by Brandon Chen
“That’s not true. I might not have known you for that long, but I know that you’re not nothing and that you don’t deserve this cruel treatment. You have been so kind to me to supply me with a place to stay and food and a home…. Maybe Yata knows why the others treat you badly! We can ask him,” she offered.
Keimaro pressed his back against the wall, locking the both of them in silence. Everyone treated him badly. Maybe Aika was right. If everyone treated him badly, then everyone must know why … right? So, maybe Yata would be able to tell him. It just seemed so wrong, considering he had done nothing to any of these people.
He sucked in a deep breath and pushed himself from the wall, smiling slightly at the princess as he nodded. Leaving the house again sure would be a drag, since he had to keep covering Aika up from everyone else. But he knew more than anything that he wanted to find out why it was that everyone hated him. To him, this journey trumped everything else. “Yeah, let’s go talk to him.”
Truth
In the distance stood two men wearing dark black cloaks that covered their bodies entirely. Their hoods were pulled over their heads. They stood upon a lush green hill, staring through the wards around Bakaara with wicked grins on their faces. “The civilians of Bakaara have been living underneath such weak barriers this entire time? I’m surprised that even the behemoths of the forest cannot break through. We should have no problem, though. Are you sure that the princess is located here, Tobimaru?”
The second cloaked figure sighed with a sound of annoyance in his voice. “Of course she is. There’s no other place she could be. Though, I don’t understand how she would be able to enter the barrier. But you can feel it, can’t you? Her aura. It’s easy to sense the aura of someone of royal blood.”
The first cloaked figure chuckled with a nod. “Yes. This is quite convenient since the next meteor should be falling nearby into the forest. And what else do I sense in this village? A surviving member of the Hayashi clan? Oh, the aura is so sinister and filled with so much hatred that it is far too obvious. One of your brethren, Tobimaru?”
Tobimaru rolled his eyes underneath the cowl of his cloak and decided to say nothing about the matter. “Our first objective should be to obtain the power cores from the meteor and then decide to move in on the princess after that. We shall figure out what to do about the survivor later. He is not yet mature, meaning that he shouldn’t prove to be a threat to us … yet.” He looked up into the afternoon sky, sighing as he turned away from the village before him. “Let’s go. There’s no point in dawdling here. We should try and pinpoint where the meteor should land so we can harness its power.”
“Yeah,” the first cloaked man muttered, “but if we decide to fight the Hayashi clan kid, can I take him?”
“By all means.”
***
Keimaro could see the prison from a distance, a small hut that probably contained only three or four cells. There weren’t many criminals in Bakaara, so there wasn’t a particular need for the prison at all. The guards used any sort of reason to jail someone, whether it be from stealing to getting into a minor fight, like Yata’s case. There was no restriction on visiting, so it was easy for Aika and Keimaro to walk through the open hut, past the guard, and stand before Yata’s cell.
The cell was rather small with simple iron bars. The bed itself looked like it was beaten up with ripped and used blankets that looked as if they hadn’t been washed in months. Yata sat on the floor on a ripped red carpet, glancing up as Keimaro and Aika walked in. He was leaning back against one of the cold stone walls. He had a bruise underneath his eye from the guard, but Keimaro knew that Yata had taken multiple beatings to the body as well.
Keimaro tossed an apple through the bars to his friend, who caught it and munched into it eagerly. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. You didn’t have to stand up for me either. I’m used to it.”
Yata twirled the apple in his hand and then raised an eyebrow at Keimaro with a light smile as he took a swift bite into the fruit. “Man, stop being such a little girl, Kei,” he said with a chuckle and sighed. “You don’t deserve to be treated that way. No one does.”
There was a moment of lasting silence that stretched out as Keimaro and Yata stared at each other. Keimaro finally blurted out, “So, why do they hate me?”
Yata remained silent, chewing the apple and swallowing slowly. When it became obvious he wouldn’t answer, Keimaro muttered, “You know, don’t you? There’s a reason why they treat me differently from others. They take advantage of me. Parents and teachers look the other way when I’m beaten up. If I was killed, people probably wouldn’t even care.” He reached out and gripped the iron bars of the cell, staring into Yata’s blue eyes. “I know you know. Please, tell me.”
Yata’s eyes widened at Keimaro’s words, and he broke eye contact. Before he could look away, Keimaro caught the despair in his eyes. He knew that look, though Yata was trying to hide it. He was trying to put a mask over his emotions to conceal them, just as Keimaro had done for most of his life.
“It’s not for me to tell,” Yata muttered simply. “The only thing that I can tell you is that it has something to do with your heritage. Haven’t you ever wondered why your last name is different from your parents’? You’re adopted. Have you never looked up your last name? Never been curious?”
“All documents regarding my last name have been burned and destroyed.”
“It’s against the law in Bakaara to even speak of your heritage,” Yata said. “Let alone tell you who you are. That would condone my death. I don’t intend on being executed or committing a crime while I’m already in jail.”
Keimaro squeezed the bars of the cell even tighter, his knuckles beginning to whiten from how hard he was gripping it. He had always known that he was adopted, but parents had avoided his questions. He’d found it odd that there were no records with the surname Hayashi, and he’d had no other way to find information—how could he, when he had no friends? Yata’s words filled him with dread and excitement. Why hadn’t he seen that his name could’ve been a reason behind why people treated him badly? What was the story behind the Hayashi name?
“What’s your last name?” Aika asked suddenly.
Yata and Keimaro were both silent as the two of them looked at her. “Wait, you can’t tell—!” Yata began, but Keimaro interrupted him.
“I’m Keimaro Hayashi.”
Aika gasped and brought her hands to her lips, covering her mouth. “Y-You’re—”
“Aika, you can’t—”
“Shut the hell up!” Keimaro yelled, and Yata jumped backward. Keimaro’s eyes were no longer the dark color that they had been. Now they were glowing red as if they belonged to a demon rather than a human. He stood there with his black hair coming down over his eyes and snarled, “Don’t interfere.”
Keimaro’s eyes returned to their normal dark color as he finally turned back to face Aika. “What is it? What’s wrong with my name? Who was my family?”
Aika paused, biting her bottom lip. She looked at Yata, who shook his head in disapproval, but the princess spoke anyway. “The Hayashi clan was an entire clan that was massacred during the Hayashi clan genocide. Every single member was brutally murdered by the command of the gods. The High Priests delivered the message that the Hayashi clan were supposedly descendants of demons. The people believed them. Who wouldn’t? When a member of the Hayashi clan matures to their full age, they obtain a power known as the Shokugan. I’ve never seen it for myself, but I studied about it in the libraries. It’s an eye that looks exactly like that of a demon and glows bright red when the Hayashi clan member becomes angry, emotional, or filled with hate. Stronger members of the Hayashi clan are able to control whenever their eyes turn that way because it allows them to see something practically before it happens, giving them an edge in combat.”
Yata averted his eyes and shuffled his feet as Aika paused.
“Faar went in and massacred every sin
gle member of the Hayashi clan. It was said that the Hayashi clan was extinct. I don’t understand how it’s possible that you’re even alive…,” Aika said with a gulp, putting her hands behind her back as she looked down at the ground, feeling guilty.
Keimaro’s lips quivered as he heard the words of his family’s tragedy. His hands tightened on the rusty bars. They had lied to him this whole time. Everyone! Everything was false! Everyone hated him because he was labeled a demon. Everyone wanted him dead, so he would be just like the rest of his real family. He exhaled a deep breath and blinked a few tears that streaked down his cheeks but didn’t say anything.
“Kei…,” Yata said with a sigh, “look, not everyone knows the full story to that extent, but—”
“Everyone thinks I’m trash, that I’m some monster,” Keimaro scoffed and walked past Aika. He looked to see a guard standing outside of the hut with a wooden club gripped in his hand. It was obvious that the man had been listening to their conversation the entire time. The young boy eyed the club, and then his eyes flickered back to the guard’s eyes, which were just like everyone else’s. They were just like Buu’s, just like the bullies’, just like his father’s. No one in this village cared about his existence.
“It seems you know everything now, hmm? Demon child.”
Keimaro’s eyes flashed bright red, and he leapt into the air in a single flash of movement, all fear drained from his bones. He smashed his fist solidly into the man’s face, ignoring his scream of agony. He stomped his foot downward on the guard’s wrist, forcing him to loosen his grip on the club. Keimaro grabbed the club from the man and watched as the guard tried to lash out and grab him. But he could already tell what the man was thinking, what he was about to do. Everything that this insignificant human did was processed and examined by Keimaro. The contracting of his tendons and flexing of certain muscles—Keimaro saw it all, and he still had enough time to think of how he would counter it. He swung the club and smashed it into the man’s hand that lashed out at him, breaking the man’s wrist in a clean snap. Then he whipped the club downward and smacked the man upon the top of his head with a loud crack, leaving the man unconscious.
This was it. He wasn’t about to wait years to learn to fight. He would leave this horrible village of Bakaara now. He couldn’t stand one more minute in this place. What was the point in living in such a terrible place where the inhabitants mistreated him for something that was out of his control? Had all those fourteen years of his life been wasted in solitude because of his heritage? Because he was believed to be a descendant of a demon? How foolish. He was breathing heavily as he looked down at the unconscious man before him. He clenched his hands into tight fists. A demon, such a thing was absurd. There was no such thing! Right?
Leaving Aika and Yata behind, Keimaro stormed to his house. His heart pounded as he approached his settlement. His family had hid his true heritage from him. His father was even one of the people who thought that he was a demon. He spotted his father at the side of the house, whirling a sword about.
He slowly straightened his back as he saw Keimaro approaching him. “Son, I’ve been waiting for your arrival!” he called out with a light smile but frowned when Keimaro stopped in front of him. “What’s with the look?”
“Heh…,” Keimaro muttered, looking down at the ground, “it’s really funny that you called me that.”
“Called you what?”
“Son,” Keimaro growled, glancing up to meet his father’s eyes. “You called me son, but you aren’t even my dad. You may have raised me, but where are my real parents, the members of the Hayashi clan? Where are the descendants of demons, huh, father? Did you kill them? And you couldn’t bring yourself to kill an innocent child, so you took me in. Is that what happened?”
His father stood there completely frozen with shock and blinked a few times. “Kei … I….”
“How dare you ever call me your son?” Keimaro roared, slamming his fist against the side of the building. Blood formed on his scraped knuckles, but he bit his lip to ignore the pain. His heart was racing. “Every word you’ve ever told me my entire life has been a lie. You never told me a single thing about my real family. You hid the massacre from me the entire time. When did you plan on telling me? You probably were the one who killed my true parents!”
“Who told you about the massacre, Kei?” his father demanded, reaching to touch his shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” Keimaro snarled with hostility, slapping his father’s hand away. He heard the door close and glanced over his shoulder to find his mother standing there with Mai. He didn’t care. Normally, Mai’s presence would have kept him from yelling. He cared for her more than anyone else. But right now, nothing mattered. “Stop acting like you’re my parent. You never were from the start!”
“Kei, you don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I don’t? This at least explains why you always look the other way when something happens to me,” Keimaro snapped. “This explains why you have been such a terrible father my entire life. You’ve never been there for me.” Tears began to form in the corner of his eyes. “My suffering has been your fault all along.”
“The Hayashi clan was ordered by international law to be completely purged. Every single member of the Hayashi clan was therefore killed. You are lucky to even be alive!” his father exclaimed and sighed. “Please, Kei … just calm down. Let’s talk about this.”
“Calm down?” Keimaro said with a chuckle, a shadow covering his hatred-filled eyes. “Why the hell should I calm down? All of you, every single last person in this damn village, is scum!” His eyes were glowing bright red with the power of the Shokugan, filling his father with fear and rooting him to the earth. “I am going to leave this village and go and see the world. I finally understand why I’ve always been undermined and looked down upon my entire life.” He turned and began to sprint away, tears forming in his eyes as he ran past his mother, who called out his name. “Never think of me as your son ever again!” Keimaro yelled, dashing off into the distance, across the lush green plains of Bakaara and outside of the shield. He never wanted to stop.
But he did. Tired, exhausted, and depressed, Keimaro pressed his back against the bark of the apple tree outside of the village, grieving in silence. Night was beginning to reign over the world, blanketing it in darkness. He ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he had been a little too harsh to his family. No, they weren’t his family. They never had been. They had taken care of him just because they couldn’t bring themselves to kill him at a young age. It was all so pathetic! Everyone in Bakaara was pathetic. Who would believe that a human could be half demon?
“Huh,” he scoffed in the silence of the night. “What a legend.”
After hours of sitting in isolation, the sound of shuffling grass caught Keimaro’s attention. He glanced up and saw Yata and Aika walking toward him from the flat plains outside of Bakaara. They ascended the hill to sit down beside him. He made no effort to stop them, but he didn’t speak to them either. His emotions had drained with his tears in the hours he’d spent weeping.
“Are you okay, Kei?” Yata asked, plopping down on the grass beside Keimaro.
“How did you escape?” Keimaro muttered, ignoring Yata’s question. He stared forward, unable to meet Yata’s eyes. Instead, he watched as Aika sat down on the other side of him and placed her hand on his shoulder as a form of reassurance. He didn’t bother moving the hand but didn’t feel any better either.
“You knocked the guard unconscious in anger, and Aika just took the keys and got me unlocked. Then we came out here to find you. We went to your house and saw your mom crying, so we figured you’d be here. We brought some weapons, in case you went into the forest,” Yata muttered, holding two meager iron clubs. “They aren’t really much, but we figured that since we were going after you, we might as well come armed.”
“You thought it was a smart idea to bring the princess out of the barrier of Bakaara?” Keimar
o said with a weak chuckle, rubbing his left eye with the back of his hand. “Why would you come after me into the forest? We’ve known each other for such a short time. Why would you risk your life to come after me?”
“Because we made a promise that we would go together,”
Keimaro was silent as he glanced up at the sky. Yata was right. A promise was a promise. It was at that moment he saw a glowing star streaking across the sky and frowned, realizing that the star was moving much faster than normal. “Is that a shooting star?”
“Yeah,” Aika said with a bright smile, “quick, make a wish!”
What would Keimaro wish for? Freedom. Freedom from these terrible lies that haunted his life. Freedom from these restricting chains that prevented him from seeing the world. He wished that he could leave Bakaara and find this freedom and that he would obtain power in order to claim vengeance on those who undermined him.
“Wait, why is that star moving so fast?” Yata said with a blink, and the three of them noticed that the projectile was coming in their direction. Their eyes widened when they saw a massive glowing blue light streak through the night sky and down toward the forest, smashing into the earth. The ground quaked and rumbled from the force of the meteor. Trees were ripped out of the ground from their very roots and toppled over from the enormous force of the alien object, sending dust everywhere. A moment later, a beam of glowing white light burst from the area and shot off into the dark night sky, piercing the heavens.
Keimaro pushed himself to his feet and glanced off into the forest, his heart pounding furiously. There was no way…. Something had fallen right out of the sky! He took a few steps forward and saw that the beam from the area somehow hit the sky as if it were solid. Radiating waves of vibrant colors filled the dark night, like ripples in the sky. “It landed over there. Quick, Yata! Hand me one of those clubs. We’re going to check it out.”