Project: Bland King

Chapter 57: Primal Instincts

When I was an itty bitty kid... I wanted to fire a Galick Gun directly at my house. Not a huge one that wiped out Japan or some shit like that... just enough to engulf my fucking neighborhood. An overreaction sure... but I just wanted to get away from my predetermined fate.

I woke up, showered, got changed, had breakfast, went to school at some rich, private elementary school, picked-out afterschool clubs with kids wearing fake fucking smiles, then I got home and spent the rest of the night doing homework. My mom worked as a lawyer, she's never around. My dad owned real estate across Japan, the United States, Spain, and especially... Brazil. I was and still am loaded.

And it all...

...made me wanna fucking barf.

The same bland routine, over and over again... I had no outlet to release my stress. Those fucking chess clubs, debate teams, and band lessons didn't do shit for me. My mom bought me all the electronics I asked for... didn't do shit for me. My dad who brought us on vacation to exotic places abroad... didn't do shit for me.

I was a wild bear chained up in a crampy bird cage, with one of those heavy muzzles and a fucking cutesy little bow tie.

Then one day, when my dad brought me alone with him in the summer to view another fucking property he wanted to purchase, we had to drive through a park and saw a bunch of kids kicking around a ball across a muddy field. The pitch was shit, the ball was shit, there weren't even any goalposts...but those kids were having the time of their lives.

*SWOOSH*

The moment I saw a single shot go through the feet of the short Brazilian goalkeeper... I was hooked.

Me: Dad! Dad!

Dad: Huh? What it is it? I've got another phone call soon so make it quick.

Me: I wanna play that!

Dad: Play what?

I pointed at the muddied kids who couldn't even afford shoes, who laughed happier than I ever could.

Me: I want to play football!

And what was my reward for finally wanting something?

He laughed.

Dad: Sorry, Ryusei. Impossible.

Me: Why?

Dad: I can't have my son wasting his precious time kicking around a ball with kids beneath his status.

I scrunched my little hands and cursed him out with words I only heard the older kids yell in our fancy bathrooms. Football... it looked like fun... and just watching that ball slowly roll through and penetrate the goal... I felt an eruption in my heart...my very first explosion.

That week, I tricked my dad into driving me and his client's kid to the beach for the day. Seeing all them happy fucking kids with their darker skin appealed to me. I won't kid myself either, I wanted to stand out alot too. And the look on my dad's face... he would've had an 'aneurisma.'

Client Kid: Let's go make a sand castle-

Me: Fuck off, you boring NPC. Just pretend to play around and get yourself some food. I got some tanning to do.

And for the rest of the morning, in the blistering sun, I tanned the fuck outta my body.

While I was getting my killer tan, a soccer ball hit me right in the back, leaving a red bruise.

Me: Ow?

I sat myself up and met eyes with that Brazilian kid.

Kid: [Portuguese shit]