"Crybaby!"
An immature remark made by a child at the expense of another. Whether it was done for pure self-gratification, or for the amusement of his friends was not clear, but it really didn't matter at that point because the damage had been done.
The word cut through the air and stabbed at his little seven year old heart. Immediately he felt hot tears well up in his eyes, and though he struggled his very best against it, they fell. Fluids began to flow freely as his nose began to dribble and his mouth grew thick with saliva.
"See! He is a big crybaby!" The verbal remark was soon followed by physical abuse as small grubby hands collided against his shoulders, and he was thrown bodily to the floor. The offender looked around smugly and a few children began to laugh, others could only manage half hearted chuckles. The chuckles came from those who were friends with the boy on the floor, but were too afraid of receiving similar treatment to stick up for him.
The laughter soon died down to small awkward half smiles. Now that it was quiet however, the offender finally realized that his current verbal punching bag had stopped crying, and at some point regained his footing. He stood with his head bowed, dark messy hair obscuring his features. Occasionally his shoulders would shake, but no whimpers could be heard. His hands were balled into little fists that were clenched so tightly his arms shook, and a small rivulet of blood escaped his palms and leaked to the floor.
"What are you going to do crybaby? Hit me?" Another verbal stab, but this lacked the confidence of his previous statements, and his smug look was completely wiped away.
"I am not a crybaby."
They were muttered softly but everyone heard, and without realizing it all of the crowd took one large step back. A mysterious wind began to pick up, along with a sudden rise in temperature. It took a while for them all to realize that the wind and the heat was radiating from the little boy, and once they did the crowd took another collective step back.
The bully looked around warily and began to whimper softly. His eyes soon found his scapegoat again, and widened with complete and utter shock and fear.
The boys clothes fluttered around with from the wind. His hair, which once stuck out in all sorts of crazy directions, were now spiked up straight, and as the wind tussled it the black color soon faded was replaced with a striking golden yellow.
Now that his hair was out of his face, everybody could take a good look at his features. His teeth were bared and the canines were slightly elongated. His eyebrows followed suite with the hair as the black faded and soon became golden yellow. The soft brown eyes, that once endeared him to the hearts of girls and teachers alike disappeared. For a moment all that could be seen were the whites of his eyes. Soon, as if rising from the pits of the milky white, green began to surface. A dazzling emerald green that could be seen even by the children standing at the back of the pack.
All the children clutched their garments fearfully, and a rather potent stench of urine emanated from once would-be bully.
"I AM NOT A CRYBABY!"
The small boy screamed and the entire playground exploded as pent up anger and frustration was released in a tidal wave of energy. The wind picked up and tossed screaming children in every direction. Small shrubs were uprooted and tossed clear into the distance. The brand new jungle gym, which was the pride and joy of the school, was torn from the ground and thrown across the street.
"I AM NOT A CRYBABY!"
It is said that when a child hurts or is feeling some exceptionally powerful emotions, that the parent can sometimes feel them.
Hundreds of miles away, a man in an orange karate uniform perked up from his deep sleep. He looked off into the distance, and suddenly disappeared in a flurry of golden hair and dust.
"Goten..." Were his only words.
I swore i would never write one of these...but the idea compelled me