Family Portrait
Prologue

An aged man trudged through the thick fog, carrying a bouquet of pink roses. Indeed, he looked very old, his wrinkles looked more like deep grooves within his skin, his reddened eyes that were always downcast, not to mention his overgrown hair and beard, both pure white. At least they would have been had he washed regularly. However, he was not as old as people made him out to be. He used to have a youthful body with defined muscles. He used to have a lot of stamina that would have made his walk a lot easier. He used to have self control flowing through his mind. But he lost it all. He'd lost everything.

He used to have a family. He used to be a proud father with a loving wife, whom he cherished as much as his daughter. Now they were gone. When they both left him, he started to lose other things; his job, his health, his sanity. All that remained was pain, an everlasting whirlpool engulfing his very being. He didn't know why he chose to carry on, why he chose to continue living. He had nothing to live for, and he was an elderly man. Opportunities to fix his life didn't come knocking on his door. He doubted he would take them.

Only death could separate him from his empty void.

His long walk had taken him to a graveyard. Bushes of colourful flowers were supposed to lift the heavy weight of death that accompanied such a location, but the multiple tombstones only repelled the softened aura. Rotting flowers rested next to many of the decaying tombstones, the result of past storms laying helpless on the ground, scattered around the dirt. The man walked through the uneven rows and columns of each deathbed, spotting his destination. He stopped before two tombstones, the one on his left aged and worn with time, yet the one to his right was cleaner, newer, and more recent.

The man let the plastic wrapping slip away from the flowers he clutched, then shared them into two bunches. He put one by each tombstone, then kneeled – despite the pain it caused him and the wet mud – and prayed.

He was as still as the wind for several minutes. A hooded figure approached the man, taking cautious baby steps. It couldn't be identified as either man or woman as the cloak it wore over itself concealed any obvious signs. It watched as the old man struggled to his feet, falling back in the mud after his first attempt. Nevertheless, he began his second as the figure went to go and help him.

The man did not decline the offer of help, and the stranger worked to get the old man to his feet. With easy success and minimum damage, the man thanked the figure in a raspy voice. It had been a while since his voice was of any use to him, as he spent all of his days crying. However, the figure did not make haste to offer a reply, or at all for that matter. It stood, staring at the man.

"Do I know you?" the man questioned, his throat already aching from exercising his voice box. The figure made no reply once again, before it decided against it. Hands reached for the hood by it's head, then pulled it back by the shoulders. The man gasped, his eyes widening. "It's... you... Why are you here?"

The figure stepped closer to the man, only for him to back away again. His hand reached for the new gravestone, though he was stopped with abrupt force when he felt something impale right through his chest. The figure donned a blade, presumed to be from nowhere, now stuck all the way into the man. He screamed, the sudden agony sending a spasm throughout his body. He lost his footing, fell backwards, the back of his skull crunched against the gravestone. When he reached the floor, the person could tell he was dead. His hair and garments were being dyed red, blood flowing to form a puddle around him. The person was satisfied, so pulled the dagger from the man, leaving it stained with blood as it was slipped back down an oversized sleeve.

The figure then vanished.

OH MAH GAWD! So much description!

So here is a little early something for Christmas, as I didn't want y'all to wait till January for the sequel to Hitomi Assassin. However, the first Part of the story will come in 2013/very late 2012. Depends when I get it done...

So, who is the figure, you ask? Who is the man? Who do the two tombstones belong to? Eh, figure it out yourself. I'd love to hear your wild guesses...
'OMG, the figure is tots Ryu and the old man is his father and the tombstones belong to his mother and Kureha!'