A Gem Of A Human

Welcome to Beach City.

A TEENAGE BOY ABOUT the age of 15 is sitting outside in the night, looking up at the stars. His current caregivers were far from the best. His foster mother Susan just kept her head down most days, Y/N held no ill will towards her and the pathetic excuse of a man, Vincent who ran the house, spent most of his days at the bottom of a bottle. Y/N could hear a bottle smash and quickly ran inside. Seeing his father standing over Susan who was holding her bleeding head. She fell limp a moment after. Without a second thought, Y/N began to attack Vincent pummeling his face before the man knocked him to the ground with his hands around his throat. Grasping at anything Y/N felt something almost cut his fingers, he grasped at it and stabbed a broken shard of a glass bottle into his "father's" hand. The man shouted in pain and hit him across the face with the back of his other hand.

"You little shit!" Y/N kicked him off with both legs causing him to roll over the couch. He scrambled to get up and tried to reach over for the boy but he quickly ran up the stairs. Y/N slammed his door behind him and locked it. Swinging the closet open he reached for an object wrapped in cloth almost as tall as he was. Unraveling it he pulled a broadsword almost as tall as him out. Y/N took a stance readying himself. Then the doorknob began to rattle and the door itself shook as the drunk on the other side tried to open it. He started banging on it and cursing out to the boy.

"Get out here now! You ungrateful little brat! I'm going to beat you until you can't stand." The door went bang again and again! Y/N closed his eyes, clutched onto the sword, and then the door swung open.

Y/N gasped as he opened his eyes. The memories of the past had a way of rearing its head. He looked out the window as the bus began to slow down. The bus station was mostly empty. 'Damn you brain. Can't even let me get some shuteye.'

"End of the line." Y/N looked up at the bus driver. He had a bored expression on his face. "Time to get off man." "Already? Does this not go any further than here?"

"Sorry dude. Like I said end of the line. My shifts over." Y/N quickly got up from his seat and grabbed his bags and scabbard. "No offense but, it's a bit weird to be walking around with a sword." Y/N ignored his curiosity. He was not the first person to eye his weapon. "Can you tell me how to get to Beach City from here?"

He looked annoyed and put his palm over his eyes. "Now it makes sense, nothing but weirdos in that town." He walked to the front of the bus and handed a map over to Y/N. Y/N opened it up and the driver pointed to their location in Delmara then over to the East where Beach City was located by the ocean. He knew it was by the ocean he just didn't wish to be traveling along the ocean for days until he found it. "Thank you I'll be on my way now."

Y/N tucked the map back into a large travel pack before jumping off the bus. The driver stepped out and lit a cigarette, Y/N waved the cloud of smoke away from his face. "Hey, kid? Can I offer you some advice?" Y/N nodded. "Be careful in that town. It might look like a normal place but strange stuff goes on there and the surrounding landmarks. Luckily I've never experienced it. But there has been a lot of property damage reported."

He shrugged off his warning. No offense to the man but Y/N wasn't about to listen to someone he knew for all of five minutes. Y/N turned and began his long walk to the town. He gave the driver a friendly wave as he walked away. "Thanks for your help."

The sun was beginning to set as Y/N made it to the outskirts of the town. He took in the view. It was a quaint little town, the ocean looked beautiful, and people were walking about heading to their homes. You could see the small park next to the beach which was full of little fast-food places, a bakery, and an arcade. On the beach, there was a large cliff with a lighthouse. He honestly didn't see what the bus driver was talking about. The place seemed homey, nothing like what he had heard or seen on that strange little blog. When he walked into town he noticed a portly and slightly sunburnt man waxing a van/parade float. He was banging his head to some very loud rock music while he worked. On the float, there was large text that read 'Mayor Dewey' he could only deduce that it belonged to the local mayor. The man waved at Y/N and he sheepishly waved back. 'At least they seem friendly here. If that guy was anything to go off of.'