Little, But Fierce: A Story of a Boy

The little boy stared at the boat, his brown eyes big in unbelief. He glanced around, wondering if anyone was looking. Not seeing a soul, he crept toward the boat. His hand reached out, as if it was being pulled rather than a controlled motion. The glossy dark finish of the new boat gleamed under his little tanned fingers. The boy hopped up onto the deck, but his scarf caught on a nail. He yanked it free and threw it on the deck.
“That feels better anyway; it was getting hot,” he said as the wind fondled his dark, curly hair. He walked around in the fishing boat, hearing his boots clunk on the new surface. He looked out to the sea, sloshing and foaming in its nautical brilliance around the little village.
“Still dreaming of the sea, Unio? You know you would never make it out there,” said a voice on shore. Unio jumped off the front of the boat in a frenzy, and fell on his face in the sand, soaking his pants with water. The boy on shore laughed.
“Don’t you have something better to do, Osuga? Can’t you all just leave me alone for once?” Unio said bitterly as he turned sideways and huddled.
“Oh, Unio, but don’t you know how fun you are? Come play with me and my friends, Unio.”
Unio shook his head and walked down the beach, knowing full well what “play” meant. He still had the bruises to show for it.
“You can’t run away from us forever, Unio. We’ll always be here, you’ll always be here, and things will just get worse until you face us,” said the older boy as he walked away jauntily.
Both boys returned to where they were originally supposed to be. But while one tried to stop laughing, the other tried to keep from crying.

“Have you seen the new boat, Unio?” asked Unio’s father at breakfast the next morning. Unio ate slowly, thinking about what had happened near that beautiful, cursed boat.
“Aye, father, she’s little, but fierce,” said Unio with a glow of admiration. He grabbed a piece of bacon, thinking of how similar the boat’s beautiful color was to the food.
“That she is,” said Unio’s father dreamily.
“Could we have a boat like that one day, you think?”
“Nah, unless some turn of nature lowered its price by half at least,” the boy’s father laughed.
Unio stared at his plate and sighed. Maybe one day I’ll buy it myself.
“You can’t come fishing today; I need you to go to the market and get some things,” said Unio’s father, with a sad smile. He knew Unio would be disappointed.
“Yes, sir,” was all Unio said. His large eyes were cheerless, and his boyish mouth clamped shut as he stared out their little kitchen window. The colorful bottles that hung down over it reflected light into his eyes, but Unio didn’t turn away.
“You can buy a book,” said his father, trying to brighten the boy up a bit. Unio met his father’s eyes, and the boy’s lips twitched into a little smile.
As he kissed his father’s grizzly face, he couldn’t help but think, You can’t feel the sea in a book.

Unio sat curled up on the floor reading when his father came home. The words began to swarm before his eyes and he blinked rapidly to clear them.
“Unio! What did you do today?” said his father in a loud, booming voice that shook the floor Unio lay on.
“I went to the market. You told me to!” Unio sat up quickly and scooted back to the wall. His father rarely got mad, but when he did…
“Why are your clothes wet then?” His father walked toward him, his face red with ire. The man’s head was sweating as his hands repeatedly ran over the sparse hairs. It was times like these Unio wished he had a mother to hold him; to calm his shaking hands.
“I walked home by the shore, and I tripped,” muttered Unio. His clumsiness embarrassed him. Unio thought his father knew that.
“And then what did you do?” asked his father, sounding very skeptical.
“I came home, unloaded all the things from Market, and read this book,” Unio held up the book he was reading. He had almost finished it.
“What is the book about?” asked Unio’s father. Unio was bewildered at his father’s anger and distrust. He hadn’t done anything wrong!
“Father, what happened? What’s wrong?” said Unio quietly.
“Answer me!” shouted his father. Unio’s eyes rimmed with tears as his father began shaking his shoulders. He told his father everything he had read.
“Have you read the book before?”
“No.”
By now Unio was curled in a tighter ball, what muscles he had, clenched, his long hair falling into his eyes.
His father heaved a long sigh, his blue eyes searching his son’s dark ones. He turned around and put his hands on his hips as his eyes started leaking tears. Unio stood and ran over to his father, his little feet padding the soft, dirt floor.
Father and son embraced, and the father began muttering in the son’s ear.
“They think—everyone thinks you stole the boat. But you—you didn’t, Unio! Why would my son ever—he wouldn’t. You wouldn’t! Oh, Unio...”
Unio stared out the window as his arms wrapped around his father’s sides. His beautiful boat was gone.

“My son did not wreck your boat!”
“His scarf was found in there. Everyone knows it is his scarf. Your son wears a red scarf everywhere, and he doesn’t have it now.”
“That doesn’t mean he stole a boat! He was home all day yesterday; he went to the market, he read a book. How do you have time to do all that, steal, and wreck a boat?” Unio’s father was furious. But really, there was no evidence for Unio anyone would believe. All the evidence was against him. All the men were out fishing. None of the other kids had gone missing and they all had evidence of seeing each other. And Unio was the one that had been seen wet.
“I did go in the boat.”
Unio’s father turned toward his son, incredulous.
“Unio, this isn’t a game.”
“I know, father. But I didn’t go in the boat yesterday. I went two days ago and just sat in it; that’s all! My scarf got caught on a nail and I threw it in the boat. I forgot to pick it up when I went home. But I promise I didn’t steal the boat.”
After this, talk flew around the mob of men surrounding the boat owner, Unio, and his father. Everyone was saying something.
“Sounds like an excuse to me!”
“He’s just a boy, he can’t steal a boat!”
“Shows how obsessed with it he was!”
“Heaven’s sake! We don’t even know if it was a person from our town who stole it!”
“Why would someone randomly wreck a boat?”
“He does look to weak to handle a boat himself.”
Unio fled. Everyone pushed against him, some patted his head, some pulled his curls, and some tripped him. But he just got up and kept running. It was all too much.
“Unio, why are you running?”
Osuga stepped in front of him as Unio finally fled all the people. Osuga was grinning with the sheer pleasure of torturing the boy before him, his green eyes flashing with excitement.
Unio stared at Osuga, then drew his right arm back and punched the boy standing in his way. Osuga lifted his hand to feel the blood coming from his mouth, and Unio looked at the gash in his knuckle from Osuga’s teeth.
“That wasn’t too smart, little Unio.” Osuga glared at the boy before him, whose drawn eyebrows enhanced the fine lines of his face. If Unio could have seen himself, he would have hidden from the proud, fierce look that overcame his face.
“I was never very smart, Osuga, but I know I did not steal that boat. And I have a feeling you know who did,” said Unio. Unio searched his foe’s face, but he must have stared too long. Osuga’s fist flew into the boy’s face, and Unio crumpled to the ground.

“Unio!” said the boy’s father as his strong arms curled around his son. Unio muttered something incoherent.
People once again crowded around the boy, whispering. Osuga shuffled to the back of the crowd as he recognized what he did. Someone grabbed his arm, and he tried to pull it away.
“Let go!” he screamed, then looked up to his father, the boat owner. Osuga cringed.
“Why did you punch that boy, Osuga?” Osuga’s father held his son’s rebellious stare, but eventually Osuga lowered his eyes.
“He’s a bully. He punched me, and I had to protect myself. That’s what you always told me to do with bullies, isn’t it?” Osuga said.
His father laughed unbelievingly.
“Unio is a bully? Oh, yes, that makes perfect sense, considering Unio reads all day, and hardly ever goes out, and—“
Osuga’s father paused. Unio’s eyes fluttered open as his father poured water on his head.
“Unio, did you steal that boat?” asked Osuga’s father. Everyone stared at Unio as he held the man’s gaze.
“No.”
Osuga’s father nodded with understanding and finality.
“The boy tells the truth. I see it in his eyes. Aye, he loved the boat, but the boy didn’t steal it,” said Osuga’s father.
Unio smiled up at his own father, and then whispered a small “Thank you” to the other man, who had turned back to his own son.
“Osuga, my son, perhaps you know who stole my boat?” asked the man, with a twinge of accusation.
Osuga looked away for a while, and then turned to his father with bitter humiliation and regret.
“Osuga,” said the boy’s father. His face was lined with disappointment as he grabbed his son by the ear and dragged him home.
The crowd dispersed, chattering and mingling as small town crowds do. Within a month, all would be forgotten. Perhaps not for Osuga, who had to work on building a new boat with his father and was not allowed to roam the streets for a while, but most people would forget all the other little boy was accused of. Unio continued fishing with his father, and though the boy was innocent, it was a while before his father let him steer their boat.
Their boat, glossy and proud, built hand by hand from pieces of another boat with a somewhat sadder story.