The Boy With Strange Eyes

6 - Kuni's Dream

***** Trigger Warning- this chapter contains a description of child abuse *****

Kuni's Dream

~ The mouth is the source of disaster. ~

KuniThe youngster decided now would be an excellent time to speak to his Da about his dreams for the future. After getting his father's attention, the small lad began his rehearsed speech.

"Da, can I ask you something?"

A tall, well-muscled fisherman, Kuni's father nodded affirmatively toward his tiny son. Kuni was mentally congratulating himself for coming up with such a clever idea as he spoke. Kuni spoke from his heart to his Da. He spoke of fairness and justice. The boy expressed his beliefs that no man should be judged and held back from pursuing his dreams simply because of the color tunic he wore.

"Da, why are we all forced to wear different colored tunics that designate our standing, our place in the community?"

Kuni's ideas and thoughts seemed to spew out of him in a hurried rush of words. Hoping all would become well between them, Kuni spoke eloquently, animated by all the passion in his tiny heart. Kuni talked about their country's caste system and their little community.

He carefully laid out his arguments and his position on changing classes to upward mobility. The small boy argued with all the knowledge and insight he had gained from his mother's books.

The lad carefully and gently asked his father about the system's fairness. Why was it against the law of the land to change classes? Why must people wear tunics that identify their social status? The boy described the system.

He started at the top with the ruler, who wore deep purple tunics—followed by royalty, a deep shade of blue. The warrior class sporting white. Next came the wealthy businessmen, merchants, and such, wearing green. Skilled artisans and scholars, and poets and painters, equally classed with blacksmiths and stonemasons, in black.

The farmers, ranchers, and this included fishermen wear tans and browns. He ended with the lowest and largest categories, the peasants and servants, who wore a dirty gray tunic if they owned one. When he finished, Kuni paused to catch his breath and looked toward his father's looming, silent figure.

"Does this system make any sense, Da?" queried the young Kuni.

For some reason, Kuni thought of a village proverb, "The mouth is the source of disaster."

His father had stood there, watching his son perform, speechless, showing no emotion whatsoever, and Kuni wasn't sure this was a good sign. Finally, his father broke his silence; he had been patiently waiting until it became clear Kuni was finished.

He looked his son straight in the eyes, "Are you done now, Kuni?"

Kuni stammered in response, "Yea .. I mean, yes. Yes, sir."

His father began, "I don't ever want to hear you talking this... this, bull-shit again. Do you hear me, boy? Your ancestors go back hundreds of years, many generations, and we have always been, and always will be, fishermen!"

A shocked Kuni started to speak, "Da, I feel...." his voice trailed away.

The boy's father quickly stepped toward him and snarled, "I told your mother no good would come from all that, reading and writing. She would not listen to me. Now, look at you. With your brain full of poison. Kuni, you better just shut your mouth, you damn...sissy-boy!"

At the same time, Kuni felt the left side of his face explode with pain. He gasped at the force of the blow. Kuni tried to speak, to beg his father to stop. The child drew a ragged breath to begin his appeal, and again, he absorbed a new blast of anguishing pain. This time on the right side of his already throbbing face. Before the boy could think of what he might do or say to stop it, he experienced yet another sharp blow.

Kuni watched in a numbed state of mind as the brutal fist of his father rose upwards, then crashed back down repeatedly until he lost count. The lad saw his father's rugged fist rushing toward his unprotected face. He struggled to move and breathe.

The poor lad tried to raise his arms and block some of the repeated blows. No matter how much effort or will behind the attempt, the tiny boy-child's arms would not move. Kuni could no longer control his arms. They hung limply by his sides, refusing to cooperate.

The small boy's head and upper torso were rained with heavy, jarring blows. Kuni smelled his blood mixed with his tears and sweat. Each time the huge hand dropped heavily, there was a new source of agony. Kuni's legs began to tremble and shake violently.

Finally, he fell weakly to his knees—blood, bright red, splattered upon the vessel's stern wooden deck. There was so much blood. Kuni wondered, "Did that, all of that, come from me?

Then Kuni knew nothing more, just blackness...

***

From the author...

This episode was challenging for me to write. I was a victim of physical abuse as a child. I teach college courses inside two state prisons. 84% of my incarcerated students were victims. One-third of abused children will grow up to abuse their own children.

END

Are you a victim of physical, sexual, or mental abuse or neglect?

Do you know someone who is?

No shame- No embarrassment - SPEAK OUT NOW- please tell someone you trust! 

The main question in this story that Mizuko, the water dragon, poses to Kuni is ... What manner of man (or woman) do you wish to become?

Answer- whatever you can dream of becoming. But- never be the manner of man (or woman) who would abuse the smallest and weakest of us, the children.