His back thrummed with a hollow ache, the relief short lived as the pain moved to his shoulder. A baseball bat, held by shaky hands, rested heavily on his shoulder. Stray blades of chipped wood scratching into his shoulder with each prompt step that squelched in the plains of mud.

Soft oaky hues shifted into deeper, messier browns that seemed stained onto its surface. Splashed on with haste, like each brutal swing added a new tone to the crowded canvas of bat- dots of rusted metal erecting from the already flayed wood. Creating small cities of cracks and spikes.

He smoothed his tongue over his braces, the wires pressing tightly into his teeth as a scanned the area- observing the crooked outstretches of trees looming overhead. Out of every chore he could’ve been prescribed, the group gave him guarding? The most boring one?? Raiden just tutted, smoothing a free hand over his greasy hair and continuing with the rhythmic tap of his fingertips on the bats grip tap. A gritty, familiarly sticky feel that made shivers run down his spine greeting his skin with each tap. Occasionally, he’d take his eyes off the outstretches of still land, off the trees and gray twirling skys.. and just glance at his fingers as they tapped, checking for stains he knew weren’t there. Yet it didn’t hurt to check. It soothed the disgust that curled at the back of his throat. He knew he could set the thing down. Slot it back into the holder that he carried on his back and just get the job over with. But the mere thought of that made cold tremors run up his jaw, leaving the hairs on the back of his neck standing, pointing to the way back down the path; back to the school, back to his friends, back to safety. Even if the walls were reduced to crumbles of rubble and soot. The ceiling half giving way, and half holding on to whatever foundation was left.

His wrist flicked, tapping the bat against his shoulder- clicking against the bone beneath the layer of warm skin.

Move forward, turn, move forward, turn, Repeat.