Heaven & Earth
Round 1
The God Of Destruction Who Lives By The Park.
Authors Notes-
So this is an idea I had months ago, as a matter of fact this chapter was finished in July.
Which probably makes you ask why I'm posting it now, well to put it bluntly mostly just to show I'm still alive and kicking. It's also a bit out there at least as far as plot is concerned, not to mention more than a little cliché in some respects so I was a little bit worried about putting it out.
Now before you start reading there are a few things we need to go over here, they are kind of important so please read. First and foremost, technically this is a crossover of sorts. Let me clear up what I mean by that. I had a few new Ideas to put together ideas that came from various sources and instead of creating original characters to fill the gaps I had in the story I appropriated characters from elsewhere. Now granted all of their back stories have been modified to fit in my world but if that's a turn off for you then at least you were warned out of the gate, please enjoy.
Side Note- Heaven and Earth is currently rated T for Teen. This may not hold true as time goes on, I have a large stack of notes concerning this story and some arcs I have had ideas for are incredibly dark. So it may change to M at some point, I know most of you wont care but I figured we should get that out of the way at the start.
Authors Note End-
Shigekuni Yamamoto was an old man and he looked it as well, of that no one would deny. Pushing almost two hundred and thirty years of age his weathered visage was one that was well earned. His hair had long since fallen out leaving him completely bald, though most people seemed to focus more on the X shaped scar on the left side of his forehead than his lack of hair.
Though almost as if trying to make up for the loss of his hair the old man's eyebrows had grown out to the point they actually fell framing the side of his face to the cheek bones. They, and his exceptionally long beard, were all he had left of any hair. Something the old man was actually quite upset about. Though it was a point of pride that his beard had grown so long that it reached down to his knee caps. Though his wife was no longer among the living. Yamamoto still held his beard in a neatly together using the same purple binding cloth she had brought him long ago.
It was also the death of his wife that and brought him to England in the first place. Setsuna had died peacefully some three years before his choice to vacate Japan. He simply hadn't wanted to stay after that, he had tried to simply move houses but in the end staying in the country of his birth had been to much. One of his disciples, Chojiro, had mentioned enjoying life in England immensely, after living there for two years he still wasn't entirely sure of why. It was either raining or cold ninety percent of the time and the remaining ten percent it was barely liveable. Then ago Chojiro had been in England almost one hundred years ago just before the younger man's death so he was working on old information.
God only knew why Chojiro said this was a nice place to live, then again he had always enjoyed western culture. Yamamoto himself preferred Japanese culture over its western counterpart, still being half a world away from Japan had given him a very nice break. Even after his wife's death every few weeks some young upstart would come to him either to seek his instruction or challenge him to a match. Those who dwelled in the underworld of the martial arts or the underbelly of the magical world, it mattered little as, at least in Asia, he was famous in both.
Those who came seeking instruction came away with nothing to show for it, he had not taken a student in many years. Not since Yoruichi and Kisuke had came seeking instruction on his bare handed techniques and swordsmanship respectively. Some fifty years ago now, last he had heard both had become Masters in their own right. Kisuke mixing both Magic and Ki into his swordsmanship while Yoruichi, having access only to Ki but not magic, developed her own fighting style using his as a base. Last he had heard of rumours of the girl they called her Goddess of Flash due to her speed, who knew maybe she had even completed that Shunko (Flash War Cry) technique she had been dreaming up when she was still his Disciple.
Gods knew Kisuke had made strides in making his mark of the magical half of the world, these days he was considered to be a genius inventor. In some circles of magical inventors he was being called the second coming of of Nicholas Flamel. While others called him a madman and a heretic for trying to combine both Muggle technology and magic. Though if one believed Kisuke the ones who called him a heretic did it out of wounded pride at not being able to accomplish the same. Considering his most famous invention to date was the Wizarding Wireless he may have had a point. Apparently the brat had somehow figured out how to create a radio wave that was detectable only by a certain type of magical wireless.
One that only he had the schematics for, Kisuke had made a fortune marketing that.
His former student had also been generous enough that when he had sent the boy a letter detailing the fact he would be moving to England. Kisuke's response had been to buy him a rather large house in Little Whinging. One with a very large wall to keep unwanted eyes out and, while the outside of the house looked European, the inside had been renovated to be more Japanese. Something Yamamoto had been very appreciative of.
After all, though he did have the money to pay for both the renovations and house himself, it was nice to have everything ready the moment he touched down in England.
These days he whittled away the time away from both people and magic. Not even once had Yamamoto considered letting the British Ministry of Magic know of his residence in London. Instead choosing only to exist in the eyes of it's Muggle counterpart. While most Wizards that were of pureblood were ignorant of Muggle culture and how to act appropriately in the presence of their non-magic using brethren he was not one of them. His own family had looked down on his for marrying a Muggle in Setsuna, they had never returned to being on speaking terms and now they were all dead they never would be.
But the love of his life had taught him many things about the world outside of magics insular shell and being a Ki user had lived to be by his side for over one hundred and fifty years. These days he spent his time simply staying at home or watching birds in the park, for a man like him who had originally intended to die fighting it was sometimes jarring to realise just how peaceful life was. Though Yamamoto was more than willing to admit he found retirement slightly boring at times. For a man like him who had lived a life of action that was to be expected he supposed. Still even if they were boring at times these peaceful days were how his life was now and how he planned for it to end.
"GET THE FREAK!"
Or at least life was usually peaceful these days, today was apparently deciding to prove the exception rather than the rule. Brown eyes stopped their observation of a curious European Robbin that had landed on his outstretched hand. Convincing the bird he meant it no harm had taken quite awhile, but animals were vastly more in touch with nature than humans. Just by letting his Ki a little closer to the surface it was easy for the bird to sense he meant it no form of harm. And, as things turned out, the small avian was just curious enough to come down for a closer look.
Yamamoto was quite certain the moment he laid eyes on the situation he did not like it. Five youths were harassing a slightly smaller child, who looked to be around their age or a little younger. The boys were eight, or at least they appeared to be around that age, most were a little on the chubby side barring two. One that was quite clearly threatening to become wider than he was tall and the other who was whipcord thin. Though that said all the fat would also give the largest one a fair bit more force than the others. So he was probably the strongest of the group.
It was the two thinner ones that caught his eye more though. Both possessed black hair and for a second Yamamoto contemplated if it was some kind of family resemblance. Then immediately discarded the theory the second he took a closer look. Even from his position some two hundred meters or so away he could not see any form of possible family resemblance past their hair colour and close builds. While the boy being chased had black hair his was wild and unruly while the one doing the chasing had hair that was more controlled, kept in a short 'buzz cut' he believed the kids these days called it.
That wasn't the only thing that set them apart from each other though. One boy had a rounded face while the others was more pointed. Considering the way their facial bones were Yamamoto could make an educated guess that the child being chased would end up with quite high cheek bones later in life as well as a more square jaw while the other would get lower cheek bones and a rather pointed chin. There were enough differences between the two in facial structure alone that he didn't believe them to be related, unless it was very distantly.
However it was less their completely non-existent family resemblance than the boys behaviour that bothered him. This was quite clearly no friendly game of tag or some such, no the smallest boy was quite clearly scared for his own safety and from the way the others were chasing him he most likely had a good reason to be that way. However that said the small boy could avoided them quite well, though Yamamoto felt part of that reason was probably because the other boys seemed like they spent their time lazing around. While he didn't have a great deal of muscle on him the boy being chased did have a bit and that bit looked like it was made from doing things like chores and such.
That was something Yamamoto approved of. Children needed chores in the same way that a sword needed a whetstone. It kept them sharp and taught them lessons that would be valuable later in life, even if the lesson was as simple as taking out the rubbish would avoid infestations of vermin. It could also teach children the values of saving money. After all most children got some verity of payment for doing their chores and most things children wanted were expensive. Making one save to get a toy or some such that they wanted was excellent practice for later in life, helped build character to. Still it was not the long term gains that was helping the wire thin boy right now, it was the more immediate ones that working hard would give you.
Improved fitness.
It might not be much but it was enough that he could avoid the other five boys given enough room, like say an open park. That was the problem with children these days, so lazy they refused to do an honest days work or their chores. If they did, then there was a good chance that those five would have caught the boy a long time ago. Still while they were not fast the five boys chasing the small one were not stupid either. The fattest one and the pointed faced one were herding the smallest boy while the other three spread out to create a 'net' in front of him. Proof if he ever needed it, and he didn't, that humans were decedents of some kind of pack hunter. Because those boys clearly had never discussed this though they all seemed to know what to do.
"Slow down Harry, I promise it won't hurt for long!" The fat one called as the small one, who Yamamoto mentally dubbed Harry, just ran faster. The one with the pinched face accelerated away from the fat one pushing the smallest boy towards the tightest part of the 'net'. The fat one and the other boy who had been preventing his escape to the right pulled together tightening the 'net' around their prey. Yamamoto saw 'Harry' flick his head around trying to find a way out before charging straight at a small garden bed. The shrub was about as tall as the boys stomach, but if he could clear it then he would be home free.
The child had good instincts, now the real question was if he could pull his escape plan off. The small boy's feet hit gravel that decorated the garden bed. That was when everything went wrong for him. If the boy had have made the jump then the group of youths would most likely not have caught up to him again. But now that was impossible. The smallest boys feet slipped on the gravel sending him tumbling. Head smacking onto one of the upraised rocks in the garden bed that had been used as a decoration, leaving behind a residue of blood.
Yamamoto could tell that 'Harry', as he had mentally dubbed the boy from the earlier yells. Had most likely taken off all the skin from just above his temple to almost halfway onto his forehead. Head wounds tended to bleed a lot so chances were the boy was going to need some first aid for that and, without magic at least, Yamamoto doubted that it would heal perfectly. The boy's forehead was probably going to scar. Still kids seemed to love scars. So it probably wouldn't be considered that bad of a thing by the child when it finally healed over.
The boys chasing him were not the kind of overlook a gift like their prey slipping and immediately set on the boy like a pack of hyenas. Kicks and the odd punch were thrown at the boy on the ground, though even as he stood to intervene Yamamoto could see not even one of them was thrown at 'Harry's' head. As if they were all being very careful to avoid injuring any spot that could easily be seen, they were the worst kind of bullies, smart bullies. Or maybe they just didn't want to get blood on their clothes, could go either way really. After all they probably didn't want to answer any of their parents questions if they turned up home with blood on them.
The smallest boy had done instinctually what any human did in that situation, curled up into a fetal position. His arms protecting his head while his legs protected his organs. Still it was time to stop this, if the fight had been one on one and the winner, most likely one of the other boys, had stopped once it was clear he had won Yamamoto would have let this go.
After all it was important to get used to fighting early in your life, life was a battle after all. But this was just disgusting to watch. The distance between them was a little over two hundred meters. The world record for the one hundred meter sprint is nine point six three seconds.
Shigekuni Yamamoto made over two hundred meters in a little over three seconds.
He didn't bother speaking first, these boys only seemed to exorcise strength against others so he would show them strength. His weathered hand reached out and gripped one of the boys by the shoulder and with a nonchalant gesture he flipped the boy behind him. There was no technique to his throw, just raw power. Even in his advanced age his usage of Ki reinforced his body. Even without channeling it to a particular limb it still gave him strength that no non-Ki user could match. The old man made sure to toss the boy onto some grass. Sure the boy's back would likely bruise lightly. But surely he had been ready to have pain inflicted upon him, after all he had certainly been ready to inflict some.
Honestly the display would have been better using the fat one. But the boy was on the other side of 'Harry', Yamamoto had simply taken out the one closest to him. Either way his display had clearly gotten the attention of the other four boys. The old man let his Killing Intent leak out just a little.
For the most part the ability to direct ones Killing Intent was more or less useless ninety nine percent of the time. Against anyone who had actually been in a life or death situation before it would do little more than unsettle them for a second at most. Those who were used to life or death situations like Ki users or soldiers that had seen combat would barely even notice it. But against four eight year old boys, six if he counted the downed child and the one he had just thrown, it made them freeze in fear.
"Enough," It was but a single word he spoke but it was enough to break the spell his Killing Intent had put them under. They ran, including the one he had thrown, the only one who remained was the smallest boy. Who still had his hands pushed the wound he had received. Not that Yamamoto hadn't expected them to run, no he was sure they would. It was most likely the first time they had ever heard a tone that let them know one speaking was both capable of extreme violence and willing to unleash it on them. The boys breaking and running was not surprising in the slightest, in fact it was most likely only his wound that had kept the smallest anywhere near him, distracted by the pain most likely. With a quick tug the old man ripped off the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a muscular and very scared arm, before leaning down to the boy before him.
"Hold still child." He stated pulling the boy's hands away from his forehead. He could see just how confused the boy was, as if this was one of the first times that someone had tended to his wounds. Yamamoto truly hoped that was not the case, after all to be surprised by mere kindness spoke of many things, none of them good. With both quick and sure hands the old man wrapped his former sleeve around the boy's head, steaming the flow of blood.
"Head wounds tend to bleed a lot. For one that size you need to attach a bandage or medicine to stop the bleeding, your hands will not be enough." His words were blunt and to the point, still the child did need to be patched up and he may as well do it himself. After all his home was a bare block away from the park besides he certainly had the tools and know how to do so. And at any rate, the child had a bad enough day already and it was barely twelve thirty in the afternoon. The last thing Yamamoto wanted to do was make it worse by having the child walk for who knew how long back home with a makeshift bandage on his head. 'Harry' reached up and touched his head, wincing as he did so despite the fact the blood had stopped.
"Thank you, Sir." He said quietly, Yamamoto nodded before standing back to his full height and towering over the boy. Though that wasn't hard, Yamamoto wasn't a tall man at just over five foot five. But considering how small the boy was towering over him certainly wasn't difficult. Holding his hand out the old man pulled the boy back to his feet, before taking a closer look at him. The boys eyes were incredibly green, the same hue seen in an emerald, his wife's personal favourite jewel. The other was something that nagged at him like he should know it, a strange lightening bolt scar at the middle of his forehead.
The old man quickly threw the nagging feeling off, if it was that important he would remember it eventually. There was no point in stressing about it now. If there was one thing life had taught him after all these years it was that one could only deal with what was in front of them. Certainly make plans for the future but there was no point in worrying about things that you could do nothing about in the present.
"What is your name boy?" Yamamoto inquired as he looked down at the child before him. Certainly he could have guessed, after all he was reasonably sure it was Harry but he would prefer for the child to confirm his guess. Green eyes flicked to the ground for a second after he asked his question, "Eyes up boy!" He barked making the child flinch as his gaze turned upward to the old man, forcing his face to relax and his voice to soften Yamamoto spoke again. "It is rude to look away from someone's face when they are speaking to you." He said with a small smile. Under any other condition he wouldn't have bothered but he was more lenient with a child than he would have been with anyone else.
"Harry, Sir." The boy replied looking him in the eye, though with the way his shoulders had shuddered either the child wanted to look away or he was about to cry. Yamamoto sensed it was more than former than the latter, like he wasn't used to looking adults in the eyes when he spoke to them. That said one of two things about the boy either he was very shy, possible. Or whoever was raising him didn't like him looking them in the eye when they spoke, also possible and very definitely not a good thing. As it implied several things about the people raising the child, all of which pointed out that they certainly should not be raising one.
"My name is Yamamoto. Come along then Harry, my house is just a block over. I shall tend to that wound before sending you home." The old man said his eyes locked on the child before him. Yamamoto knew his tone brooked no argument. It was one he had developed over many years of raising both Shunsui and Jushiro. While his wife had never been able to have children those two had been given to him to train and became is first Disciples. That was some one hundred and fifty years ago when the boys were still in their preteens. They had both been trying children in their own special ways and as such even all these years later he was still very good at using that tone to get children to do, well almost anything really.
It was a skill that had come in incredibly handy when he had needed to stop Kisuke from doing some monumentally stupid experiments without any safeguards whatsoever.
As the old man walked away from the park, Harry fell into step behind him. Yamamoto supposed he could have given the boy his first name, Shigekuni, but that would have been improper. In Japan to address one by their first name, especially without an honourific of any kind, was a huge breach of social etiquette unless you were very close. While England may not have that particular social rule it was one that he felt was still quite true and as such saw no reason to give the child his first name. If it came down to it and Harry started call him just Yamamoto instead of Sir then he would simply tell the child to call him Mr. Yamamoto instead.
As they walked the old man could feel Harry's eyes drawn to his exposed left arm. Not that he found it surprising, there was a reason that he wore long sleeved shirts after all. Past his hand the entire arm was covered in scar tissue, near the wrist was an ugly scar that traveled half way up his forearm. It had been made by one of the many fights he had been a part of in his youth, that one had been inflicted by his wife before he had seen the error of his ways. Another was clear on his tricep, it looked like it had been caused by four separate wounds but was in fact made by a single attack. A Nukite (Spear Hand) that had been used by a very well trained Karate-ka.
His wife, naturally, had lived through their fight. The second man had the misfortune of fighting him before he had converted to the Katsujinken and thus was long since dead.
The final scar wrapped around his arm from mid bicep right onto the scar left by a sword. It had been made by a Master of Ying Zhao Pai (Eagle's Claw Style) during his youth. He had been friends with the man up until the latter had died. Every scar on his body had a story behind them, and Yamamoto had a lot of scars. Many were made by enemies that he had killed. But others were made by those who would one day become his friends. Many were a very sobering reminder that, with the exception of his former students and three old masters, he was alone in the world now.
The vast majority of his friends and enemies having long since passed away.
Still he wondered what the boy walking behind him thought of what he could see.
XXX
Harry's day had started normally enough. Aunt Petunia had woken him by banging loudly on the door that led to his cupboard. Next had been making breakfast for the rest of the family, naturally he got the smallest portion. According to Aunt Petunia since he was the smallest he only needed the smallest amount of food, it was the same reason he was given the cupboard under the stairs he was small thus he could live in a small space.
Then had come the chores, weeding the back yard and trimming the hedges. Not that Harry had tried to be particularly quick at his jobs. The last time he had tried his hardest to finish all of them and Petunia hadn't been able to come up with anymore she had just told him to go back to his cupboard and stay there. While Harry didn't particularly like the chores he was given at least he was outside in the fresh air as opposed to stuck in his cupboard and that was a victory, small though it was, to him. After that came adding some more manure to the flowers out the front.
Aunt Petunia had said her roses were the envy in the entire suburb. Once Harry had asked if the roses were his to. After all he took care of them, weeded the garden and watered them so since he took care of them they had to be his as well. After all Dudley took care of his goldfish and that was his so if Harry took care of the roses then they had to be his as well. Aunt Petunia had slapped him across the back of the head, no the roses were not his as well. She had paid for them, she made sure he actually took care of them, something she wasn't completely convinced that he did to the best of his ability. He had been made aware on that day that the roses were Aunt Petunia's roses not his.
Never his. Harry had considered deliberately sabotaging her roses on a number of occasions but eventually decided that the amount of trouble he would end up in would not be worth it.
After that had come mowing the lawn, usually that amount of chores would wait to the weekend but since it was the school holidays he got extra chores. On the somewhat bright side when Harry finally finished all of them, usually around Wednesday. His Aunt would just tell him to get out of the house and stay out until the sun started coming down and dinner needed to be cooked. It was better than being cooped up with Dudley and Vernon, who had chosen to take the first week of the holidays off to spend time with the pig in a wig.
When he was done in the garden it had been straight into the shower for him, he smelled awful after all. Harry had fully expected that his next task would be to cook lunch for the Dursley's but instead an unexpected windfall had come his way. Dudley had gone out to his friend Piers Polkiss' house so he wouldn't have to cook as much. Then had come the real surprise, Aunt Petunia had decided to cook lunch for Uncle Vernon herself, Harry got a peanut butter sandwich made out of the stale bread that needed replacing and a glass of water. He was also told to get out of the house and stay out until the sun started to go down.
Harry could not believe his good luck! A half day completely free of the Dursley's no more weeding or cooking or washing, anything of the sort! Well at least until dinner came around. Of course Aunt Petunia would find more jobs for him tomorrow, she always did after all. But for today he would be completely free for at least four hours to do whatever he wanted! Not that Harry had any friends to play with, Dudley made sure of that he and that stupid gang of his. For all of Dudley's failings he was not stupid and while he never threatened or did anything to Harry where teachers could be watching everyone in their class knew that being friends with Harry Potter was a one way trip to being beaten up by Dudley's gang.
One girl had tried to be his friend once. Her name was Rachel, she had been nice. It had lasted all of one day before Dudley's gang had pushed her away. Oh Dudley and his merry band of idiots had never laid a single finger on her. But they had teased, thrown things at her and shot spitballs at the back of her head any time she was anywhere near Harry. They would immediately stop the second she had moved away from him, making the message clear once more to everyone in their class.
Being friends with Harry was not a good idea while Dudley Dursley was around.
That had been three years ago, these days Harry didn't bother reaching out to those his age and they certainly didn't reach out to him. Even in sports where his quick running would be helpful, like football or cricket, he was always chosen last. The others were worried about what Dudley would do to them if they chose him before they chose someone from Dudley's gang of idiots. In his last report card the teachers had called him anti-social, Harry didn't really know what the word meant but from the way it was used he could tell it wasn't good. Like always Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't comment on his grades or report card at all. They just threw it at him and told him to keep it in his cupboard if he didn't want it thrown out.
It was the only thing he could be sure of getting every year from the Dursley's...well outside of chores.
But still, none of that could bring him down today! Because today he got to just relax, it was Monday and Harry hadn't been expecting to get any time to relax until Wednesday so this was a step up. Plus Aunt Petunia hadn't made him just go back into the cupboard awaiting for the next set of her never ending chores. And he got to be away from Uncle Vernon who, if he was to be believed, could lay every single thing that went wrong in life at Harry's feet. Best of all Dudley had gone out to Piers, which meant the chances of Harry meeting up and having to run from his gang were nil. Not that Dudley's Gang managed to catch him much anymore.
If there was one thing Dudley's Gang had done for Harry that was positive, and it was just one thing. It was that they had made him a lot faster over the years. He was now the fastest runner in their class and the group of boys could only catch him if they managed to get him in a small area where they could cut off his avenue of escape. Otherwise, given a large enough area and some forewarning, Harry could run circles around them until they were out of breath. Aunt Petunia's chores had been good for one thing as well. They gave him incredible endurance, far more than any of Dudley's Gang.
Harry had made it three blocks from number 4 Privet Drive when he realised his free day was about to become a whole lot worse. Because as he came around the corner heading towards the park, after all he had nowhere else better to be and bird watching was one of the very few things he enjoyed. One had to find enjoyment where they could when weeding a garden after all. But coming out of a side ally less than ten meters away was Dudley's Gang. All five large stupid blobs of them, well admittedly Piers wasn't a blob. But he made up for that with an extra helping of stupid.
The five boys looked at Harry for a split second. Harry still couldn't figure out what they were doing outside. After all Piers had been bragging about getting some kind of new game system thing, honestly he wasn't sure what it was called. Dudley had not been very subtle about rubbing Harry's face in the fact he would be playing that while Harry did chores, not that subtle had ever been in Dudley's vocabulary. So knowing Piers had that at home why where they outside in the first place? They all, again with the exception of Piers, had stomachs that made it very clear they preferred sitting down to being up about and running around.
Dudley's eyes made contact with Harry's before turning back to his gang. They seemed to hold a silent conversation for all of a second, a quick nod from each being the result. A vicious smile spread over Dudley's face and Harry knew he was about to need a very wide open space very quickly, somewhere he could tire them out. Thankfully the entrance to the park was just in front of him and it was his best chance. Dudley's gang were in front of him as well but they were to far away to stop him making the park.
As long as he moved first and ran as fast as he could.
It was unfortunate that there was nowhere to hide in the streets behind him. Because that would have been Harry's first choice really. Run away from Dudley and his gang, hide until they were gone and then go about his day. Unfortunately all of the houses around Surry were very similar and he had seen nowhere to hide. Not that he had been paying particularly close attention to trying to find hiding places on his way here.
Which naturally left just one choice, run into the park and hope he could dodge the group for long enough they got tired and gave up, or that he managed to put enough distance between them they just gave up. It wouldn't take long, just until Dudley ran completely out of breath and decided he wasn't worth the effort anymore. Considering Dudley had been threatening to become wider than he was tall since he was five tiring him out didn't take all that long these days.
Harry didn't think even for a second that someone from the houses around them would be nice enough to help him. To the people in Surry he was a 'problem child' constantly blamed for things that Dudley did at school. Not only that but most people usually thought the 'games' Dudley and his gang played were just that games. Both Dudley and his gang made quite sure never to do anything untoward to Harry where anyone besides the Dursley's could see. If they managed to catch him then the group would likely cart him off down to some alleyway before Piers Polkiss held his arms behind his back while Dudley used his stomach like a punching bag.
Most of the time the other three, Gordon, Malcolm and Dennis would just egg Dudley on. But if they felt like they had the time, or were just in a bad mood that day. Harry could look forward to every single member of Dudley's Gang beating him like he owed them money. At times like this Harry had learned one thing that was very, very, important.
If you wanted to get away you had to move first.
Which was exactly what he did. Harry's arms and legs started pumping as he made a mad dash for the park entrance. The quick eight year old made sure to stay far enough away from Dudley and his hangers on that even if Piers, who was the fastest of the lot by a fair margin, made a dash for him Harry would still be able to get away. As Harry started to move Dudley and the members of his gang came to a decision, a huge smile split Dudley's face while the other four sported smaller, though no less enthusiastic, grins.
"GET HIM!" Dudley yelled as Harry passed them by, being already in motion he managed to dodge the lunge by Piers that he had suspected would be coming. The young boy didn't look back as he raced towards the park's entrance, so long as he could make it to the large open space where he occasionally saw families having picnics he should be able to outlast them. If he was really lucky there might even be a family having a picnic inside. Dudley's Gang wouldn't start anything if they thought it might get back to more than the Dursley's.
"COME BACK HERE!" Harry honestly wasn't sure who shouted that but he knew it wasn't Dudley. There was no way that pig in a wig could shout and run at the same time. But it did push him to run faster, putting more distance between him and the beating that was sure to happen if he was caught. Harry dashed through the park's entrance arch at full speed, not even pausing as he usually did to take a look at the colourful mural that had been painted upon it.
The park near Little Whinging was actually quite spacious. Once you got through the entrance arch there was a lining of trees that bordered a path large enough for four people to walk comfortably abreast. The path was about ten meters long and came out onto the park itself, on the left was a sandpit complete with swing set and monkey bars. The right was a large expanse of grass interleaved with paths and a couple of garden beds complete with gravel border as well as two barbeques. The final part of the park was across a small man-made stream. It was dotted with trees and a few park benches, currently the only occupant was an old man who, unless Harry was seeing things, had somehow coaxed a bird down onto his fingers. There was no one having a picnic and Harry seriously doubted that an old man almost half the park away would be enough to get Dudley's little gang of morons to back down.
"GET THE FREAK!" Dudley's yell sounded from behind him again as Harry raced onto the grass and spun around to check how close his possible doom was. Very close as it turned out. While Dudley was lagging behind as he had expected, the other four were quite a bit closer, in fact Piers was almost on top of him. Never had Harry been so glad for his fast reaction speed, well not since he'd managed to duck that one time Petunia had taken a swing at him with a frying pan. The black haired boy jumped to the right avoiding Piers grab before spinning and taking off running again.
So long as he kept moving it would be possible for him to tire them out, Dudley would give up eventually. His cousin didn't have either the attention span nor the endurance for a prolonged chase. Which was an absolute godsend to Harry, because if Dudley had either of those things his life would be much harder than it already was. He poured strength into his legs as he accelerated away from Piers and Dudley. Harry could see Malcolm, Dennis and Gordon fanning out around him.
Piers was limiting his options trying to stop him from going anywhere Harry wanted to go and while Dudley was nowhere near fast enough to catch him on his own Harry's cousin was still cutting off his ability to dodge around Piers and back track. Being caught between the anvil that was Dudley Dursley and the hammer that was the rest of his gang in a pincer was the very last place Harry wanted to be.
But so far he could only see one way out of it, Malcolm and Gordon were closing off his options of escape on the right while Dennis was doing the same on the left. Piers was still stopping him from turning back and looping back around Dudley before his cousin could catch him, all of this left Harry just one option. Trying to take the hard way out, there was a garden bed with a small shrub of some kind growing in it.
The shrub came up to Harry's waist but if he could jump over it then he could make a clean getaway. Passing straight through the opening between Dennis and the bridge that led to the other side of the park and the exit that would lead him onto the back streets of Surry. If Harry could make it there then there was no chance Dudley and the others would follow, it would be too much work.
There was also the chance that they would stop chasing him once they noticed the old man but Harry doubted it. A single old man, alone, who likely couldn't keep up with even if running pig of a cousin wasn't likely to stop Dudley or his gang. Not when they could simply out run him and get away with whatever they felt like. No Harry's only real chance of getting out without becoming a human punching back was making that exit.
Putting on an extra dash of speed Harry made for the garden bed. It was right then everything went wrong. He felt his right leg go out from under him, completely tripping him over. Harry's head went straight towards the ground, his eyes catching sight of a rock beneath him and turned to avoid it. It was to Harry's credit that his reflexes were good enough that he managed to avoid his right eye from being gouged out. Unfortunately they were not good enough to allow him to completely avoid the rock, his forehead still made contact.
The world turned to pain instantly.
Harry felt himself scream as his hands raced up and pressed on the wound. He remembered that, his teacher had told the class that if they pressed on a cut it would help the bleeding stop. It did not, however, stop the pain in the slightest. Worse still Harry's problems were not over yet. The black haired boy had completely forgotten about Dudley's Gang. The first kick caught him in the ribs and Harry did exactly what his instinct told him to do. Curl up and try to avoid taking damage to his organs. More than a few kicks landed on his arms while two or three smashed into his back. Through it all Harry forced his eyes to remain open, well his left eye anyway, his right was refusing to open after all the blood that had dripped into it.
Which was exactly why he blinked in complete disbelief when the old man he had seen at the other side of the park appeared behind Gordon. Promptly sending the larger boy flying with a quick flick of his wrist. Harry wasn't quite sure how to process that, after all it wasn't like the old man looked like a hero or anything that he saw on telly. No in fact he actually looked like a very old, very strange man. A long beard surrounded by some purple rope, a cream long sleeved shirt, black pants along some kind of strange sandal that looked like it was made of straw and a pair of white socks that had the big toe split from the rest. What really stood out though was the dangerous feeling Harry was getting from him in addition to the strange X shaped scar on the man's forehead.
Harry was barely aware of Dudley's Gang running off. To amazed by the fact that the old man had helped him in the first place. Before a pair of rough hands gently pulled his arms away from his face and wrapped some cloth around his head, cloth Harry saw that came from the old man's shirt.
"Head wounds tend to bleed a lot, for one that size you need to attach a bandage or use medicine to stop the bleeding. Your hands will not be enough." The old man stated calmly but kindly, Harry was still dazed by the fact someone was actually helping him to notice the man's visible arm was covered in scars. As he stood up Harry answered the questions the old man asked on autopilot, almost flinching when Yamamoto told him to look him in the eyes.
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't like it when he looked them in the eyes. Or when he asked questions, or when he expressed himself. In fact for the most part Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed to dislike the fact Harry existed in general.
Well at least until some kind of chore came up that needed doing and they didn't feel like bothering with.
But even though he was responding on auto-pilot to everything that Yamamoto said Harry couldn't help but wonder exactly what had happened to his arm. Harry's mind was so focused on it in fact that he barely felt the pain from the injury on his head anymore. His more pressing concern than the pain in his head was figuring out exactly what could make those kind of marks. But it was probably impolite to ask. Besides the Dursley's had always been very big on the whole 'no questions' thing. So the absolute last thing Harry wanted to do was to upset a man who could casually send one of Dudley's Gang flying head over heels with a flick of his fingers.
"Here we are, come in boy. Don't forget to take your shoes off before you walk on the wood." Yamamoto's voice cut through Harry's thoughts like a hot knife through butter, bringing the dark haired child back to the present. In front of him was a very normal house, in fact it looked quite a bit like Number Four Privit Drive. The same two story house that could be seen almost everywhere in Surry. Even the garden was fairly similar though the old man seemed to have some kind of flower Harry couldn't recognise as his main attraction rather than the roses that Aunt Petunia favoured.
Yamamoto opened the front door, which was seemingly made of a very dark oak. The inside of the house could not be more different than the outside. Inside the front door for the first four steps was nothing but hard concrete and a place where one could place their shoes. The old man slipping his strange straw sandals off and placing them near the wall, but after that the floor rose up by a good six inches. Instead of concrete there was wooden floorboards and instead of doors there were some kind of sliding panels that he guessed would act like doors. All in all Harry had never seen anything quite like it before, but it was definitely not normal and that meant that the Dursley's wouldn't like it.
Which automatically gave it points in Harry's book.
"Stop staring and take your shoes off, we don't have all day." Yamamoto stated brown eyes looking down at Harry with disapproval. Making the eight year old scramble to take his shoes off. Not that taking his shoes off was hard, thanks to all of his clothes being hand-me-downs from Dudley Harry shoes were, much like the rest of his clothing, a couple of sizes to big. The only reason they did not make walking almost impossible was that he also got Uncle Vernon's old socks which filled out the shoes just enough to make them snug, though Harry did have to wear two pairs.
His bare feet slapped onto the wooden floor as Harry trailed behind the old man who led him straight down the hall and out into a strange combination of kitchen, dining and living room. It was an odd combination from Harry's point of view. As every house he had ever been inside in Surry had the three quite clearly separated into three different rooms instead of a single combined one. The other strange thing about the room was that instead of the polished wooden floors they had just been walking on this rooms floor seemed to be made up of large mats. The table at the center of the room was also more than a little odd, it was very much a low table and instead of chairs it had cushions. Another thing he was quite sure that Aunt Petunia wouldn't like, after all it certainly wasn't normal.
Yet another thing that made the old man's house automatically better in Harry's opinion.
Yamamoto strode forward with purpose, Harry still trailing behind. He could feel the makeshift bandage on his head was started to become sticky. It did not take a genius to tell exactly what the bandage was starting to become sticky with. Harry just hoped the old man was more lenient that Aunt Petunia if he bled on things. The last time Harry had gotten a cut he had managed to bleed on the living room rug. Aunt Petunia had made him not only clean it up but then thrown him into the cupboard without any dinner as a reminder not to bleed on things that weren't his.
Not that throwing Harry into his cupboard without dinner was an extremely effective punishment anymore. When he was five he'd worked out how to undo the lock on the cupboard from the inside. There was a small metal slider on his side of the door he could push back. All Harry had needed to do was bide his time until the Dursley's were asleep and sneak out to grab something to eat. A Nutella sandwich most of the time. Nutella sandwiches were Uncle Vernon's favourite midnight snack after all and so none of the Dursley's would even question the missing bread or spread. It also tasted fairly nice so it wasn't like Harry didn't enjoy it either. Of course he had to be careful about eating to much or else the game could very well be up and if that ever happened it would not end well for him.
"Sit down boy." Yamamoto said gesturing to one of the cushions near the table. Oddly unlike when Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia said it the word boy didn't seem so bad coming from the old man. It was obviously much less an insult and more a statement of fact, Harry was a boy thus it was an appropriate title to call him. Unlike his Aunt and Uncle who seemed to think the word was short hand for some kind of insult, or maybe it was just the tone they said it in that made him think that way. Either way Harry took a seat at the table that had been indicated for him.
"Stay there I will put some tea on and bring back the first aid kit." Yamamoto stated, walking back towards the kitchen. Harry actually felt a little put out the old man was offering him tea. Neither the Dursley's nor any of his teachers had ever offered him tea before when he was hurt. Not that Harry really expected the Dursley's to offer him anything out of the goodness of their hearts. Honestly he'd been leaning towards the idea that the Dursley's lacked any kind of heart for a very long time.
Still, all things considered, minus his head injury, his half day off was actually still going pretty well.
XXX
Yamamoto could tell that Harry was still looking at his back as he made his way towards the kitchen. He was not a particularly good cook, back when she had still been alive Setusuna had done most of the cooking. Not that he hadn't tried to learn at her instance that he know how to fend for himself should she be gone but he just wasn't very good at it. But still if there was one thing he was good at it was making tea, his wife had declared it as one of the few things he could make and not screw up.
She had been a very outspoken woman. Something that was considered to be incredibly inappropriate back when they were young. It had been another reason his family had disapproved of her. Not that the Noble Family of Yamamoto needed a good reason to disapprove of a Muggle as the English called them, the fact they were a Muggle would be reason enough for them.
That said the tea he drank these days was a little different to the ones he had drank back in his youth. Now his tea consisted of not just tea leaves but also of various herbs that aided one in retaining their eye sight and senses, in addition to healing damage to those areas.
It hadn't been an issue for him for the better part of one hundred and fifty years, one of the up sides of being able to use Ki. But time caught up to everyone eventually. Now he relied on both the herbs and his own enhanced body to keep his eye sight sharp rather than just his own body. It was only when he started taking this tea, some twenty years ago, that he had finally broken down and agreed with Shunsui that yes he was, in fact, an old man.
God hadn't that been a bitter pill to swallow, even now he occasionally woke up in the morning expecting his wife to still be next to him and to still be in the prime of his life.
"So tell me Harry," Yamamoto tested the name on his tongue. It was only the second time he had used it since learning the child's name, he was just so used to calling most of the children he interacted with brat or boy, depending on the situation, and it was hard to break habit. "Why were those boys chasing you?" He inquired. Yamamoto didn't need to be looking at the boy to know he had shrunk in on himself at the question, he could feel it. The old man didn't turn back to look at the small child, if it had been him in that state he wouldn't want to be seen either. Reaching down he pulled out the old kettle from the cupboard next to his stove, his old kettle was a sturdy thing. Made of iron and almost one hundred years old it had seen and survived a lot, including being used as a makeshift club against an assassin almost thirty seven years ago. The kettles they made these days were lucky to last ten years let alone one hundred.
They just did not make them like they used to.
Filling the implement with water Yamamoto set it on the stove and turned the gas on. A quick flick of his fingers igniting the invisible flammable fumes. While he may have vastly preferred Taijutsu that didn't mean he had never learned how to use the magic he had from birth. Leaning down once more the old man grabbed up the first aid kit from where it rested, he had two. One in the kitchen and one in the bathroom the two places you tended to need it most.
With unwavering hands the old man plucked out what he would need, some bandages and an ointment that would help the healing process. It was nothing special but he couldn't use the more effective things in his kit or else he could have a very hard time explaining to the child why his injury just disappeared. Besides from what he had seen when bandaging it the first time that gash would scar, healing it with magic would stop that.
What kind of kid didn't like showing off scars? That was something that hadn't changed since he was a child. And he doubted it ever would, there was something to be said for the saying 'Boys will be boys.'
"They were from my school," He heard Harry say. Somehow Yamamoto didn't find that surprising. The way those boys were acting told him they all knew each other, the group of them being from the same school had been his first guess. "They don't like me very much." Harry continued, Yamamoto fought the urge to snort at that admittance. After all the fact they had been chasing him and kicked the boy when he was down told him that quite clearly. But he didn't want to interrupt the child while he was talking. Ofttimes it made children feel better to tell the whole story to someone who just listened and didn't speak.
"My cousin calls them his gang." Harry continued, that was slightly surprising to Yamamoto. He knew that some people didn't consider family all that important. But to actively chase down one of your kin with the intent to do them harm, that was strange in this day and age especially with how young the boys seemed to be. "None of them like me at all. Usually it's not all that bad, I just tire them out, after all I'm faster than any of them." That Yamamoto could believe without any trouble. With the exception of the boy with the pointy face none of those children appeared to be particularly active. Unlike the one before him.
"When we're at school Dudley blames me for the things he does and then his gang goes Harry Hunting and I have to run fast or..." The boy trailed off, Yamamoto didn't need him to continue. He got the picture quite clearly and it was certainly not one he liked. It seemed like this cousin of his got away with anything and everything he wanted. Then when the consequence of his actions became apparent he shifted the blame to someone else. He had met plenty of people like that in the past. Those who learned how to take responsibility for their actions usually became fairly good people in the end. Those that did not became shallow and empty people that tended to try everything to get ahead and get what, they felt, they deserved.
"Have you tried talking to a teacher or your parents about this?" He asked, sometimes the simplest solutions were the best. A lot of kids these days had an aversion to bringing authority figures into their personal disputes. Usually Yamamoto would be all for that, you had to learn how to fight your own battles after all. But five on one was a little to out of balance for his tastes.
That was especially true when the five seemed to be bullies who revealed in their own sense of power. Perhaps he could help Harry level the playing field and make it an honest fight, if it came to that it would be up to the boy if he won or lost. That said it seemed his words had been the wrong ones as the child retreated into himself.
"I live with my Aunt and Uncle." Harry said, Yamamoto didn't need to hear him say anything else. The child before him couldn't have had 'my parents are dead' written across his face any clearer if he tried. The fact the child did not mention the teacher angle didn't escape the old man's notice either, that said, his words had opened up a new avenue of attack.
"Have you tried talking to your Aunt and Uncle, they can not possibly be happy with their child behaving in such a way." Yamamoto stated, he would never have accepted any of his students acting in such a way and he had raised them all since childhood. In fact if he had ever heard of them doing something even vaguely resembling what he had seen those five boys doing, outnumbering and beating on an already defeated opponent. He would have shown them the full extent of his displeasure at the end of his fist.
That had apparently been the wrong thing to say as the child retreated into himself even further. Yamamoto used the opportunity to undo his make shift bandage, the gouge still looked slightly better than it had before now the bleeding had mostly stopped. Now he could tell that the wound stopped just above Harry's right eyebrow though it had continued up until about two centimeters into his hair line. Still it hadn't taken off anything important so it was by no means a bad wound, though it would certainly scar.
"They've seen Dudley do it before but they've never said anything." Harry admitted lowly as Yamamoto slowly began to apply the ointment to his forehead. Luckily for the boy it had a numbing agent mixed in, which meant he wouldn't need to feel the pain of his wound for much longer. Still he had been alive a very long time and Yamamoto was very used to picking out lies from the truth, so far nothing the child had told him had been a lie. Perhaps he had not fully expanded his explanations and told him the full truth but nothing he had been told was an outright lie.
His words also brought up some serious concerns about his Aunt and Uncle. What kind of adults let their child get away with harming another child under their care and did not reprimand him for it? They sounded like the kind of people Yamamoto himself would have never entrusted with the raising of a child. Parenting could be difficult, he admitted that it was no easy task to raise a child. But one should never turn a blind eye to a child's misbehavior. They had to learn early on that there was a consequence for every action and it was ones duty as a parent to make sure they learned that lesson and understood it well. As understanding such a lesson was one of the keys to attaining a good life.
"I see," The old man stated as he stood up and walked back to the kitchen where the kettle was just starting to whistle. "And what about your teachers?" He inquired, just because one avenue was closed off didn't men another was not available. Hopefully letting the boy talk about his family first would make talking about his teachers easier. Yamamoto deftly added the tea leaves and herbs to the mix before throwing in one last ingredient, a herb that had a calming effect on those who drank it. Hopefully the child would have an easier time speaking, if it were an adult he would just tell them to get on with it but even the stern old man was willing to be softer on a child.
"They think I'm anti-, anti-," The boy struggled over the word for a second. "Anti-social, because I don't hang around with others and Dudley blames all of the things he does on me so I get in trouble as well. The other kids don't help because Dudley will beat them up if they do." The words started to come out in a rush, Yamamoto could see Harry trying to keep the tears from his eyes. Though the small gathering of moisture at their edges might mean he would fail. "They don't even listen to me anymore when I tell them Dudley did something because all of the other kids will just tell them I did it instead." Harry finished eyes firmly locked on the table before him, Yamamoto said nothing and poured two cups of tea. A quick twitch of his fingers rendering the cup he gave Harry colder so the child could drink it easily. Green eyes looked at the cup strangely, Yamamoto didn't blame him it was certainly different from the 'mugs' they had in England. His tea cups were effectively mugs without a handle, though he would admit to a British child they probably looked strange.
"Pick it up in one hand and support your cup with the other by placing it palm up on the bottom." He said, holding his own cup as an example. "That will allow you to not only keep a good grip on the cup but also hold it easily." The old man stated taking a sip of the tea, the various herbs giving it a citrus like after taste. The boy copied his own grip and took a small sip of the tea, likely expecting it to be scalding hot, before looking surprised and taking a larger sip.
"Delicious." Harry said looking at the tea cup with renewed interest. Boy probably didn't think tea to be anything special, most seemed not to at his age. Especially in this part of the world. The English thought they knew tea, they knew nothing.
The old man considered the boy's problem, he was being attacked by his cousin who he lived with. No adults looked like they were about to help Harry either and five on one odds were not something Yamamoto was about to let stand. However the usual avenues he could use in order to help were closed for as long as the boys caretakers and teachers didn't manage to pick up on the fact his cousin was bullying him. Speaking to the boy's, Dudley he reminded himself, parents wouldn't really do anything. He could tell Harry had not been lying when he had said that his Aunt and Uncle had seen it happen and not commented. At worst Dudley would get a slap on the wrist and most likely told to be more careful.
He also doubted that the teachers would listen to him either. Yes Harry did have an injury from the chase he had been through but that was easily enough explained away. Especially if the boys Aunt and Uncle were actually worse than he thought and simply lied about how Harry got it in order to pull suspicion away from their own son.
Besides Yamamoto had only lived in the area for two years. From what he managed to overhear he was considered to be a strange, if harmless, old man who was living by himself after moving to England when his wife died. If it came down to who to believe he was inclined to think that the school would take the words of parents that had been involved with it for years over his own. Especially when all the evidence he could provide was circumstantial at best.
There were also the potential ways that attempting to use the school to even the odds could backfire, both on Harry and Yamamoto himself. Worst case scenario he was accused of injuring Harry and making the boy lie about it for whatever reason. There was also the small fact that he had invited a small boy into his home and did not know his guardians. That was a story that could be spun badly by anyone with half a brain and a bare minimum of malice. Yamamoto didn't really care about his own reputation, he didn't really get out into the community all that much the opinion of sheep meant little to him. But it certainly wouldn't help Harry either, he doubted putting a child like him in the spotlight like that would do Harry much good.
He considered the problem while winding a bandage around Harry's head with the sort of thoughtless ease that came with decades of experience. He couldn't go to Harry's family, he couldn't go to the school, or rather he could but he doubted it would make a huge difference.
The police were a possibility but Yamamoto doubted it would change much. They would probably take his claims of Harry being attacked rather seriously, especially considering the wound on his forehead. But it would only really lead to them talking to the parents of the children in question, who would still be considered to young to really understand what they were doing in its entirety.
If Harry's Aunt and Uncle were as bad as he had stated, and Yamamoto could feel no lie. Then going down that road would achieve exactly nothing except for perhaps making the bullies be more careful about when and where they struck, still not really evening the odds as much as he would like. The old man took a long drink of his tea, brown eyes looking carefully at the child before him who sipped his own tea.
"Harry, why are you not in school at the moment?" Yamamoto asked, he didn't really pay attention to other people really but he was fairly certain that in England children should be having schooling at this hour. The green eyed boy in front of him started at the sudden question before answering.
"The summer holidays have started Mr. Yamamoto, we don't go back until the first of September." Harry answered dutifully, the old man nodded at the information and took another sip of his tea. The first of September was still two and a half months away, it was enough time to get quite a bit done if the time was used wisely. Maybe it would not level the playing field but it would give Harry a better chance than he had at the moment.
"I see," He stated, right hand stroking his beard absently. "Harry how would you like to learn Martial Arts from me?" Yamamoto asked, he wouldn't teach the boy any of the offensive skills of course, nor Ki manipulation. He would not need them to deal with his cousin. Learning a few blocks and stepping techniques would be enough to keep him out of the hands of a few schoolyard bullies. Besides if Harry could time it just right he could take their fight into full view of a teacher and then Dudley's Gang, as Harry had called them, would have nothing to hide behind. Of course that would also require the boy to get up enough courage to bait them into attacking him near a teacher. Then he would need to successfully block and dodge for long enough he could maneuver them into view. Which was no simple task, still baby steps.
Maybe it wouldn't level the playing field completely but it would give the boy a fighting chance at least, more than he had at the moment.
"Martial Arts?" Harry asked, Yamamoto held in a sigh. He should have known no eight year old in England would know what Martial Arts were, this would have been much easier if he was in Japan.
"Yes Martial Arts, like what you saw me do earlier when I threw that boy." He replied bluntly making the boys eyes go wide. Like he couldn't believe he was being asked if he would like to learn how to do that.
"Could I do that to?" Harry asked, sounding very unsure of himself. Yamamoto put it down to being raised in what seemed to be a slightly abusive environment. The old man smiled at the boy before him, his hand still stroking his beard.
"Of course you can." He said with conviction, he would never actually teach the boy how to do that. In fact they would probably stop training after these school holidays were over. But it was a good idea to give such a young mind something to aim for, that way he would give his all to the training. Yamamoto's small smile turned into a slightly larger one at Harry's answer.
"I'd like to learn."
Round One: Time.
