I was born in the village of Bryunzel, a small town located in the middle of nowhere. When I was born, there was no celebration, no special naming ceremony, no nothing. I lived in a modest cottage with my mother, my older brother, and my older sister. I was told by my mother that my father had disapeared a week after my birth, never to return again. This saddened me, because I felt that maybe, just maybe my father would've loved me the way a family member should. The exact opposite of the way my mother and siblings treated me. For as long as I could remember, I had been doing chores. Though the three of us shared them, I was always the assigned the most excruciating tasks. My family would let dishes pile up for a week on purpose, just so I'd have to wash them all. If dead rats and spiders accumulated around the house, I cleaned them up. If our elderly neighbor needed to get a pail of water, did we lend her water from our well? No, they sent me to the river five miles away from the village; everyone seemed to like it that way. Never a thank you, or any note of appreciation, but I didn't mind. What I did mind were the glares I received from everyone I passed; the names they called me like "fatty" or "stupid" or "ugly"; how my siblings never defended me when others made fun of me; when my own mother would trade glances of shame and anger with the other villagers.
Normally, kids start school at age five, but I was half a year late because my mother couldn't decide whether to send me to school or not. I figured that she only sent me because I would mean less time seeing my face. Soon after I began school, my teacher found that I was exceptionally bright, much to her dismay and disapointment. When she passed back homework, she would frown as she handed back my perfect- score ABC's worksheet. Each day when I entered the room, I was greeted with glares, though I had never done anything mean. The only one nice enough for me to call a friend was a girl named Mika. She only whispered "Hi Ayame, how are you?" while no one was looking, but it was good enough for me.
I didn't know why I was so hated in Bryunzel. I figured that it couldn't be my skin tone, because I was just barely darker than the tanned people of the village I couldn't remember if I had done something in the past for them to despise me so. Then one day, as I was fetching water from the river, I saw my reflection in the calm, clear water. I discovered why I was such a freak. It was my eyes. For the most part, they were normal, but outside each pupil, there lay diamond- shaped spots. I gaped at myself in horror, unable to believe that something like this could happen to me. Once I got home, I quietly asked my mother where the spots came from.
"You were born like that." She spat.
I retreated to my room, confused as to why the villagers- after five and a half years- hadn't gotten used to my strange eyes. A little while later, I crept back out of my room, hoping to get outside unnoticed. Luck was against me, for both my siblings were waiting in the doorway with matching sneers on their faces
"Where do you think you're going?" my brother asked.
"Yeah. Sorry, but stupid little Tapangas like you have to stay inside and cook dinner, my sister cackled.
There was that word again. Tapanga. What did it even mean? I had heard others mutter it under their breaths as they passed me. I heard it so often, and for so long, I just figured that it was another word for "oaf", but made especially for me. There were days when I'd lock myself in my room and cry. I'd with that I could just disapear like my father, or die. Everyone would be happy and I wouldn't have to face the hatred anymore. Those thoughts would eventually pass, but still linger in the back of my head, and I would get back to living my life.
My birthday was July 19th. I was officially six years old. I didn't get a party, or cake, or any sort of acknowledgement. In fact, the townspeople seemed sadder than usual when they saw me. The week after seemed like a normal day. My brother noisily ran into the kitchen while I was boiling some tea. In a singsong voice, he bragged:
"Hey fatty! I just came back from my FRIEND'S house! Do YOU have any friends you Tapanga?"
I had already been in a bad mood, so that painful jab made me explode with anger. I stomped over to him so I could kick him, but froze once I got close enough to see his expression. His mouth was wide open and he was shaking. His eyes were focused at something above me and I whipped around to see what it was. My jaw dropped as I saw the once small fire on the stove nearly touching the ceiling, and the tea kettle floating on top of the flame. My anger was replaced with shock, and the fire began to die down. It gave me an idea. I got as angry as I possibly could; at my family, the villagers, and at life itself. The fire nearly exploded as it flew upward, making the kettle crash into the ceiling and fall to the floor, spilling the scorching water all over the floor. Without thinking, I flicked my wrist, and the fire jumped a bit. I smirked and thought to play with the fire a little longer. I swirled one hand in a circle, the fire followed suit. With both hands, I made a zig- zag pattern, and the fire moved in the same manner. At that point, I was laughing outright and spun around gleefully in a circle. This time, the fire rushed toward my direction and encircled my body. I made the flames dance around me, and controlled them so they could circle around me at a distance, or bring them so close that I could feel the heat warming my skin. The fire didn't burn, and I forgot where I was. Forgot I was at home, forgot about my brother, forgot about anything and everything. Arashi then snapped out of his trance and ran out the back door. I giggled at his cowardice, "with this ability, no one can stop me" I thought. I spun around and stopped as my eyes met the entranceway. There my mother stoop, shaking with an indescribable fury. I stopped my spinning, and the flame died out. The dish, she'd been holding in her hands dropped, and after an eternity, the plate met the floor and shattered into a million fragments. She glanced at the broken plate and looked back up at me, gasping as if struggling for breath.
"NO..." she whispered. "No, no, no NO!"
She charged at me like a madwoman and slapped me hard enough to send me flying across the floor. I rubbed my throbbing face and looked at her, frightened by what I saw. Her hair came out of the usual bun, and flew in every direction around her face. But what scared me the most were the tears streaming down her face. I had never before seen my mother cry, I thought her hatred for me made her eyes unable to produce tears. My sister rushed over to the kitchen to soothe the sobbing woman and gave me dirty looks while mouthing "Tapanga" over and over again. I knew that the situation was all my fault, but crying in front of them would only give them satisfaction.
My mother soon stopped crying and I thought it was all over. My sister had long since left, and I began to get up from my kneel to leave as well. Before I could get all the way up, my mother- with unnatural speed- got inches away from my face and slapped me again. I didn't get a chance to recover before she slapped me again and again, until the whole right side of my face was numb. She still didn't stop. Her nails scraped my skin as she kept on hitting me. When she was done, her hand shook and I could see traces of flesh and blood hidden under her fingernails. Blood ran down my face, yet all she did was get up and leave, leaving me alone and bleeding in a pool of hot water.
After a while, I rose from the floor, washed my face, and went into my room. I grabbed my school pack and emptied it of its contents. I stuffed clothes, a few books, and any other small necessities in to the backpack. In one of my drawers were a needle and some thread, which I packed too. I then shoved my bag under my bed, crawled in, and went to sleep.
When I woke up, it was pitch black out. "Perfect". I got out of my bed, grabbed the backpack and tip- toed back into the kitchen. The last things I took were some bread, a full bottle of water, and an empty bottle. With my backpack and sleeping bag, I set off for the village gate. I'd passed that gate many times when going to the river, but it had never meant anything to me. Now it meant my freedom, my salvation. I took a breath, and for the last time, I crossed that gate. I never looked back.
END OF PART 1
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Story notes: This isn't perfect but I'm open to critisism (constructive of course :3) I really just want the readers to feel like they're in this world I've created. ENJOY!
oh btw: I'm planning on integrating Naruto characters later on... when the main character's 16 years old