Post by Cesela on Sept 3, 2017 13:10:54 GMT
Wordcount: 1027
For supershort contest 24: Scarf
Notes: This is what happens when I have a few hours of free time on a sunday and nothing to do. I noticed there were only two entries for this challenge, and I thought 'might as well spend an hour or two writing something nonsense'. I wrote this story on my tablet, and there is no auto-correct, so I'm terribly sorry for any writing mistakes I've made. I will correct them once I'm back on a computer (which wont happen for another 2 weeks).
Summary: The heroic tale of a scarf.
Character(s): Aoko, Kaito
Character(s): Aoko, Kaito
Scarf-cycle
This story starts the way many tales does; with the birth of a hand-knitted, mitch-matched coloured hero with many a holes which was filled with affection and love by its creator. It was a string of threads bearly being kept together in a shape which vaguely resembled a scarf. Kuroba Kaito was the lucky recipient of the gift, and it was hard to refuse it as Aoko stood infront of him in the chill winter with a beaming smile as a puff of white vapour escaped her breath in anticipation.
Kaito imagined he wouldn't have been quite so rude to the present had he known that this simple, seemingly innocuous act would shortly save him from imminent death.
''Did you drive something over with your car?'' He said, holding the scarf with the tips of his fingers, trying to make sense of the overwhelming rainbow coloured threads. Looking through the largest hole, he could peer at Aoko with both eyes. ''What do you want me to do about your road-kill? Burn all evidence of the massacre?''
As he spoke, Aoko's face fell from blinding proudness to pain and tearful eyes as her eyelids quivered in order to keep them from falling. ''Bakaito,'' she gasped with a voice filled with anger and pain. ''Why do you have to be so - so rude!?'' She did not hesitate a second as she threw the front door of the Kuroba household in his face.
Kaito's heart dropped in guilt as he heard the quick patter of her footsteps recede down the front yard. Only then did he realize that the ball of yarn she had so proudly presented him minutes earlier, was in fact a scarf. With a swear on his lips for his tactlesness - he was well aware of how hard Aoko had been working trying to knit for her father's birthday. He opened the door to pursue, uncaring about the weather as he stepped into the snowfilled frontyard with neither shoes or jacket. His socks were immediatly sogged through, but he carelessly ignored the slippery road as he called out.
''Aoko! I'm sorry, come back. I didn't mean it. It's splendid workmanship,'' he wrapped the scarf around his throat as he joined her on the street, desperatly hoping she would stop to hear his apology. ''I love it, honestly. Look, I'm wearing it right now. Don't you think the colour fit my eyes?''
His dashing smile was met with a tearful glare as Aoko finally turned to face him. ''Maybe if I gave you a black eye,'' she replied tersly with an uninpressed tone. Her shoulders were hunched and tensed in the way that told him she was ready to swat him like an angry tigress if he took a single step closer.
Wise with years of experience, Kaito stayed put with only a disarming and apologetic smile as he mentally sent out waves of reassurance hoping against everything that Aoko had developed telekinetic abilities the last half a minute.
''I'm sure it would, but black has never really been my colour you know.''
Aoko wavered for a fraction of a second with a frown on her lips. ''Pink has never been Hakuba-kun's colour, but that doesn't seem to deter you. So your point doesn't matter.''
''Doesn't matter?'' He shot back, his shoulder's riffling in affront. 'I'm the protagonist of my life, Hakuba is the antagonist. I'm hurt by the comparison -''
She crossed her arms in mock anger as she rolled her eyes. ''You'd be surprised how the world doesn't revolve around you. From Hakuba-kun's point of view, you are the antagonist -''
Before the usual bantering could continue, they were suddenly interrupted by several things. Behind them, a large truck blew its horn as a gaggle of school children ran across the street. One of them ducked behind Kaito as a snowball hit the magician in the back. From the snow melting down his exposed neck, he immediatly regretted not spending that one precious second to grab his winter coat and shoes.
A large man stumbled as another snowball hit him square in the face, and as he wavered his arms to keep himself steady, he bumped heavily into Kaito, who slipped on the ice with only soggy socks. He knocked into the child hiding by his feet and the two went spiralling off the side of the road with a truck quickly approaching with no chance to hit the break -
This was where the phantom thief and the boy who would one day grow up to win the Noble price for curing cancer would have met their imminent deaths had it not been for the scarf Aoko had given him with love few minutes prior. It had trailed behind Kaito like an involuntary puppy through the snow and accidently gotten stuck in the corner of the fence. This caused a waver of the trajectory of their fall, and as the scarf tightened around Kaito's neck, he grabbed the child automatically. Instead of falling straight forward into the path of the truck, they landed safely on the side of the road as the truck swerved to its right straight into the a parked - but empty - car.
All the noise around felt deafening as Kaito's heart thrummed in his ears and his breathing had quickened as adrenaline soared through him in surprise. In his arms the child twisted and whimpered from the pain of the impact. The magician grabbed at the scarf around his neck to ease the pressure, and he turned to face Aoko who stood watching him, frozen to the spot as the transpiring events had passed entirly too quick to process.
Licking his lips, it took Kaito two tries to be able to stutter out: ''I stand corrected, this scarf is the protagonist.''
Unfortunatly, this tale does not end entirely happy, as our hero was unsalvagable as the holes grew too large and threads lay scattered around. However, that is the usual moral of heroic tales: the hero always die tragically, but they are never forgotten as Kaito wore the next scarf Aoko knitted him without complaint and proudly.