Metal
The Teaser Era
Tao
Modern Day Seoul
Rating: PG-13
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There was something strangely fascinating about the way Tao’s hands just gravitate towards objects and turn something simple into a death threat.
A pencil was a dagger.
A branch was a pole arm.
Scissors were throwing knives.
Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. And scary as hell for whoever was on the receiving end of his anger.
Tao knew that he had a reputation for being a bit of a monster, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help that he was just good at fighting. It’s not like he went out of his way to beat people up. He just found himself in those situations. Often.
Tao went with it though. He knew he could handle himself against somewhat large groups.
The one thing that Tao couldn’t deal with, however, was himself.
In the nighttime hours when he was alone in the studio, Tao couldn’t handle who he had become or what it was people saw in him. When he was home laying on his bed, Tao couldn’t stand the thought of fighting or knowing how much pain he could cause to a single person.
And being alone meant that Tao was in silence.
And being in silence meant Tao had time to think.
Time to reflect.
Time to realize how much he could hate himself and everything he had become.
In the midst of all the training and sparring matches, Tao lost himself. He became someone who he hated being, but he had long accepted the darker side of himself. That didn’t mean he couldn’t hate it, though. Every fight made his darker half stronger, and ever time he showed himself he became more brutal.
And Tao hated that.
Tao hated how he had become such a dark person.
He grew up in light, knowing that there was always a light, and that even if you’re in the darkest of days a light will save you from it. That even the worst off had a chance at something better.
But Tao didn’t think he was worth saving.
Every night, Tao found himself being dragged into another fight. He found himself throwing a single punch, only to black out. But when he came to, he was never the one bleeding on the ground. It was never his blood on his own clothing.
Without a word, Tao would run away. He left no evidence. Just the broken bodies tangled into each other as their skin was painted purple.
There was only one place that Tao ever ran to. He didn’t know why his feet would take him to the practice studio where he had actual weapon at his every command, but he went there. He didn’t know why he would angrily thrash about, or how he could destroy a punching bag with only a few rage-fueled attacks.
Most of all, he didn’t know why he couldn’t stop himself from falling deeper into the darkness.
Eventually, Tao would sit in the middle of the studio and cry to himself. He would stare at his image in the mirror and throw whatever was near him at his reflection until it would look as shattered as he felt.
And only when the mirror’s cracks threatened to let the mirror cave in completely did Tao hear that voice.
That damned voice.
“You know you can’t get rid of me. I am you.”
“Shut up!” Tao would stand and thrash about, trying to shake the voice from his head.
“You want me. You want to be me. That’s why you always come back to me.”
Tao cried out helplessly, knowing that no one would hear him but hoping that maybe his cries might scare the voice away. Tao covered his ears and shut his eyes. He did whatever he could to shut out the voice but it kept coming back louder and louder.
“Don’t even try to resist. Just take it. Take it.”
Tao did his best to will himself from reaching out to grab one of the weapons on the wall. And not just any weapon, the Tao’s first - a pole arm. It was an extension of who he was and become a part of what he became. He knew that if he had even so much of a brushing against the wooden weapon, or had a chance to appreciate the metal grip, he would undoubtedly cave in to his primitive desires.
“Take it already.”
“No...go away...!”
“Take it!”
“No!” Tao threw a punch at the air.
“What, you think you can beat me?”
“I said to go away!” This time, a kick.
“Silly Tao. You actually think you have a chance.”
“Shut up!” Tao gave in and grabbed the pole arm, swinging it erratically at the empty space surrounding him. “Just leave me alone!”
“I can’t leave.”
“Grrr...!” Tao slammed the wooden object to the ground, splitting the rod in two and sending splintered fragments of wood to the ground. Tao dropped the broken weapon and punched the wall. “Go away!”
“You won't let me leave. You won’t give me up. You need me, and that’s why you can never let me go.”
Another punch.
This time, Tao connected with something sharp. Something that cracked under the impact of his attack and shattered to the ground.
And for once, Tao saw his own blood.
A pencil was a dagger.
A branch was a pole arm.
Scissors were throwing knives.
Fascinating. Absolutely fascinating. And scary as hell for whoever was on the receiving end of his anger.
Tao knew that he had a reputation for being a bit of a monster, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help that he was just good at fighting. It’s not like he went out of his way to beat people up. He just found himself in those situations. Often.
Tao went with it though. He knew he could handle himself against somewhat large groups.
The one thing that Tao couldn’t deal with, however, was himself.
In the nighttime hours when he was alone in the studio, Tao couldn’t handle who he had become or what it was people saw in him. When he was home laying on his bed, Tao couldn’t stand the thought of fighting or knowing how much pain he could cause to a single person.
And being alone meant that Tao was in silence.
And being in silence meant Tao had time to think.
Time to reflect.
Time to realize how much he could hate himself and everything he had become.
In the midst of all the training and sparring matches, Tao lost himself. He became someone who he hated being, but he had long accepted the darker side of himself. That didn’t mean he couldn’t hate it, though. Every fight made his darker half stronger, and ever time he showed himself he became more brutal.
And Tao hated that.
Tao hated how he had become such a dark person.
He grew up in light, knowing that there was always a light, and that even if you’re in the darkest of days a light will save you from it. That even the worst off had a chance at something better.
But Tao didn’t think he was worth saving.
Every night, Tao found himself being dragged into another fight. He found himself throwing a single punch, only to black out. But when he came to, he was never the one bleeding on the ground. It was never his blood on his own clothing.
Without a word, Tao would run away. He left no evidence. Just the broken bodies tangled into each other as their skin was painted purple.
There was only one place that Tao ever ran to. He didn’t know why his feet would take him to the practice studio where he had actual weapon at his every command, but he went there. He didn’t know why he would angrily thrash about, or how he could destroy a punching bag with only a few rage-fueled attacks.
Most of all, he didn’t know why he couldn’t stop himself from falling deeper into the darkness.
Eventually, Tao would sit in the middle of the studio and cry to himself. He would stare at his image in the mirror and throw whatever was near him at his reflection until it would look as shattered as he felt.
And only when the mirror’s cracks threatened to let the mirror cave in completely did Tao hear that voice.
That damned voice.
“You know you can’t get rid of me. I am you.”
“Shut up!” Tao would stand and thrash about, trying to shake the voice from his head.
“You want me. You want to be me. That’s why you always come back to me.”
Tao cried out helplessly, knowing that no one would hear him but hoping that maybe his cries might scare the voice away. Tao covered his ears and shut his eyes. He did whatever he could to shut out the voice but it kept coming back louder and louder.
“Don’t even try to resist. Just take it. Take it.”
Tao did his best to will himself from reaching out to grab one of the weapons on the wall. And not just any weapon, the Tao’s first - a pole arm. It was an extension of who he was and become a part of what he became. He knew that if he had even so much of a brushing against the wooden weapon, or had a chance to appreciate the metal grip, he would undoubtedly cave in to his primitive desires.
“Take it already.”
“No...go away...!”
“Take it!”
“No!” Tao threw a punch at the air.
“What, you think you can beat me?”
“I said to go away!” This time, a kick.
“Silly Tao. You actually think you have a chance.”
“Shut up!” Tao gave in and grabbed the pole arm, swinging it erratically at the empty space surrounding him. “Just leave me alone!”
“I can’t leave.”
“Grrr...!” Tao slammed the wooden object to the ground, splitting the rod in two and sending splintered fragments of wood to the ground. Tao dropped the broken weapon and punched the wall. “Go away!”
“You won't let me leave. You won’t give me up. You need me, and that’s why you can never let me go.”
Another punch.
This time, Tao connected with something sharp. Something that cracked under the impact of his attack and shattered to the ground.
And for once, Tao saw his own blood.
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