Fruit Fighters: Book 1

Chapter 10: Eastern Spaghetti

"Happy Birthday~~~ to Print!" Sang all the guests. Claps were heard from all of Print's friends.

It was his 15th birthday.

Freshman year.

An odd day to say the least.

The gray-haired lad had invited all his friends, who he had spent years with and done so much. Yet now looking back, he never felt as close to them as he thought.

It was time to give all the presents.

He has gotten many things that year, from games to books to merchandise of cool stuff he liked. Cool in his opinion, of course.

But then, it was her turn.

Yui walked towards Print, a box in her hands. Their parents were pushing her slightly to allow her to hand the present.

Print gave her the benefit for the doubt, and opened it, slightly reluctant.

Inside of the gray and purple box were a pair of sneakers.

They looked handmade, if the cardboard, leaves, and duct tape didn't give a hint. They looked good. A lot of time must have been put into making them. From the inside, there was fluff. Probably for the feet to not get hurt.

A part of him liked them, another part of him felt disgusted. Did she now feel like she could give him anything just because she is the favorite?!

His parents noticed this and his mom harshly said, "Print! Accept. The. Gift." 

That got him angry. He had a right to not like stuff. Why must he be forced to?! 

Yui wasn't an idiot, that much she knew. She said, in sign language, "If you don't like them it's ok, they aren't that good. 5 months wasn't enough time." Print had been forced to learn sign language.

This struck a chord in him. Was she mocking him, was she being genuine? Different questions circling his brain.

One thing he was sure of, her smile was true.

Then a truck came crashing into the house, killing everyone but Print.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Print woke up, holding his screams. He took his visor off to wipe his tears, and looked at his feet.

The shoes were still there.

Print sighed and wiped the sweat off his forehead before putting his visor back on.

Why did I think like that back then, thought Print, regretting his past life.

His nightmares were reduced everytime he fought someone, which was mainly to do something good. On days he didn't do as such, the nightmares would come back, and after a week passed since the Grass Ninja Their Quartet's comeback, the nightmares got worse. They got more vivid, longer, more real.

It hasn't been as bad as when he lived on Earth. Back then, it was so much worse. He even gained a sleep paralysis demon.

Good times.

He looked around him, his friends were still sleeping inside the carriage. Just like yesterday.

They had decided to take a trip to Hip-Top Desert, for investigation of course. With the lack of conflict between the two armies, it sparked curiosity among the group. Besides, Print wanted to see how life was under the Dark Armada.

"Hey there, ya good, boy?" asked the driver with worry in his voice. His voice gave a hint of an old Western tone, like a cowboy of sorts. Print looked at him and nodded. He hadn't realized he was still breathing harshly.