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By: Inuki **Ookami**
22
"Roommate, I kick, Seizuring, I'm
sick, Tour, is slick" the man on the street was singing a rather strange
song. He had wild black hair, tainted with white. His bear was over-grown,
and his face was like a wrinkled pear. His eyes looked like two moldy peeled
grapes, and if you wanted to go on calling his facial body parts different
types of fruits you could call his nose the end of a banana. He strummed his
guitar, and sang in a crackly old voice. Mitsuhiro grumpily walked past the
old man, and turned left down an alley. It was a very dark alley. Not the
place for a person all alone to go. Not in the evening. Not someone who was
even at eighteen still just a kid. They came at him with something worse than
rules, harsher than judgment, and fiercer than the wildest lions of Africa.
They pulled out guns.
"Give us your money
and you won't get hurt kid." said one figure. They were surrounding him
now, he didn't need to look behind him, he could feel it. There were about
five of them, maybe three though. It was hard to tell in the dark.
"No." he said angrily. He had already had a bad enough day, this
was just the most wonderful ending to a horrid day.
"Give me your money now, or I'll shoot you. You're afraid of my gun,
aren't you? We'll get the money if you give it to us now, or if we have to
kill you for it." the one talking sat directly ahead of him. The leader,
it would seem?
"You wouldn't kill me, you can't." sneered Mitsuhiro. Mitsuhiro
looked up, out of the corner of his eye. There was nothing above him to grab.
The guy snickered, a cruel, wicked laugh. He unlocked the gun, and fired.
Mitsuhiro was much quicker, and saw it coming, he flipped into the air, barely
dodging the bullet, and landed on his feet. The figure fired again, there
was a loud explosion, and once more the tiny bullet came flying out of the
gun, Mitsuhiro didn't jump this time, he merely stepped aside, and then stepped
back. He was so amazingly quick it looked like he had never even moved, and
that the bullet had somehow, miraculously passed through his body! The figure
looked shocked. Jumping high above a bullet was one thing, no matter how hard
that seemed, but dodging a bullet? That wasn't possible. The boy grew angry.
He began firing bullets off, bullet after bullet. Mitsuhiro didn't even both
to dodge them. This time he raised his hand so that the side of his hand,
the side facing out, with the pinkie finger, of his right hand faced ahead.
Then he swung his hand with a sharp jolt at the bullet, then the same with
his left hand, he repeated the process a few times. Each time a bullet flew
off his hand a burst of sparks flew from where the two met. Then the bullets
flew into the ground, or a wall. The figures stood amazed. Mitsuhiro smiled,
they worked like a charm. The figure with the gun had run out of bullets.
This time he pulled out a switch-blade. Mitsuhiro slid the small metal piece off the side of his hand. It sparkled slightly in the moonlight, and in the darkness it seemed invisible, like a part of his skin. It was made of a very strong substance, resistant to the most forceful blows. He went to remove the other from his left hand, but it had fallen off! He looked on the ground, but could not find it. As he returned the small metal piece to his pocket, he found the second one was already in there! How could that be possible? He had used his left hand, and it was completely undamaged. Yet he hadn't had any protection at all! Could he really block bullets? Now for the switch blade, he didn't know what to do. It was lucky he had the small chunks of metal with him, he searched his pockets for something, anything. A piece of metal large enough to fit over his fist, just so that he could punch the switch-blade out of the guy's hand, or something. He found nothing. Suddenly the guy advanced on him, he jumped at Mitsuhiro, lowering the raised hand with the knife, attempting to slash the boy. Suddenly he went flying back, all the air from his stomach mysteriously gone! It was like someone had punched all the wind out of him, like some invisible barrier had stopped him from going. He lay on the ground, slowly pulling himself up. His lip was bleeding, and a few drops of it spilled down his chin, dropping to the pavement below. He snarled angrily, his teeth stained with blood now. Mitsuhiro didn't move. He advanced on Mitsuhiro..
