Leisure Living (Rengoku Kyojuro)

Yuuma: Dedicated Only to Practice, Naps, and Books

TW: Child abuse and neglect. But only in the first few paragraphs. 

There wasn't much to remember from her old life. She knew she died relatively young, all because her friend didn't see the other car coming which caused them to flip. She was a college student, however, she can't remember what exactly it was she was studying. Lastly, she enjoyed the majority of arts. Drawing, music, writing, and reading. Although in this life, she was unable to read and therefore write, however her love for drawing and music remained the same.

No name. No family. Barely any hobbies. She came in almost as blank of a slate as a baby. Almost.

There were certain things she would remember randomly. Like when a child asked their mother why the sky was blue, she could recall Raleigh scattering. Recall why it was hotter to stand on moist dirt than it was on dry dirt. Why the water warmed and cooled slower than land. What would happen if you were to boil water in a closed jar.

Random things that she had no reason to know.

Large grey eyes observed how the woman tuned the shamisen. Dainty fingers twisting the itomakis, and plucking the strings at the same time. Looking for the perfect pitch. Before the woman could begin her song, a large hand snatched her small wrist and dragged her down the dirt road. Meaty fingers lining up with the bruises on her skeletal wrist and the familiar grumbling and cussing went in one ear and out the other.

Maybe it was because of her memories that she could shrug these words off. Chalk it up to being a terrible parent rather than a terrible child. Chalk it up to bystander effect rather than people just being outright cruel. Watching a grown man, smelling of cheap sake and fermented dirt, harshly drag a child, who barely reached his mid-thigh, around by too thin of an arm. When strangers looked at her, meeting large eyes, they would turn away in pity or shame. Some would even look at her with the same amount of disgust as the man did. They would give him dirtier looks. Looks that had their eyebrows almost touching and noses scrunched.

Little did they know, those looks would further spur the man to spout harsher words when they reached the shack near the river. Harsher words evolved to harsh slaps, harsh hair pulling, and harsh gripping and throwing. Maybe they did know. Maybe, while some were in the bystander effect others were just that cruel.

"Ya' fuckin' stink," The man gritted out. They sat by the water's edge, her knees bent on the mud as the man was squatted next to her. Her hair in a firm grip in his hands, thick fingers burrowing through the knots and mats. Not caring that whenever he tugged her scalp felt as if it was ripping from her skull. She was forced to gaze at herself in the reflection of the water. When the fingers tightened in her hair, she took a deep breath of air and held onto it tightly as water rushed past her face. It got in her ears and the current wanted to steal her breath away. She tried hard not to struggle, registering that the more she struggled the more she would need oxygen. Which meant she would need to breathe. Just before she could lose all the precious oxygen stored in her cheeks, the hand gripping her hair forced her back up out of the water.

She couldn't help but gag as air rushed back in her burning lungs and her vision spotted. Her fringe clinging onto her skin like worms did to the dirt roads after rain. Barely able to grab another deep breath, her head was forced under the water again. This time the force of the cold stream made her gasp and successfully lose all her air. The oxygen came out in bubbles that rushed to the surface, tickling her face as a reminder of what she lost.

Her vision blacking out, and her body now reacting on instinct. Thrashing, kicking, and gripping the wrist that held her head forcefully underwater. Black spots splattered across her vision and she fought the urge to inhale. Which was impossible. Water rushed past her chapped lips, past her teeth, and down her throat. Filling her stomach and nose with silt and ice-cold water that felt more like it she had swallowed fire rather than water.