Akashi's Will

by Kaden Reed

  Smiling she advanced on me slowly, shifting her hips provocatively, “you are too cute for words,” stopping within arms distance she looked up at me through her eyelashes.

  The way she was looking at me made my blood start pounding in my ears and I silently repeated, “just don’t screw this up Afton,” over and over in my mind. I heard the metallic clatter of her discarded shield, as she reached up and ran a hand across my cheek and through my hair. When she grabbed the back of my head and slowly pulled me down to her face, stopping an inch from her lips, I let go of the spear in my hand in eager anticipation of what was going happen next. She whispered, “I hope I see you again Crusty,” and then pushed the sword that I had completely forgotten that she still held in her other hand into my gut, to erupt out of my back.

  Gasping at the sudden pain, which made the agony even worse, I lurched away from her deadly embrace and stumbled as my intestines spilled onto the ground when the sword, which was still gripped in her hands, slid out. In shock at the impossibility of the situation, I crawled on the ground, fumbling at the ropy tendrils that slithered through my grasp. Trying to stuff them back inside of my abdomen, I heard her say above me in a steely voice, “even though I like you Afton, I will be a Khanri. Whatever it takes. For your sake, I really do hope you are right about there being multiple ways through the Trials, but I can’t take that chance. By the Dungeons Afton, they killed us all just to start the Trials,” she shook her head vehemently as she looked down at me on the ground, “you better harden up because this is no place for sweet boys.”

  Looking up at her, I wanted to refute what she was saying but, deep down, I knew she was right. This was no place for the person I have been holding onto. I have to evolve; I have to become something more than I was. If I wanted to survive, I will have to become a Khanri. I would have to learn to kill.

  I watched her straighten and raise the sword above her head. Dropping my hands to my sides, I met her eyes and bowed my head in acceptance of my fate, “please, just make it quick. I don’t want my second death to be as bad as my first.”

  She gave me a terse nod then swung the sword in an arcing blur and I knew no more - again.

  Chapter Six

  Choices

  “You ask me why I do what I do? That is simple - because of my friends.”

  - Amani during an interview after the League of Dungeons Championships

  As I tossed and turned within the warm confines of my blankets, patterns of golden light played themselves across my closed eyelids as I held them shut. Refusing to give into the call of the morning that tried, in vain, to rouse me from my dreams. As the sun warmed my bed through the window, I remembered how, as a young boy, I used to try to make out small creatures, in the shapes that were formed by the light show behind my closed eyes.

  A soft rap at the door to my bedroom followed by the muted call to breakfast from my mom was enough for me to give up the struggle and finally wake up. Slowly opening my eyes, I looked around the room. Not much has changed over the years in the bedroom that I grew up in.

  As I got older the decorations have shifted from posters of the popular kid shows on the Magical Entertainment Network to the current ceiling-to-floor arrangement of posters of various prominent Khanri, the Trinity being given the prestigious placement of just over my bed.

  I reflexively reached up to touch my favorite depiction of the Trinity as I climbed out of bed, a ritual I have done every morning since receiving it as a gift from Marty on my eleventh birthday. When my fingers grazed the poster, a shock strong enough to make my muscles spasm, ran through my arm. Losing my footing, I barely caught myself on the windowsill in time to prevent myself from falling to the floor. Startled by the sudden pain, I grabbed the injured hand as I stared at the offending artwork.

  As soon as my gaze landed on Shino, I found myself unable to look away. He was pictured standing sideways, with his back mostly visible. His trademark daggers were in his hands and he was casting a confident look over his shoulder, towards me. There was something about the way his golden eyes stared at me that seemed to jar something loose in my memory. I felt like I had seen those eyes up close, but the whole scene was fuzzy and indistinct, like it was a long-lost dream.

  Still puzzling over the odd memory, I got up and rummaged through my dresser and began putting on clothes. Once I was satisfied that the sight of my now clothed body wouldn’t cause any lasting psychological harm to anyone I met, I cast another furtive glance towards the depiction of Shino above my bed, then I walked into the short hallway that led to the entertainment and dining room of my family’s home. The wonderful aroma of fried bacon that drifted through the house aroused the attention of my stomach, which promptly asserted its dominance over my actions and steered me towards the dining room.

  When I reached the entrance, I paused at the familiar sight of my dad sitting at the table, distractedly sipping from a mug of coffee while reading The Daily Rune and my mom humming a cheery song while she piled eggs, bacon and toast onto three plates. Not wanting to disrupt the display, I stood still, drinking in the sight of them, as if I hadn’t seen them in a very long time. The familiar scene sent an unexplainable pang of longing that found resonance in my soul. Wiping away at the tears that welled at the corners of my eyes, I hurried over to help mom with the plates.

  “Oh good you’re up,” my mom said to me as I grabbed two of the plates and set one down in front of dad before taking my place at the table, “I was beginning to worry I would have to go in there with pots and pans again to finally get you out of bed!” She looked up at me and her expression changed from motherly chiding to concerned, “what’s wrong Afton? Are you okay?”

  At her words, dad studied me as he folded up the paper and placed it next to his full plate. I realized belatedly that I must not have done a good enough job at erasing the evidence of my irrational emotional episode and, like a typical mom, she knew instantly that something was off, “yeah I’m okay. It’s just been an odd morning. I feel like I haven’t seen you both in a really long time and I’ve missed you terribly.”

  Mom and dad looked at each other and then shifted their gazes back to me. Dad straightened in his seat, with a troubled expression on his face, “do you remember the past couple of days Afton?”

  I opened my mouth to say of course I did, it was just a silly emotional outburst, but I froze in my seat as chills ran up my spine when I realized that I didn’t remember anything prior to waking up this morning. It felt like everything in my life that happened before then was vague and indistinct, as if I was trying to see past a gauzy curtain. I knew something was there, but I couldn’t make out any details. The harder I struggled to peek behind the curtain the slipperier the memories became.

  Seeing the look of panic on my face, my mom reached out and grabbed my hand, “it’s okay Afton, the Khanri that brought you back home said that this is normal. Everything will be fine within another day or two.”

  My dad stood up and crossed the kitchen to the counter. Pulling a glass from the cupboard he filled it with cold water and placed it in front of me, “I know it must be hard, but it really will be okay son. Drink this, take some deep breaths and try to calm yourself down.”

  Everything inside of me was screaming that this wasn’t normal, that something was majorly wrong, “what happened? Why can’t I remember anything?”

  Mom and dad shared another glance and then dad solemnly turned to me, “the Khanri that dropped you off said that you attempted the Trials Afton,” my dad seemed to deflate a little as he sighed, “we know how much you wanted to be a Khanri so I’m sorry to say this son, but he said you didn’t pass.”

  “What? I took the Trials?” a note of disbelief entered my voice as I tried to understand what was being said, “when did I do that?”

  My mom patted my arm, which I noticed that she was still holding, “the man that dropped you off said that due to the nature of the Trials, the failed applicants have their memory wiped of the experience bef
ore they are returned to their civilian lives. He also said that you just need some rest and a return to the routine of daily life. Everything will be fine within a couple of days.”

  Although I couldn’t remember anything, this just didn’t feel right. I started vigorously shaking my head back and forth in disbelief. The shaking must have eventually jarred a small bubble of memory loose because I could feel it’s slow ascent through the mire of my thoughts. When it finally made it to the surface, a voice burst into my mind, ‘if you fail the Trials, you die.’ Somehow, I knew instantly that it was a true memory.

  I excitedly shot to my feet and declared the good news to my family, “I remember now! They said that everyone that fails the Trials will die. I couldn’t have failed because I am not dead!”

  My mom gave me a look full of sympathy, “Afton, just calm down and think for a minute okay? A Khanri brought you home two days ago and said you failed the Trials. Obviously they didn’t kill you for failing because if they did, you wouldn’t be standing in our dining room right now,” she gestured at the food on the table in front of me, “now please try to calm down, sit and have some breakfast. I promise you will feel much better with a full stomach.”

  I cast furtive glances back and forth between my mom and dad while trying to poke holes in her logic. The fact that I couldn’t, slowly eroded the confidence I had when the memory first revealed itself. Slowly sinking back into my seat, I eventually lowered my head in defeat, “you are right. I’m sorry mom and dad. I don’t know what overtook me a minute ago.”

  “It is okay son,” dad spoke up while picking up his fork and skewering some eggs, “I’m sure not being able to remember anything is a terrifying experience.”

  The way my parents were acting made me think that they had helped me through previous freak-out sessions. The fact that I couldn’t even remember those episodes sent shivers of trepidation through me again, but I fought hard to retain a semblance of calm, so I didn’t upset them anymore.

  We ate our breakfast in silence for a few minutes while I pondered why I had behaved so poorly to my parents. As far as I knew, they had never lied to me before and I don’t see any reason they would now. The news that I failed the Trials though… I was caught completely unprepared by the wave of depression that threatened to drown me when my mind touched on that subject. I tried to shift my thoughts in another direction, but it was impossible to close that box once it was opened.

  The only dream I have ever had was to be a Khanri. I never even considered that I would fail so I didn’t have any backup plans. Even though I love my family and we have a meager, but comfortable life running our store, I couldn’t picture myself living here, in this village, for the rest of my life.

  As the reality of the loss of my wished-for future settled into my consciousness, I quickly lost my appetite and excused myself from the table. Cleaning off my plate, I put it in the sink and found the stairs that lead down into our shop on the first floor. The darkness of our store was a welcome accompaniment to the feelings that were welling up inside of me. I walked behind the store counter and slowly sank to the floor as the waves of grief, failure and regret washed over me. I sat there with my arms hugging my knees pulled up to my chest, my shoulders shaking with the force of the silent remorse.

  After allowing my emotions to drain away with every heart-wrenching tear, the hollow emptiness inside of me felt as if I had scoured every crevasse within myself clean. I now felt devoid of the hunger that usually accompanied my intense desire and focus to achieve my goals in life. Although I wasn’t sure if this was actually a good thing, at least it wasn’t as painful.

  I don’t know how long I sat alone in the darkness with my thoughts when the tiny bell attached to the door that customers used in our shop chimed softly behind me. I sighed, deflating a little as I resigned myself to this life. Not wanting to answer any awkward, but well-meaning questions, I used my shirt to wipe away any lingering evidence of the tears that had dried on my face. Palming the activation stone for the lights as I stood up to greet the customer.

  With the lights on, several rows of shelves of various household sundries we had to sell were brightly illuminated. Scanning the area of the store that I could see over the shelves, I was puzzled when I couldn’t find anyone in the store that triggered the bell. In confusion, I called out softly to the empty room, “welcome to Price’s General Goods. Is there anything I can help you with?”

  After a handful of tense moments, a voice that was pitched very low and menacing called back, “yes young man, you can. I have come for a pint of your virgin’s blood.”

  It took me a second to process what the voice had said, but when my mind caught up, my face turned bright red in embarrassment, which quickly morphed into anger. Some bastard comes in here and chooses to insult me today, oh I wish I had a weapon of some kind, “get out of here before I send for the Glasden Guard!”

  The disembodied voice seemed to call from somewhere near to the front of the store with a note of pleasure, “please do put up a fight. I love it when virgin’s fight.”

  “That’s it!” I yelled at whatever thing was goading me. I grabbed the broom and started brandishing it in my hands as I stepped around the counter, “whatever you are, you definitely picked the wrong day to walk into my shop and start talking trash.”

  When I neared the front of the store, my bravado started to drain away, and I began questioning the sanity of my actions so far. It was extremely uncommon for monsters to find their way this far south of the border with the frontier, but it did happen from time to time. Right when common sense smacked me for being a fool and I was about to start slowly backing away from the unknown threat, a small furry creature came around a shelf and charged right into me.

  I froze in terror as the monster, that couldn’t be more than four feet tall, bore me to the ground growling, “I will take your blood myself!”

  I started screaming incoherently and throwing wild punches as the thing weaseled its hands around my waist. I felt it bury its head into my stomach and my legs began kicking at it in desperation, trying to dislodge it before it could sink its fangs into me.

  Eventually my, admittedly ineffectual, blows faltered when the gales of laughter that I could hear coming from the creature, whenever I was taking a breathing break from screaming my head off, registered in my mind as real mirth and not the evil cackles that I originally placed it as. Momentary confusion quickly gave way to disgust as my mind reprocessed the recent events. Kicking the thing over and over I started yelling, “get off me you little prick! Get off me right now or I swear by the Dungeons, I’ll go tell Haley about the shrine dedicated to her that you built in the forest!”

  The little monster started laughing even harder at my words, but he did finally roll off of me, “I got you good, you fucker! You better go change your pants after pissing yourself! You were so scared!” He paused as he tried to catch his breath, “oh man that was so awesome! This never gets old! Every day since you’ve been back, I make a point to scare the crap right out of you!”

  “Are you serious Marty? You’ve done this every day since I’ve been back?” Disgust that I was so gullible colored my voice as I started getting up from the floor.

  “Yuppers! Every single day! Personally, I think you not being able to remember anything is a real improvement,” Marty happily announced while climbing to his feet, “it really has made my life a lot better! It gives me the drive to be the best-me that I can be.”

  I couldn’t help myself and against my will, started laughing, as he stood there smiling up at me, “you really are the worst kind of friend Marty. I guess it is just as mom always said, I have terrible judgement.”

  “Speaking of your mom, is breakfast upstairs?” still chuckling I nodded to him and waved at the stairs behind me, “good! If I missed second breakfast, I think the ladies in the town would notice and start to complain,” he patted his stomach as he walked past me.

  Marty wasn’t fat by anyone’s estimat
ion, but every day he ate enough food to feed three people. A couple of years ago I overheard the mayor commenting that he would have to make a separate inventory line, specifically for Marty’s appetite, when he had food supplies set-aside from our village’s harvests so the village can survive a harsh winter.

  I paused and called to Marty before he reached the steps, “hey, I think my memories are coming back. I’ve started to remember some things about you.”

  “Really? That’s too bad,” he called back in mock sadness, “there goes all my fun.”

  “So, you failed the Khanri Trials too?” I asked him before he could resume plodding up the stairs.

  “Nope, I never took the Trials. Being a Khanri was always your dream Afton, not mine,” he resumed his walk back up the stairs and I heard him call to my parents before the door to the dining room shut behind him and cut off all noise.

  Marty never wanted to be a Khanri? No that wasn’t right. Some of my memories were starting to come back and I distinctly remembered some of the long nights that we spent talking about which Khanri were the best. When we were able to sleep over in each other’s homes as kids, our opinionated arguments over how cool or lame a certain ability was, occasionally graduated into fights. As more and more memories tied to Marty came flooding in, I started piecing the puzzle back together.

  I knelt on the ground near the front of the store and ran my fingers through my hair as I began to feel like I was I losing my mind. Every memory I had, screamed that everything that Marty and I have ever done, was for the eventual goal of taking the Trials. The memory of the voice that said, ‘If you fail the Trials, you die,’ resurfaced with a renewed sense of it being true. I began to be overcome by the sensation of something missing, like I was forgetting something very important.