by Brandon Chen
Buu’s fists barraged him, each blow coming from a different direction. There was no particular pattern to his attacks; Keimaro had made sense of that already. After so many times in the arena, Buu probably knew that having a pattern was what opponents could use to dodge his attacks. But without a pattern, it was literally impossible to avoid.
Keimaro grunted, his body furiously being thrashed about as he tried to maneuver and dodge the attacks in time. Yes, his Shokugan eyes allowed for him to see the attacks long before they even reached him, but it was physically strenuous for him to dodge such fast and sudden attacks. His head tilted to the side as a fist flew past his cheek once more, but the second blow coming at his stomach was unavoidable. The iron sank into his abdomen, and he lurched forward, feeling as if all the beer he had just drunk was going to come up. He spat saliva out onto the ground as his breath was emptied from his lungs. His hands grasped onto Buu’s forearm and began to release intense heat onto his flesh, burning into his skin.
Buu yelped in pain and vanished from Keimaro’s grip before the burn got too serious. He appeared behind Keimaro with a downward kick that cracked down on Keimaro’s back, forcing the boy onto his knees. The sly teleporter flipped through the air and gripped both of his gauntlets, coming down with a crashing blow toward Keimaro’s skull with an evil grin across his face. His expression changed as a wall of flames expanded outward from Keimaro’s body. He teleported away as fast as he could, gasping as he saw the bottoms of his pants singed from the flame. He beat at any small fires that clung to his clothes and glared at Keimaro. “Hey, you’ve got some neat tricks. Where’d you get that power, huh? Something that the old man handed down to you? You were always such a secretive fellow.”
Keimaro grasped his stomach; his diaphragm felt as if it were pulsing, and his ribs burned with pain. He winced as he pushed himself onto his feet once more with a shake of his head. He stood tall, the crowd cheering in response. He cracked his neck a few times.
“I remember vividly now. I saw them kill your mother,” Buu said with a chuckle. “You know, I just happened to pass by. They might’ve had some fun with her, too, those soldiers. I don’t know, but I turned away and kept walking so that I could warn my own family. But that’s unfortunate for your mother. Why weren’t you there for her, huh, Keimaro?” he called out, and the crowd fell silent as they waited for Keimaro’s response. Why weren’t you there?
Keimaro could take any hateful words, but lies like that made him want to murder Buu. He moved forward, his eyes glowing like two coals dipped in molten lava. Smoke rose off of his body as flames generated along his fist. No words could leave his mouth for fear that he might accidently release a jet of flame outward instead. Make him pay for everything that he’s done to you, a voice boomed in his head.
“Oh, the demon comes to his senses, huh?” Buu yelled, sprinting forward as he leapt into the air. “You deserve to die. It is all your fault that Bakaara is gone, you stupid, insolent bastard of a child! Your mother deserved every bit of pain she got from those soldiers for raising a child straight from the depths of hell!” His image vanished.
Keimaro’s eyes could see everything that happened. He saw the magic somehow. A glowing, swirling void in the air sucked Buu’s body into the hole, making him vanish in an instant. His knuckles cracked from how hard he clenched his fist, and he spun around, seeing the portal reappear behind him. With unnatural clarity, he rocketed his fist outward, rotating it before Buu had even appeared. When the boy did, he met a fist solidly to the face. There was a crack as the fire-filled fist collided with Buu’s face, Keimaro’s body rotating as he drove his opponent straight into the ground with full force. The boy felt drained of energy, but his body was singing with wrath he wanted to unleash on Buu, eager to barrage the former bully with fire-filled punches and tear him apart after what he had said.
But Keimaro did nothing more. Instead, his demonic eyes glared straight into the blue pools of Buu, the boy shaking as blood streamed down from his broken nose. Small burns marked his cheeks, and he stared, trembling, awaiting more blows to rain down on him. None came.
Keimaro knew that Buu could no longer move after a blow like that. In fact, he was impressed that the boy was still conscious. The silence dragged out for a moment longer before the crowd roared in approval, the earth thundering from their bellows of amusement. The boy stared down at Buu with a sullen look before Aladdin rushed to his side and thrust his limp hand into the air to claim the victory.
In his heart, he felt no such victory. All he felt was pain at the reminder of his mother’s fate. He didn’t believe that she had been abused, but her death was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Why weren’t you there for your own mother when she needed you most? Keimaro lowered his head, looking away from his opponent. Buu stared at him weakly. He felt that perhaps he had gone too far.
“Keimaro Hayashi,” Yuri boomed, his roar silencing every single assassin that had taken the time to watch the battle. They all shrank away as the werewolf stomped forward down the steps of the stands and locked gazes with Keimaro, glaring at him with his beastly eyes. “And what on earth do you think you’re doing? You know we have plans for tonight. Why do you insist on risking injury?”
“I was having a reunion,” Keimaro muttered, pulling his arm from Aladdin’s and grabbing his clothing from the noble. He slid on his shirt and threw on his cloak, his cape flapping behind him as he walked forward to the stands, looking up at Yuri. The ten-foot walls were all that separated them. “So? How might I help you?”
Yuri simply stared at him and rolled his eyes. “We have something that we need to show you. It’s confidential. Meet me on the top floor immediately.”
***
As he walked up the long spiral stairs, Keimaro was lectured on how he should’ve been resting and eating rather than fighting in the arena. All he could do was block out Yuri’s words and think about how annoying it was to walk up all these stairs. He wished they had just used the teleporting platform like when he’d first arrived at the mansion. He wiped some sweat off of his brow, and Yuri stopped at the top floor, looking at a servant passing by. Keimaro hadn’t even been aware that the mansion had servants. Then again, he supposed that it made sense, since Z had to be rich to afford all of these magic rooms.
“Your servant will lead you to the private bathing house. It’s indoors, so I warn you to bring a torch—and more than one, at that. Otherwise, it could get quite dark if the water accidently puts out the first one,” Yuri said with a shrug. “Not the best experience and not the most pleasant bath either. Anyway, make sure to come to me at the infirmary once you’ve cleaned yourself up. We have something to show you.”
The servant wore a black dress that stopped mid-thigh, while white stockings stretched up several inches past her knees. Her long, brown hair hung down perfectly combed like a princess’s without a single knot in it. Her hazel eyes averted from Keimaro as her cheeks flushed red. She held her hands behind her back shyly, inadvertently drawing attention to the red bow at the top of her breasts that kept her dress together. She definitely didn’t seem like the type who would normally be a maid. In fact, she already looked quite shaken just from wearing the dress. Perhaps it’s her first day?
“Around here,” Yuri said, “being a servant for a day or a week is typically a punishment for the assassins. Mika here tried to steal food from the kitchens at midnight.” He patted her head gently as if she were some type of a dog, causing her to pale and knit her eyebrows. “Make sure not to embarrass her. She hates that. Though she can’t do anything about it today, she will make you pay for humiliation afterward. Isn’t that right, Mika?”
“I’ll destroy you,” Mika muttered, crossing her arms with an angry pout.
Yuri chuckled and gave Keimaro a small wave before he walked off.
Keimaro blinked a few times as he found himself left alone with Mika. He scratched his neck gently. “Uh … so….”
“Just come with me,” Mika muttered as
sertively and walked off down the hallway with a towel in her hands.
Keimaro blinked a few times, watching the sway of her hips as she scampered down the hallway. He sighed, sliding his hands into his pockets as he walked after her. He followed her into a room, unsurprised to find himself in some type of hot spring, despite the fact that they were inside of the mansion. Rocks surrounded a rather large pool of water with steam rising into the air. A white artificial light floated in the air, shining down into the bath. It would seem that he wouldn’t need a torch after all. The boy beamed as he looked at Mika.
“This place never ceases to amaze me,” he said with a radiant smile. She simply left the towel and quickly stumbled past Keimaro, fleeing to the hallway. He watched her for a moment, not sure what he had done to repel her. He closed his eyes and turned away, closing the door behind him. He sighed as half the room was encased in shadows that crept along his feet.
The boy undressed and left his cloak and shirt on the floor before stepping into the hot springs. The water felt natural and clean—and scalding hot. It took several minutes for him to ease himself in, but when he finally did, he was completely relaxed. He exhaled as he leaned back against the side of the springs, feeling the cool air evaporate the hot water off of his skin. The steam drifted upward, obscuring his vision, creating a screen around him. The rocks that surrounded the hot springs were smooth and, oddly enough, felt more like pillows than they did rocks. Leaning back and relaxing, he looked blankly at the clear waters before him and imagined himself in front of an ocean, just like he had read about in books when he had lived in Bakaara. Ah, if the Bakaara massacre never happened, I could be pursuing my dream of becoming an explorer rather than an assassin. It’s hard to say it, but I miss the old days in Bakaara.
He sighed. Although he knew that being associated with this organization benefitted him, he felt like an outsider already—shunned, as he had been in his youth. From the stares he received from other assassins, he was clearly the hot topic of the hour. Without a doubt, he would get more of a reputation after his showdown with Buu. From Mika’s reaction, fear of him was arising in the hearts of other assassins. Perhaps he had come across as a bully? He hadn’t wanted that. He’d never wanted anyone to misjudge him this way. He closed his eyes. This felt like Bakaara all over again. Everyone had a dark perception of him, and he’d been here only a day!
“Why do you care so much about other people’s opinions?”
Keimaro’s head snapped up, his eyes widening. From the dark shadows of the room, a figure emerged. It was another version of him, except with the Shokugan activated. His eyes were red and glowing angrily, and the clone wore an evil smile upon his face. Keimaro’s heart pounded with uncertainty—was he was just seeing things, or was this doppelganger an actual physical being? He stayed frozen in the hot springs, unmoving.
“What, cat got your tongue?” the clone said with an amused smirk, putting a hand on his hip. He wore his cloak and all of his clothing, but the resemblance was purely physical. The doppelganger scoffed, his attitude clearly different from the original Keimaro’s. “Your objective here is revenge! Not to make friends, is it? Who the hell cares what these other people think of you? What matters is that you use them to get what you want.”
“No,” Keimaro muttered. “I’m not just here for revenge. I’m also here to change humanity’s views on the Hayashi clan! If everyone fears me, then I won’t be accomplishing anything! I’ll still be a monster in their eyes, and nothing will have changed from four years ago!” he exclaimed. “Who are you?”
“I’m you,” the clone said with a chuckle, his eyes flashing bright red. “The real you. The one who is set on his goal. The one who is willing to do anything in order to destroy his enemies and claim Hayashi clan dominance over the human civilization.”
“The Hayashi clan isn’t dominant!”
“Why is it that we are faster, stronger, and better than other humans, then?” The clone paced back and forth as he spoke, a smile printed on his face. He never stopped watching Keimaro. “Tell me. Why are we able to destroy entire armies of humans alone? Why do the gods want us extinct? Why is it unfair for us to live on this earth? Why do other humans see us as monsters? Haven’t you ever asked yourselves these questions? Oh, of course, you have. After all, I would know,” he said, stopping in front of Keimaro so that he was looking down on the naked boy. “It’s because we aren’t human. We are a whole race separate from humanity. We are an improved version, and the gods knew it was unfair for us to share the same land with their prized, inferior creations, the humans. That’s why they called for our elimination, Keimaro. That is why our mother and father are dead! Our true parents, not those fake guardians that didn’t give a single crap about us.”
Keimaro lowered his head, glaring at the clone. “You’ve said enough.”
The clone wasn’t done. “Our lives are ruined by humanity, yet you want to be friends with them, don’t you? You’re soft. You want these humans to accept you as one of them, huh? Why would you want that? It was humans that killed your new mother, too, and obliterated your village. It was humanity that declared that your entire clan be annihilated! All of the pain that you’ve experienced in your life,” he cackled with laughter, tilting his head back as he did so, “has been because of humans! So why in hell’s name do you wanna side with a race as disgusting as them?”
“Shut up!” Keimaro growled, swiping his hand. A burst of flame roared outward at the clone. In an instant, the image shimmered and vanished into thin air. The boy’s heart was thumping rapidly and he was gasping when Mika threw the door open, her eyes wide with fear. With a glance, she saw that the towel had caught fire and quickly flicked her wrist. Water came to life from the springs and flowed freely through the air to touch upon the flames. The flow doused the fire’s rage, leaving nothing but smothering smoke.
Mika exhaled and turned to face Keimaro with a frown. “What happened? I was worried! Why were you yelling? Who were you talking to?”
Keimaro blinked and realized that the entire thing had been an illusion. Was he going mad? Something like that had never happened before. He shook his head and sighed. “No, it’s nothing,” he muttered. He climbed out of the springs, water dripping off of his body.
Mika squealed and turned away, her hands folded over her lap as a rosy blush bloomed on her cheeks. “Cover yourself up before you get up like that!” she exclaimed, rushing out of the room.
Keimaro watched her for a moment and chuckled to himself, picking up the ashy towel. He dried himself and put his clothes back on, zipping up the front of his cloak. He cracked his neck, walking to the doorway of the room, where he saw Mika waiting outside to lead him to his next destination. He gave her a small nod before he turned back to glance into the darkness of the hot springs. What on earth had that incident been? Was he going insane? I should tell Yata about this. But, at the same time, a part of him didn’t want to. Illusions would make Yata worry about him and make him cautious. He could see Yata urging him not to take part in tonight’s assassination.
He blinked and closed the door behind him, giving Mika a small smile. He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to explain why he’d had the sudden outburst moments before. In the back of his mind, there was a slight worry because, for once, it seemed that Keimaro was powerless.
***
Keimaro stared in disbelief at what Yuri had to show him. His eyes were widened and his teeth gritted together. His hands shook furiously at his side as he saw a skinny young girl who bore a striking similarity to the man he had seen in the poor side of the city. She looked so malnourished that he found it hard to even look at her without feeling empathy. Where had they gotten her, and how was she important to the organization? The closer he looked, the more certain he grew that he recognized this girl. She was the one that Yata and Gavin had brought through the front door of Zylon’s mansion. Her long, black hair had grown to her lower back from a lack of cutting. She rested upon a soft white mattre
ss in the infirmary. She was asleep or unconscious; he couldn’t tell. He glanced at Yuri, who was looking at the girl with little emotion. “Who is she?”
“We were hoping that you could tell us that.”
“Huh?” Keimaro blinked, raising an eyebrow.
Gavin was standing beside the bed, his position rather stiff. He seemed traumatized after the loss of Noah. Yuri nodded to him, and the soldier lifted one of the girl’s lids, revealing her iris was a glowing red color.
Keimaro’s heart thumped as he stared. The Shokugan. Why did this girl have it? Were they somehow related? He had believed that the Hayashi clan had been massacred. Were there more out there? She was too old to be Keimaro’s sister. Who was she? “Where did you find her?” he demanded of Yuri.
“That’s confidential.”
“You showed Gavin, a person that you almost killed because you didn’t trust him!” Keimaro snarled. “Do you want me to help at all? If so, you should probably stop being so secretive around me and tell me where the hell you found this girl!”
Yuri raised an eyebrow at Keimaro’s sudden aggressiveness and exhaled. “We found her in a government alchemy lab underground. They have been performing experiments on humans in the poorer districts—people who were already doomed to die. Many of the lab experiments perished in the process. However, when Yata, Gavin, and Noah went down there to investigate, they found this girl. She’s alive. And she has the Shokugan. This begs the question of whether the government is transplanting the eyes of other members of the Hayashi clan into fresh hosts. Perhaps they kept the eyes of those who were killed instead of destroying the bodies.”