An Instinct to Persevere

[Roromi 417]

A red warning flashed across his heads up display, his right leg had been severed. Ishiro hardly grimaced, and instead calmly worked the controls with a refined fervor. The Custom High Mobility Command Graze, rocked forward to steal some momentum from the Custom Barbatos. Ishirio returned the severance of his limb with a decisive shot from his battle rifle straight into the top portion of the gundam. One, two, three; shots barked from his gun with two of the three bullets eating greedily into his enemy’s Gunpla. The groan from across the room told him that the other student was not enjoying that trade. 

Ishiro would rather replace a severed limb any day other week compared to the damage he had just rendered to the Barbatos. “Going for a weathered look?” He asked rhetorically, knowing his question would further send his classmate into a haze of anger. The returned growl and the Gundam jerking to try and attack him, caused Ishiro to grin.

Barbatos brought its’ sword mace to bare and swung up at him in the void of space, eager to land another blow. Ishiro backed away, just enough from each swing to give false hope to his opponent. He was running low on ammo for his rifle but he doubted he would need to worry about reloading. He fought the controls to level the rifle on the dancing target, and expertly fired off a round each opening he saw. His shots were sparse at first then rapid like a drummer picking up tempo. Barbatos soon halted its’ swings and even began to get jerked back by the impacts until it finally succumbed to the attacks and exploded. 

“End Gunpla Battle.” The robotic voice concluded and the voiceless battlefield of space evaporated. Both of the Gunpla toppled over unable to stand, Ishiro’s worse for wear compared to his opponents. Ishirio let out a sigh as he reached out for his Graze. 

“Just what the hell was that Ishiro?”

The boy paused to regard the question from  the club president. The student was a good two grades and heads bigger than Ishiro. The boy paused and even recoiled his hand as the president reached over and snatched up the damaged Graze before he could. Ishiro tilted his head and waited a moment before asking, “What do you mean? That was a fair match.” 

The president growl as the brute throttled Ishiro’s Gunpla in front of him. “You know damn well what I mean! We should be building up each other’s battle points not knocking the rest of the class down because you don’t know how to take a fall! I’m giving this Graze to Kaji!” 

Ishiro frowned at this declaration and simply replied, “It’s my Gunpla.” Before he could realize what happened the older student slugged him across the face with a fist. “You idiot you’re not listening to me! Anno’s Gunpla Club needs to work together to get a better standing!” 

Ishiro sprawled onto the floor, and spat out some blood. Glaring up at the president, “Versus actually getting better at battling?” He dared to ask. He was rewarded with a kick to his gut that all his classmates all cheered in approval. Soon other feet joined in and began to pummel into his lithe body. 

Perhaps he should have tried to defend himself. Maybe if he had actually put up a fight he would have stopped them from stealing his precious Graze. It hardly mattered. Ishiro grimaced and grunted as his peers relentlessly kicked and punched him. The blows all soon felt like nothing as he stared blankly ahead, hardly caring about the abuse. At one point he thought he could hear a teacher, though he wasn’t sure if they were stopping or joining in the mayhem.

 ———

The steady beeping slowly roused him out of his slumber. He was always a heavy sleeper and hated any noise that woke him up. That damn beeping wouldn’t stop and seemed to echo his own heart beat. “Someone turn it off..” He grumbled. When no one replied he fluttered his eyes open to see what the noise was. 

Ishiro’s eye flew wide open when he found himself in a strange room, one he hadn’t been in before. He shuddered as he realized that the room was indeed familiar but not in the sense he would like to recall. A tear webbed in his eye and spilt down his cheek. He tilted his head to follow the tear and spied his grandmother sleeping peacefully on a couch besides his hospital bed. 

He looked at his grandmother for a long while, willing his mind to focus her into a younger more familiar version he longed for. He scoffed after a while when his efforts failed and sniffled as he looked away. Staring at the ceiling he slowly collected himself before nodding slowly. He reached off he bedside and got a notepad. Slowly he wrote out a simple request, “Please order an RG OO Gundam from Lowe’s. Thank you Grandma!”