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People are foolish, people are empty
They don't pray unless they are hurt
Ito Chiisaki Negai (The Smallest Wish) - Chiriko
It was frustrating when you were more intelligent then your parents. What was even MORE frustrating was when you knew it.
Kou Dokun idly twirled a few of his daggers between his fingers, listening to his parents exchange the same old insults. Genrou and his wife Arashi never seemed to be at peace at each other- except where their children were concerned. There they were of one mind, much to their children's disgust. The usual trick of playing their parents off each other didn't work that well, except when it came to one thing. Weapons training.
From his birth, Dokun had been doted on by the bandits of Mount Reikaku. Arashi would spend a lot of time half-heartedly trying to convince her husband that the men were not a good influence on a growing boy, but he would always laugh away her concern, saying that none of them were worse then he was, to which Arashi would reply, "I know," in a long-suffering voice.
It was Kouji-ojisan who had first pressed a dagger's hilt into three-year-old Dokun's chubby little fist. Even Tasuki would have been horrified if he had known what was happening, but Kouji had sworn the boy to secrecy. At three, Dokun was a bright, solemn child, capable of understanding things that would have confused children twice his age.
Kouji had been playing babysitter while Genrou kept his wife company as she labored to bring her third child into the world. Dokun, like most children, had an insatiable curiosity, and Kouji had been climbing the walls within an hour- Kouji was not that good with children. Luckily, the baby Ryuumi had been left in old Aric's care, or else Kouji might have strangled both of his best friend's children.
Dokun was crawling all over the room, managing to get into the things that Kouji had THOUGHT he had hidden away from the other men- not that he didn't trust them, it was just not a good idea to leave valuables out as a temptation. Every time the little boy grabbed something, Kouji had to grab it away before the kid could hurt himself, since all the weapons were rather dangerous. Occasionally one of the men would stop by and hang out for an hour or so, to laugh at Kouji's misery. They loved the little imp's antics, and weren't about to help out their fellow bandit. Kouji was thoroughly not amused.
Finally he decided that distraction might be the best method. "Oi, kodomo," he said, getting Dokun's attention. The boy focused his golden eyes on his "ojisan", smiling sweetly, and every violent thought that Kouji had been thinking evaporated. It was odd to see Genrou's eyes in the face of a child. If anyone had asked Kouji five years ago about what Genrou's children would have been like, he would have hacked up a lung, laughing at the idea of Genrou EVER having children. Funny how things worked out.
"Hai, ojisan?" Dokun said in a high, but polite, voice. Arashi had won the battle over vocabulary, and it showed. None of the men dared to swear in her presence, and that had extended to her children as well.
"Would you like to learn how to use a knife?" Kouji offered.
"I already cut my own food," the boy said, slightly puzzled.
"I meant how to fight with one. And throw one- they're good for self-protection." Kouji figured that it wouldn't be a bad thing if the boy was able to keep himself safe- after all, as a member of the leader's family, he was a valuable ransom chip, should an enemy get his hands on him.
The golden eyes darkened and for a second Kouji was struck breathless; it was like looking into the eyes of someone much, much, older, someone who had seen the pain and cruelty the world could offer. Then in a flash it was gone, and Kouji decided he was imagining things. "Hai!" Dokun said cheerfully, bouncing so he was standing directly in front of his favorite "ojisan".
Kouji pulled out one of his smaller daggers. "Before we do this, ya gotta promise me you won't let your parents know I'm teaching ya," Kouji said. "Your mother would hurt me."
The boy smiled up at him with the mischief only a child could possess. "I won't tell!" he promised.
Kouji smiled gently and knelt down beside him. "You're going to have to be VERY VERY careful here.... these aren't children's toys." He held out a knife and the boy solemnly grasped it, twisting his fingers around the handle. "Nope, you're holding it wrong," Kouji said. "It's better not to pick up any bad habits before you start."
Dokun nodded, his black hair falling in his eyes, as he corrected his hold. Kouji began to tell the boy about the care of weapons, and gave him some hints on how to throw them properly: "If you're fighting, aim for something vital. Don't strike to maim- strike to kill. Your enemy will be doing the same, and they won't be showing you any sympathy. Never let an enemy get too close to you if you're using a dagger or knife- they offer little protection, and if your opponent is using a sword, you're dead."
The boy listened, occasionally asking questions, and within a few weeks, was throwing knives at a target Kouji had set up behind the compound, hitting it more often then not. For a three-year-old, that was most impressive. The men all conspired to keep this from Genrou and Arashi, fearing what would happen when they found out- and they were right to do so.
Things finally hit the proverbial tessen when Dokun was six, and Kouji decided that it was time to come clean. On Dokun's birthday, he presented the boy with a pair of light, but well-made daggers in front of his parents. Arashi threw a hissy fit, and the only reason Kouji lived through it was that Tasuki distracted her long enough for him to run for it. And Kouji ran for several weeks, not returning for a few months, claiming a family emergency- an excuse everyone saw through, since Kouji HAD no family.
Dokun chuckled as he remembered. His mother had been reconciled to his weapons skill, but she had forbidden Hakurou and Ryuumi from learning anything until they were thirteen. Hakurou protested this restriction vigorously, and probably had bribed one of the men to teach him anyway, but Ryuumi was accepting. For a member of their family, she was remarkably laid back.
For his part, Dokun was just glad that she had allowed him to continue. He wasn't able to explain why, not even to himself, but it was important for him to be able to defend himself. He sometimes had nightmares of not being able to control his life, and that was probably his greatest fear. Being able to throw his knives was his security, and if his mother had taken that away from him, he had no idea what he would have done. However, with the sensitivity she had towards her children, Arashi had permitted him to keep them, on the condition that he only threw them at the targets, and only when he had an adult supervising him.
He could hear the quarrel in the kitchen escalate, and started to count to thirty. Sure enough, the second he hit the requisite number, Genrou went slamming out the door, dodging a spoon that had been thrown at his back. From the direction the bandit was heading, Dokun guessed that his father was on his way back to the bandit compound, and Dokun laughed to himself. Probably going to get drunk, he thought. His mother was probably still going to be ranting, but he was hungry enough to ignore the possible danger signs and head into the kitchen. If he was lucky, he might even be able to broach an important matter that had been bothering him- it all depended on how ticked off she was.
Sure enough, his mother was slamming pots and pans around for all she was worth, muttering under her breath about how cruel the Gods were to saddle her with such an idiotic husband. His brother and sister were sitting at the table, munching at some rather dry-looking bread, exchanging smirks. Dokun slid into his usual chair, picking up a piece of fruit along the way. He was hungry, and the fruit slid sweetly down his parched throat. "Kaasan?" he asked.
Arashi stopped her angry spiel to focus sharp blue eyes on her eldest. The soft seriousness of his voice had her concerned. "Is something wrong, Dokun?" she asked.
He took another bite of fruit and chewed it carefully before answering. "Nothing is wrong, so much as I had something I wanted to ask you," he said finally. He had played this conversation in his head over and over, but now that the moment was finally here, he was a nervous wreck.
"Aniki?" Ryuumi asked in a worried voice. She hated it when he was so solemn- he never really laughed, and that worried her. It seemed wrong to Ryuumi that a member of their family didn't laugh loud and often.
"Daijoubu, Ryuumi-chan," he said with a reassuring smile. "Kaasan, you know that I like to read, ne?"
She reached out and ruffled his dark hair affectionately. "Of course I do, little one. You're my son, and I DO keep track of you."
The blush that stained his face almost made her snicker. "I wanted to know if you would let me spend the summer with Houjin-san," he asked.
Arashi raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Dokun sighed, trying to find the right words. "I love to learn," he said, "but I think I've learned about everything I can from you and tousan about history and literature and medicine and...." he trailed off, seeing his mother's eyes start to glaze. 'Keep it short,' he thought. "Anyway, Houjin-san could teach me all about that kind of stuff, and I would get to see some of the world."
"Cool! I wanna go!" Hakurou said, stuffing his mouth.
Arashi frowned and motioned for him to hush up. "It's rather sudden. Do you think Houjin-san would let you?"
"Hai. I'm sure of it," Dokun said positively.
She pulled out a chair and sat down. "It might be a good idea," she mused, "but your father won't like it. I think he has plans for more training as a bandit in mind for you," she said, pulling a face. "But I'll bring the matter up with him and see what he says. Don't get your hopes up."
He smiled at her, and was about to answer her cheerfully when they heard the sound of heavy footsteps. "Shun'u?" Arashi called, apparently having forgotten her anger. Then her eyes narrowed, and she motioned for her children to be quiet. Rising to her feet with predatory grace, she grabbed a knife off the counter and stood in front of her children, who were now standing defensively in a corner.
Three rough-looking men that none of them had ever seen before walked in. They were filthy, and Dokun could smell the rank stench that could only come from sweat that hadn't been washed off in ages.
"What do you want?" Arashi said in a dangerously quiet voice.
"You Kou Arashi?" he demanded, running eyes over her form.
"Depends on who's asking," she answered curtly.
The man smiled, and it wasn't pleasant. "Kill the bastard's wife," he said to his two compatriots, "but take the kids. They're pretty- I'm sure they'd make good slaves."
Arashi growled, and lunged forward, catching the leader in the throat. "Run!" she yelled. "Go get your father!" she ordered.
Ryuumi darted out the door, but the two boys remained.
"I don't run!" Hakurou said as one of the men came at him.
"RUN NOW, OR BY SUZAKU, I MYSELF WILL KILL YOU!" Arashi shrieked, managing to land a lucky hit on the man's cheek. He growled and swung out with his left hand, and Arashi ducked. The knife came close to hitting her- too close.
Hakurou took to his heels, heading towards the stronghold with one of the men of his trail. The boy was safe enough, as he seemed to have inherited a trace of his father's legendary speed.
Dokun, without even thinking about it, held one of his daggers in his hand, and he heard Kouji's voice speak a lesson from long ago: "If you're fighting, aim for something vital. Don't strike to maim- strike to kill." With amazing ease, Dokun's eyes narrowed, and the dagger become the center of his world. With a deft flick of his wrist, he threw it at the man who was advancing on him. The dagger caught the man squarely in the throat, and the man fell to the floor, gurgling on his own blood. That sound would linger in Dokun's nightmares, but know it was time to help his mother.
He had one dagger left, and that meant he had only one chance. The dagger flew, and he cursed as it only caught his mother's attacker in the shoulder. He'd missed the heart, but he had given her the chance she needed.
Leaping forward, she sank her knife into the distracted man's chest. He fell to the floor, dying. Mother and son exchanged glances, then Dokun ran to the door, where he was violently ill. Arashi followed and gathered him in her arms, trying to bring a little sanity back into a world that had suddenly gone insane.
Dokun sobbed, unable to believe that he had just killed a man. Finally he wore himself out and fell asleep, into a sleep that was blessedly free of dreams.
Genrou arrived about half an hour later, frantic with worry. While he trusted Arashi to take care of herself and their children, going up against trained fighters wasn't something she was prepared for. She was woefully out of practice with her daggers, and Genrou didn't even know where she had stored her whip. She had taken to the role of housewife very readily.
Walking into the kitchen, he saw the bodies lying on the floor, staining the wood-floors with the rapidly drying blood. "Arashi?" he said, then caught site of the daggers in the men's bodies. 'Dokun,' he thought in concern. It looked like his son had just passed a trial of fire.
"Here," Arashi called from behind the house, and Genrou high-tailed it out there. Dokun was sleeping with his head in her lap, and Genrou frowned with concern.
"Is he ok?" he asked.
"I think so," she said. "Ryuumi and Hakurou found you?" she asked, confident that her two youngest were safe.
"Hai," Genrou said. "We caught the man who was following Hakurou. He sang like a little birdie when we threatened him- turns out some rogue bandits wanted to move in, and thought that if they distracted me, they'd be able to."
Arashi nodded. "Can you carry him up to his room? I want to remove the bodies before he wakes up or the kids get home."
"Kouji is looking after them for the night. They'll be ok up with the bandits."
"Hai," Arashi whispered. "I guess it was a good thing that Kouji taught him how to use those weapons after all. I think it might be a good idea for Ryuumi and Hakurou to begin to practice as well. I hate to admit it, but I was losing. If Dokun hadn't thrown those knives, we would both be very dead."
Genrou gently removed his oldest son from Arashi's embrace and lifted him up with strong arms, carrying him to the bedroom. Arashi followed to pull back the blankets, and within moments, they had the boy settled. "I'll go bury the bodies," Genrou offered, "but you stay here."
Arashi shook her head. "Iiee. I can dig the graves- if Dokun wakes up, he's going to need his father. For some things, a mother isn't a good thing. Besides, you'd never be able to get the blood off the floor."
Genrou nodded, and she left. Dokun slept for a few hours, only to wake abruptly with a scream. His father was there instantly, placing a reassuring arm around Dokun's slender shoulders. "Daijoubu," Genrou said in a soft voice. "Your mother and siblings are fine."
Dokun trembled, trying to re-orient himself. "I- I killed him," he said quietly, in a disbelieving voice. "Sweet Suzaku, I killed a man," he wailed, as tears started to run down his face. Then he sniffled, trying to hide them. "Gomen nasai, otousan," Dokun said with terrible formality. "Men do not cry."
"Che, yes, they do," Genrou countered, grabbing Dokun's chin and forcing him to meet his eyes. "Cry as much as you need to. The first time I killed a man, your uncle Kouji spent days trying to calm me down. So feel free- scream, yell- do whatever you have to."
Dokun had another hysterical fit, though this time, he didn't fall asleep after wearing himself out. Genrou pulled back and sat facing him, his expression serious. "I am very proud of you, Dokun, but things will never be the same for you again.
"I killed my first man when I was sixteen, on a bandit raid. The man was about to shoot the old bandit leader -the one Hakurou is named for- and I stabbed the guy in the back to prevent it. I did it to protect someone, but I wasn't able to justify it to myself for a long, long time." He paused a moment before continuing. "I still remember the face of every man I ever killed. If I didn't, I'd start worrying.
"Don't get me wrong- killing is NOT right. If you ever get comfortable with taking someone's life, I will slit your throat myself. The moment you started to learn how to throw your daggers was the moment you made the commitment to kill. Kouji told you they weren't a toy, but I doubt you believed him."
Dokun nodded, and listened carefully, clutching each word to his heart. He had never heard his father speak so eloquently before. "I wanted to be able to protect myself, but I didn't understand what that meant," he whispered.
"You do now, and now you have to make a choice." Genrou lifted the daggers that Dokun had thrown earlier. They still had traces of blood on them, but he held it out. "If you pick them up again, you admit that there's a possibility that you'll use them again."
Dokun looked at the blood that was on them with morbid fascination. "You- you didn't clean them off," he managed to get out, licking his suddenly dry lips.
Genrou shook his head. "You have to do it yourself- it's important."
Dokun hesitated, then reached out with a quivering hand, touching the knives he had used so carelessly for so long. They felt different then he thought they would- heavier, as though the blood had upset the balance on them. "Can I have a cloth?" he asked quietly.
Genrou nodded, producing one. "Always clean your weapons before putting them away- they are your best friends, the things your life depends upon. You should respect them."
Dokun nodded, and tried to scrape the blood off. It flaked in the manner only dried blood could, and his face paled as he resolved to finish the task as soon as possible. "It's hard to get it off," he said finally.
"And so it should be," Genrou said, meeting his son's golden eyes, eyes that were much older then they had been the day before. "Blood is one thing that should never be completely washed away."
for each new paragraph-->TThorough Glomps go out to Moonsong-neesan who not only proofed this conventionally, but also took the time to run it through a spell-check, and put up with me whining at 330 in the morning. I hope you enjoyed this!