by J. K. Jones
Ryu bows to both of them, stepping aside so that they can come in.
Sensei Musashi circles the room, eyes roaming everywhere before they land back on Ryu. “You cannot beat them,” he says slowly. “I’ve been watching you…. they are too strong…. you are too weak…. I cannot train a soldier who is weak in body and spirit. No Omega could ever keep up with an Alpha…especially one coming from such an inferior background as the Filthy Claws…” He goes quiet for a moment. “You will need to betray your clan. Will you do it? When the test comes can you fight against them and stand with us? I don’t think so. You don’t have what it takes…. I am sorry Ryu….”
No—if Sensei Musashi sends him away Amaya will be crushed. He would forever carry the shame of being kicked out of the Silvercrest regiment. His eyes widen, Ryu falls to his feet, prostrating himself deeply, pressing his forehead to the floor. “Please—I am—I can keep up—”
“You have not passed a single class. I have no choice. I will send you home—”
“I will train him.”
Ryu’s breath hitches.
Sensei Musashi turns to him curiously, frowning deeply. “It’s not suitable. You are the next Alpha of the Silvercrest Howlers, to be associated with an Omega—”
“I will train him.”
His voice is steely, rippling with stubborn determination. Ryu nearly shudders, the urge to submit courses through him.
Sensei Musashi scratches his head. “I see.” Then he turns pensively. “That is why you asked to come along?” He chuckles to himself. “Very well. One month. If there is no improvement, I will have to send you home Ryu.”
Ryu keeps his head bowed as Sensei Musashi leaves the room.
“Rise,” Micah says, his voice smooth and soft.
Ryu gets up gingerly, his side and knees aching from being on the floor. They sit on the bed; Ryu twiddles his thumbs nervously. “Thank you. For saving me and helping me with Sensei Musashi. I will not let you down.”
Micah stares at him, eyes deeper than the blackest pits. “No need. I will help you. We will train together. Work hard and you will succeed.”
Ryu ducks his head, a light blush covering his face.
“Thank you.” He looks up from his eyelashes, noticing the strange way Micah watches him as if was trying to solve a complicated puzzle.
“Here.” Micah reaches into his pocket and takes out a small candy.
Ryu observes it with large eyes, it’s in lovely red packaging. “Thank you.” He takes it. “I thought we couldn’t have candies.”
Micah smiles ruefully. “We can’t. I stole it.”
A beat. “From Sensei Musashi.”
They stare at each other, before busting out laughing. Ryu laughs long and hard, picturing Sensei Musashi’s face when he finds that his beloved candy is missing and not only that but that it was taken by Micah.
Micah smiles then too, genuinely it seems. Ryu has never seen him smile. To say that it is radiant would be an understatement. Micah recounts how he stole the candy, to which Ryu listens, grin growing with each passing moment.
He hopes they can be friends.
Ryu it’s been a long time since he’s had a friend.
Chapter 17
Ryu trains hard and fast over the next couple of weeks. Micah is by all accounts ruthless; he does not let up even for a moment. Ryu runs drills, he shifts on command, he learns proper archery, calligraphy, Micah grunts and groans, forcing Ryu to always focus. He holds his arms properly, guiding them into formation when he holds the bow, they spar late in the evenings, Micah teaches him tips and tricks on how to disable his opponents, he uses a black wooden Katana to demonstrate his fighting style and attack techniques.
They meet in the training room, always under the strict supervision of Sensei Musashi, who occasionally chimes in when he sees Micah struggling, or offers tips on how they can both better their forms. It’s a grueling process, but somehow, someway he makes it through.
Since Micah started training him, Alhazred doesn’t dare bother him anymore. He keeps his distance, making sure never to be in the same room with Ryu, aside from having class together. It lifts his heart, seeing Alhazred shrink away, the other kids slowly following his lead.
Ryu puts everything into his training.
He spends day and night trying to perfect the fighting style of the Silvercrest Howlers. At night, he dreams that he is the greatest wolf they have ever seen. Not Ryu from Filthy Claws. But someone else—someone better. These dreams propel him forward, onwards to a new aggressive mania where he sleeps, eats, and breathes his training.
Sensei Musashi notices this—his keen eyes miss nothing in Ryu’s passionate cries, to the fluid strikes of his wooden Katana. He sees potential, something that faded through the abuse Ryu endured during his first weeks here. Sensei Musashi steps in more, singles him out more—teaches him more and then begins to favor Ryu above the rest.
“You’re a good fighter,” Sensei Musashi Musashi says, the sun is rising low above the training grounds. Both Micah and Ryu are covered in a thin line of sweat. Ryu looks to the mountains in the east, the sun a beautiful tangerine, cresting the hilltops, where clouds move in shoals. They are a symphony of blues, violets, reds, and golds, heavens streaked with silvers and greys.
Ryu is stronger now.
He feels the muscles in his arms flex, and bulge with each movement. He isn’t as big as Micah yet, however, his gifts lie in speed and agility. Sensei Musashi Musashi looks at him now with pride in his eyes and his heart, he gazes fervently at Ryu, nearly astounded.
An Omega learning to train.
Such things were simply unheard of. Yet here he was. With everyone expecting him to fail. Sensei Musashi, smiles softly, his bald head glistening in the glowing sun.
“The word samurai originally meant “one who serves,” and referred to men of noble birth assigned to guard members of the Imperial Silvercrest Court. You must not allow yourself to wander astray, there is passion in your eyes, the power behind your swings. However, without bones, the head cannot rest on top of the spin, nor hands move, nor feet stand. The backbone of Bushidō must always be your guide. You must always stand up for what is right, even if you stand alone.”
Ryu and Micah bow deeply. “Yes, Sensei!”
Sensei Musashi smiles at them. “You boys will serve us well.”
-
By the time the next level comes, Ryu is ready.
He’s been training for six months with Ryu and Micah, both of them perfecting their forms and often being taught how to take their training to the next level by Sensei Musashi.
It’s mid-year before Sensei Musashi announces that within four years, there will be a Wolf tournament. Nobles will be watching their class, along with the Alpha of the Silvercrest clan. After hearing this, several boys break out in nervous whispers and hives. To have the Alpha of their clan watch their simple tournament is certainly the greatest honor.
When the day arrives, Ryu is edgy. His mind racing over all the ways he can cause dishonor to Amaya. What if he fails? What if he makes a big mistake? Or worse—what if he wins? Those boys left him alone, for the time being, but if he won then they would surely see him as a threat.
Ryu ponders this for a long time.
He sits on his bed, wringing his hands together anxiously. It's late in the night when he hears a knock on his bedroom door. Ryu opens it, and gasps when he sees Micah standing there.
Ryu’s eyes widen. Oh no—this isn’t right. Micah shouldn’t be here, especially alone with an Omega. Ryu is ready to say that—to tell Micah that he needs to leave because they are unsupervised as it as late at night. However, something about his expression stops him.
Micah stands there looking lost, frightened almost before he beckons Ryu to follow him outside. They walk for several miles, there is a small forest outside of the training grounds which they primarily use to shift and run drills in their wolf forms.
Micah stops suddenly, keeping his back towards Ryu.
Ryu bites his lip, wondering why Micah brought him here. It’s strange enough that he showed up at his dorm room late at night. Perhaps, something happened? He’s just about to ask but Micah starts speaking.
“Do you know how she died?”
His mother? Ryu frowns, not sure if he ever heard the story before. All he knows is that his mother had been traveling before she was surrounded by their enemies and killed. “No.”
“They cut off her head and gave it back to us,” Micah clenches his fists tightly. At age fourteen he was incredibly tall, lanky, and slowly gaining muscle. “Now my father wants to help them. The Filthy Claws. He wants them to succeed.” Micah grits his teeth. “I hate them. I hate them all.”
Ryu understands the bitterness in his voice, he can hear it with each ragged breath. He would hate them all too if they did that to him.
“Yet—I—we are friends. It’s confusing sometimes. I don’t like it.”
Ryu brows furrow, not understanding what he means. What does he have to do with his mother’s death? “Micah—I don’t understand.” His voice is small, weak almost. What is he talking about?
“You cannot tell anyone we met.” Micah turns to him abruptly. “You can’t tell anyone—nobody can know I—talk to you.”
Ryu crumbles then, eyes stinging with tears. He hasn’t told anyone. For starters, nobody would believe him and on top of that, aside from training Micah doesn’t speak to him—he doesn’t even look at him. They are strangers outside of their little bubble. Ryu has already accepted that. However, to hear him say it hurts more than words could ever describe.
Ryu has always been alone.
However, with Micah, he thought they were friends. “Okay…. of course, Alpha.”
Micah clenches his jaw. “Don’t call me that.”
What should he call him then? Ryu doesn’t understand what’s going on at all. Does Micah still want to train with him? Did he do it out of pity? Now that Ryu was better, he wanted to distance himself from him. That is understandable. It is to be expected. Micah would become their Alpha one day; he could not lower himself to associate with a servant.
Ryu bows deeply. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean any offense. I am thankful for everything that you’ve done. I won’t let you down. If you wish to cut ties, I will be grateful—”
“I do not wish to cut ties,” Micah spits angrily. “They killed my mother. I hate them for that. I should have hated you for that—Filthy Claws—they are the reason she is dead!”
Oh.
The war between the Filthy Claws and the Silvercrest Howlers has been raging for centuries, even recently it was rumored Michael would be going there himself, to reinstate the occupation as it has fallen to ruin due to the corruption of several nobles in the Silvercrest Clan.
Ryu didn’t know what to say. He hasn’t seen his home for several years; he barely remembers the rancid stench of decay or the warehouse he shared with Kenyon.
“I don’t—hate you.” Micah turns around then, facing him. “I just—nobody can know, okay?”
“Sure.” Ryu nods frantically. “I won’t say anything. I promise.”
“Good,” Micah says, then offers a small smile. “Shift with me?”
Ryu agrees, running to the small bush to take off his clothes and shift into his wolf form. It doesn’t take long; he feels the familiar heat burn through his body before he emerges from the bush as a tiny black wolf with grey eyes.
Micah is already waiting.
His wolf is white as snow, fur short over his body and longer at the neck, his coat looks smooth and shiny. Micah's stance is confident, body muscular and powerful, his eyes blaze a stunning yellow, luminous in the moonlight.
They begin racing, Micah playfully snipping at Ryu’s heels. Micah regards him fleetingly, starting with a small jog before onward into a full sprint, he huffs and puffs, climbing the steeping hills, with no apparent effort. Since Micah is much bigger, he slows his pace for Ryu to keep up and together they tear across the mountainside.
Chapter 18
On the Road
Yokohama 21’
Present-day….
Ryu crouches, picking up soil and rubbing it between two fingers. He sniffs it, before tossing it away and standing up.
Upon the forest floor lie ties of years past, the seasons are harsh, stripping away oak and bark, outer layers lay bare. It's beautiful. They look like driftwood, twisting and spiraling, patterns of waves, even the wood looks like battered rocks at sea, the moss almost like kelp.
Ryu runs his hand through his hair, taking in the strong smell of pine and turpentine. The trees are tall, hulking, and oppressive, their branches go on for endless miles.
His sharp eyes miss nothing. Birds and critters sprint about, the wind blows cool breezes. The scent of White Sage fills his nostrils enticingly.
It’s nightfall, they’ve been traveling for several hours through the cover of darkness in the forest. Their eyes are luminous, flashing yellow and blue, night vision for wolves was always the best.
Ryu keeps quiet, watching the surrounding area carefully. They are supposed to meet the other wolves to join their expedition in finding a cure.
The ground itself is soft, damp like it rained in the area earlier. Which could be good or bad, depending on how he looks at it. If things went according to plan, then they would be in the Outlands by the next morning.
Micah keeps his face blank, hands clasped in front of him.
Ryu drops the dirt, tastes the air, smelling the scent of pine and oak. Then he hears it, footsteps approach; he grips his Katana, ready for anything.
Through the clearing walks several wolves.
Micah stands tall, regal, like a tree, he does not move. They come to him, each of them bowing respectively and shaking his hand.
The tallest one steps forward. “Alpha, my name is Caine, from the Impure Canines, this is my pack brother Fermin.” He gestures to the man beside him. “Thank you for having us.”
“Pleasure,” Micah replies impassively.
“Alpha.” Another man steps forward. “My name is Rohan, from the Thunder Hunters, and this my pack brother Ricky. Thank you for having us. I pray the Gods will keep us safe on our journey.”
“Byakuren.” Another wolf steps forward, they clasp hands tightly. “It’s been too long.”
Micah smiles. “Far too long Shamus.”
“This is my pack brother Weiss from the Midnight Nightstalker’s Clan. Thank you for having us.” They both bow deeply.
Ryu rolls his eyes.
This shit could go on for hours. He walks away from the group, sniffing the area and keeping an eye on his surroundings. They’ve officially left the Silvercrest boundaries, which meant they were fair game to any rogue wolves or Lycans that crossed their path.
Ryu didn’t like lingering out in the open like this. They need to get a move on. Amaya is growing sicker by the day.
“I knew I recognized you,” a voice says behind him.
Ryu frowns, then turns to face him.
The man looks different with his clothes on. He wears black combat gear with the Impure Canines coat of arms on his right sleeve. He’s attractive, with dark hair and dark eyes, smooth skin, rippling pectorals. “Fermin, remember?”
Just barely.
However, Ryu doesn’t say that. He doesn’t say anything. It’s a minor headache to have someone he fucked close by, but that doesn’t mean anything. It was just sex. Nothing more and nothing less.
He never understood why Alphas always tend to act so overly familiar afterward.
“What are you doing here?” Fermin asks when the silence stretches too long. “I thought—you smelled like an exile. However, for some reason, your Māku is stronger now….”
Ryu still says nothing, watching him closely.
“Look, I’m sorry about that comment I made earlier…. I was mad…you see….no Omega has ever dismissed me—”
“Everything alright?”
Micah
interrupts them, flanked by Deryn and Trmon.