The Clash at the Cape [Eliza]

[MASAMI SAITO]

There is something comfortable about being able to retreat into whatever shelter you possess, whether it be some form of dwelling, or merely the recesses of your own mind. This is a basic truth when it comes to the life of any person and the maintaining of their public persona. However, for one who has not encapsulated the tenets of conventional society, maintaining said persona can be difficult. Indeed, it would be nigh impossible for a boy raised in isolation to act in accordance with the laws and standards of society, and operate while taking into account its reasonable constraints on unacceptable behavior. Based on this analysis, one might think that such a boy traveling the world would have the way in which others perceive him at the forefront of his mind. He would be unable to think of much else, in that he would be too worried about prying eyes attempting to penetrate the shadows which so easily aid in hiding his face. However, this was not truly the biggest concern of the young man known as Masami Saito. In truth, there was an altogether far more pressing issue at hand, one that required his full attention.

This heat...is unbearable.

This was the only thought truly running through the mind of the young Saito at this time. Well, there were any number of things running about his subconscious, but this had no effect on the sweat running down his back, or the intense flush of heat that seemed to want to steam his head within the confines of its hood. In retrospect, he supposed black may not have been the best choice of color for a man to walk about in broad daylight with, but it was the only color that seemed suitable. Walking into town, he couldn't help but notice a few of the very obvious reactions others were having to the state of his attire. Men raised an eyebrow, women avoided him, and children merely stared. He did not let any of these actions deter him from his path, however. He had known for a very long time of the horrors that others could bring, and this was no surprise to him. Regardless, however, he grew tired of being judged by such lesser beings, and as such began to make his way north. From the map he had managed to get a hold of, he could tell that there was a cape of sorts to the north of the city known as Cerulean. He would head there, and decide on his next course of action at that time.

As he walked, Masami couldn't help but feel somewhat foolish for leaving his home. After all, what had prompted this sudden desire to go out and see the world? Just one interaction with a girl? What kind of reason was that? Shaking his head slightly and sighing in a somewhat exasperated manner, he considered turning back for a moment. The cool, calm nature of the dark tunnel seemed enticing at this moment, and it wasn't as if he was doing this for anyone but himself. He wouldn't let anyone down if he returned home; in fact, it might cause more trouble for him if he stayed abroad. Stopping in his tracks for a moment on a bridge, he glanced back at the city behind him. By extension, this was the road back to where he'd come from. He wasn't a great distance away from home, he could always return. Retrieving the pokeball from his cloak, he gazed at it for a moment. No, he was doing this for more than himself. Zora had been in the cave, just as he had, and he could tell she was interested in the world around them, if a bit apprehensive. He would deal with the aggravation and annoyance that came with dealing with others if it meant keeping her happy. Placing the pokeball once more into his cloak, he continued on walking, the gentle yet firm breeze of the sea-air encouraging him ever so slightly.

There was one good thing that had come out of his journey thus far. The beauty of nature, though more glorious at night, could not be denied even in the blaze of the sun. It wasn't so much the color that interested him, as he had something of a natural aversion to the sharp contrast of bright greens and blues. Rather, it was the smell, the feel of the wind. While he loved his home, the stagnant, dank air of the underground couldn't compare to this open, salty breeze. Stopping where the earth met the water, he closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the breeze and the scent of the air around him. The best part of this area was its current seclusion from those in the city who would scorn him. Nearby, he could see bird-types of all sizes taking flight, enjoying the privilege they had of soaring through the air, above the unworthy lot known as the human race. Somehow, Masami felt he had always had more of a connection to pokemon than to humans. They did not judge based on appearance. The very fact that Zora and he were so close was proof of this fact. Often times he wondered if his opinion might be different if he had been raised under different circumstances. If he had been accepted by those around him. If he had had a family to call his own. But such hypothetical thoughts were reserved for weak-willed individuals, and he kept them out of his mind as best as he could.

Standing there, he thought of what he would do with his time away from home. More than anything, he supposed he wanted to see what exactly was in the outside world that had led to the strength that girl had exhibited. He knew there was fear in her, and yet at the same time she did not hide her face in the same way he did. Was it merely her upbringing? Or was it something that could be attained from the environment. He was resolved to find out, and yet as of this moment, he had no idea where he would start.

[ELIZA AYERS]

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[atrb=style, background-color: #F5F5FF; border-top: 4px solid ##FF69B4; border-bottom: 4px solid ##FF69B4; line-height: 10px; border-top-left-radius: 20px; border-top-right-radius: 20px;][STYLE=font-family: georgia; font-size: 22px; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -2px; color: ##FF69B4; text-align: left; text-indent: 30px; line-height: 90%; margin-top: 5px; font-weight: bold;][/style][STYLE=margin-top: 0px; font-family: arial; font-style: italic; font-weight: bold; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: 2px; font-size: 18px; color: ##FF69B4; text-align: left; margin-left: 80px; line-height: 80%;][/style][STYLE=height: 100px; width: 100px; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 10px; border: 1px solid ##FF69B4; background-image: url(http://i891.photobucket.com/albums/ac113/Onigiri_Iconz/VOCALOID/Megurine%20Luka/125.png);][/style] [STYLE=height: 100px; width: 100px; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 5px; border: 1px solid #527ACC; background-image: url(http://i891.photobucket.com/albums/ac113/Onigiri_Iconz/VOCALOID/Megurine%20Luka/125.png);][/style] [STYLE=height: 100px; width: 100px; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 5px; border: 1px solid #527ACC; background-image: url(http://i891.photobucket.com/albums/ac113/Onigiri_Iconz/VOCALOID/Megurine%20Luka/125.png);][/style][STYLE=height: 100px; width: 100px; margin-left: 5px; margin-top: 5px; border: 1px solid #527ACC; background-image: url(http://i891.photobucket.com/albums/ac113/Onigiri_Iconz/VOCALOID/Megurine%20Luka/125.png);][/style][STYLE=padding-right: 10px; background-color: #F5F5FF; height: 420px; overflow: auto; font-family: georgia; font-size: 12px; text-align: justify; margin-right: 5px; margin-top: -420px; margin-bottom: 7px; margin-left: 115px; line-height: 10px;] Cerulean city was the place to be on such humid day like today. The city was glistening full of residents and tourists alike and seas of smiles bustled through the city. It was filled with people focused purely on enjoying the day as much as physically possible. One person, however, was not enjoying it. "Damn it!" Eliza fumbled throughout her pack, throwing empty packets back into her bag in frustration. Nothing, absolutely nothing! No water to quench her agonising thirst, and as the sun rose higher in the sky and the sweat dripped down her neck she felt her blood boil She was itching for a fight right then and there, the weathers impacts seriously getting the better of her. She rose from the ground, slinging her pack over her back and began to brush harshly past others who were lazily meandering through the street; rarely replied to with much more than the odd grunt. Large cities were so much stranger in that respect; the way her rudeness was taken so passively, she longed for someone to answer back, shout, scream, ANYTHING! ; Even if she had to provoke it. Truth be told, she missed communicating with people, although travelling had made it possible to meet new people their company was far from enjoyable. Eliza usually just ignored them, making her so pathetically lonely and her behaviour and arrogance didn't aid that in any way. Guessing heading to the beach may put her at ease she set off following the slightly cooler ocean spray. Subconsciously she reached for her Pokeballs for something to take her mind off of the heat and released her Charmander, Blaze. Realism struck Eliza hard that that was one of the worst decisions of her life as the little lizard Pokemon whined and cried from the heat. After a couple of minutes of her Pokemon's high pitched sighs and groans and incessant clawing at her calf demanding to be carried; Eliza gave in. You're such a spoilt brat! she scoffed lightly, scooping up the whingeing Pokemon and tickling his stomach. He contorted with glee, hissing at her to stop, and leaned over shoulder resting heavily in the crook of her neck. A couple of months ago and a dozen pounds lighter this would have been an easy task, but now Blaze felt more like a sleepy burden than comic relief and without the heart to return him straight after releasing him Eliza trudged through the city. Sweat glittered her skin and as she stumbled on, her irritation grew, how could people act so happy in such a hot place? The sooner she was in the water the better. This was supposed to be an idealistic city? The bright relentless sun seemed to fade; casting hazy glittering oranges, pinks and nameless pastel colours above the horizon. The setting of the sun brought with it a similar heat relief, but floods of people. She could practically smell the sea and feel it’s cool caresses against her inflamed skin, but the colossal streams of people obstructed her beyond belief. Enraged by such a waste of time she slammed through the crowds, crushing and clawing her way towards the beach aided by her awoken Charmander, who lit a couple of tiny embers behind him, chuckling mischievously at his more dramatic victims. Finally! She'd reached her solace. Practically galloping through the thick, scalding sand towards the cresting waves; Eliza could have almost sworn it seemed like a mirage. Almost there, Blaze, almost there!" she whispered gleefully, but too blissfully to be aware of her surroundings. She ran straight into a cloaked figure, overbalancing and falling headfirst into the blistering sand. She jerked her head out of the sand as quickly as she had fallen into it trying desperately to regain some sort of dignity, desperately feeling around for her dizzy Pokemon, cuddling him defensively. She glared up at her hindrance, feeling all her anger arouse from the day. She hadn't seen a stranger sight in a while; a cloaked figure stood above her. Eliza could almost feel his heat radiating towards her and she hated it. Before her brain could control her mouth, she screamed at the innocent stranger. What the hell is your problem?!"

[STYLE=margin-top: -2px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #527ACC; font-weight: bold;]made by kiwii at btn & ote![/style]

[MASAMI SAITO]

As Masami continued to stand rooted to his spot on the shore, he couldn't help but think back to moments in his life that had defined him. These were all moments he had been trying to forget, and put out of his mind since their occurrence. Some of them involved abuse, some of them loneliness, some of them harassment. There were very few horrors that the teen had not yet been subjected to, and although he himself would state that these experiences gave him hatred, which makes him strong, the truth was that there were times when the memories of these experiences actually weakened his resolve. Rather than any one event occupying his mind, Masami stood contemplating each offense that had been committed against him. Each threat, each glare, each joke or tall tale at his expense. In all honesty, the verbal abuse had been far more difficult for him to ignore than the physical, and had had more of a psychological impact on the young child. But it no longer affected him in a negative manner, or at least that's what he told himself. Speaking of physical abuse, memories of the various ways in which he'd been hit, or hurt in general came back to him. Children could be so cruel. So many blows, seemingly from out of nowhere. He clenched his fist slightly, knowing for a fact that he should have retaliated, should have shown them how foolish they were for daring to make light of him in such a manner.

THUD!!!

The force momentum provided for the girl had not been enough to truly move Masami a significant amount. Whirling to look at her, the teen saw this girl move to comfort her pokemon before finally looking up to him and placing the blame squarely on his shoulders. "What the hell is your problem?!" The boy's first thought was that this girl had serious nerve to go ahead and chastise him for her own ineptitude. After all, he had been standing perfectly still, completely content to stay away from all others and keep himself company with thoughts of the past. It was this girl who had run directly into him, thereby knocking herself over in what Masami had to admit was a rather comical manner. After this immediate reaction, however, he had to note that no real nerve had been required of her in this situation. Throughout the day, Masami had been treated poorly by the people around him, just as he had expected. The words 'freak' and 'weirdo' had both been tossed around; merely a couple items from what Masami was sure was a rather long list. Why, then, would this girl feel as if there was any need to treat him otherwise? To her, to a girl of about his age that had been raised in this disgusting society, he was truly sub-human. One must also keep in mind that this was her assessment of him based simply on what he was wearing. If she were to see what he looked like, Masami had no doubt that he would be forced out of the city, one way or the other. Underneath the persona that they uphold, and the flesh which so effectively masks their true nature, human beings are incredibly ugly creatures. They war with one another and cannot help but spread strife to those weaker than they. When given the opportunity to truly let these feelings shine through in a manner that is conventionally acceptable, they will do all they can to capitalize on this.

Glaring at the girl from deep within his hood, he wondered exactly how he should react for a moment. Certainly, it would be the simplest thing for him to make the girl pay for her idiocy. He had been training his skills for moments such as these, so people like this girl could not push him around in such a manner any longer. However, something just didn't sit right with him when he thought about just attacking the girl, ignorant though she may be. After a few more moments of silent thought in response to the girl's angrily-phrased question, Masami took a step forward and reached his arm out for her, clearly offering to help her up. His voice came from the confines of his cloak; the first time he had spoken since leaving Lavender Town.

”Up.”

It was a rather blunt way of putting things, and actually sounded more like an order than an offer, but it would have to do. The boy had no desire to say more to strangers such as this girl than he had to. Certainly, he had a few choice words for her, but he would hold his tongue. Perhaps his interaction with her could end here, and he would once more be given the peace he had been looking for. Diverting his gaze to the pokemon in her arms, Masami took a moment to make sure it wasn't hurt in any substantial way. Although he was no fan of the girl, her companions should not be forced to suffer simply because of her own bumbling nature. Thankfully, the Charmander did not appear to be harmed. His arm still outstretched, a black glove covering his hand so as to avoid the paleness of his hands negating any and all efforts he took to conceal his appearance, he spoke up once more, in something of a more annoyed tone.

”If you can't walk properly, yourself, you might need help getting back to your feet.”

Masami supposed he could have phrased it in a less patronizing manner, but the message was the same. He was helping her, was he not? That's more than she deserved for the way she had already treated him. If anything, he should be less inclined to act helpful. He was baking in the black attire he wore, and even as he spoke, he could feel the hot air (almost like steam) being displaced by his breath and the words he produced. The sheer heat of his body was bound to make him more irritable, so if he didn't want to end up doing something he might regret later, he needed to get himself away from annoyances such as this.

[ELIZA AYERS]

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[STYLE=margin-top: -2px; font-family: arial; font-size: 11px; letter-spacing: 2px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #527ACC; font-weight: bold;]made by kiwii at btn & ote![/style]