Age of Darkness (6 page)

Keimaro took her hand, his heart pounding as
he led the young princess away from the marketplace and back to Yata’s house,
making sure that they didn’t run into anyone along the way. He closed the door of
Yata’s home behind both of them and walked forward, slamming his fist into the
wall. His knuckles blistered from the punch, but he ignored the pain. Winding
up for another punch, he drove his fist into the wall once more.

“Why?” he snarled, his chest heaving with
his breath. “Why do they always treat me like I’m dirt? Like I’m nothing. I don’t
understand….” He sighed, exasperated, and pressed his forehead against the
wall. “I don’t understand why they treat me different from the other children.
They threaten to kill me. They let the bullies beat me up every day. In their
eyes, I’m just nothing. I’m nothing. And I’m so sick of it!” He smashed the
wall once more, blood dripping down his knuckles.

Aika stood there in the doorway, quite
appalled by such barbaric behavior, driven by blind rage. But she could also
understand his pain. She had seen the way that the boy in the marketplace had
beaten him. She had seen the look in Buu’s eyes. It was unlike anything that she
had seen before, filled with murderous intent and madness all alike.

“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.”

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 single
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.