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Thrash’s parents had been deceased for quite some time. He couldn’t remember his mother’s face, his father’s voice. He and his brother had been raised for some years by their uncle on their father’s side, who moved into the house after the death of his parents. His name was Tenken, and he was constantly drunk, always holding a bottle of Shin Dange. Thrash had had a taste of the repulsive liquid once, and that had been more than enough for him.

Of course, this was not a good enviorment for two small boys to be raised in, and it only got worse as the days went by. Thrash was always alone, his brother always managing to escape the house. Tenken, always in some sort of drunken stupor, did not even notice the absence of the boy. As long as one of them was there, he was fooled into thinking they both were. The two were twin brothers, after all, and Tenken could not see quite so clearly through the massive amounts of liquor.

Thrash hated his uncle, hated this man who did nothing but sit there and drink. He stayed in his room. He had nothing to play with, and his brother had somehow managed to worm his way out of the house yet again, so he was alone, bored. His uncle had gotten rid of anything that could have provided a small child with joy.

All that had been left was a large collection of books that had belonged to the mother.

Thrash would wait until Tenken had drunk himself into oblivious slumber, then snuck into the small library that had belonged to his mother. He glanced around, and quickly selected the most interesting looking book he could find, creeping back past his uncle’s room, then sprinting to his.

He would sit, open the book, and stare. The first time he did this, he picked out a book with a familiar cover. He remembered his mother reading this to him once. He tried as hard as he could to recall the words, as he had memorized bits and pieces. They came back, and he matched the words to the strange squiggles on the pages of the book. With this, he taught himself to read. This happened when he was a mere 5 years old, as their uncle had refused to pay to put them in school.

Within the next year, they were taken from their uncle, and brought into the home of one of their other relatives, an aunt this time, named Ariae. Her house always smelled of Moon Flowers, and was clean, without the scent of a certain cruel man lingering in the air. She was a kind and plump woman, bright-eyed, short. She wore her shoulder-length, deep brown hair up in a bun, and was always clad in wide, flowing gowns of rich violets and deep blues. If she were to lose some weight, she would have been a very pretty woman.

As soon as she got the boys, she put them through school. Thrash remembered the first day, all the other children laughing, some crying and clinging to parents, one was even holding onto her mother’s leg and refused to let go. Flail automatically rushed into the group of children, talking, making himself known. Thrash stayed quiet, in the corner, away from everyone else. Maybe he could camouflage himself against the starry wallpaper in the room.

After what seemed ages of tears and proud parents, all was calm, save for the girl who had been stuck to her mother’s leg. She was still sniffling away, upset that her mother would leave her in such a place alone. The teacher seemed nice enough. Tall, skinny, and fragile-looking, like if she were to fall over, she would break into millions of tiny pieces. She smiled, introducing herself as Ms. Arela. She turned to the chalkboard located behind her, writing something there. She moved away, revealing 5 characters there, 5 Drakunagei characters. She was trying to teach them how to read and write already.

Thrash eyed the characters. He knew them well already. Is this why he was here? Then what was the point? He would rather have stayed home, reading some of the books his aunt had. He got up from his corner, in which he had been unnoticed, and tried to head towards the door. Maybe he could just walk out, and dash back home. He’d think of an excuse to tell his aunt on the way there.

Too bad. He was caught, and Ms. Arela demanded that he stand in front of the class and read off the board. Some children giggled. Hee hee hee, he’s in trouble now. Thrash slowly made his way to the front, trying to ignore his classmates, and the looks his brother was giving him. “What were you doing, dummy?” Flail seemed to say with his eyes. Thrash reached the front. Ms. Arela was even taller than she looked when he stood next to her. She smelled of perfume, but it was making him choke.

“Now sweety,” She began. Her voice was honey-sweet, and it made him want to gag. “Can you tell everyone what this says?” She quickly jotted down three characters, Ra, me, and ki. Rameki, all one word, Drakunagei for “tree.” He read it, no sweat, no pause, no struggling. She wrote down three more. Kateni, snow. He read it again. This continued on for a while, Ms. Arela looking confused, like he shouldn’t have been this smart. She let out a little ahem, then addressed the rest of the class. “Well then, um…the rest of you, go and play for a bit.” She pointed to a back table which had blank paper and crayons on it. The children scattered, save for Thrash, who she was holding on to, and Flail, who wanted to see what she would do.

“Thrash, you are a very smart boy. Where did you learn to read? You mother? Father?” Thrash simply shook his head. “Aunt or uncle?” another shake. “Where then?”

“I taught myself, Ms. Arela.” He replied. Why was she asking? Why wouldn’t she let go? He was going to suffocate from her scent.

“Taught yourself?” She sounded unconvinced. “Well then. That makes you even smarter. I think we may need to have a chat with your aunt…” She grabbed a piece of paper and a pen, writing furiously, then handing it to him. “Take this to her, ok?”

Thrash did as he had been told, taking the note to his aunt after school. She read it, silently moving her lips.

Thrash did not know what the note said. He hadn’t read it.

A few weeks later, he was sent home with another note after proving to be brilliant with math.

Thrash was some kind of genius, And needed to be moved up to a higher grade. Thrash refused. He didn’t want to leave his brother behind. Those had been the days where they still got along. So he stayed, surpassing everyone else. Other kids didn’t like him. They avoided him like the plague, and didn’t look at him.

((Dear GOD this is long, There's still more though, but I don't wat to overwhelm those of you out there who aren't big on reading. More tomorrow.))

((Note- "Shin Dange"- in case you have not already guessed, it's liqour. Their uncle was a drunk, after all. Feel sorry for the poor boys.))