Ficlets: from the 100 prompts (050- 54)
title (050) Spade [yepee! over half done!], (051) Water, (052) Fire, (053) Earth, (054) Air.
word count: all together about 700
disclaimer: The wiki knows it all: Kurumada created StS and Toei owns the rights
the things one learns, in the wiki. Toei also owns shows i barely remember (Tiger mask), others i'd rather forget (calimero) or wish hadn't re-watched years after (mazinger z), a handful that became uberpopular and yet i never got the hang of (transformers) and even one that -somehow- got me shamefully hooked (marmalade boy). Wait. None of the 2000's shows rings a bell. Darn it, I'm old.
050 - Spade
It was when they said “not good enough” that he realized he really didn’t care. So, no real potential for cosmos, no Saint material. Whatever, he’d go home and pick up things where he had left them. But they shook their heads and sent him to the spades instead. The famous spades, guards of the southern tip of Sanctuary, prided themselves in being the best soldiers in the Holy Grounds, just like the three other wings did.
The barracks were a bit better than the trainees’ and the tutor he was assigned to wasn’t interested in beating him to pulp, in as long as he did his work. In a few years, he would probably be assigned a hut and leave the spot on the ground by his tutor’s bed to the next failed Saint that came around. Yes, their “not good enough” had become “fine by me” to him.
And then Hill came for the first time. She was pretty, he supposed, because every man in the Spades looked at her with hungry eyes, but she was his tutor’s and they all kept their distance. She wasn’t the only one, any way. Star, Flower, Sun, Cloud... he couldn’t keep track of them and just had a vague wondering for the choice of names.
Hill, however, he knew. She came by about once a ten-day, sneaked into Sanctuary’s outskirts and his tutor’s room with a regularity that defied the moon’s. What happened next was also predictable as the tides, and he would be groggy the next day -impossible to sleep with all that noise.
What really bothered him, though, was that she had the annoying custom of patting his head in her way out, as if he was an amusing puppy of sorts.
051 - Water.
Damned Hill. He didn't get to sleep in like his tutor, sleep or not the routine was always the same:
Patrol. Then patrol some more. Maybe rough up a fresh-in trainee -good for the newbie, even if he didn’t see it that way, entertaining for them. Patrol some more.
Months went by, and he grew older. The sounds in the bed next to him were no longer mere nuisances and something was born in those long sleepless nights. For some reason, water started stinging in the back of his eyes, fighting for a way out. Damned Hill.
052 - Fire
Patrol. Stand guard by the training arenas. Nod as one who had been deemed “good enough” passed him in his way to training. Stand a bit taller while patrolling afterwards; he’s a proud spade -fuck them petulant trainees and their nods.
Months become years, and Hill doesn’t pat him in her way out anymore. But the senior must not know about it. About the flush in her face when she sees him staring at her, about the fire in him that won’t go away, about the times when they both know the tutor will be out but still she sneaks into the little room.
And back to patrolling the next morning as if nothing had happened.
053 - Earth
Patrol until they call for a different task: digging duty. Check the shoes of the “good enough” that didn’t turn out that great after all, sizes match and he won’t need them where he’s headed - great.
And back to patrol, deep in thought, half laughing at the jokes of the other soldiers. Life may suck, but death is forever.
054 - Air
Patrol. Border duty. Rumors make it fast in the ranks. The Japanese boy, the one who somehow snatched the Pegasus’ cloth from his rightful owner and then run away with it, is nearby and heading here.
Patrol. Leather-clad spade soldiers following a silver saint’s orders. A woman. It doesn’t matter. Disband the patrol, run, encircle, kill. Bring back to Greece what should have never left. Maybe if this works out, he’ll move up. No more patrols, be assigned to the Kyoko’s own guard even. A bed, for him and Hill to share without fear.
The Ophiocus Saint barks an order and they’re all over the boy. He’s fast, but they’re good together. Must be all the patrolling.
And then, air.
The edge of the cliff growing distant, out of reach. No sounds but the air hissing around him and the rocks calling underneath.
word count: all together about 700
disclaimer: The wiki knows it all: Kurumada created StS and Toei owns the rights
the things one learns, in the wiki. Toei also owns shows i barely remember (Tiger mask), others i'd rather forget (calimero) or wish hadn't re-watched years after (mazinger z), a handful that became uberpopular and yet i never got the hang of (transformers) and even one that -somehow- got me shamefully hooked (marmalade boy). Wait. None of the 2000's shows rings a bell. Darn it, I'm old.
050 - Spade
It was when they said “not good enough” that he realized he really didn’t care. So, no real potential for cosmos, no Saint material. Whatever, he’d go home and pick up things where he had left them. But they shook their heads and sent him to the spades instead. The famous spades, guards of the southern tip of Sanctuary, prided themselves in being the best soldiers in the Holy Grounds, just like the three other wings did.
The barracks were a bit better than the trainees’ and the tutor he was assigned to wasn’t interested in beating him to pulp, in as long as he did his work. In a few years, he would probably be assigned a hut and leave the spot on the ground by his tutor’s bed to the next failed Saint that came around. Yes, their “not good enough” had become “fine by me” to him.
And then Hill came for the first time. She was pretty, he supposed, because every man in the Spades looked at her with hungry eyes, but she was his tutor’s and they all kept their distance. She wasn’t the only one, any way. Star, Flower, Sun, Cloud... he couldn’t keep track of them and just had a vague wondering for the choice of names.
Hill, however, he knew. She came by about once a ten-day, sneaked into Sanctuary’s outskirts and his tutor’s room with a regularity that defied the moon’s. What happened next was also predictable as the tides, and he would be groggy the next day -impossible to sleep with all that noise.
What really bothered him, though, was that she had the annoying custom of patting his head in her way out, as if he was an amusing puppy of sorts.
051 - Water.
Damned Hill. He didn't get to sleep in like his tutor, sleep or not the routine was always the same:
Patrol. Then patrol some more. Maybe rough up a fresh-in trainee -good for the newbie, even if he didn’t see it that way, entertaining for them. Patrol some more.
Months went by, and he grew older. The sounds in the bed next to him were no longer mere nuisances and something was born in those long sleepless nights. For some reason, water started stinging in the back of his eyes, fighting for a way out. Damned Hill.
052 - Fire
Patrol. Stand guard by the training arenas. Nod as one who had been deemed “good enough” passed him in his way to training. Stand a bit taller while patrolling afterwards; he’s a proud spade -fuck them petulant trainees and their nods.
Months become years, and Hill doesn’t pat him in her way out anymore. But the senior must not know about it. About the flush in her face when she sees him staring at her, about the fire in him that won’t go away, about the times when they both know the tutor will be out but still she sneaks into the little room.
And back to patrolling the next morning as if nothing had happened.
053 - Earth
Patrol until they call for a different task: digging duty. Check the shoes of the “good enough” that didn’t turn out that great after all, sizes match and he won’t need them where he’s headed - great.
And back to patrol, deep in thought, half laughing at the jokes of the other soldiers. Life may suck, but death is forever.
054 - Air
Patrol. Border duty. Rumors make it fast in the ranks. The Japanese boy, the one who somehow snatched the Pegasus’ cloth from his rightful owner and then run away with it, is nearby and heading here.
Patrol. Leather-clad spade soldiers following a silver saint’s orders. A woman. It doesn’t matter. Disband the patrol, run, encircle, kill. Bring back to Greece what should have never left. Maybe if this works out, he’ll move up. No more patrols, be assigned to the Kyoko’s own guard even. A bed, for him and Hill to share without fear.
The Ophiocus Saint barks an order and they’re all over the boy. He’s fast, but they’re good together. Must be all the patrolling.
And then, air.
The edge of the cliff growing distant, out of reach. No sounds but the air hissing around him and the rocks calling underneath.