Not a Soldier Yet |Ao'nung x Neteyam|

5. Knives and Teardrops

Things almost felt too calm - Neteyam forgot to keep his guards up, going on night-time walks without listening to see if anyone was nearby. Just like that, his peace was short-lived. He came face to face with O'ekvì. He could see other figures further away, but in the darkness, he could not make out their faces.

O'ekvì grabbed him by his shoulder, turning him around and without hesitation, grabbed a fistful of Neteyam's hair, yanking so hard Neteyam felt his scalp might separate from his skull. Not wanting to worsen the pain, Neteyam allowed his head to be pulled down until he found himself kneeling in the sand. In his shock, Neteyam did not pay attention to how he landed, and he scraped his palms on a few pocket-sized rocks. He hissed, but had no time to catch his breath as O'ekvì yanked again on his dark locks, forcing his head back.

"Tell me, little freak. Why are you always walking around in the dark?" O'ekvì hissed through gritted teeth. "Are you spying on the families? Staring into their maruis?"
O'ekvì gestured for his friends to come over. Neteyam noticed that Ulro, the only other boy whose name he actually knew, was not with them. Only one of the other boys joined O'ekvì in his tormenting.

"Come on, Ftezey. He can take it. Look at him, not even making a sound." O'ekvì kneeled so he was eye-level with Neteyam. "He thinks he's all special, coming here, copying us."

"You don't fit in, freak, never will." The new face, Ftezey scoffed, unmasked disgust lacing his voice. "Maybe you only have three fingers-" the male grabbed Neteyam's hand, squeezing. "But it doesn't change that you are a demon."

O'ekvì sniggered behind him; he let go of Neteyam's hair only to grab his queue. Rage bubbled to the surface, making Neteyam bare his fangs, tail swishing wildly. All that did, was fuel his tormentors.
Neteyam wondered how much more he could take without fighting back. Still, he forced himself to relax, taking deep breaths. He did not want to disappoint his father by causing trouble.

Neteyam felt someone grab his throat - it was Ftezey. The boy was the most muscular out of all of them, surpassing even O'ekvì, who seemed to be the oldest, and some kind of a leader too amongst the boys. Nails dug into the delicate skin of his neck, drawing a pained groan from Neteyam. The sound excited the boys - Neteyam realized this was about control, power; O'ekvì wanted him to react, Ftezey too. He wondered what his father would think if he saw him like this, kneeling in the sand, palms smeared with blood, a stranger holding him so tightly by the throat, that he was beginning to lose his breath. Another stranger wrenching at his tsaheylu ruthlessly.

Neteyam wondered if perhaps he was a let-down, a failure. The thought hurt more than O'ekvì's cruelty, than the hand around the delicate skin of his throat, tearing into it with sharp nails, not caring if they left marks that would not go away for days.
Their taunts and insults had gone unpunished for months now. The worst they got was a glare from Tsireya and a couple of disgusted looks from Kiri, who recognized them sometimes while doing her chores.

When Neteyam began struggling, Ftezey finally let him go, but not before squeezing one last time.

"Now tell me, little freak," O'ekvì spoke up from behind Neteyam, forcing him to lie down on his stomach; the Metcayina was frustrated that Neteyam did not put up a fight. "Who left the nail marks on your wrist a while ago, huh? Cause it was not Ulro, like we thought, right boys?"

"He asked you a question, forest freak." Ftezey sniggered, kicking sand into his face.

Neteyam refused to answer. He knew it would worsen the situation if they found out it was Ao'nung, who sunk his nails into his arm all those months ago when he first came to the island. Neteyam coughed, shaking his head to clear the sand from his eyes, but it hardly worked. Ftezey raised his foot and continually kicked sand into his face, not stopping until O'ekvì told him to.
Yanking on his queue, the young Metcayina kneeled next to Neteyam. He forced the other to look him in the eyes, still waiting for an answer. When he got none, O'ekvì reached to his own side and pulled out a small, brand new hunting knife. Ftezey paused, unsurely looking at the other boys standing around them. Weren't they going too far with this?

"What is that for, O'ekvì?" One of the smaller boys asked nervously, his ears pulled back, forehead wrinkled in nerves.

"Watch this," O'ekvì laughed, easing the tension. "I bet he cries like a girl too, not just looks like one."

Suddenly, the sharpest point of the knife was right in front of his nose, almost touching the skin there. Neteyam's breath hitched, realizing that he should have fought back long ago to avoid this moment. Unsure how to proceed, Neteyam held his breath, waiting to see what would happen next. He heard one of the boys mumbling about taking things too far before walking off, ignoring O'ekvì as he mocked his own friend. Neteyam wondered how someone could be so heartless, almost feeling sorry for O'ekvì's friend before he remembered the knife still pointed to his face. Neteyam bit the inside of his cheek, heart beating wildly in his chest.

His sweat burned the cuts on his palm, his eyes were red from the sand Ftezey had kicked into his face. He did not want to admit, but he was scared for the first time since Ao'nung almost drowned him. For a moment, he could not hear anything around himself, only the buzzing in his mind, distracting him.
He realized he would never truly be at home here; no matter how kind Tsireya was, or how funny Rotxo's jokes were, he would never be accepted here, not by most of the Metcayina, not even Tsireya's own brother.

With the help of one of his smaller friends, O'ekvì forced Neteyam to sit up, holding the knife to his throat, but not touching the blade to his neck - an empty threat - and Neteyam wanted to see how long he could keep it up before admitting that he was not cruel enough to cut the Omaticaya's skin.

"What is the meaning of this?" A feminine voice boomed in the night.

O'ekvì visibly paled, Neteyam could see it even with all the sand blinding him. Neteyam was abruptly let go, he fell forward, but caught himself with his fist, trying to protect his palms from more damage. Lifting his gaze, Neteyam's shoulders tensed. The boy who had ran off just minutes ago when he noticed the knife returned with Ronal. Ao'nung and Tsireya were not far behind her and the boy. O'ekvì made a move to run, but Ronal's firm voice stopped him.

"If you run now, you will be banished." She warned.

Ftezey and the rest of O'ekvì's friends stood, heads hung in shame and Ronal offered her hand to Neteyam, strong gaze clear of the distrust she showed him when they first met. Neteyam, ignoring the pain in his palm, took the offered hand and stood, careful to not put any of his weight on Ronal. Tsireya was the first of Ronal's children to run over to him, searching for serious injury before pulling him into a tight, warm hug.
Ronal faced the young boys.
"Explain yourselves." She demanded.

Ao'nung slowly wandered over to stand next to Neteyam, curiosity shining in his pale blue eyes. Neteyam did not listen to whatever foolish explanation the boys came up with, all he was focused on was Ao'nung. A silent conversation passed between them that even Tsireya seemed aware of, though she did not understand it, nor did she ask.
Soon, Ronal instructed Ao'nung and Tsireya to wake the boys' families. Neteyam sighed, rubbing his eyes. It was clear to him now that the village would know what happened.

While Ronal looked him over, leaving featherlight touches along his arms, Neteyam stared at the night sky, silently willing his tears away.

"My Neteyam!" His mother's shout disturbed the quietened night suddenly, forcing him to break away from Ronal and turn to his mother, loose hair flying from the speed of his movements. Ronal let him go, moving to stand next to Tonowari, who she had sent to wake Neteyam's family before coming here.
Neteyam felt small as his mother's arms came to circle around his shoulders. He was almost as tall as her now. They could only spend a few moments in each other's embrace before Ao'nung returned with Ftezey's parents, who, above all else, seemed truly ashamed of their son in the moments Ronal spent explaining what had happened. It was not long, before all of the boys' families were fetched. The noise woke the rest of the village. Neteyam truly wished he could cease to exist.