Not a Soldier Yet |Ao'nung x Neteyam|

22. Stormy Waters

Ftezey had yanked him back so hard that Neteyam inhaled a mouthful of water as he was dragged under the surface by his leg. He saw no chance of being able to escape the torment that awaited him. He heard laughing from above him. Ftezey had tied his leg to his tsurak's bindings, dragging Neteyam along as he hung like a limp doll; all he managed to do was cover his nose with one hand to stop the water from going in. Ftezey would sometimes instruct his tsurak to fly above the water. Neteyam could feel the skin around his ankle bruis and burn as the leather rubbed against him. He hung upside down.

Ulro and his new mate were watching, laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes. The nameless boy was doubled over, clutching his stomach, having likely gotten a cramp.

Ftezey grabbed Neteyam by the arm and pulled him onto the tsurak until the Omaticaya was sitting awkwardly in front of him on the tsurak.

"What should we do with you, huh? What do you think, Tsuizorì?"

"I say we drag him around some more," Tsuizorì snorted. "Maybe knock him against some rocks and corals, too. Surely that would be payback enough for Ulro, no?"

Ulro hummed, touching his bruised cheek. "Funny, isn't it. I know you sent your little boyfriend after me, freak."

Neteyam glared at Ulro. "What are you talking about?"

Ulro scoffed, swimming over on his tsurak. Neteyam was familiar with the creature. "Don't play dumb. I know you're the one who sent Ao'nung to beat me up."

"Ao'nung?!" Neteyam groaned. "I did not send him-"

Ulro had reached over and backhanded Neteyam so hard that the sound of skin being slapped echoed back around them. Ftezey whistled, impressed. "Now that should knock some sense into him. "

"My turn!" Tsuizorì sniggered, swimming closer as well.

Neteyam struggled to break free, but Ftezey wrapped an arm around his middle, holding him in place. Neteyam was already more than lightheaded from being dragged around underwater for so long. He was sure the throbbing in his ankle was a sign of serious damage, maybe even a bone broken.

The three of them took turns slapping Neteyam around. When his head lolled forward in defeat, Ftezey held it back up by a chunk of his braids. Neteyam's cheeks stung. He had no idea how he was going to get out of this situation.

He felt someone untie his leg roughly. He looked down and saw that the skin had been rubbed raw. It was bleeding. Suddenly, he was thrown from the tsurak into the water. Tsuizorì then yanked him into his own beast, and together, the three males began racing off somewhere. Neteyam's vision was blurred by furious tears. He could not see clearly. There was one thing he knew, and that was that he was going to give these boys hell the second he got the chance. The world around him fell silent as he was thrown onto a rock, landing on his hands and knees. He cut his palm on a stray shell. The rock was large enough that the four of them fit on it with more than enough room to move around.

Neteyam stood, emotionless. He stared into Ulro's eyes, unfeeling and void of a reaction as the older male pulled out a knife and sauntered towards the forest na'vi slowly. Neteyam noticed a new tattoo on his left shoulder. Ulro grinned wickedly and grabbed neteyam by his queue, just as he had done so many times before. Ftezey and Tsuizorì were watching from behind him, hateful eyes not once leaving the scene, not even for a second to look around. Neteyam realized they were somewhere far from the village. Even if he shouted, nobody but jus tormentors would hear it. Ulro pressed his know to Neteyam's chest and did not hesitate to drag it down, drawing blood. He did not cute deep; he had no intention to kill.

Ftezey whistled loudly from his spot next to Tsuizorì and clapped Ulro on his shoulder, forcing the knife to slip and cut just a little further. Ulro grinned cruelly. They were standing eye to eye, both of them unwavering.

"These are the guys I made the bet with. I'm sure you remember. "

Neteyam wished he had forgotten, but he could not even if he tried. He felt numb.

"Oh, and are you going to follow through with it now?"

Ulro rolled his eyes and pressed his blade to Neteyam's throat. He did not cut him yet, wanting to play with him, but Neteyam only smiled. His reaction unnerved Ulro, but he tried not to let it show on his face. Ftezey and Tsuizorì began yelling at the forest na'vi, hurling insult his way - insults Neteyam did not listen to. He realized he did not care anymore. Slowly, he placed his hand against Ulro's chest, who was too stunned to stop him. Ftezey tried to edge him on, but Ulro held his hand up, silencing him. With his other hand, he was still grasping Neteyam's queue. Neteyam's eyes were half lidded, a lazy smile on his face. His rage was silent, completely muted by his nonchalant disguise. He knew he could not win this fight, but that did not mean he would not at least try. He wanted to hurt them the way they hurt him. In one swift movement, he stole the knife from Ulro's hand and swiped, leaving a bleeding gash across the other male's chest. Ulro yelled out in pain and let go of Neteyam, stepping back and placing a hand on his chest, covering the wound.

Tsuizorì wasted no time coming to his friend's aid. He jumped at Neteyam, eyes wide with rage. He knocked Neteyam down and fell on top of him, caging him. Tsuizorì managed to pin the arm Neteyam was using to hold the knife, but he could not get the Omaticaya to drop it. From the corner of his eye, Neteyam could see Ulro and Ftezey talking and checking out the former's bleeding wound.

"Show him what he's worth, Tsui." Ulro hissed, obviously put off by the wound Neteyam had given him. Cuts stung differently from punched and scratches.

Neteyam let out a laugh at the nickname. Tsuizorì punched him in the mouth in return. Neteyam understood why he was here now. He was the mad dog of the trio. Tsuizorì had no remorse, and he did not get scared. Ftezey came to stand above them, hands on his hips, inspecting what was going on as if everything was alright, as if such violence was normal and accepted.

"Let's make him regret the day he was born."

"Oh, I already do," Neteyam spat blood to the side, chuckling. With his free hand, he grabbed Tsuizorì's throat and yanked him closer until their faces were mere inches apart. "You can't make it worse, fool."

Neteyam's violence matched Tsuizorì's. He smashed their foreheads together.

Ftezey snorted, marvelling at the scene in front of him. The male walked around them and kneeled down, trying to pry the knife from Neteyam's hand. He did not succeed. Ftezey mumbled something about him before he sat down, resting his cheek against his fist.

"I can try, can't I?" Tsuizorì's wicked grin sent a shiver down Neteyam's spine. The taller male flipped Neteyam around, so he was lying on his stomach. The Metcayina pulled him up by his hips and sunk his nails into his sides. Ftezey moved to grab Neteyam's queue, forcing him to stay where he was. Ulro stood back, watching from next to their restless tsuraks. Tsuizorì called out to him. "Get the knife back from him, Ulro. You're gonna need it."

It was useless. No matter what position they tugged him into, Neteyam's grip was stronger than they could pry open. Ulro, fed up, grabbed his cheeks with one hand and dug his nails into the soft flesh there, drawing a pained sound from Neteyam. Even if one of them pulled on his tswin or slapped him, Neteyam refused to give up that knife.

Night had fallen.

The next hours went by in a blur. Ftezey helped Tsuizorì pry his thighs open, clawing the soft felt on the inner side raw. Ulro shoved his fingers down his throat until he gagged and could barely breathe. Neteyam's toes curled in agony as his limbs were spread out like a starfish against will. Tsuizorì's teeth sunk into his thigh, drawing blood and a sob of helplessness. This was more pain than Neteyam could handle. Even has back had been scratches raw by the the Metcayina.

The knife slipped from his grip.

Ulro immediately grabbed it and smirked. He sauntered over to Neteyam's side, Ftezey and Tsuizorì holding him down. Ulro kneeled beside the younger boy and licked his lips. He cut a thin, clean line across Neteyam's throat. He licked the blood off the blade, laughing.

Neteyam closed his eyes, his ears flattened back. He tasted blood. They turned him on his side and yanked him upright by the longest one of his braids.

Ulro leaned down to whisper cruelty into his ear. Ftezey demonstrated every word, dragging the knife in the patterns Ulro described.

Neteyam smiled, crying softly. He felt alive.