. : . C l a s s S o l o . : .
After a brawl on the beach that leads Onas to defending other, the Matori realized he'd found what had been missing. Instead of being a lazy beach bum, he has decided to shape up so he can learn a trade and continue protecting the people he cares about. It's showing maturity that he needs to adjust in the world, it's just going to be a journey to get there.
It had been weeks since his birthday, since the realization that what he wanted in life was to be a spearman, be it fishing or fighting, it was his destiny. That is what Onas firmly believed. He hadn't done much since then to show it, honestly. He'd watched them practice again or fish, but ultimately he did nothing.
The prentice went on his way of being aimless and sneaking bottles of wine off when his elders weren't looking. He didn't get
drunk, not anymore, but he did rather enjoy the taste of it. Sweet and leaving him feeling relaxed and bubbly.
Maybe wine coupled with boredom led to his decision right now.
There was some jerk harassing a few girls as he wandered the beach. He didn't do anything at first, figuring the jerk would wander away when they showed no interest, but he had friends this time. These girls didn't know what to do, it looked like. Their backs were against a large, black porous rock that probably
hurt them, and these grease balls were still trying to get them to drink with them when they very clearly stated 'no'.
With one last swig of wine, Onas looked around and noticed a spear right there in the sand. It looked like the end was broken, but the point was still there. He made a mental not to run to it if things got out of hand. Really, drinking before doing this was an awful and a brilliant idea. Awful because if this turns into a fight, he's actually tipsy. He wouldn't be able to fight because of that (and because he didn't know
how to).
Either way, he sauntered up to the group of jerks and sighed. “Don't 'cha got anything better to do than har'a** poor girls who wan nothin' to do with you?” He asked, sounding way more drunk than he was. It was all part of his plan. Would anyone fight a drunk guy?
He was about to find out.
They threw some insults at him along the lines of 'a*****e' 'girly man' and 'drunk idiot', which he expected, so really, it didn't matter. Onas shrugged and stepped closer.
One of the guys grabbed a girl's shoulder, and Onas grabbed his shoulder, spun him around and grinned. “Hey don't grab people. 's ru--”
To which he was met with a punch straight to his face. His nose started bleeding and he was pretty sure he bit down on his tongue or lip, because blood was also coming from his mouth. He yowled in pain and crumpled to the ground with the laugh of the two men echoing in his ears.
Luckily, the girls managed to escape during his time he distracted them and by the time Onas looked back up, they were gone. He spat blood out and then snorted, wiping his face on his hand.
“Hey, assface,” Onas spat out. The one who punched him turned from where he was standing, and Onas ran up to him and swung a fist as hard as he could. It landed with a thud and pain blossomed across his knuckles and down his arms. He didn't hiss out though. Instead he was punched in the stomach and practically thrown away.
Landing next to the broken spear, Onas got back to his feet after wheezing and coughing. The two guys were now approaching, both looking ready for trouble. Grabbing said spear, Onas prepared himself as best as he could. He remembered what was said during his 'training'. Feet apart, stay grounded. He held the off balanced spear in a comfortable way and smirked.
“Come at me.”
And they did, both men ran at Onas at the same time. Onas side stepped one and used the spear similar to a bat, swinging and landing a blow on the other's back, sending him toppling to the ground, face-first. He would have laughed, only the other guy was still on him and had Onas by a handful of hair. He used the butt of the spear and sent it backwards, hopefully into the other's side or stomach, something to get him to let go.
It worked.
The man let go and as soon as he did, Onas turned and smacked him across the face with the spear and then turned the point to the other one. He might have been tipsy, but he wasn't that far gone. The men realized this now.
Together they scrambled and stood together before starting to just walk away.
“That's right, you better run,” he muttered, spearing the ground beneath his feet and then used the spear to support his weight. It broke, finally, and Onas toppled to the ground with a surprised, pained noise.
Fighting with the spear that was broken and not his felt fun. It was so fun. The weight was good in his hand. Onas grinned to himself despite being in so much pain that he was pretty sure he was about to throw up.
Somehow the prentice got himself home, avoided his parents and just cleaned himself up as best as he could. He had a splinter in his hand but oddly, he didn't mind it.
“You know,” he told his reflection in the bathroom mirror. “You know, it was worth it. Fun and worth it.”
Already Onas could see his nose was probably broken, it looked not-straight. His lip had been split, upper and lower, from the punch and a bruise was forming on his face, creeping from jaw to nose since he was basically punched directly in the mouth. His teeth felt loose, too, he realized as he pushed his tongue against them.
“'f I had more training… I'd have done more..”
Onas had to practice now. He had to go buy himself a spear and find himself a teacher. There was no way he wasn't meant to use one. After all this time, Onas finally felt like he found
his place in life and he was going to do everything in his power to keep it.
Word count: 1008
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