The Calm

Underneath a brilliant blue sky that stretched overhead, free of any clouds, glistening with the brilliance of the blazing sun. Trees swayed gracefully as leaves were caressed by a gentle breeze, while fields of grass and varieties of flowers danced like bristles in the gentle wind.

In a small village with rising tensions between opposing factions lived a boy named Bocchi Kintsugi. He had long white hair with subtle hints of green. His eyes were heterochromatic, one dark grassy green and the other tinted yellowish. He wore an oversized white shirt that was torn with age.

Inside his tiny rotting room, bruised and malnourished, Kintsugi slumped against the wall. The broken, flickering light bulb hanging above barely illuminated the dilapidated wooden walls.

"Hey, friend" he murmured before pausing.

"Have you— ever wondered what the meaning of life is?" He asks through the thin wall.

His voice was a hoarse whisper as if he had been screaming for hours.

The boy on the other side let out an exasperated sigh. "You always ask that, Bocchi. You know the answer already."

Kintsugi awkwardly chuckles and replies, "Sorry, but I can't help but constantly ponder it. Also, you can call me by my given name, Bocchi."

After a moment of awkward silence, the boy from the other side breaks it.

"Yes— but... I prefer to say your name when we meet face-to-face. But let's go back to your question..."

Bocchi waits anxiously for a response to his profound question. Knowing that it's a query not typically posed by someone his age.

After a moment of contemplation, the boy across the wall spoke up, "For me— the meaning of life is to experience it firsthand," he suggests.

"What a vague answer," Bocchi muttered.

The boy across the wall sighs and proposes, "What if we discover the answer together?"

Bocchi's eyes widened and he pondered the offer for a moment before replying, "Sure—"

Bocchi's door swung open, revealing his hulking father standing before him. His grip on his bruised and battered mother's long hair is tight.

Bocchi stands up instinctively, acknowledging the situation as his soul drops.

His heart skips and accelerates, with each heart beating hard enough to be barely heard.

Bocchi's emerald green eyes widened in surprise, his eyebrows were raised, and sweat trickled down his face.

Frozen in fear, his body jitters and shakes, trembling uncontrollably.

Bocchi's breathing quickens, gasping loudly, longing for air, like an elephant sitting right on top of his chest.

It took all his strength and might to utter a sentence or even a single word.

"F-Fath—"

Wham!

"Hck!" Father's fleshy hands fell upon Bocchi's tender cheeks, devoid of any mercy. He fell down with a thud, writhing in stinging pain.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT TALKING TO THAT BOY?" His father loudly scolds him after he delivers a sucker punch to the gut.

Bocchi can only whimper in pain, struggling to stifle his agony.

The man standing before him grits his teeth, his eyebrows furrow, and his veins pop.

"Do you see what happens when you push me to this point?" His father taunted, showcasing his mother's badly bruised body and his knuckles stained with blood.

"Get back to your training immediately!" He roughly throws his mother to the floor and exits the room, slamming the door shut and hearing multiple loud locks click behind it.

Followed by loud footsteps and key jangles slowly distancing themselves from the scene.

Once his father is gone, Bocchi, in a weakened state, quietly sobs over his unconscious mother.

A long-tinted-haired woman in her thirties, wearing a short, light green dress.

Raising a trembling hand to heal her wounds until she appears unharmed.

Although the damage has already been done.

All the while, he repeatedly thought to both himself and his mother, "I'm sorry... It's all my fault."

Bocchi finishes healing his wounded mother a bit later and starts to heal his wound as well.

All the while, he waits for his mother to awaken in the slowly passing time.

Eventually, his mother's eyes steadily flicker open to reveal her beautiful, mint-tinted crystallized eyes.

"Bocchi, my baby boy— are you okay?" She slowly sits up and checks Bocchi for bruises or marks around his body.

Bocchi, relieved that his mother is awake, asks, "Mother, I'm fine— but are you?"

In relief, his mother chuckled and sniffled, "Don't worry about me, boy. I'm just glad you're alright."

She steadily stands, as if the abuse she endured had suddenly vanished, and hugs Bocchi tightly.

"I'll cook something up for us for dinner when— that man— opens the door, alright?" She sniveled.

Bocchi nods, happy to feel the warmth of his mother when he needs it most.

"Come, my boy, and take a rest. It seemed— like you had a long day." She suggested patting her thighs like pillows.

"Ah— okay..." Bocchi replied. He walks to his mother and steadily lies down on her.

Like magic, or is it magic? He feels calm and at peace.

A lullaby was sung by his mother, caressing Bocchi's head as if he were a pet, and she petted him as much as she could.

The seconds and minutes pass by as his vision blurs and he slowly closes his eyes to dream about life.

As he listened to the lullaby, the voice, and the lyrics of his mother, he could hear them echoing in his mind.