RobinIV - Updating!
mischievious-lil-kitsune - (PL looks at the photos) cute! don't worry, this is the last of the fluffy.
AN: Interesting ... chapter Three. Forewarning if your enjoying the fluffiness - chapter four is not as fluffy.
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He ran, small legs keeping him just ahead of his foes; his pure white cape billowed out behind him, lifted by the winds of his escape and home world. "Come back whitey locks!" One of those chasing him yelled, tossing a stone at the fleeing boy but it lacked the accuracy that Kumo already showed. He kept running but his feet tangled and he fell.
The bullies were on him in seconds, tugging at his hair, one's foot found his side, whilst another's fist found his left eye. Desperately he tried to pull away, to fold himself into a small ball to avoid being hurt too much, something hit him in the nose hard, causing tears to well in his eyes. "Stop!" A voice commanded, its tones were muffled by a mist mask but the voice was that of someone still out of their teens. The others did so instantly and Kumo caught a flash of red between their legs. "Who started this?"
No answer was forthcoming and soon the little crowd dispersed. "Can you stand little brother?" Kiri asked his tones filled with concern. Kumo reached up to feel his nose, to find blood on his fingers when he pulled them back. The sight of his own blood and the shock of what had happened overwhelmed him and he started to cry. "Kumo, no." The white clad boy looked up at his brother, "Don't cry here, they'll just make fun of you more."
The tears stopped and Kumo tried to stand but a badly bruised leg caved beneath him and he fell down again. Kiri swept him up in his arms, carrying him in the direction of home. "This happened to me too Kumo, other children get angry because we've got both our parents and because they're so well known." With the reverence reserved for a holy man or great speaker, Kumo listened to his ten-year-old brother. "The sooner you get strong the sooner they'll learn not to hurt you."
Only recently, Kiri had claimed the Maken and Mist bottle of a fighter; he had been learning since his fifth birthday, something Kumo had started too and he wore his sword as a mark of pride. Most Misterian's wanted to become Maken wielders but few made it past the first five years of training to be awarded one of the soul linked swords.
Blood leaked from Kumo's nose onto his shirt, and he rubbed at his nose with one sleeve. The pair soon reached their home; their parents were out, neither minded leaving Kumo with his big brother since Kiri had gained his Maken. It was at ten that their breathing started to contain the volatile substance Mist, so Kiri wore a mask over his mouth and nose. Tenderly, Kiri set Kumo down on a couch, "Strip off your shirt and throw it here." Kumo did as he was told and Kiri went to get some Witch Hazel for his brother's bruises.
Kumo's nose had since stopped bleeding, allowing Kiri to turn his attention on the worst of his younger brother's bruises. "Where does it hurt the most?" Kumo moved his hands from the bottom of his ribs on the right side, where already a purple mark was growing. Drenching a pad in the witch Hazel, Kiri held it onto Kumo's side and the younger boy wiggled. "Cold isn't it?" He bound the pad onto Kumo's side with a length of bandage, all the time smiling to himself behind his mask.
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'You were always there for me,' Kumo thought, looking to the Maken as if it were Kiri. 'Every time they bullied me because I didn't seem to have changed you were there to make it seem alright.'
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To be continued, please review.