When Snow Falls; Apprenticeship.
Prolog.
A Stranger named Alex.
It was the cries of one so young being lead from his home in the dead of night that woke many from their sleep, gazing out their windows and doors with sleep filled eyes as they watched the terrible scene, none even looking as though they would put in even the smallest amount of effort in any sort of protest or attempt to end this cruel act playing before them.
How could they? This was a matter between family after all, nothing they need concern themselves with, which none did as they returned to their beds to sleep, many putting the disturbing thought from their minds as they did not care while even fewer did actually posses some concern for the boy being dragged away from his village. Yet no matter how much they thought wrong of this they would not interfere, in fear of what may become of those that did. These few wished to keep themselves breathing and their families safe in their home. It wasn't their child.
And it wasn't as if this wasn't a familiar event; a scene many had witnessed many times before, for children of the Nakajima clan who did not possess sufficient strength befitting their proud warrior's were considered worthless and were to be disposed of, no matter who that child belonged too. High or low class.
They had these strict standards for a very good reason, according to them at least. The warrior's of their clan had to be strong and fierce, they could not lack in either one. If a child did not meet these standards, the sentence was usually met with death. These were the future protectors of the clan and their secrets, whom their very survival depended upon. They could not risk the safety of their clan just to save one child, so if one was even below the standards they had set by a small bit than they were to be discarded, none willing to take that chance. No matter how much the slaughter darkened their hearts.
This is what had kept them alive thus far, and it was how it would remain. Even the dark deed of carrying out the sentence. If they simply let a child go, the secrets that they'd hidden for so long could be stolen, or the child himself taken captive and used against the clan.
Even if they did not meet the qualifications, they were still Nakajima born; they deserved death with honor, that much was given to them.
This was simply a step to ensure the clan survived, which is why it need be done. There could be no weakness in the clan, and weaknesses must be cut out before it could spread.
This child being taken away is one that would surprise many as he was well known. He was one of two sons to the Head of the clan, so for one to have been too weak from a bloodline as esteemed as it was not something easily believed. But no matter the parents of the child, he had to be removed.
The father dragged the boy along effortlessly, chains around his arms with the terrified child's head covered by a sack. He himself had dressed in a full plate armor, coloured dark and with spikes on the shoulders and their sigil knitted into the black cloak around his neck with silver thread, making it a horrifically grim sight as he carried with him as well a longsword, which he would presumably use on his young son.
The son kicked and screamed and clawed at the bag with all the strength he had in order to escape, but escape was not something easily done, a seemingly impossible task with how weak he was deemed. Even if he could, his father would be there to cut him down before he took his first step towards freedom, reduced to a pathetically sobbing mess who called out for his father and mother to save him, having no clue that it was this very person carrying out the deed.
He was dragged roughly through the grounds of a forest far from the village, where none could stop it if they wanted, far from the watchful eyes of the clan. Though as the sound of the boys pitiful whimpering and begging came, his kidnapper's rage grew, giving an especially forceful toss as the boy was thrown into the dirt. Before the child had the chance to regain his footing, the enforcer stepped upon the chains that kept his hands together, reaching down and taking the sack off of his head, the act burning same of the boy's skin as it was done furiously.
Immediately, he looked up to see the face of just who had taken him, and what he saw sent him into a hard silence. The eyes of the man he looked too, were the eyes that belonged to the one that had fathered and raised him. "F-Father?" He said weakly, not knowing what his former father planned.
His father shared no words with him though as he unlocked the chains that restricted his child's hands, stepping away as he turned to grab a small bag he'd taken with him for the journey. "Father?" The boy repeated once more, scared and confused beyond what his mind could fathom, wanting to know why they were there, eyeing the sword he held in fear as his mind raced.
Once more his words were met with silence, the boy looking towards the person supposed to protect him as he latd upon the boy for a long moment before dropping a bag before him. "Consider this a final kindness." The father of the child said with an uncaring tone, opening up the pack and revealing within it various supplies, a weeks worth at the most if he rationed it right, and even some armor fashioned from leather. Nothing to fancy or protective and a few sizes too big for the young boy, but it was all he'd had time to grab in his haste.
"What is this? I don't understand, father-" At his final words, the child was hushed by a swift kick to his stomach, the man that was no longer his father glaring at the injured bastard son of his. "I am no longer your father. My only son rest back at my village. You, Alex, are no son of mine. Our blood no longer gives us any connection." Holding onto the wound as stinging tears built up, he looked up at the man before him with a pain filled stare, not knowing why he spoke in such a way.
The man who he shared blood with quickly explained to ease his confusion, yet it did nothing to quell his shattered heart. "I could never bare such a weak son. Our clan is a proud one and with a strong bloodline. And you dishonor it. As such, you are no longer to call it yours. Gods help you if you ever call it yours." He said as he gripped the sword tightly before plunging into the ground, releasing his hold of it, as though to make his meaning clear.
Stricken with horror, Alex leaped to his feet, pleading for the man to take him back as his son and spare him of such a fate, his hands reached out for the man once called his father. "No father! Please! I'll do better! I'll train harder! Please!" Alex pleaded for his life, only to be struck down once more. In anger, the man who once called Alex son screamed out. "I am not your father! And you dishonor us further by begging!"
Sitting on his knees, Alex stayed down, not wanting to feel another strike as the pain of having is it be from his father was worse than anything, tears falling onto the dirt he'd been forced into. "You've been taken far enough that you won't find your way back. But make no attempt. For should you return, you will be slain for all to see. For all to know of the weakness we have shed from our home. Go and live your life however you wish, but you can never return."
He turned away from Alex for the last time to leave, speaking finally before he was left, free of the clan that would kill him. "You are now a Sura of our clan. Forever will this title brand you, for it is the rank given to those truly worthless, a sign of the weakness of the trash we have thrown away." With these final words spoken to him, the man left the broken son of his in the forest, not once looking back, for he could not find the strength to do so. Looking upon your abandoned child and seeing the hurt and confusion in their eyes was not something easily done, and even harder to turn from a second time. Had he done so, he would have gone back. And for the sake of them both, he had to leave, ignoring the loud cries of sorrow.
Even for one so young, Alex knew the weight that these words carried. To never return to his birthplace, and to forever wander ever further from his home and family, to forever be branded as his family's curse. As an embarrassment to what once was his clan.
Gripping the strap of the pack left for him, Alex silently picked it up, the events and his title heavily kept him down as he pulled the sword from the ground, weighing heavily with this knowledge alone. Now forever cursed with his new rank, Alex looked around his surroundings in some hope of finding himself a way back, just to see if he knew where home was. He was left in a small forest clearing, not knowing which way his father had taken, but knew what would come with trying to find his way back.
Having all this forced upon the youngling, Alex looked to the sky and wailed out as if this was a nightmare he could awaken from as the darkness of the forest surrounded him.
Three years later.
Chapter 1.
Thunder roared all around me with a screeching furry while lighting danced around in the sky, yet not even this was enough to wake me from my nightmares, as few things could once I was deeply asleep. It wasn't until I'd relived them in their entirety that I was finally free from their torment, still just as vivid as ever, opening up my eyes to the world from a night of my fresh hell, looking up to the rafters from the waiting benches of the station to see small droplets of water drip down onto my face, having given any passers the illusion I'd been crying during my sleep. These were the tears I'd never cried, but still kept scrubbing off my face all the same. Only, I didn't cry about it anymore. That had long since passed.
With an annoyed huff I wiped off all that had collected on me with the sleeve of my jacket, hissing some as it stung my eyes for a moment before I scooted away into as dry of a corner as I could find, if only to make sure my bag was untouched, opening it up for a quick look inside to check its contents.
The outside of the bag was damp as the rest of me was, but nothing inside had been ruined by the cold rain, closing it back up once I was done with my inspection, hoping the train would soon arrive so that I could get into a fresh set of clothes without their getting wet as well, sick of the constant rainfall. Made the snow that much more of a bitch. If you left the rainwater on yourself long enough, it'd freeze over in just a few minutes, thankful I wasn't such a deep enough sleeper that I couldn't awake when I needed too.
I was one of a few here at the pickup station, all us here moving onto the next town over for our own reasons I suppose, be it work, home, or something else. None there paid me any mind, and neither did I in regards to them, for we shared a destination and nothing more, so none should care for my reasons for travel, and I would care none for theirs.
My reasons were my own and unless theirs aligned with mine then that would remain unchanged. Truth be told, I didn't exactly know where I was heading, I only knew who I was looking for. I knew not his name, or what he looked like, just someone from my past that had resurfaced. Not my direct past, but something to do with it.
I had nothing going for me as it was; no home, no family to call my own, and no kingdom to serve. So this was basically the last thing I'd ever do ever I had nothing else to do; chase down a forgotten shadow. It was why I'd come to Snowfall in the first place, after all, having arrived in this frozen land only a month ago. I'd been traveling through it ever since, having just gotten into the icy regions of it, maybe a day or two before. Maybe three. I scarcely remembered as I didn't often sleep, so the days tended to blend together most times.
But...This man I searched for...I didn't know much about him, just reports that came from my homeland, what little information I could squeeze from those that had traveled it, seeing as I was forbidden from ever stepping foot on it under threat of execution, so I tended to avoid those I found outside that hailed from Nakaroshi, the place the Nakajima had settled as their homeland.
I didn't know if he was alive, but there were faint whispers of his continued existence, and none of them good, at least for the people who spoke of him, this person having given quite a few people some trouble, especially for my former clan of the Nakajima. And by the gods was I happy to hear every word of it.
From what I understood, this man once belonged to the clan, same as I, but left of his own accord, no longer able stand the apparent corruption that had taken hold, the kind of corruption that was rooted so deep, they'd exile and kill their children for the sake of some notion of preserving honour, as if there was any in killing a child as old as 5. I'd been spared the fate of death and given exile. Sometimes I thought my fate was the worse of the two.
It was a thing to behold really. To believe there ever was a time the Nakajima didn't sacrifice their children for their perceived weakness. When they were more honorable and defended those same children, took the time to raise them proper. This is a time I wish I'd known, for all I had ever been shown during my time amongst my kin was cruelty and savagery as they shunned me. To the point my parents had exiled me in shame. A betrayal that no longer hurt, not even when my nightmares forced me to relive it.
I understood now what my father and former clan were well enough that my tears had ceased to fall over it. No longer did I cry when the thoughts came to mind, as they were not worth my tears. I was left with only a burning desire to right the wrongs done to me and those they'd casted aside; their son no longer a son, long considered dead.
I looked up to the heavens as they cried in my place, flashing a strange smile that I didn't understand, one that appeared each time I thought of the clan I'd left behind, dead at my feat with their blood decorating the same sword I'd been given. How badly I wanted to return it to the man I once called my father. Bury that very blade deep in his chest and watch him writh, make him beg just as he had watched me. And when he begged for mercy, right at the very moment he couldn't take any more, I'd look down at him, all of our kin slaughtered, and whisper to him, "No."
Sometimes I wondered how deep the thirst for vengeance ran. If perhaps it had driven me to a point of insanity. Sometimes I'd laugh a sad and terrifying laugh to ease my pain. And sometimes I'd lash out in anger. Whatever the case, I didn't care a single bit. My rage was all I had some days. The only thing that drove me forward when I was cold, beaten or hungry. Even now, it was what spurred me on towards something I hadn't had for the longest time; A goal, a mission, and a reason to live my life.
From the very moment I'd heard of this man's return, and remembering that which he had done once before, I felt compelled to seek him out, not only in gratitude, but to learn a truth I desperately needed to uncover. One that I felt was mine to learn.
I'd have been content to have just sat there for a bit longer, but the sounds of the train approaching stired me from my trance as I grabbed my bag up from the seat besides me, standing just in time to greet it as the large vehicle pulled into the station only a few minutes late.
This man had vanished from the clans records after having laid waste to most of it's leadership, something those of the clan denied with every breath, having stolen the most powerful of techniques from the sacred vaults before he disappeared entirely with that power all to himself. Many assumed in the passing years that he had died after having fled the homeland of the Nakajima, only to resurface some time later in the following decades from when he had left them. What happened after that wasn't something I knew, but I'd heard that the Nakajima had sent war parties after this man, to both kill him and recover their stolen power. I found it ironic that we killed our children to preserve our secrets, but a lone warrior was able to stroll into our most heavily guarded vaults and steal them away.
I hoped to find him before the clan did and warn him that these assassin's had learned that he was still alive, and were quickly moving to end him for those transgressions he had committed so long ago. I also had hope that in doing so, I would gain a possible ally in the coming conflicts against them. I knew how power hungry they were, and this land was vast with a great number of resources; no doubt they'd already set their sights on the conquest of this place. When that time came, I wanted to be there, to establish myself as an asset against them. Because if they attacked like I knew they would, it wouldn't be long before these kingdoms would seek retribution. I figured when that happened I'd be welcomed in the fight against them, and if not, I'd make my way home on my own and greet my family by gutting my father and slaughtering the lot of them, to remind them about why they killed Suru's such as me.
There weren't alot of people that would relish the thought of running each member of their family through with a sword, but once those very thoughts had planted themselves in my head, a sickening grin crept across my face as I erupted into a darkly crazed laughing fit, throwing my head back as the mad crackling echoed out, hopefully reaching the ears of my clan, to let them know their exiled son was coming home. I would only be doing the world a favor, because if it wasn't me holding the knife and slitting their throats, it'd be someone else. You could only push people so far before you found a knife in your back. I didn't pretend this was some kind charitable act I was doing though, I didn't give two shits if this benefited the world or hurt it. That was the promise I'd made to myself a long time ago, one I was going to see through.
This strange and murderous laughing of mine had disturbed every onlooker, each person there afraid to take a single step from their safe little circles in fear that'd I'd snap and draw my blade, just as quickly turning it on them. So cold was their fear that they became just as frozen as the land around them, huddled away and praying for the mad demon to go away. Those getting off the train made a much more hasty retreat to get off the moment they heard my call.
My laughter died down soon enough until it ceased all together. I figured I'd terrorized these people enough, gathering my bag as I made for the train, watching with some amusement as no others had stones large enough to join me, even though the next train wouldn't reach the station for another set of hours. I was happy enough with this as it left me the the only person occupying this train, apart from the crew, and that was fine by me.
I made my way through the rows upon rows of empty seats, jokingly pretending my decision of where I would sit was a difficult one before finally choosing the window seat of the middle section of the cab, enjoying the extra breathing room as I heard the familiar cry of the conductor as he issued the final call, yet watched with a strange intrigue as no others climbed on board. They had only a few minutes left to steel their nerves before the doors closed on them forever; to brave the same train of horrors that the murderous child was riding, to risk a run in with him and his sharp sword, or be left behind in the freezing rain.
By the time they shut the doors, no others had gotten on the train, watching as it rolled away from them, leading to their belief that they had been saved from the demon child fresh out of hell, as if they knew what hell even looked like.
It wasn't until a day later that I would learn that soon after the train had departed, a party from the Blood Fist, a group of marauder's that hunted much of the land, would storm through the station, killing just about everyone that had been present. Not because they were looking for some kind of treasure or some poor unfortunate souls with fresh ass or cunt for them to stick their cocks into-one of which they'd probably found-but because they'd been looking for shelter to get out of the coming storms. After I heard what had happened I never could stop wondering if some of the casualties had included those poor bastards that hadn't gotten on the train with me, and that alone had filled me with a touch of guilt. They'd have raped, enslaved, and gutted each person there. There were no guarantees in our world, they had simply chosen wrong. I wouldn't have harmed them. But I still knew that in many ways, I had. Another day later, my guilt passed, along with my caring that it had even occurred.