Chapter 3

July, 1723.

Heero

The sound of waves and cicadas chirping are all that fills his tiny ears. A child of eight years stands on top of a boulder half submerged in the waves and half on the beach. Sakana village has always been blanketed in an overcast, making the air thick with the smell of rain, salt and fish. To his left and right, men of all ages and sizes work on the beach untangling fish nets, chopping up fish, pulling in ropes and lugging fishing equipment to their designated boats.

The boy searches the horizon for a boat long lost. His black eyes burning from the salty air but he dares not blink, for if he does, he may miss the sight he dreamed of seeing. Every day he comes to this rock, begging the Kami for the safe return of his father. But it has been a year since his father went in his small boat – a year since the storm picked up and tore up houses, boats and the only farm they had, leaving the small village desolate.

Heero is the boy's name; a black haired, black eyed child whose body is weak from bunger and sleep deprivation. His house was one of those that were torn down. His mother died when he was a babe, and his father lost at sea, left Heero both homeless and parentless. He'd often have to sleep under overturned boats – sometimes being swept up by the waves that drifted to high on shore at night. Sand crusted his hair, dirt marks his tanned body, and his clothes are ragged and destroyed, barely covering his chest any longer.

Heero lifts his head to the sky when he hears a sound come up from behind him. It's a familiar sound – something he hears every day when he comes to visit the rock. The sound of sandals pattering on top of rock. Knowing what is to come next, he closes his burning eyes and a sigh leaves his broken lips. He ducks just in time for a stick to miss his head; turning towards the attacker, he sees that three boys from the village have come to his rock. They come every day that Heero does, carrying sticks and awful grins on their chubby faces. They are the rich kids – as rich as you can get in this poor village. Their clothes are still clean and put together, their hair not tangled and skin clean.

They hate Heero, he is an underserving orphan child that some of the villagers fed. Though, they'd never allow him into their homes.

Heero has never done any wrong to the villagers or the boys, even when his father was alive. He keeps to himself, quiet and alone, head mostly bowed and never looking up at anyone except for the children that bully him. They would hunt him down every day, often finding him on this very rock, where stains of blood spot up the hard gray surface.

"Shit face," the leader of the boys says. He stands in front of two other boys swinging a stick around in his right hand. "Come to beg the Gods for deliverance?"

It is the same question he is asked almost every day. It has gotten old.

Heero doesn't respond, he remains silent and stoic, the only things moving on his petite body is his chest for breathing and eyes for watching.

"We've come to give you your daily dose of a beating." The leader slaps the stick into his left hand and grins showing off his crooked teeth.

They slowly approach Heero, but the black hair boy doesn't move. He's been prepared for this every day since they began torturing him. He never fought back because he didn't feel like there is a purpose. Why bother? He has no strength to fight and all he may have over these boys is agility on a good day when he's fed. He hasn't eaten in a day. His body is sluggish and fatigued.

The leader swings his stick across Heero's face, cutting his bottom lip open and forcing Heero to step back on the rock. One leg slips at the edge but he's able to circle his arms to keep his balance. He leans forward and covers his head with both arms. In seconds, he feels the whipping of sticks against his forearms. They bruise and cut his skin until he gives in and gets on his knees. Blood trickles down onto the gray surface of the rock.

"Orphan boy! Orphan boy!" Shouts the boys in unison.

Heero is flat against the boulder by the time they scream orphan boy for the third time. His arms still covering his head, and are reddened and bloodied. He doesn't cry or make a sound. There are no more tears for him to shed.

"Hey!"Shouts another who isn't part of the three. It is an unfamiliar voice from what Heero knew. The whipping comes to a stop, and hero peers up at the group who are looking behind themselves to someone he can't see. "Leave him alone!"

"Or what?" One of the three boys threatens.

There isn't any noise coming from the other side of the bullies. Heero struggles to lean up, getting onto his hands and knees before standing. He may be small but he can see through the cracks between the bodies of the bullies; where he spots a young boy about his age or a year younger, standing at the end of the rock. He's different from what Heero is accustomed too. Typically, the villagers had dark brown to black hair but this boy had dark auburn locks cut short to his shoulders with bangs hanging above his bright brown eyes.

This boy is thin, possibly as thin as Heero, however, he looks natural and healthy. His cheeks are full and his clothes are clean. Heero can't remember if he's ever seen this boy before, he is sure that if he has seen him, he'd remember those eyes.

"I'll tell the town leader, and then you boys will be stuck taking fish guts out of the catch of the day."

The bullies glance at one another and then snicker, "yeah, okay." The leader of the bullies coyly says.

"Alright," The boy turns to head off, frightening Heero for a second, but just as the boy turns the leader of the bully's steps forward with his hand outstretched.

"Hold up. Fine. We'll leave him alone – at least for today."

The three boys leap off the boulder and head for the village, throwing the sticks to the side as they walk off the beach.

Heero is left standing before this new boy, his dark eyes naturally narrow, watch the boy carefully. What is his intentions? Heero doesn't know.

The boy smiles and approaches Heero until he is a foot away. "My name is Shinya, what's your name?"

Heero glances down at his dirty bare feet and scuffs them against the rock. Droplets of blood decorate the smooth surface surrounding him.

"You're hurt," Shinya pops out his plump bottom lip in a pout, "you need to get cleaned up."

Heero looks up just enough to stare at Shinya through his thick black lashes.

The young boy intertwines his hands behind his back and leans forward, looking over Heero's petite frame. "You're not much of a talker, and it doesn't look like you eat much either. I would give you some food but I hardly get to eat as well." Shinya twists and walks a few feet away from the rock before looking back over his shoulder at Heero. "You should go back home to your parents; they can tend to your wounds."

Heero huffs and shakes his head, "I don't have any parents." This is the first time he's talk to anyone since his father disappeared, and the first time he had to admit that he is alone.

Shinya turns back to Heero with wide, surprise eyes. "You're an orphan?"

"Did you not hear those boys calling me an orphan?"

Shinya shakes his head, his mouth open wide. "You're all alone?"

Heero grumbles, walking by Shinya and bumping shoulders with him on his way down the boulder. Shinya stumbles to the side but isn't deterred. He follows Heero as the young black haired boy heads out of the village.

"I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." Shinya pouts once again, "I am sorry, please forgive me."

Heero pauses, not used to anyone apologizing to him. He looks back at Shinya with soft eyes, "You didn't hurt my feelings."

Shinya slowly smiles, confusing Heero as to why this boy is suddenly so happy. He glances back to the fields he was going to walk to and then back at Shinya. "How come I haven't seen you around?"

"Oh, because I live outside of town and don't leave the area often. My father is sick and my mother needs my help most of the day." Shinya's smile falters the tiniest bit.

"Your father is sick?"

Shinya nods hesitantly, "Did your parents…. pass away?" He asks slowly.

"My mother died when I was born, and my father was lost at sea." Heero hates to admit it. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He scowls and turns back around so to hide his disgusted expression from Shinya.

"How about you come with me?" Shinya walks the few steps to Heero, placing a small hand onto his partially bare shoulder. Heero's skin is cold to the touch from the environment and no protection. "I can see if we have any water to wash up your wounds."

Heero glances over to Shinya and remains silent for a brief second. His eyes wandering over Shinya's visage trying to read his expression. When he knew Shinya isn't going to hurt him, he sighs and nods, giving in.

This is the first time anyone has defended, protected and helped Heero in a long time. And as Heero watches Shinya's expression turn to happiness, he felt his heart beat fast in his chest in a way he's never experienced before.