1- Home

"Noatak!"

The young boy perked up at the sound of his father's call. Coming out to the porch, he looked up to the man. "Yes, father?"

The man stared out into the fields of their ranch. "Your quirk, you know how to use it?" He asked, his eyes latching into a roaming cow.

The young boy nodded, before realizing his father wasn't looking at him. "Yes, it came in a year ago."

His father hummed but said nothing more.

The boy scratched his cheek, eyes darting to the floor. "Father? Why have I never seen you use your quirk?"

The fingers of his father's hand twitched, and he clenched his jaw so tight it might never have opened again. "Do you know how to use the quirk?"

"Y-yeah." He lifted his hand, and with a twirl of his fingers, some dew on the grass was lifted into the air. "I can use wat-"

"No." His father interrupted sternly, "You don't know how to use the quirk."

He looked up at his father, who was now intensely glaring at the cow.

"You don't know how to use it fully." The man lifted his hand, scarred and mangled, arranged his fingers oddly, and pointed at the cow.

The man growled when nothing happened.

Noatak had turned ten yesterday. There had been no celebration or acknowledgment of it other than a half-hearted "happy birthday" from his father. His brother, barely seven, had tried to be enthusiastic but had miserably failed.

The entire house was suffocating. Every time he went somewhere other than his room, he felt like his head was being caved in. Like some rodent had crawled into his skull and was slowly eating away at his brain. His body always felt sluggish, every move an intense effort to make.

It only got worse whenever he caught sight or wind of his father. Whenever he looked at the man, he felt a need to run. He felt his fingers twitch, his head throb, his neck itch. He hated it.

It was just as he and his brother were preparing to start the hour-long trek to the school bus that he felt the presence of his father behind him, and that awful, emotionless stare.

"Noatak, Tarrlok" he started, voice unreadable, "put your bags away and come with me." He walked past them, out the door, and off to the cattle pens.

He felt his shoulders lock up, and forced himself to take his bag off his back and follow his father. He dragged his brother through the fields, eventually reaching the pen their father had stopped at.

"So…" He anxiously murmured, "What do you want?"

He lifted a hand and pointed towards the cows. "You and your brother have an amazing quirk." He clenched his fist. "You owe me for that. But you can't pay me yet."

He roughly wrapped a hand around Noatak's wrist and shoved him towards the cows. He ignored the yell of terror from Tarrlok, and forced his older son to raise his hand to the cows. "Today," he shakily murmured, "is the day you learn how to really use your quirk."

Noatak looked up at his father like he was a madman, which wasn't too far from the truth.

"The true power of your quirk, could take down the likes of the most powerful villains." Noatak winced as the iron grip on his arm tightened. "If it weren't for that meddling…"

"Look at the cow." He demanded. Noatak did so, staring at the cow bewildered. "Do you feel it? See it?"

"N-No." He breathed out, puffs coming out of his mouth in the cold winter air. "What are you talking about?"

"The blood!" He sharply yelled. "Tap into it! Feel it!" He grabbed Noatak by the hair and forced his gaze to stay on the bovine.

"I don't understand!" The boy pleaded.

"Well then find a way to understand it! Are you dumb?" He sharply tugged his hair. "It's blood! Blood is just water! It's yours!"

"I- I don't know!"

"Dammit!" His father screamed, sending spittle flying onto his face, "It's yours! This is your birthright! Take it damn you!"

Noatak trembled, and as if it was an instinct, like he had done it his whole life, his fingers bent and locked up, as if they were being weighed down by something.

"Yes! Take it! Grasp it in your hands!"

He jerked his wrist up, the weight beneath them resisting. Suddenly, the cow before them groaned before its whole body jerked up, and it was standing on its hind legs.

Moo!

As Noatak jerked his ring finger, as if it were attached to a string, the cow's head was forced back, its head nearly touching its back.

He barely heard the sound of his father cackling or the cow crying for help. His eyes had blown wide, a brilliant blue reflecting a cow's shaking, terrified form.

He brought in all fingers to touch his thumb, dragging the cow closer, then burst them all out, shoving the cow back. It made a wet crunch as it landed on its head, before taking in its final, raspy breath.

"Now," their father pointed to another cow, "it's your turn Tarrlok."

For the past two years, Tarrlok had hardly ever managed to budge a cow.

"Weak." His father would say. "Pathetic." He would always pour his hatred onto Tarrlok, and his teachings onto his prodigy, Noatak.

Every night was a night Noatak spent out on the ranch, forcibly herding the cattle, training his bloodbending as his father watched him with harsh eyes.

"Noatak!" He jumped to the sound of the man's voice, the concentration he had on moving a few cows nearly snapping. "This one's leg's broken!" He grabbed the boy's dark ponytail and shoved his face into the aforementioned cow's leg. "Learn to control the muscles better, brat. Don't just move the blood, make the muscles contract to move them! Did you fail your damn bio class or something!"

He threaded his fingers into the grass below him. "No. I didn't." He tensely said.

He didn't dare move his eyes off the grass, but he could feel his father's glare burning into him. "Tch. Get your brother out here. Teach him how to snap the thing's neck."

He walked back to the house, ignoring how his father glared at him before walking off himself.

"Tarrlok!" He called. "Job for you!" He heard his brother round the hall and stare at him pleadingly.

"Is it the blood thing?" The boy's eyes, so wide and naive, were marked by dark circles. "I really really really don't wanna. Please Noatak!"

"Don't be a brat Tarrlok." He roughly tugged his brother by the wrist. "Dad wants you to snap some cow's neck." He glanced over his shoulder, only to see his little brother tearing up. "Ugh."

They soon stood next to the cow, crying and mooing for help. The way its femur jutted out of its skin, covered with flesh and blood, was something Tarrlok's eyes seemed to be glued to. "N-Noatak… It's in pain."

The older brother scoffed, cold eyes narrowing at the boy. "Yeah, no duh. Which is why you're going to kill him." He raised his hand, palm down with his fingers pointing at the animal. "Repeat after-"

"We need to help him!" His brother burst out. "We should- We should bring him to the vet! We need to help him!" He scrambled to drop to the animal's side and put a comforting head on its head. "Please Noatak!" He begged.

He roughly pulled his brother up by the collar, dragging him off the animal. "It's just a damned cow Tarrlok. It was gonna get killed later regardless." He raised his hand back up. "Now. Repeat after me."

Tarrlok ripped himself out of his brother's grasp. "No!" He screamed, tears rolling down his cheeks, "We need to help him! You said you wanna be a hero right?"

Noatak growled and pulled Tarrlok in by the lapel of his shirt. "Dammit Tarrlok!" Drops of spit flew onto the boy's face as his brother screamed at him, "It's a fucking cow! Just kill it!" He grabbed his brother by his ponytail and forced him to look at the cow. "Look at it! It's a goddamn cow!"

"No!" His Tarrlok sobbed, "We need to go to a vet or a- a-"

"It's a cow!" He yelled, "We're not spending all that money on a damn cow! We kill cows! That's how it works! Humans kill cows!"

"N-No! no! No! I don't- I don't wanna!"

Smack!

Tarrlok gasped as his brother slapped him, a red mark forming on his face. "Damn it Tarrlok! You're gonna kill this fucking cow! I'm not having a weak crybaby for a brother!" He forced his brother to lift his hand. "Now fucking grab it!" He saw his brother's fingers tense and lock up. "Feel the neck!"

Tarrlok sobbed, the cow violently shaking as his hand trembled.

"Now twist!" His brother screamed at him.

Crunch!

Noatak didn't look up as he walked past the living room. Past the couch his mother always sat on, never eating, never talking to them. Just sitting, and dully staring at the television.

His father wasn't often in the house, always doing something in the city. It's not like the woman would have noticed.

Wake up, walk to living room, watch TV, walk to room, sleep.

She rarely even ate. The only good memories he had of her were when he was a little child. Her bright, shining smile, the way she would hold him, the memory of her voice claiming her love for them. Memories of a happy family, of two kids without their quirks.

When he looked at the woman now, all he saw was a shell. Like a picture of a deceased loved one. There was something there. He knew she was his mother, but she also wasn't.

He kept his eyes on the dishes as he heard his brother walk through the front door, finally finished with what little chores he had. The evening sun shone through a window and hit a plate he was scrubbing, and he saw his reflection.

Dark, tanned skin, long brown hair, and blue eyes that used to be so vibrant that now lifelessly stared back at him.

He kept scrubbing. He didn't need to see that.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Scrub.

Nothing happened. Nothing dull, nothing exciting, nothing bad, nothing good. It was terrible. He hated how quiet it was. It felt like, at any time, the air around him could crush him, suffocate him and kill him.

Slam!

He crushed the plate he was holding, shards of porcelain slicing into his hand as his father slammed the door behind him.

"I'm home!" He announced. There was no response, just silence and the sound of the TV.

Noatak laid on a haybale, his usual one. He rarely slept in his and Tarrlok's shared room. He spent most nights in the cold barn. At least something was happening here. Sometimes a cow would snore, or a chicken would ruffle his feathers… Not much else.

The stench of manure and cattle wasn't something he was affected by, he barely paid attention to anything as he stared up through a crack in the ceiling.

"So… Pretty." He muttered. The stars were bright tonight. He raised a finger to trace the Corvus constellation. He didn't know what it was supposed to be, but he thought it was pretty.

His eyes began drooping, and he felt his arm fall back to his side. As black slowly consumed his vision, he let out a sigh.

A loud growl, and the familiar sound of flesh and bone tearing and breaking. He peered over the ratty couch and saw the source.

A lion, its mane massive and lustrous, stained with red, stood over the body of a cow. The same cow he slept next to.

He wanted to scream, to do something, but when he tried, he found his throat locked up, and his body froze.

The flicked its head over to Noatak, its dead eyes roaming over the boy. Rearing back its legs, a low growl rumbled from its throat. He tried to breathe, but a weak sound came out of his throat as his body refused to cooperate.

With a roar, the lion sprung, claws out, and lunged for the boy. He finally screamed just as the claws swiped-

Bang!

Noatak gasped and stumbled off the haybale. His eyes wildly darted around the room, his arms already raised in a blood-bending position.

"Wh-What…" He lowered his arms. "Oh."

He lowered his eyes to the cow. All he could see was the corpse the lion had been feasting on. He shook his head, clutching at his head as his hair loosely fell across his face. "Damn it…" He murmured to himself.

He gasped and let go of his head as he heard a shrill scream ring out from the direction of the house. That was real, he was sure of it.

He burst through the doors of the barn, ignoring the waves of cattle that escaped. He tripped and stumbled over his feet, stuttered, and choked on the air he so desperately tried to breathe in.

Another scream. He forced himself to move faster. That was his brother. Tarrlok.

He fell face-first into the mud but got up and kept sprinting. 'So close!'

He rammed his shoulder into the front door. Gasping for breath as he took a second to view the living room.

His father was dead. Lying on the floor, a hole in his head. Blood leaked onto the ground, forming a terrible, dark puddle. His permanent scowl, for once, had been replaced by a face of fear, eyes still wide open as he stared up at the roof.

Standing over him was a purple-haired woman, dressed in a dark, sleeveless body suit with plating on the chest. She looked down at the dead man with unreadable eyes. Something between sad and uncaring.

His mother was standing up, the dull eyes he was used to replaced by a determined glare towards the killer. Behind her, a small form was curled into a ball, sobbing and trembling. Tarrlok.

The woman turned to look at Noatak, and pointed a rifle, protruding from her elbow, in at his face. She bored into his eyes with the same look she had given his father. With a loud crack, her shoulder jerked back.

Just before the shot could fire, Noatak jerked his finger, sending her rifle away.

Or.. that was what he planned. Not used to the human form, the arm he controlled was jerked down, pointing right as his heart.

Bang!

His head snapped back as he felt a bullet penetrate his sternum. As he fell to his back, he gasped, a glob of blood coming out as he opened his mouth. His mouth opened in a silent scream, unable to make noise, as his back slammed into the floor. His head followed, bouncing off the floor with a loud crack! Gurgled noises escaped his throat as he tried to yell, to scream, to do anything.

The woman turned, facing his mother.

"N-No…" He moaned.

The cool metal of the rifle lay on his mother's forehead, yet she did not tremble. She scowled at the woman, an intense energy in her eyes. "You," she growled, voice raspy from misuse, "will not kill my babies."

Bang!

"No!" Noatak screamed, forcing his body to sit up. He could feel some ribs poking out of his back, he could feel the blood draining out of him, the way what was left of his heart viciously tried to pump. "Mom!"

Tarrlok screeched as he knelt over the body of their mother. Uselessly sobbing and clutching her body. "Mommy!" He coughed and choked on his own spit, uselessly trying to put the blood that had flowed out back into the hole in his mother's head like it would do anything.

The rifle was aimed at Tarrlok's head.

Noatak screamed and dragged his body across the floor, "Tarrlok!" he gargled out, "The neck! Grab the ne-" He gasped as a sharp pain blossomed in his chest. His fingernails dragged across the floor, and he kept yelling. "The neck!"

"No! No! No! No! No!" His brother buried his face into the shirt of their mother, dragging his snot and tears over it. "Stop it! Stop it!"

The woman's arm trembled, and she seemed to falter. "Tarrlok! Please!" His body screamed at him, begging him to stop trying to move, "The neck!"

The woman's eyes trembled and she gulped unsteadily.

"Mommy! Please!"

"Tarrlok!" He screamed, "Kill her!"

"I'm so sorry…" The woman took in a deep breath.

Bang!

AN:

I wanna make something like a psychological horror, and also really just love the character of Amon/ Noatak. This might have a little fluff in it, but I cant see it being a happy go lucky story in the future.
Also important, I wanna say there's some morals in here that I don't endorse, I just really wanna write some characters with different morals and how their experiences affect that.
Ill probably update in like 2 weeks. Or maybe tmrw if I feel like it :3
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