Chiisai Tsuru; little.crane [Warren]

[.unlogged//]

His Life wasn't exactly what most Children would dream of. He didn't grow up in a "Picture Perfect World" with a nice Mother and Father, hell he barely even got the chance to know his Mother! His Father never paid any mind to him for he always focused and centered his thoughts about his Wife rather then his young Son. All Akira had done was try to get his Father to pay attention for at least a minute, even a minute would suffice so long as he acknowledged him! But sadly, that minute never came nor did the glance. So Life went on and the old man finally kicked the bucket. About time. Why Love someone that barely paid any mind to you, right? Sure he was his Father but hell, he didn't seem to be qualified to play that role anymore, well at least Akira thought this. Even now he didn't seem to be very effected by the fact he had no family and if he did he had left them behind in Japan. Instead of focusing on the past he was more concentrated on the now! He was pretty sure a lot of other kids had grown up the same but ended out differently, everyone did! Akira wasn't exactly proud to be who he was today but he didn't mind it either. He actually enjoyed being the sadistic, flirtatious, arrogant, SOB that he was today! If anything, that's what usually attracted both the Ladies and the Guys into his arms.

The pain in his shoulder, though dull began to pound mercilessly making the Asian youth awake from his horrid reminiscing. Hazel eyes blinked slowly to stare up at the sky light above him that arched up-wards into a pyramid shape allowing the moon's light to illuminate him making him seem to glow. The room that he remained in however, was less interesting then the youth was. With only a bed, drawer, and a mirror the room was just a giant heap of space that needed to be filled. The youth however, brushed his lightly tanned fingers through the locks of his dyed blond hair allowing cheek length bangs to fall back over his eye ending just below it whilst other strands fell to his cheeks. However his bangs to fall across his eyes. Upon sitting up he ran both of his slender hands through the gentle locks with a small growl. The back was simply cut short ending just at the end of his neck. Slipping from the bed he walked with long lean limbs to the dresser that was situated across from him having his shadow follow and stretch out against the wall behind him. The youth was naked save for a pair of plain dark navy boxers that clung to him as well as a plain white kimono which was left open revealing his chest and said boxers.

Moping over to the dresser he pulled one of the drawers open revealing neatly folded clothes of strange and bizarre fashions hinting at the "Gothic" or "Punk" styles. Lowering his head remembering his thoughts he leaned against the dresser for a moment before he pulled out a plain white sleeveless undershirt. Throwing the shirt on to his shoulder he crouched down with a tilt of his head and pulled out the bottom drawer and took out a pair of plain black leather pants that seemed to have very narrow and tight fitting legs. Despite the slim hugging form of the pants there were designs along the thighs. Throwing that over his shoulder as well the youth wandered back over to his bed where he threw them out in-front of him. Shrugging the fine cotton from his frame his bare back was exposed showing off the large inkings across his shoulder blades which were done up in the form of wings. Slipping the tight under shirt over himself he quickly slid into the black leather pants zippering then buttoning them closed feeling the material hug his long limbs. With the creak of leather pants he wandered silently about his room searching for something to wear on his feet. Upon finding a pair of black lace-up platform boots he slid his feet into them, having the mouth end a bit past his ankles only to be covered by the leather of his pants legs.

It was close to Sun rise which was his favorite time to just wander the city or rather outside of it. Though as he moped down the Logging roads the youth paused before a ruined Holy Temple, or Church to put it in laymen terms. It was strange because he hadn't noticed how far he had walked from the Night club he just came from. The young man could be described as feminine with a very petite build. The white undershirt could be seen though was covered by a sleeveless hooded vest which was also leather with golden within the inside. On his hands there were a pair of tanned beaded bracelets on the right wrist whilst a simple chain bracelet was worn on his left. A cross fell down to his chest having only a thick string keep it about his neck. The youth was of Asian origin, having those almost snake-like almond shaped eyes with the common dark hazel hue of the irises. Akira glanced up with hazel eyes at the tall Holy structure of the Temple awing at the flying buttresses of the large building where his eyes then settled on the large cross sitting on top of the highest tower. Why did he even wear a cross or come here for that matter? He wasn't even religious. Hell, he was raised Buddhist but even then he considered himself to be nothing. He wasn't very opinionated on the subject finding it a waste of time and thought.

He began to walk through the aisles coming across a small orchid behind the Church where the Graveyard was in clear sight just a few yards away. The youth gave a small sigh and began to wander under the cherry blossom trees which were lovely in full bloom this type of year and often perfumed the air with a soft musk. Gods he just felt like screaming now! There was so much going on; too much to deal with and it frustrated him knowing he had no control over his own Life anymore. Tero..his elder brother did. He always did. Releasing a loud aggravated scream he slid down the trunk of the sakura tree only to shut his eyes tightly allowing his head to loll back against the smooth bark of the tree behind him. He sat there with his eyes closed for a while longer until he opened his eyes into narrowed slits that gazed up at the blinding pinks of the cherry blossoms above him in a thick canopy.

"Gaman dekinai.."

His voice was deep though laced with pain and pent up frustration but also remained a low growl.



[Gaman dekinai- I can't stand this]
[Mirai Akira Takahashi.]

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[Warren && Gen]

Some people's lives were were perfect, even before they were born. No matter how they turned out to be, if your family was perfect before you were born, you were automatically perfect too. This was Warren's case, a sixteen year old Junior with a perfect life. Well, that was how he had been raised. His whole life had been perfect in front of his eyes. Both of his parents had loved him and had always been proud of him. His father had spent Warren's seventh year of life teaching his son various sports including football and soccer. Warren's mother, well, she was a very special case. She always had snacks ready for him whenever he felt like eating. They always varied but had a thing in common: the chocolate. That was how Warren's life had been throughout the years, that is, until he went into the teenage years. Many people say that the teenage years are the most awful years anyone could go through. Now that Warren thinks about it, those words are very true.

Realizing his life was a fraud and that he was not how people expected him to be turned him into a very different boy. He was no longer shy and religious like before. A girl smiling at him no longer made a shade of pink invade his cheeks. On the contrary, that type of affection made him feel better about himself since the girl was obviously smiling at him. But girls weren't the only ones smiling at him, there were also boys, and Warren wasn't even sure which type of smile was better. True, he was a boy and his religion said that boys liking boys would go to hell. But Warren couldn't really care less anymore. He was not the only one going to hell. His parents were far worse sinners than him. If his life had already been chosen before he was even born, why even try to beg for a pass to heaven?

That was the reason he had changed so much during his fifteenth year of life. Warren no longer used the clothes his mother happily bought for him. Neither did he go to church with them or to funerals whenever they had time to go to one. In other words, Warren was not the same boy with a perfect life he had been his first twelve years of being alive. The skin on his collarbone, arms, and lower stomach had been marked by a clandestine tattoo artist, brother of one of Warren's friends. At the age of sixteen, Warren already had four tattoos and was thinking of getting more. The way he dressed had also changed, he now used clothes that showed up the forms of his body, not little boy's clothes his mother liked him to use. He had always looked like he was going to church, even if it wasn't a Sunday morning.

The only thing that hadn't changed had been his eyes. Those hazel eyes with the natural spark in them were still the same. There was still that little boy inside him that knew he was not a sinner and that he wasn't doing anything wrong. Only people that really looked closely would see that little boy through his eyes, that boy begging to have someone tell him he was not wrong and that he was perfect. He wanted to be perfect in someone's eyes. The black eyeliner around those hazel eyes gave them a little help into being noticed more. But it also made Warren looked menacing sometimes, that was if he didn't have his cheshire smile plastered on his face.

Hazel eyes opened as the calm breathing of a puppy next to the boy's ear made the sleep go away. Warren sat up and rubbed his right eye and looked around. It was still dark outside, but he was very sure the sun was going to rise very soon. There was somewhere he had to be before the sun decided to appear. Getting up quickly, the boy ran into the door that connected his own bathroom to the rest of the bedroom. Taking off his black boxer briefs, Warren turned the warm water of the shower and quickly jumped into the slippery tub. He quickly washed his hair and got out of the shower, wrapping a tower around himself. He could have taken much more time like other days, but there was no time to waste. If he spent too much time, there was the possibility of his parents waking up and his plans getting ruined. Walking out of the shower, Warren saw his puppy Hemingway already biting on his very own pillow. Groaning, the boy patted Hemingway before making his way to the dresser.

He quickly selected what he wanted to wear since there was obviously not going to be anyone else around the place he was thinking of hanging out in. Drying up his body with the towel that was quickly thrown into a basket next to the bathroom door, Warren grabbed a new pair of black boxer briefs and quickly slid into them. He grabbed his black polo shirt and looked at the white shadow of a bat on the side of the shirt. He liked that bat, he had liked it so much that it had been the first tattoo he had ever gotten. Three days after Warren had tasted alcohol for the first time he had been dragged to a basement where the clandestine tattoo parlor had been built. The first thing he had thought of was a bat, but not a real bat, more like a cartoon bat. Being as drunk as he had been, Warren had decided to get the bat on his lower stomach. The next day he had woken up on the basement and with a lot of pain on his stomach, but he really didn't care because the tattoo looked so cool. Putting on the shirt, Warren quickly grabbed his blue jeans and slid into them easily. They were not as tight as his other pants, but they were tight enough on the places they had to be. Grabbing his white belt with the same bat as his shirt but this one black, Warren made his quest to find a pair of shoes.

The pair of light brown skater shoes made a soft noise against the side of the road. Small pebbles rolled away as Warren kicked them. Hemingway trotted happily next to his owner. There had never been the need of a lash for the puppy. The boy had found that it was a cruel thing to do to the only living thing that really loved him for who he was and that never judged him. Besides, Hemingway didn't like a leash, so why take away the only freedom the puppy would ever have? Sighing softly, Warren entered the church and looked around. He had heard about ghosts living in there and he wanted to find out by himself. Curiosity was not a good friend to him since he had gotten into trouble by being curious. That was one of the reasons he had taken Hemingway. Being around another breathing being was better than being alone and seeing a ghost. When he heard a noise, hazel eyes opened wide and Warren quickly ran out the back of the church, Hemingway barking behind him. The boy didn't stop until a grave appeared out of nowhere and made him fall. He rolled over so he was laying on his back and looked up at the sky. Just why was he so stupid as to believe in ghosts?

[Warren Moretti]
[Hemingway]