Marco placed himself next to Simon, tactlessly looking right into a small paperback book on his knees, with which he did not part since the very beginning of their first joint mission, an extremely tedious C-ranked one in the Land of Fire.
“The Empire of the Angels,” the brunet hummed in a response, with eyes never leaving the yellowed pages.
“Werber’s?” Marco childishly smiled at his momently-formed plan.
“Yep.”
“Ugh, I see,” he snorted cockily, trying his best to sound as depreciatingly as possible, and Simon finally regarded him with a heavy glance. Marco still wondered how a jonin of their level could be so sensitive about, like, books.
“Wanna fight?” well, that escalated quickly. Not to his disappointment, though.
“Sure I do,” he was bored, okay. They smirked at each other, getting up immediately. Simon was already out of the tent, while Marco took an extra second grabbing up his karambits. He was ready to walk out too, when he noticed a pair of bright blue eyes watching him with the same blameful expression.
“What?” he groaned impatiently, and Giovanni frowned, looking quite hurt. Tobi squeezed his shoulder supportively, gazing at Marco even more condemningly this time. “Your bore is an awful company.”
“A piece of advice then,” the boy breathed out, swallowing his pride, “You’d better keep off his chakra flows at any price,” he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, showing all the horrid laceration scars on both of his wrist. Tobi gasped uncomfortably, while Marco has seen it too many times to start going blind now. “I’ve already clashed with him on the jonin’s exam, if you remember.”
“Yeah,” Marco couldn’t help but spitting that at his face, “You have clashed.”
Gio gritted his teeth, turning away from him, and Marco stepped out.
“Boys will be boys,” Tobias whispered then, picking up his book again. “And dorks will be dorks.”
Simon’s chakra feels like a pure energy. Marco’s watching it flowing, enveloping around his strong, tall frame, creating a light blue armor, resembling a completely animalistic figure. The bear, he thinks to himself, with a hazel-eyed look glued to other’s transparent paws with claws larger than his knives, and a massive jaw, hardly able to close with those large shark-like fangs. His eyes, usually of the darkest shade of blue, are also marine now. Marco gulps, totally amazed. He’s never seen the ninjutsu as flawless and lethal.
And he’s grabbed a bunch of karambits against it.
The strength of his own chakra is only enough to disguise for a few minutes; his only power is taijutsu. Taijutsu he’s not capable of applying to this exact opponent.
“You know, maybe Werber’s not that bad,” he grins nervously, throwing the first knife like a boomerang, and Simon raises one brow questioningly, without a single attempt to repel it. The karambit crashes into his armor and freezes in it, as in tar, spinning sluggishly a short moment after. Simon crosses his arms over his chest, slightly irritated. “Well, can’t hurt to try. And I lied.”
Marco hides among the trees; he sucks in a distant battle, obviously. He definitely needs some time.
"Can I go back to reading my third-rate literature then?” Simon scoffs loudly, and he chuckles.
“I’m not sure if Werber really deserves the third-rate.”
The sharp streams of wind fly in millimeters from the tip of his ear, cutting the nearest branches in pieces. The element of Air, superb.
After half an hour more, when they’re already deep in the woods, Marco finally feels Simon’s chakra wearing out. And he’s got an idea.
“Hey, teddy bear,” he shouts, dodging the cutting winds once again. “I’ll race you to the tent.”
On Simon’s face, even slightly reddened, the sincere ‘what the hell’ is read, but his eyes still burn with light blue fire, and the tongues of the wind whistle dangerously close to Marco’s hand clutching another karambit. He freezes just for a second and takes off running, throwing the knives one after another.
Simon doesn’t try to repel them again, and that appears to be his fatal mistake. Marco know he’ll get him the moment one of the karambits freezes in his armor literally half an inch deeper than usually. His ninjutsu attacks are becoming rarer and less accurate. He’s clearly getting tired.
Marco only now notices how far they have went into the forest, but this only plays into his hands. If at first they moved at a considerable distance, Marco is narrowing this corridor now, as they’re getting closer to the edge. Now stamina decides everything.
As soon as they go out the forest, Marco throws the first karambit normally at the level of Simon’s upper body, and the second, immediately behind him, undetectably at his feet. He only frowns again, easily removing his foot from the path of his flight, but Marco did not even want it to get the target. That extra movement Simon had to make while running, didn’t leave him enough time to place his foot over the small hillock he noticed too late. He falls clumsily, head-over-heels, and Marco immediately appears nearby, reaching out for his chest to nail him to the ground, when Simon’s eyes suddenly turn usually dark
“Dad,” he cries out, shutting his eyes with his small palms, “Daddy, please!”
The man pushes him into a corner, and he painfully hits his forehead against the cold wall.
“How could she give a life to a monster like you?” he screams, delivering hard slaps all over his bare back. “You killed her!”
Simon feels nothing but the tears running down his plump cheeks, almost suffocating with bitterness. He moves his hands to his ears, helplessly trying to drown his dad’s words out, but he grabs his wrists and throws his body against the wall.
“You killed her, do you hear me, freak?” Simon hysterically shakes his head no, “You killed her!”
He yelps once again, cowering on the floor, and everything suddenly becomes so silent that he can hear his own heartbeat. Simon wants to count it, but his heart beats too fast. Why does it beat so fast?
He thought his father went to his room, until some hot drops fall on his forehead. He doesn’t want to move, but a few more drops slip near his lips, and he brushes it off with his pajama sleeve. It smells awfully. Simon opens his eyes and his dad’s still here, standing on his knees and resting his forehead against the wall. His eyes, as dark as his own, are open, but he doesn’t say anything. Simon can still hear his heart going wild under his rips, and he doesn’t know why. Maybe daddy’s heart’s doing it too?
He touches his chest, but can’t feel the beat at all. He stands up and reaches for his forehead, when he suddenly falls on the floor, like a broken doll.
“Dad?” he wants to take his hand, but his fingers touch something wet and warm, that smells just like those drops on his face. It’s red and it stinks, and he doesn’t like it at all. Simon pulls dad’s shoulder once again, but he doesn’t react. Found a place to sleep!
Marco pins him to the ground with ease. Simon has never felt so stupid. He blushes and lifts his hands in a surrender gesture. The other’s smiling at him unbearably victoriously.
“You’re,” Simon frowns a little, mouthing something inaudible to himself as if choosing the accurate word. “A coward.”
“So that’s it, you little lover of shitty books?” Marco bursts out with laughter and gets a wholly deserved bonk on the head. “Gosh, never knew Giovanni is too dumb to think about the easiest way to kick your ass.”
Simon snorts and halfheartedly pushes him in a shoulder. His beast purrs at the sensation of other’s skin against his own. Monsters are easier to tame, right?
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