saying Johnny. You cannot start a fight for selfish reasons. You really hurt those boys. How would you feel if someone younger than you just came up to you and beat you up?"
"I'd train and train until I could beat them up," he replied with no hesitation.
Cathy sighed. "Well, I suppose that's what you would do, yes. But think about how it makes those boys feel. They are probably very sad and embarrassed right now."
"So? They should just get stronger then."
"Johnny, not everyone is as thick-skinned as you are! Your actions and the things you say can really hurt others! You have to put other people before yourself, Johnny!" she snapped.
Johnny put his down in shame. He didn't really get what she meant, but Mom was clearly mad at him.
Cathy sighed again. "I'm sorry, Johnny. I didn't mean to snap at you like that. It's just… you have to be more considerate of others. Your father can get like that too sometimes, and it can be frustrating."
Johnny hesitated for a moment before speaking up. "Mom, do you and Dad get along?"
She looked at him, surprised. "Of course we get along! What makes you think otherwise?"
"I dunno," he muttered, staring at the floor. "It's just… you guys are arguing a lot more, and Dad said that you were taking medicine because you were sick, and..."
She quickly pulled him into a hug. "Sweetie, there's nothing wrong. Sure, we're arguing a lot more, but it's not like we don't love each other. We're just in a rough patch is all. It happens to everyone. And don't worry about me. I just happen to be going through two rough patches at once. Don't worry about me, though. I'm tough. I'll make it through just fine."
"Mom?"
"Yes, sweetie?"
"This hurts super badly."
"Ah, right! Sorry!"
Johnny, Age 10
Johnny dashed home after training. He had mastered the third of the Six Powers, Moon Jump, today. Three powers in less than three years. At his age, that was unheard of. He was excited to get home and tell Mom and Dad. Mom had been bedridden for a while. She had been really depressed and tired lately, and he couldn't wait to see her smile when he told her the news.
He sprinted up the stairs of the tower, offering a quick nod to everyone he passed. He dashed into his house. "Mom! Dad! I'm home! You'll never guess what I got today!"
Silence. Johnny's hair stood up on end. The house had acquired a solemn atmosphere since he left it this morning. That was weird. He walked to his mom's room and hesitantly peeked inside. His mom was sleeping and his father and the doctor were talking quietly. "She had been suffering from severe stress, crippling her immune system, causing ulcers, not to mention the fact that her constitution was never the best in the first place… Really it's amazing she held out this long."
"Dad?" Johnny interrupted. "What's going on?"
"Ah, John," his father turned to him. He leaned down and gripped Johnny's shoulder. Johnny started really worrying. "It pains me to say this, but your mother has died of a heart attack. She passed away sometime today."
What?
"Mom's… dead?"
That's a joke, right? No, Dad never told jokes. Johnny tore himself from his father's grip. Mom told jokes though. She liked telling jokes. He'd run to her side, then she'd spring up and start tickling him. They'd laugh, and everything would be normal again. That was exactly what was going to happen. He looked at her face. There was no sign of movement, no poorly-hidden smirk that betrayed her motives. Nothing. He reached out and touched her hand.
It was cold.
He started crying. He usually hated crying, but this time he didn't care. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to wail his lungs out.
His father picked him up and carried him to his room. His father was warm, but that didn't matter. His mother was cold. Mom, who read him bedtime stories. Mom, who always bought him books. Mom, who always smiled even though she wasn't happy sometimes. Mom, who gave him hugs that were nice and warm and made him feel happy, couldn't do that anymore. She was cold. She was dead.
His father set him down on his bed. Johnny immediately writhed around, grabbing his blankets, pillow, everything, and started hugging it. "I'm going to get your brother from preschool," his father spoke. "Cry all you like. It would be bad for you to hold it all in, so feel free to cry."
He walked out briskly. Johnny just sat on his bed, crying. He wasn't sure how much time passed. He didn't know, he didn't care. He just cried and wailed. There was nothing else he could do. All the books he had read always described the pain of losing a loved one with an analogy. But he didn't think there was anything this feeling could be compared to. It was just sadness. Sadness and pain on a level he had never experienced before. So he did the only thing he could do in the face of such emotions. He cried and wailed.
At some point, he heard crying and wailing that wasn't his own. He recognized it as his brother's. His brother was crying too, which meant he had a job to do. He got out of bed and followed the sounds. He found his father and his brother in the entryway. His father was awkwardly patting James' head, trying to comfort him. Johnny wordlessly ran up to his brother and started hugging him. James immediately gripped onto him tightly, and started bawling into his shirt. Johnny gripped his brother tighter too. They stood there like that, crying. They cried for a long time.
Eventually, their throats started hurting, and so they stopped crying. They just stood there. A little after that, James spoke up. "Johnny, I'm hungry," he croaked. Johnny smiled. He took James by the hand and led him to the kitchen. Dad had laid out some food for them a while ago. They ate it in silence. James then insisted that they go find Dad. They found him in his study. James walked over and hugged his leg. Their father reached down and patted him on the head. "Thank you for trying to comfort me, James, but I'm quite fine right now. You and your brother should go to bed, make sure to get some sleep. You'll feel better."
Johnny nodded once, mutely. He led James back to their room. Johnny tucked James in as usual. He would tuck James in, then Mom would tuck him into bed. Mom always called it the "tucking chain". He realized that he would now never get tucked into bed again. Suddenly, he felt the urge to start crying again. He made a move to go to his bed when James grabbed his arm. "No!" he shouted. "Can… can you sleep in my bed?"
Johnny nodded. He climbed into the sheets and hugged his brother. Tears trickled down his face, and James sniffled and whimpered. Eventually, James fell asleep. Johnny never did though. He didn't know how. He was just too shell-shocked. It occurred to him that his father might be having the same problem. Perhaps they could have a heart-to-heart. Maybe that would help both of them. He slowly removed himself from the bed, doing his best not to disturb James. He knocked on his father's bedroom door. No response. He knocked again. He heard some shuffling, sheets moving, and the door opened to reveal his father. He had clearly been sleeping.
"Yes, what is it, Johnny?"
"N-nothing, I was just... wondering if you were alright."
"As I said earlier, John, I thank you for your concern but I am fine. You really should go to bed now." And with that, his father closed the door.
No tears, no shock, no encouragement. Mom's death had not caused any change in the way Dad behaved whatsoever. Johnny felt something slide into place in his head. His father was a monster. Mom and Dad had been arguing a lot, Mom suffered from severe stress, Dad never laughed, never cried, never comforted him, never hugged anyone, always brought up the Marines and CP9, never let Johnny have anything that wasn't conducive to that. Mom always cared for him, loved him, wanted to do things that the other kids did, encouraged him to play with them and be nice, wanted him to have a life like in the books. Mom and Dad always clashed over him, how he should live his life. Mom always lost, but still worried herself sick over it. He had never made an effort to comfort her, just let himself be content in her comfort. He was bad at understanding others. He felt no guilt over hurting others. He never cared much for anything, aside from Mom and James. He realized that he and his father had never once said "I love you" to each other. So, his father was a monster, and he, at the very least, was a half-monster.
He wandered back to his room, dazed. What did he have to himself? What did a half-monster like him have? What proof was there that he was human? He no longer had his mother, and he had never had any friends, and he was starting to realize that he had never had his father either. He entered his room, and saw James, hugging his stuffed elephant. He had James. James loved him, and he loved James. They were brothers. He was an older brother. He, no matter how much of a monster he was, would always be there for his younger brother, because that's what a brother was. He couldn't let James suffer Mom's fate. He had to keep him happy.
He looked around the room, searching for any other belongings that meant something to him. He saw the pinwheel, resting still in a bottle on his dresser. He jumped up and grabbed it. This was proof. This was proof of his dream, this was proof of his mother. His future and his past. This had been given to him because of his mother's love, as well as his own ambition. Things only humans had. He held it to his heart. He would never let it go. James was his own person. A person that he would protect, but he could not force him to his own will for his own comfort. He would not be his father. This pinwheel, however, was his tie with Mom, and his tie to his dream. It belonged to him, and him alone, and he would be damn sure that he never lost it.
Pinwheel in hand, he went back to James' bed, and fell asleep.
Johnny, Age 14
"Do you want to, maybe, get a bite to eat with me sometime?" the girl asked, shyly twirling her hair.
"No thanks. Not interested," Johnny responded flatly.
The girl's face fell. "Oh, uhm, well, then, I guess… Bye." With that she darted off and Johnny continued walking to the dojo as if nothing had happened, pinwheel twirling as he strode forward.
James looked on, flabbergasted. "Johnny! What the hell was that?!"
"Hey, language! And what do you mean what was that? A girl asked me out and I rejected her. What's there to not understand?"
"First off, you can't say anything about other people using bad words. Second, I saw that you rejected her, but it was really rude!"
"You think so?"
"I know so! Why did you say it like that?"
"What do you mean? I wasn't interested in dating her, so I said so. I honestly don't understand what the problem is."
"That was really harsh! First off, if you don't dislike her, you should go a date and see how it goes before rejecting her. Secondly, if you are going to reject her, you should at least put it more lightly!"
"Yeesh, reads a couple of romantic books and suddenly the 9 year-old thinks he knows it all."
"…I don't know what you're talking about."
"Oh, you mean you don't know about the girly romance novels under your mattress that you hide from me so I won't tease you about them? That's weird," Johnny remarked, with a teasing grin.
"We're focusing on you right now!" James snapped back. "You have to think about the girl's feelings when it comes to stuff like this."
"The girl's feelings? Why? My feelings are way more important to me. What do I care what she thinks? She can get over it. Besides, she only asked me out based on appearances. No way were she and I going to actually get along. I'm doing her a favor. And, if we're on the topic of consideration, who asks someone out when they're with their little brother?"
James sighed. "That doesn't matter, I'm sure she's hurt. You have to put others before yourself, Johnny! What? What's with that look?"
"Nothing. That's just something Mom told me once. Kinda surprised to hear it again is all."
"Mom sad that?"
"Yup, exact tone and everything. Shouldn't be too surprised though. You and Mom are a lot alike."
"I'm like Mom?" James muttered to himself. His father and brother weren't exactly sparkling conversationalists, and when they did talk, it was never about Mom.
Johnny and James were relaxing on their bunks, both silently reading, when James spoke up. "Johnny, can we talk about something?"
Woah, that was a serious tone. Johnny leaned over to get a look at his younger brother. "Sure James, what's up?"
James looked up at him with imploring eyes. "Can we talk about Mom?"
Oh, it was that serious a talk, huh? Johnny alighted onto the floor and sat down on James' bed. "Sure. What do you want to talk about?"
"It's just, what you said today got me thinking about Mom. Then I realized that I really don't remember Mom that well. And well..." he curled up into a ball, eyes shining. "It just made me sad, I guess."
Johnny's heart nearly split. He leaned over and hugged his brother tightly. "C'mon kiddo, don't be sad. You were five when she died. You guys just… didn't have a chance to make some memories." Aw crap, now he was starting to choke up. "Want me to share some of mine with you?"
"Could you?" James sniffled.
"Absolutely, I could. Let's start with… I know, let's start with when you were born. I hated you when you were born, but Mom absolutely loved you. Never saw her more happy then after you were born."
"Really? Why did you hate me then? I'm your brother!"
"Well, sure I know that now, but when I was five, you were just some ugly baby that was hogging my mom. Couldn't stand you. Mom was super adamant we get along though. She always told me that- well, nevermind. What she said to me specifically is a secret."
"Aw, c'mon!"
"Sorry. But you know what's not a secret? Mom swore like a sailor."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah. Compared to her, I'm cleaner than a fucking whistle. I remember on my 8th birthday, she was making us a cake for the first time, but she was out of practice so she couldn't do it right. After a couple tries, you started bothering her wanting to play, and she went off on you like a rocket. I don't think profanity on that level can ever be matched again. You were bawling for half an hour afterward."
"What? What kind of heartwarming story is that?" James laughed.
"I guess it really isn't one, huh? The 8th birthday is when she got me my pinwheel, so I really remember the whole day fondly."
"Wow, so that's where it comes from, huh? Oh! Where did Mr. Zwonkers come from?" he asked, holding up a raggedy stuffed elephant. Johnny started laughing.
"Mr. Zwonkers? That's actually a good one. You kept trying to take my pinwheel from me when I got it, and I refused to let you have it, so the week after my birthday, you were crying a lot. Mom hated to see you so sad, so she wanted you to have a 'special item' too. She explored town, saw an elephant in a crane game, and decided it was perfect for you. She blew 1200 beri trying to get it. Eventually, she returned home, held it in front of you, and immediately, for whatever reason, you called it 'Mr. Zwonkers' and started hugging the shit out of it. Mom was so proud of herself."
James beamed down at his prized stuffed animal. "I'm glad. I really like that story."
Johnny leaned back onto the bed. "I do too."
"Thanks for talking about Mom with me, Johnny."
"Of course, kiddo. You say the word and I'll help out any way I can. Always."
He's not your little brother, you're his older brother. He's going to follow you around, ask for advice, and you're going to help him out. Johnny smiled. His mother had been right on the mark. It was nice to be needed. Really, James did him as much good as he did James good.
Still gonna tease the shit out of him about those romance novels, though.
Johnny, Age 15
Johnny Labuse walked across the long stretch of perfectly-even grass to the castle that loomed in front of them. They were meeting James' fiance today. Johnny Labuse strode alongside his father, a position that conveniently kept his father out of his sight. It was a bright, sunny day, the kind that Johnny hated because he could never see properly at certain angles. The Labuse family marched in silence, all in various moods.
He walked like he was simultaneously trying to move forward and kick the earth at the same time. They were meeting his brother's fiance. Fiance. God, that was fucking annoying. 10 year-olds don't get fiances. 10 year-olds have dead parents, not fiances. No, no, bad. Shouldn't think like that, the day was bad as it was. His brother's fiance's name was Something Tulip. He hadn't been actually listening when his father made the announcement. He had been too angry. Who the fuck gets to decide this shit? Why the hell did Dad just think he could do whatever he wanted, and they would just follow like dumb little sheep?
He kicked the earth harder. His father glanced at him. "John," his father said. "Is something the matter?"
"Johnny."
"Pardon?"
"I prefer 'Johnny', Dad."
"Oh, don't start this now."
Johnny boiled. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?! Sure, now was not the most perfect time to discuss it, but it was his goddamn name! That was pretty important! But his father marched on, as assured of himself as ever, fucking bastard.
"Now, boys," George continued, evidently prodded by his son's behavior. "You two are to behave properly when we enter the castle. After all, we are in front of royalty. It is up to us to show them the dignity of the Marines."
Dignity of the Marines. Yeah, right. George Labuse's crazy idea of what the dignity of the Marines was, maybe, but as far as Johnny had observed, the Marines were about as factious as pirates were. The only difference was one side had more guns. He never said that out loud though. No point in making life even harder.
They continued their walk, still in dead silence. Johnny glanced back to his little brother. He was staring at the ground, murmuring, as if he were reciting lines. Johnny almost smiled. Out of all of them, James was probably taking this the most seriously. To him and his father, this was a matter of course. They were just doing this out of courtesy. They both knew that James could spend the entire time with a finger up his nose, and it wouldn't make a lick of difference, and Johnny had told him as much, but his little brother was adamant on making the best first impression possible.
Johnny turned forward again to resume brooding, but to a slightly lesser extent. It was nice, having James around. No one in the Labuse family was known for deceit or secrets, but while he and his father were blunt, James was honest. Such a genuinely kind person was rare, at least in Johnny's circles. It was a shame, then, that what he did with that kindness was not decided by him. He glanced at his father. From birth, he and James' fate were decided. CP9 agent and Vice-Admiral of G9. The only question was who would be who. Johnny, with his prodigious martial arts ability, and distinctive lack of sympathy or empathy, was pegged as the CP9 agent when he was young. James had never even had the pretense of choice. Not that James had a problem with it. Their father had raised him carefully.
They walked up to the massive, gleaming white door. They all stopped in order to make themselves look important before entering. "John," his father spoke. "Do something about your pinwheel before we enter."
Johnny's mind raced to fully comprehend what had just been said. "Like what?"
"Put it somewhere so you don't look ridiculous before entering. Here," he said, reaching out his hand. "Give it to me, I'll put it in my jacket so no one has to look at it."
Johnny stepped away from his father, revolted. "I don't want you to take it. I'm keeping it on me."
"John, we are meeting royalty of the highest prestige. You cannot wear a pinwheel. It would be an embarrassment to everybody."
"Fine by me. I'm not giving it to you."
His father sighed. "John, you're being childish. I know that was a gift from your mother, and I understand how hard it is to move on, but you must-"
Before Johnny himself was aware of it, his leg shot out from under him on a crash course to his father's sternum. His father deftly caught the foot in his hand. The two stood there, as understanding of what just occurred washed over them. "You don't understand shit," Johnny growled, visions of that night flashing before his eyes.
"Johnathan Elliot Labuse," his father began slowly, in a very dangerous tone. "This behavior is unacceptable. You will do as I say, or you will spend our time here out on this lawn."
"Sounds good," Johny growled, pulling his foot back. "I'll be on the lawn if you need me."
Before anyone could say anything, Johnny marched off, walking around the castle wall so as to get out of sight faster. It was probably for the best that he did so, because as soon as he did, the door to the castle opened.
"Good afternoon, Vice-Admiral Labuse, and, of course, Master James," a nasally butler spoke. "It is a great honor that you should come all the way here to greet us. However, I am afraid that the princess has caught quite the cold. She herself cannot make a public appearance, but the King and Queen will be more than happy to speak with you."
"Thank you very much," he heard his father reply. "As it stands, my eldest son is also sick as well."
Johnny bit down on his pinwheel. Lies. Lies lies lies lies lies lies lies. Anything and everything to keep up that pretense of dignity. He hated it all. From conception, what Johnny wanted never mattered. It had always been about carrying on the Labuse tradition. Today only served to hammer that home for him. Well, fuck them. He'd come out on top. He would get what he wanted, no matter who had anything to say about it. He would become the strongest martial artist the world had ever seen. He'd crush each and every obstacle in his path, even if, no, especially if, it was his father.
He started running. He had more rage and passion inside then he knew what to do with. So he ran. He ran and ran. After a few minutes, he began to have a crazy urge. He wanted to break something. Anything. Fingers, ribs, he had to push himself so hard that something would shatter. But he couldn't afford to do that. Damage on that level might cripple him, might make him weak. He was trapped. He had so much right underneath the skin, and he had no form of release. He stared down at the ground, at the perfectly-mowed lawn. He shot down onto to all fours, and furiously started ripping it up. He needed to destroy, to upset something, to do something that wasn't part of George Labuse's master plan, and this was it.
After about a minute, he stopped, allowed himself a breath, and looked at his hands. Green stains and dirt covered his hands, as well as his pants. He looked behind him. It looked like a dog had gone crazy. He slammed his fist into to the ground, not hard enough to break it, but hard enough. Goddammit, what was wrong with him? He had just spent a minute ripping up grass. Why the hell was he always so angry? He couldn't even remember the last time he had laughed at something. Martial arts was about control, being stable enough that every move you made was the most rational in that moment. If he was always like this, he wouldn't even be able to beat his father, let alone the world's strongest. He needed to kill it all off. He needed to become an emotionless machine of efficiency. CP9 was the fastest means to that end. He would use his father's wishes as a stepping stone to get what he wanted in the end. He liked that idea a lot.
Johnny, Age 17
(The following scene is rather gruesome, in a gory sense. The rest of the book does not get as bad as this scene, fear not. However, this scene does get quite bad, and so, all the readers who are younger or more squeamish might wish to skip the 5th paragraph. Just so we're all on the same page. Badum tss. Sorry, that was a little too Hou- Right, you haven't met him yet. Carry on.)
Johnny ganced around. It was a cold, dark cellar. It smelled slightly of mold, and it had clearly been built a long time ago and never been used since. It was the perfect place for a horror story. The man gagged, blindfolded, and tied to a chair in front of him certainly added to the aesthetic. "We don't have all day, John. Kill the man and be done with it."
Johnny gulped again. He began the effort by removing his hand from his pocket, then left it hanging in the air. CP9 had the authority to murder people, so it was almost a necessity for its members to have experienced getting blood on their hands. This was one of the final phases of the CP9 training program. He had to kill the man sitting in this chair. The man was a convict from deep within the bowels of Impel Down, the 5th floor, to be exact. A lowlife criminal who was either going to die here or live life in hat miserable hell. He was probably doing the mundane thing here. But still, he wasn't fond of the idea. It didn't bother him that the man couldn't fight back; that was his problem, not Johnny's. What bothered him was that he was destroying somebody's passion. Everyone had a reason to live, whether it was as simple as wanting to experience new things or as ferocious as wanting to change the world. He knew how strong that emotion could be, how people could live to fulfill a dream "no matter what". To crush that ambition, to let everything a person worked for years and years be crushed so wholly and absolutely, it left a bad taste in Johnny's mouth.
But it was necessary for him to do this. He had to be able to do this. It was the best way to becoming heartless. He took a deep breath, lifted his hand up to chest level, and extended one finger.
"Finger Pistol."
He felt the skin and muscle give way before his finger. It was very hot inside another human body. He could feel everything tense up, the blood pumping against his finger. Then, quickly as he entered, he withdrew his finger from the man's throat. Blood spewed out of the man. The man, in his futile attempts to continue breathing, made some of the most disgusting, gurgling noises Johnny had ever heard, and would ever hear. He heard and saw the desperation in the man, to keep living, keep breathing. He felt sick.
"Well done, John," his father praised, clapping him on the shoulder, not even taking note of the man in front of them spewing blood. "Head upstairs to wash up, and I'll let you have the day off."
Johnny wordlessly walked away, trying to not to pay heed to the warm liquid dripping down his hand. As soon as he was out of sight from his father, he started sprinting.
AN: Freakin' Johnny, making me go into the 'M' rating. What an asshole. Ah well, more creative freedom for me, I guess.
I apologize for taking so damn long with getting this chapter out. Between the sheer length and content of the chapter itself, and my work ethic there were a lot of revisions and there was even more procrastination. My apologies. I won't say it won't happen again, but the near future of the story shouldn't give me too much trouble in terms of actual writing, particularly since the next crew member does not have anywhere near the emotional baggage Johnny does. So look forward to the next chapter! It'll be light-hearted! And hopefully up faster! And, I dunno, it might smell nicer! That'd be sweet! As always, thank you very much for reading!