"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"STOP SCREAMING YOU IDIOT!"
"YOU'RE SCREAMING TOO!"
*NO I'M NOT!"
One of the drunk pushes his screaming friend, the pushed pushes the pusher, the first pusher pushes the previous pushed, the pushed pushes-!
My brain's hurting. They're pushing each other.
As they do, the son of the bar owner. Tall. Big. Green eyes, just like his dad, the one that tackled my father last time, comes out at the exact same time they push each other.
He squints at the two drunks. And only at those two even if there is a good dozen more drunks around, all under the rain. More than usual for sure.
The first drunk pushes his friend again. And the friend pushes back. Then one of them let out a dumb laugh.
Drunky pushes. Drunky's pal laughs. Drunky's pal pushes Drunky back. And they laugh. And again. and again. And again.
The owner son and I sigh in relief at the same time, seeing that no, the drunks won't fight to the death in the middle of the street. A street who's close to my house, really close, because yes, I am in front of the same bar my father loves so much.
He's in there.
Even if I can't see him. I'm leaning on the wall opposite to the bar after all, and even then, I'm not satisfied. I want to go farther away, there's way more people than usual.
And usually. There's a shit ton of people.
So like...there's a LOT of people.
Guess seeing a giant fireball exploding above your town and reminding you and all your family that there's a war going on, a war between speedster samurais and magic guys that can throw illusions -If I can do it, they can too. Unless magic's like an alter and my magic's unique?- makes you want to drink more than usual.
That's understandanble really, only been a day since the...fireball happened.
And, to be honest, from what I've seen from afar, nothing too bad happened.
The majority of the fields have been saved by the rain. The closest part of the forest too, even if the part that was directly under the gigantic fireball looks like a drying and cooling crater.
The forest's still here, I was exaggerating, there's just a giant crater in the middle now. A big one. And the crater expands where the plasma fell and kinda mess with the flora, and there's more holes and rubble than trees and animals and....
And...
Uh.
BUT!
Apart from this everything is fineeeeeeeee.
The chaotic mob was calmed down by my grandfather pretty fast when he came back.
He wasn't bloody. Or he wasn't injured. So, I don't know if it speaks of his skill at being able to kill whatever did that, or if they didn't fought, or if that was a human that threw this, maybe it was some kind of mythical creature you can reason with, or maybe it was a genuine war weapon and the ones holding it were just normal humans, and in that case it would be pretty normal for my grandfather to be able to crush them without letting any blood splatter on him, but if that's the case, why didn't he took their weapon? Maybe he did but it's pocket sized? Or maybe it's not and it only has a single use, some sort of kamikaze bomb to use before dying? a final fuck you to the world? And to my sanity?
I have no idea.
And I wouldn't say that I don't care.
I do care. Like most people in the village care, even the drunks.
"GET ME NAAAAORU OUT, NEED TO TALK TO HIS PAPA!"
A drunk bravely steps forward into the bar with a gait that could be called...mister beanish, wide stance, shoulders squared comically, and long lunges instead of steps.
He's quickly stopped by steady-hands, the most average looking human in the world, he steps outside to grab the drunk shoulder, and gently pushes him back.
"Heeeeey maaaan, let me i-! Ohhhhh, what's this?"
"Premium beer"
The drunk stay still, shoulders slouched, staring at the rain falling into the beer, in a mug, in the steady hands of, well, steady-hands, who's holding said mug toward him.
"Hahahahahahah" with a dumb fucking smile, the drunk takes the mug and turns around to go drink with his buddies. His super plan destroyed by a single...weird...looking...guy...
I frown at the guy. My father's pal.
He looks so fucking weird now that I'm comparing him to those...spies? Those girls.
Steady-hands, the most average man in the world, so average your neighbor is less average, so average nobody knows his fucking name, he's john doe, literally, if he told me that was his name I wouldn't be shocked, because bro is so average his love life must be less than average, or maybe he has two girls, average black haired girl, and average blond haired girl, both weird prostitutes that knows a bit too much, and make evil secret meetings.
There's definetly something wrong happening with those guys.
But it's not like I know what's happening, or it's not like I could do much, especially if they're people of my grandfather skills.
ESPECIALLY if they're this kind of people.
The best I can do is train harder. Which I can now do again!
Yes! I know! Surprising, and a bit less worrying than before, I know, I was a bit worried last time I trained -just a bit-
Those last few weeks really put some stress on me.
Seeing myself-! Scratch that. FEELING myself get worse while trying my best...it was really something. I really did my best, to train and improve, to meditate, get stronger, do anything I could to find a way to improve, and then! My disability decided to act out and get worse the more training I put in.
It was something.
It was as if the world itself tried to put me down. Despite my efforts, no respect for a young boy trying his best to survive, no, just get down and suffer cause you're an handicapped mess.
I still don't know why my pain increased above it's threshold too. So I'm practically running blind.
Well, doesn't matter anyway. Why you ask?
Because right now, my pain is at 96% of it's max.
Yep. You know what that means. I puked some water.
The act in itself was just as miserable as last time, nothing really changed, I woke up as a mess, almost drowning in the tub I used to cover the ungodly amount of water that poured out of my mouth.
And my nose. And my ears. And my eyes. Because yes, apparently I puke water from there too.
In any case....I don't really want to talk about it.
It was bad. So bad the memory is branded into my long term memory.
There's something funny and odd with bad memories. They're the ones you remember the most, no matter how much you want them to piss off, no matter how many times you breathe through them, no matter how much you try to ignore them. You can occupy yourself with a hobby if you want! Could be anything really, training, personally, is how I cope with those thoughts.
In the end though, they'll be here, they stick to you like cancers. They don't want to leave you. Oh no, of course they don't.
Hobbies help tho, that's why I've been training a bit this morning, and have been planning to train way more later.
Because. Even if I hate to. I must admit, ripping yourself from the inside and subjecting yourself to the feeling of your veins and your organs and your limbs and your brain ALL expanding and ready to burst like a balloon. Do come with it's lot of advantages.
First one is the reduced pain.
And the next one is....well.
Remember when I learned about magic?
That was after puking.
And...
Well.
Uh.
Let's just say my theory was right.
I don't know why, maybe it's because I'm so AWARE of the pain inside of my body, maybe it's because I'm becoming so intimate with it and my flow, so much that I remember it in my nightmares and can't help but shiver when remembering the pain I'm putting myself through, maybe it's because self inflicted torture is such a traumatic experience, I remember everything about it, every, single, thing, and therefore. I get more familiar and better at manipulating my magic.
That's my theory at least.
Still, I'm beating around the bush right now.
Puking water gave me a new...advantage.
If you can call it an advantage.
Right now. In front of the bar, with dancing drunks outside and depressive people brooding inside, talking about the war and the bullshit they're in, right now, I'm frozen against the wall.
I'm invisible thankfully.
I'm invisble with some...problems.
Because I can't leave. Even if I want to.
I lean forward, and my left hand that was resting on the wall stays there, abandoning my body as everything, EVERYTHING, but my arm moves forward.
I pull a bit harder, but when the wet wooden wall behind me starts cracking. I stop, look around to make sure nobody heard that...
...
Between the drunks and my invisibility, I'm in luck, drunks aren't known to have good eyesight.
In any case....
Problem problem...
I stare at it, my left hand, palm stuck to the wall behind me.
This whole puking got me another ability.
But just like those illusions were random, this one is too.
I've been struggling with it since morn.
And...
Uh.
Can anybody tell me why is my hand stuck on the wall?