~Dr Stone One Shots~ ✿Courtesy of My online Friends✿

Five ⌁Hold Me Tight⌁

Story Notes:
Words-3,628
Written By- Spooky_Spoon69 

- Mozu x Hyoga -

It was that one fight. A clash of spears between plain wood and gold, of chipping stone armors that stretched from shoulder blades down to arms.

Once was a symbol. His pride that came with his great skill and physical prowess: never hesitant to strike his enemies down; and with every spill of blood, relying on his strength alone and his instincts: it whispers that it was the right thing to do.

The best thing he could do.

The very same voice that had whispered to him, cunning as a snake, the first time he took somebody's life. Different shades of purple on skin caused by small but sturdy fists, determined and young. Then he saw red, spilling from its source. And god did the young one love the smell it emitted, the color that blossomed and multiplied. Something in him snapped, awakened and flourished into the wild beast he was now, bearing him his title:

The strongest warrior of the island.

In every battle that counted ripping his enemies' throats apart, may it be with bare hands or a spear, he would take time to crouch down so he could just be somewhere of a closer level to the blossoming pool of crimson blood, relaxing in the stillness.

Engulfing the scent that reminded him of his father, he realized he didn't have any vivid memories with him. It was both a blur and something he would rather leave at that. But he always knew he was there, on the background, a hazy picture and a stepping stone for Mozu. And with every inhale of the familiar scent of red comes a gratitude he only offered to him.

Gratitude, because if not for him, that child would have never experienced the feeling of pure bliss, reveling in each swing of fists and weapons, sharp and deadly, slashing against foes.

He does not chase it. It naturally comes to him, grips him tight like women who fawn over him and his body, begging to be pleasured and to give pleasure. He was a genius after all and it is only natural for people to recognize and want him for what he is: the strongest and mightiest of all. And yet he suffered loss. Someone strong came and found him.

No, it was not the utter strength of the other man that drove Mozu on edge, that took him by surprise, for his brain can only think much and wonder how the guy mirrors him in a different light.

They were both born warriors, yes. But how they were raised--how the other moved with precision, the thrust of each weapon, the well calculated and balanced foot work, it was what tipped Mozu to know how the technique that's being wielded and used against him was polished into perfection with both patience and diligence for years. He was in awe, and it got his blood pumping. It's what he lived for: the fight he'd always been bloodthirsty for.

A lone genius.

That was what the spear fighter had called him. True, it was lonely at the summit, to not have an equal or a strength that rivaled Mozu's.

But now, he no longer was.

And though reaching close to the end of the fight when Mozu thought he got the upper hand, before he knew it, his knees were on the ground. The crumbling sound of rocks--his pauldron had completely worn off his body, and so did the chunks of cracked stone that had long since been coating the heart he never knew existed in the first place.

The day he learned that a powerful being like him could be someone on top, the day his father lashed out on him, something inside him stirred and ever since then, he was undefeated. Not until this man, clad in a black cloth covering the entirety of his body, feathers encircling fashionably around his neck, silver-haired tied back. Mozu, from where he was kneeling on the ground looked up the same time the man reached for his mask to reveal the other half of his face and Mozu was blinded.