A Black Scar
As the mist of sweet Natsumi dreams cleared his head, Giroro could hear the 5 am alarm. He groggily sat up and cleared away his sleep mat. Then he proceeded to fallow a basic set of morning exercises (although they don’t appear to be basic to anyone else). After 50 pushups, 100 laps around the house, 100 crunches, and a slew of alien fitness techniques, he would fix a simple breakfast of space bacon and Type-G with a bottle of water.
Around 8 am he would report to the base for whatever Keroro had schemed. They would also tease each other for their faults and reasons for not invading, although Giroro would feel guiltier about his than anyone else. The meetings usually dismissed around 10. Then Giroro would catalog his ammo, supply, and weapons, which would fallow with a thorough cleaning and polishing. When the afternoon came and the Hinata children returned from school, Giroro would turn on his radio to Mutsumi’s talk show. He did this to pretend he was listening with Natsumi, it was her favorite station.
Later on he would cook a couple sweet potatoes. Sometimes he would be lucky and Natsumi would eat one with him. He would listen to her express the troubles of a teenager and he would even let her talk about Saburo, he knew she liked him and he would just take joy in the fact that she chose to spend her afternoon with him instead of the white haired pekoponian. But today was just another lonely night by the fire as the sun ran under the edge of the world. Soon the day ends with a proper report in case the higher ups needed to review their actions and another more personal report in his journal. Tomorrow would fallow the same routine.
Alarm, exercise, breakfast, lame meeting, polishing, categorizing, lonely sweet potato, and disappointing reports. Each day for a few weeks fallowed this routine, the anger started to boil under the dark Keronian Standard Army Hat. Giroro felt useless towards both the invasion and winning Natsumi’s affection. One day his anger peaked during the Platoon’s meeting.
“I have had ENOUGH OF YOUR IDIOCY!” Giroro slammed his fist upon the table. The jars of jelly and butter danced as the plate of crackers jumped. The others weren’t exactly startled; he always started yelling at this point. Only Dororo tried calming him down with his all too quiet voice. “Your plans never work, in fact just about everything you try to do FAILS! Also you keep WASTING YOUR TIME WITH USELESS GUNDAM!!”
Keroro appeared hurt when his gundam was labeled useless and quickly turned to anger and began to argue back.
“I’m not the only one halting the invasion mister I’M IN LOVE WITH THE ENEMY!!”
“Don’t you DARE blame this on NATSUMI!!”
“Do you even think she’ll like an alien frog with a giant scar on his face?”
“Kuku and she’s been ignoring you lately hasn’t she, I wonder if that’s why I haven’t seen Saburo lately.” Kururu couldn’t help but chirp in and help the fire of anger burn brighter.
Giroro lunged at Keroro. The green frog instinctively defended with the butter knife and after one swift motion, Giroro knelt to the floor covering the left side of his face. He removed his hand to see the blood. His scar was reopened.
“Gi-Giroro, I’m sorry.”
“Whatever. I’m going to my tent.” Giroro covered his scar again and turned to leave.
“Kukukuku smooth move there Sergeant.” Kururu chuckled behind his laptop.
“Will he be ok?” Tamama held a chip in front of his mouth slightly frozen from the turn of events.
“Well I didn’t mean to do it. I’m sure he’ll forgive me soon enough.” Keroro waved his hand in the air nonchalantly.
“I’m going to make him some medicine before his wound gets infected.” Dororo left in his traditional ninja smoke.
Dororo tried his hardest to find the best herbs. Some were actually rare and he had to trail on forgotten paths up jagged mountains to get them. He needed the specific ones for such a fierce wound. Dororo wasn’t sure if the eye had been damaged as well, so he had to be sure it was covered if that was the case.
After a few hours and with Koyuki’s help, he was able to make a healing cream for Giroro. He approached the red tent and right before he spoke one word he felt the force of an angry aura. Dororo wasn’t only afraid, his extra senses intensified it to the point it nearly burnt his skin.
“Giroro? Are you alright?” Dororo waited for a response, and after a few minutes he could hear some rustling inside. Soon Giroro exited his tent bearing some crude bandaging over his left eye. “I brought you some medicine. I hope it will help you heal.”
Giroro took a deep breath and exhaled.
“Thank you, Dororo.” His voice was low; even quieter than Dororo had ever heard him use.
“Would you like me to re-dress your scar?”
Giroro took a seat on his cinder block and closed his eyes, handing the ninja a roll of gauze. Dororo set aside the small jar of cream and carefully peeled away the wrappings Giroro originally placed over his wound. When all of it was removed the deepened scar was revealed and looking more gruesome than ever.
Dororo held his breath for a mere second and decided not to mention the darkened skin. He began to apply his home made medicine around the opening of the wound. Giroro flinched and for a short bit glared at his comrade. During this Dororo could see the damage to his eye. It didn’t look severely affected, just a small scratch on the conjunctiva that sometimes lined up with the rest of his scar when he moved his eye right. Luckily Giroro was smart to turn his pupil away since his eyelid didn’t take all of the damage.
The ninja sighed, relieved his friend won’t go blind. He quickened his pace feeling Giroro’s urgency to return to his solitude.
“You’re going to need some new stitches.” Dororo spoke as he tied the gauze. Keeping his eyes closed Giroro quietly stood and re-entered his tent. “I guess it could wait till later. Take care Giroro.”
With his single farewell Dororo left.
That was the last time anyone saw the demon frog for a week. Everyone else was gathered at the table as Natsumi served the meal she prepared.
“What exactly did you do again?” Natsumi asked the green frog.
“Well I kinda insulted him, and then I cut his scar.” With each word Keroro sunk a little more into his chair.
“No wonder he’s still pissed. What surprises me is that you’re in one piece and alive.” The girl took another look out of the window towards the red tent. She understood that he wanted to be alone, but she was worried.
After dinner was finished and everyone departed to their rooms, Natsumi started cleaning the table. Her worry rose again when she glimpsed outside. She set everything down on the table and stepped out the door. She soon saw that his fire pit had begun to regrow the grass around it. He hadn’t even left his tent let alone light a fire.
“Giroro?” Natsumi crouched down hugging her knees to her chest in front of the tent flap. “Can I talk to you?”
As she expected, only silence rose from his domain. Slowly Natsumi began to unzip the flap and only stopped when he spoke.
“Don’t.”
“Giroro what’s wrong? Why won’t you come out?” She tried her hardest to see into the darkness of his tent but it was useless. “I know that Keroro cut your face. It can’t be that bad.”
Giroro slowly shifted his weight and upon the shred of hope he had that Natsumi wouldn’t be frightened of it he stepped out of the tent. The light from the house swiftly traced over his face and the girl gasped. He no longer wore the bandage, in its place were some crude stitches. The flesh had swollen slightly and grown even darker, nearly black. It also appeared that the blackness was reaching out and deforming his face.
The shock from his appearance sent Natsumi back onto her rear and she cringed slightly. She tried reaching out but recoiled her hand quickly.
“Giroro… it- it looks horrible.” She held a hand over her mouth feeling slightly sick. Giroro’s good eye widened before he ran back into his tent. “No wait! Giroro I’m sorry.”
“Go Away.” His voice mutated with a deep growl, scaring Natsumi more. Feeling she couldn’t do any good for him she went to her room. Giroro was left alone in the dark as tears streamed from his good eye.
