Chapter Text
Yearning to achieve something great in his life, Scar has decided to leave his home the second he has come of age, traveling from one place to another in search of a job of all things. He realizes too late that he needs money if he wants to survive longer than a day. So, he begins with working as a baker in a store, accidentally left the clay oven on at the highest heat for a couple of minutes, unknowingly burned the pastries into some sort of charcoal and got fired a few hours later.
Next, he tries to take his fantastic service as a butcher. The owner is going to be so happy for his contribution! It’s just cutting delicious and mouthwatering pieces of meat with a huge knife. He had cut so much firewood in his entire lifetime, he’s basically a pro.
How hard can it be?
Okay, wow. Him and his big mouth.
It turns out, it is more difficult than he expects it to be.
The tool was far heavier than he thought and accidentally threw the thing towards the shop owner, and he was dismissed not long after.
More than ten attempts and or failed employment later, he’s beginning to give up hope and cries in a random alley where no one can hear him.
Scar mindlessly wanders around town, ignoring how he keeps bumping into other people’s shoulders along the way with posture slouched, his life crushed from the daunting revelation of being unable to fulfill his dream. Sure, it’s not much but it’s something. He really, really wants to go out into the world but considering his financial crisis at the moment, he can’t even do that. Unfortunately, he’s unable to go home anymore since he basically disowned his parents for wanting to do what he loves.
Where can he go?
What should he do?
He doesn’t know anymore.
From the corner of his eye, he spots a salesman yelling words he can’t register, getting in with one ear and out with the other as he sees them walking around what looks like a wagon for a stand of their varied goods. This time, he tunes in to what they said, taking in their powerful voice and lively explanation, pulling him in and making him want to buy something.
Wow.
He wants to be like that.
Since he’s not very good at interacting with other people, shying away from any interaction at any chance he got, he had a very hard time convincing his employers to give him a second chance after messing up big time.
The strong smell of the sea distracts him, snapping him out of his thoughts. The pungent causes him to turn around and from behind, he notices the vast waters glittering under the bright sun, gaping in awe at how amazing the scenery is while he watches the enormous ships gradually approaching the docks.
Hm…
Wagon… boats…
With a loud gasp, a wonderful idea has formed in his mind after being represented with the flickering of a metaphorical candle.
He thinks he’s got it!
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Making huge progress like any other day, he expresses his gratitude with a cheeky smile and waves his hand goodbye to his last customer, before dropping his facade with a sigh of relief.
Looking back now, these past few years have been rough to say the least. As he packs the products back into their respective barrels, Scar can still vividly recall his horrifying experience when he was still struggling with earning some cash just to avoid hunger. But when he discovered that he could find many things in the trash that were thrown away but were still in good shape, he just had to make his idea into a reality after being inspired. If no one hires him, he can form his own business instead.
It's the greatest idea ever!
At first, it wasn’t a pretty sight when he kept forgetting his own lines and stumbling on them, causing his potential customers to lose interest and leave his ‘Swaggon’.
That’s right.
He’s named his fantastic land vessel as such, gradually climbing his way up until eventually, it’s no longer baby sized and is upgraded into a real land ship but with sick enormous wheels and a fancy copper roof to protect him from all sorts of weather, pulled by his adorable llama. Thus, dubbing it as ‘Lanbo’. At the same time, he also got himself a new fancy coat, vest, and top hat to seal the deal, which makes him look more like a tycoon now, but that’s not the point.
What is he doing again?
Wait, he’s sidetracked. He’s supposed to be cleaning up.
With a chuckle, he carries the last barrel into the storage area of his shop slash moving house, running towards his beloved assistant and leaves the area to continue wandering until he finds another place to set up his business. Passing by a few wooden houses, he hears something rumbling and whips his head to the side, fully vigilant from the potential danger but only sees a ragged child, squatting on the floor while their stomach growls.
Oh.
Scar digs through his coat and pant pockets, taking out a piece of bread and beelines to the kid (don’t ask how one got there in the first place). He crouches a few inches away, smiling softly as he brings the food between them while waiting for the young one to accept it. They hesitate, glancing between him and the said baked good before swiping it off his hand and frantically munching on it, making it his cue to leave.
Grimacing at the situation, he feels terrible at how powerless he is, not being able to do something as simple as helping a hungry child. No matter where he goes, the structures and amount of people may differ but all of them have similar issues, that is poverty. He can see it everywhere and one time, he even stumbled upon a teen stealing someone’s drawstring pouch. Even if he manages to get out of that harsh life, it doesn’t mean it’s not happening anymore.
Unfortunately, he’s not kind enough to offer all his earnings to every individual he encounters, otherwise he’s the one who’s going to starve. All he can do is lower his head in shame as he exits the town and heads to the next one.
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As he moves into a new place, Scar notices a sweet spot where he can park his Lanbo, settling down properly as he removes the straps off his beloved llama before bringing it inside to its own ‘bedroom’. He walks back out and takes in the cold air, stretching his sore arms above his head, causing them to crack and sigh in relief. Staring at the dark and starry sky, he pats himself on the back for his valiant efforts after coming this far.
He decides to take a look around the area, spotting the sea beside him and doesn't hesitate to sprint towards it with a gleeful smile. The stars twinkle while he allows the sea breeze to brush against his scarred skin, ruffling his messy brown locks as he walks the sandy surface, leaving bootprints behind him while the material accumulates underneath his soles. A low voice can be heard, causing him to yelp violently in place and snap his head left to right, trying to figure out the source.
Was it a ghost?
Oh, no.
He thought those weren't real!
What should he do? Should he fetch his cane sword?
Dang it!
Why did he have to leave it back at his wagon now of all times?
He frantically surveys the area and looks around for something for him to use as a weapon, only to see nothing but the clean yellow surface of the beach. People and their respect for nature.
Why do they have to be so neat and clean when he's desperate for something to throw?
The weak groan interrupts Scar's distress, making the scarred man turn pale as it draws closer.
Seriously, where is that coming from?
All of a sudden, he can feel a liquid and sticky sensation grasping at his ankle, violently jumping away as the panic overtakes his fight or flight instincts. Looking down, he notices a man lying on the ground, soaked in red liquid and colors his fancy looking uniform into the same shade.
Uh, oh.
"Oh, my gosh!" Scar exclaims in a high-pitched tone and crouches to reach the injured person's level without hesitation. "What happened?"
"I…" The man weakly utters with a croaky voice before dropping his head onto the sand face first.
"Sir?" Scar calls . "Sir!" His stomach drops.