Disclaimer: I don't own Bloody Roar or its characters
A/N: Ok, this is the story of Kenji's life in the time frame of BRI. This story isn't going to be continuous angst though it will have a fair amount—this is Kenji's life—I'm the kind of person that believes in Kenji's success as well as his failure. And of course, his past makes him who he is in the future. Oh, and in this story his real name was Kenji (the name his mother gave him.) That's pretty much it, hope you like it ;)
(P.S. I put this up before, but I took it down. This is revised : )
The Song of the Gray Sky
"Because the Gray Sky shows no mercy,
And shakes the Earth with white rage…
Because the Gray Sky never dies,
Though it leaves a trail of bodies."
Chapter 1: Mercy
His body ached, glistening with hot sweat… His lungs burned for air he could not stop to catch. But the pain kept coming—a steady stream of quick blows. If he closed his eyes—even for a moment—he'd be left gasping and failing to catch up to the quick man.
Pallid eyes—like stains of white hot sun—followed him, flickering with knowledge that the young boy could not win…
The white suns told the story—that his desperation was in vain.
For they're kind did not have mercy… And failure was a rare word, reserved for the young and the weak, like him, and rewarded only with pain—a method that encouraged no further repeats. A method that made their kind gloriously strong, as his master had always told him.
Theirs was a race of kings.
Crack! His master's stiff hand hit and then withdrew, and arc of pure white lightning, leaving the dark haired boy's arm dangling uselessly. Inside, his mind blurred crimson, but outside he never flinched. The shock that coursed through his body gave force to his movements as he danced endlessly away from his master's cold blows, his body driven by a fierce cry—a beg that no more harm be inflicted on his soft flesh and white bone… His amber eyes flickered, tracing his master's movements… within seconds he found his eyes, shards of golden fire, squeezing shut, yielding to the hot pain… bowing to the rainbow coils that flickered behind his closed lids.
Gritting his teeth he felt the gust that signified a new attack.
He stood—incapable of dodging it, unable to push his small frame away.
"You think I'll wear out, boy?" The words were vicious, dripping with an acid hate that his ears were slowly learning to embrace. The salt air captured the single moment of pure peace… and then gave way to his master's blows once again.
His body heaved as the hand hit, trailed by strikes he could not identify—his mind now drowning in the nauseating pain. He could only hold himself stiffly against them, his single arm thrust up in a final act of desperation. But his master was dancing in this bloodlust—excited… empowered…
When he felt his collar bone give way his eyes bulged, one final look of terror flickering across their golden surfaces.
His entire body went limp, young muscles loosening, falling to the hot stones.
But he felt mercy—a gift reserved for what he imagined to be a beautiful god—when the kind earth bowed to kiss his wide eyes, and gave him darkness where the pain had lingered only seconds ago…
The sky was red, like a sore wound, veined with pewter clouds… His body shook—uncontrolled. Loneliness was a shield for him to cling to… When he was lonely he had a problem that he could solve. When he shivered and cried, he told himself it was because he wasn't good enough to have friends, and he would work to improve what he could about himself. When he was lonely he did not have to admit the reasoning. He did not have to remember her amber eyes, glittering with frozen tears… or the trembling of her small body when the illness had full grip on her. He was not forced to look back on the sound of her soft voice, singing promises to him, lulling him into the sweetest dreams…
The sound of her heart, thudding against his head as he drifted into sleep, a fabric red shape that loved him for eternity… Even when her days were gone and the gentle thudding ceased.
He could not ignore the hunger or the pain… or the colds that left him wheezing, or the lonely pang that struck when his eyes captured the emotion of happiness. Nor did he try.
It was the vicious pain that lingered deep within him—a pain that could not be eased or tamed or calmed—that he spent his young life ignoring.
He had never admitted that she was gone until that day… To him, she was simply sleeping, her door shut to keep the noise of his playing tucked away…
To him her soft voice had never rattled hauntingly in one final gasp... He imagined the putrid scent that rose from the small room was the smell of her sickness, rather than the stench of decay… And he tucked a crimson scarf beneath the doorway, whispering to his mother in a desperate voice, telling her to get better so they could pick flowers in the green fields today.
That was her last promise...
She would keep it.
After a week he stopped bringing her fresh food… Though he knew why, he did not admit the truth. He told himself it was because the food rotted and made the house smell bad and further dismissed any logical thoughts.
After two weeks he stopped leaving the house unless it was necessary… He would lie in his plush room, amber eyes like tainted suns staring up at the decorations his mother had hung long ago… Tears he never noticed dripped across his smooth, ageless cheeks and fell to the once crisp white sheets.
After three weeks he broke. He imagined his mother calling him, and with one final whimper he pushed the door open, and like a ghost he drifted to his mother's bed-side, his tiny arms reaching out to her, his voice creaking when he spoke the single word.
Mother.
His arms wrapped around her, never feeling the decay, seeing only his beautiful mother. He wanted his heart to stop—to keep time with his mother's… But it refused. It left him lying there begging… a child at death's knees… reaching to be held within death's arms.
And that was where they found him…
Those who lived beside him were distraught, angry at the rancid smell… When they found him their faces contorted in disgust… And he could not understand. In all his four years he had never met a look like that. They stole his mother, and locked her in the dark earth, trapping her between the splintered boards and thick dirt… And then they forced him from the small home, leaving him no one but himself.
And now he sat in the cold night, his body slouched against a cold brick wall, his small head resting against the cool metal of a trash-bin. Sobs shook him on occasion… He no longer had his mother close to him… He no longer had a place to sleep, or a reason to wake up… His mother was not there to feed, to care for… to look at and imagine she still lived…
Shaking his eyes lolled back. He fought, trying to focus on his first needs…but her eyes, the mirror of his own, would not leave his fragile mind…
And that was when he found him. The old man glowed in Kenji's eyes—like a dove that glided down to him from the open heavens…
"My name is Bakuryu, little child." The old man had whispered, his fingers reaching down to stroke the young boy's soft hair. "Come." His face did not hold disgust or anger or fear…
It held only the edged lines of acceptance… and understanding.
And Kenji could not resist it. The feeling felt almost foreign as he reached up to cling to this man's warm hand… The man simply swept him into warm arms, and carried him away beneath the red skies. The man would care for him…
… and he would never be alone again.
His eyes flashed open, bringing back the vengeance of the sharp pains, forcing the memories and dreams to escape into the great sky… But his master sat, attending to the new wounds delicately, as though he were not the one that had inflicted them. Kenji winced, his body unwillingly shaking from the deep, incessant pain. And Bakuryu's thin lips pulled into a tight smile.
"Are you so ready to charge at me in such a blatant way, little one?" His voice was neither warm nor cold… just sickeningly drifting in between. "If you foolishly imagine you could win, I would like you to stop such preposterous thoughts. If you wish that this would bring some sort of emotion other than those that I have shown you, you will be remorselessly let down. And if you expect my death to bring you happiness then I suspect that you will also feel greater loss than gain." Kenji flinched, his eyes slowly thinning as he watched his old master. "But I truly believe it is none of the above. Would you wish to tell me why you attacked me, young apprentice?" Kenji could only grind his teeth at his master's words…
After moments without an answer Bakuryu nodded, his thin face shadowed—for once he appeared to be the old man that Kenji had expected him to be all along…
"Then I see that it is time, young one. I had not expected it to come so soon." As his master frowned his pale eyes glittered with an emotion Kenji could not hope to understand… "Do not be afraid." His master hissed, his voice no longer hinting at compassion, his eyes now wide, and angry, as they'd been since their very first meeting. "For fear is rewarded with more fear—both here and in everyday life. Remember that. It is a tool you must have over an opponent and never the other way around." The man stood then, his arms gesturing swiftly, the motions clear, having been repeated many times through his master's long life… And slowly his form dissolved, leaving Kenji alone in the hot room…
Hissing he fought to sit upright, growling at the pain that felt as though it was fresh once again. Looking around he found that it was night… When he and his master had fought it had been early morning, filled with the hot sun that never seemed to fade from this place. Shivering his eyes caught sight of the glassy stars that lingered just outside of his window…
They dangled as free things in the velvet sky… while he dangled far below them as a trapped creature.
Forlornly he finally understood his own actions.
He felt trapped… And as any trapped creature he'd fought, his small heart racing in the hunt.
His body began to shake, making him aware of the thin shadow that crept through his doorway. It turned out to be a woman with thin black hair and equally thin gray eyes—eyes like flawless gray sky. Shoving himself to his feet he snarled, his senses ignited by her arrival, his body knowing
danger before his mind had even had a chance to react. But the spiteful smile only grew on her beautiful face… Waving her hand another rose from the darkness of the long hall, handing her a long gun.
Taking aim she braced herself.
"Now, when you wake up, I want you to be a good boy." She spat, shooting the dart from the gun.
But Kenji had been the first to move, his body staggering from injury, but his movements still precise. He could take any mortal. Snarling he morphed, but as his broken bone grew into its beast form it sent a gush of pain, like wild fire, dancing through his body.
Laughing she stood above him.
"You are still young and naïve. But I trust that someday you'll grow wise…" The man behind her smirked, taking her gun into his hulking arms.
"Just another stubborn boy." He replied. She nodded, gray eyes watching as the boy's body slowly shrunk back to its tiny, human size.
"I imagine he'll learn. It seems as though that would be in his favor."
Kenji struggled, his eyes shut by force… The words drifted through his mind… Like he'd been trapped inside of himself, unable to react on the outside, but fully aware within… where the pain and rage still seared, like a million hot suns burning through his small form.
He hadn't felt it happening, but now, thick in his veins was the desire to be free… Like the bright stars, tiny shards of pure white hope, emblems of a better world…
Or did they too dangle on silver strings?
A/N: Thank you so much for reading , and of course I'd love to know what you thought of it.
BP