A shard of glass pierced the atmosphere and grazed Toshiki's cheek. He felt a sharp pain and then a warm stream trickling down his face. It was blood mixing with the tears that rolled from his eyes, over the wound, to the floor. He tried to close his eyes, but his mother's hot breath signaled that there was no escape.
She reeked of alcohol.
Again.
The woman dropped the broken flask that was still dripping with remnants of unfinished liquor. She slammed one hand by her son's ear to grab his attention and the used the other to force Toshiki face to meet her's. He beat him down with wave after wave of insult, reminding him of one fact:
She had never wanted him.
She hated him.
She wanted him dead.
The most recent onset of beat downs were caused by the slightly torn paper Toshiki clasped in his hands.
8 out of 10 correct, the paper read.
It was an assessment not many of his peers performed well on, few even passed. The 80% grade was an achievement to the boy. A badge of honor. Proof he was worth more. He thought his parents would be proud for once.
"Only an eight out of ten?! You can do better than that!"
"B-but I did better than-"
"I don't care about anything else! You are MY son, and you SHOULD HAVE gotten a perfect score!"
She spat in his face and pushed him to the ground, on the glass.
Toshiki didn't see his mother. He pictured he was not being attacked by a woman, but by a large dragon whose breath transformed sand to glass. And he was a brilliant white knight, protecting himself with every ounce of his strength until help arrived.
By the time his father had returned home, Toshiki's mother had finished her mental beating, but pretended her son didn't exist. Toshiki's father was too exhausted to notice his only son's bandaged hand and blood stained face. Then again, it wasn't the worst that had happened. On one occasion, the boy recalled talking back to his mother which resulted in a broken nose and a trip to the emergency room. He claimed to have "fallen down the stairs," but a blooded shoe at home claimed otherwise.
Toshiki didn't mind. His mother didn't really feel that way about him. It was just the alcohol.
Or so he kept telling himself.
Sure home wasn't safe, but Toshiki was safe on Cray, the planet he found himself on each time he played Vanguard. On Cray he was never alone. In fact, he always had his rearguards and guardians to protect him from even the strongest dragon or demon.
But as soon as he left Cray, he had to fend for himself once more against the onslaught of pain.
Toshiki always woke up with dead eyes, eyes full of hopelessness. He played an act in school of positivity and optimism by thinking about Vanguard the entire day. His notebooks were all trimmed with doodles of knights and high beasts and dragons and fairies. He imagined adventures and epic quests. Never once did he fantasize about summer or returning home.
One day on his long journey home, Toshiki caught a glimpse of eyes like his own.
Dull.
Lifeless.
He stopped immediately in his tracks. He was wrong to have even thought the eyes were like his. To him, the child's eyes were far worse, burning with despair.
No one else should suffer.
No one.
Toshiki slipped a card from his pocket and stared at his. It was the white knight he imagined himself as all those times.
"Okay, Blaster Blade. I need you to take care of that boy now. I'll... I'll manage, but he needs you." Toshiki turned around and chased after the bruised blue haired boy.
