CounterSpin: by the (nasty) purple jelly hoarder.
A/N: Hi everyone, this is my first fanfic ever. Please be nice and review.
Disclaimer: I really want to own tenipuri. That way, I'll have all the collectibles and at the same time, making a lot of money. >dreams
Warning: I have no idea where I'm going with this story, but it's going to be FujiRyo. The idea came from too much caffeine and too little sleep. well, that and annoying things like fuji and ryoma muses.
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Chapter 1: me myself and I
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Will it forever be like this, he wondered as he scanned the sooty ruins. Looking down, Ryoma kicked at some of the broken silver metal and watched it first haphazardly skittered towards the edge of the once grass-green cliff before it’s deadly descent. The metal was from the downspout next to the back entrance of the orphanage. He saw it everyday of his 9 years there. It was hard to believe that such a useless and mundane thing would find a place in his mind to latch onto. Well, memories like this wouldn’t matter anymore now. No, nothing will ever matter from this point on. He was going to die sooner or later, just like the rest of them.
He blinked suddenly and rubbed tiredly at those lifeless eyes. How long since have they left? One, two weeks? They came in hordes, never stopping, always attacking. And then, disappeared just as fast. When he first laid his clear eyes upon them, he thought they were beautiful: winged metallic beings descending from the sky upon the lush earth. Weapons of mass destruction soon showed him otherwise— demolishing, killing, destroying.
At first, the sight was too much to bear, but then, little by little, it soon grew onto him, just like the way he could no longer distinguish the revolting stench of decaying carcasses. He was used to the hunger, the ever present fear…
And to the pain of loneliness.
Now that he thought of it, he should not have been affected all that much to the idea of isolation. He had always been singled out in the orphanage. No matter how many adults came and went, no one picked him. The other children soon noticed this. Laughed at him. Called him a runt. And being Ryoma, he dealt with it the only way he knew how. Shut himself up within a barrier of coldness and aloofness.
But now…but now, there was no one to test his fort hold, no one to whom he could improve his defense against, for he was truly alone.
He was deep in a nearby forest when it happened, when he was suddenly knocked against a tree by a tremendous force. By the time he came to, he realized that he was under a layer of flatten trees. The orphanage and the town he had grown up in were gone. Everything was gone.
There was no more reason for him to stay here. But there was something that nagged at him at the back of his mind, something compelling him to stay. And stay he did, though now, when he thought more on it, it wouldn’t matter where he was anyway, because he was going to die. He was already too weak from what little food and clean water he could salvage.
Maybe by tomorrow, he too, would be gone.
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“Alright, you got that? Get the brat and come back here as fast as you can.”
“Heh. Who do you think I am? A babysitter?”
“Bah. You want a beating like how it was for Yagyuu?”
A pause. “Whatever. Quit hollering. I’ve already wasted enough time.” The tall figure strode purposefully toward the doors on the other side of the room, cloak billowing. Just when he was about to exit, he turned once more. “You’ll be looking at the radar, right?”
“Nn.”
“Good.”
----- to be continued