Variations on a Theme
Act IX
Diary of a Dead Child
(The Rift)
"Where have you buried your best days? Have you lived or not? Look, one says to oneself, look how cold the world is growing."
Fyodor Dostoyevsky ― White Nights
2052
(Hanzo: 14 / Genji: 11 / Misaki: 2)
The dead woman keeps on visiting in his sleep. Her lifeless eyes still ask him questions - she still wants to know why. But even if the heir begs her to leave him alone, she just won't go away. The glowing blue that is now imprinted on his skin can't seem to protect him from these nightmares. They are frequent, recurrent and incredibly bittersweet. He thinks, every time he wakes up, that perhaps he's the only one left to remember the beauty that is no more. The beauty tradition has killed in order to make him eligible.
But wasn't he eligible already?
For the first time in his life, the heir must face a reality that makes him feel uncomfortable: perhaps tradition doesn't have all the answers.
He shifts in his bed, covered in sweat. He misses his old room, the one he used to share with his brother. But after his fourteenth birthday they gave him his own room - a man's room, they said. Full of symbols that threaten him, possess him and try to reinvent the spirit of the child that died a few nights ago, in a room with no windows.
His father has asked him not to tell his brother anything regarding the ritual. Genji is still too young to understand, he said. And while the heir is determined to protect his younger brother at all costs, a part of him can't help but feel relegated to the second place in his father's heart. He has never felt that sort of protection from the man - everything was different when his mother was alive, he remembers. Everything was better.
The dark hours of the night envelop his frame as the heir flexes his knees and clutches them tightly against his stomach. He looks so small in a bed so big - a true man's bed. He remembers the eyes of the one that shall become his wife but he's unable to see the candor in that innocent stare of hers. Misaki, that's her name - and while her incipient identity speaks of such a beautiful blossom, the heir fails to see the beauty in her.
The image still disgusts him: if only she could understand what their impending union means… her life will become hell. He can't understand why her parents would ever want their baby girl to be dragged down into that life - he can't comprehend why they would force her to marry such a despicable man as himself. The voice inside his head tells him that it was an accident, that he didn't kill that woman - but why does she keep asking him why, then?
Why does her distorted face have to come back to haunt him each night? Why can't she just leave him?
The clan elders say he can't tell Genji about the ritual because his brother is not meant for such greatness. They don't care about Genji's age, they just care about exclusivity. The heir is the only one supposed to know the details of such a night - the heir is the only one supposed to carry the burden of such an atrocity. They repeat it, they tattoo the words along the scales of the dragon: he's the chosen one, not his brother. He's the leader. Not his brother.
He is the monster. Not his brother.
He covers his body with the bedsheets and begins to turn and toss in a bed that's far too big for him. His movements represent the turmoil in his head, but he has yet to see it. For now, it's just another restless night though he's no fool: he knows the second he falls asleep, that woman will question him again.
Her eyes will reduce his shape until he becomes a spiritless dot floating alone in the dark. He doesn't have the answers she seeks, or at least he knows she won't be pleased to hear the only thing he'll be able to tell her:
I had to.
I had to.
I had to.
He doesn't know whether he should be thankful for his insomnia or not. He wants to ask his father how he made it back then, how he overcame the nightmares, the torture, the bitter aftertaste in his mouth. Sticky sheets and screaming red, he wants to forget.
But he knows - the real nightmare has only just begun.
2053
(Hanzo: 15 / Genji: 12 / Misaki: 3)
A whole year has passed, and a few more weeks got piled up upon his shoulders. Dusty days of endless training and the monotonous roar of discipline are suffocating his agonizing childhood. Even if his age suggests he's no longer a kid, somewhere deep inside he still wishes for the lights of innocence to shelter him again. Their dogma incarnates the life that waits for him, their doctrine has emancipated his freedom by locking it up in a cage.
This cage of wood and stone speaks of a profound legacy he's supposed to protect - but they don't want him to just be a simple guardian. They want him to lead an empire, and his mind has already found peace in the notion that it was simply meant to be. There was no escaping his fate. The sooner he made peace with such simple truth, the better.
For everyone.
Misaki hasn't grown too much, or at least that's what he thinks. He fails to see the subtle changes in the small girl that still receives him with a smile. He wonders if she remembers who he is - it's been more than a year now, and his hair is longer. It cascades down his shoulders, just like his father's. Misaki laughs at him, and even though her words are barely there, she can't exactly greet him. She seems happy that he's visiting and the heir can't exactly understand why - the stern look on his face should be intimidating to say the least, even if Genji says that the solemnity that's always written all over the heir's face now is becoming annoying.
The heir is not sure if Genji knows what solemnity means, perhaps the Sparrow has heard it somewhere, and he's only repeating the word as if trying to absorb it…
Something about this second visit feels different. His father decided to stay in Hanamura and the clan elders, fully aligned with the kumicho's point of view, decided to stay too, granting the heir a small portion of manufactured freedom. Only the assigned clan chauffeur was there with him, but it was only in a figurative way since the middle-aged man was waiting for him in the car. What kind of future leader walks in with a chauffeur anyway?
He's nervous, but Misaki's parents also seem glad to see him - so they grant him even more freedom by leaving the heir alone with his future wife. He looks over his shoulder - he still can't understand why those people are so interested in leaving their baby girl in the hands of such a monster.
Money and power, he remembers bitterly.
At first, he doesn't know what to do - the baby still laughs at him, and the sound makes him feel uncomfortable. He doesn't know how to talk to such small creature, and god knows he has no wish to hold her in his arms or even touch a hair on her head. So he stands, immobile, in the center of the room and acts as if he was completely alone: what does a baby have to offer, anyway? They can't exactly engage in interesting conversations, they can't talk about the future, or offer you a decent drink… Not that he drinks that much anyway - at least, not yet.
There is only one thing that Misaki can offer: her silent complicity. Perhaps she won't even listen to the words he has to say but that doesn't mean that the heir has to remain silent. So he speaks to her as if she was some sort of magical void of silence. She giggles, from time to time, giving testimony of her age. She doesn't talk back, she doesn't answer - and what's best: she can't understand a single word he says.
It's refreshing, he quickly notices: he can tell her anything, and she will only giggle in response.
It's not entirely fulfilling, but at least he can let some things off his chest. Like the pressure he's been feeling lately, the nightmares that still plague his nights and the little time he got to spend with his younger brother in the last couple of months. Obligations and responsibilities, numbers and teachings that have nothing to do with a fifteen-year-old boy.
When he gets back home, the heir finds Genji watching the TV on their father's favorite room - not so long ago, the Sparrow became addicted to a new channel that broadcasts all sorts of retro anime and a show called Neon Genesis Evangelion has captured Genji's attention. So the heir walks around his brother in silence and sits down right next to him - the show looks incredibly old-school but the heir has to admit that it's entertaining.
Even when Genji only seems interested in the fight scenes, the heir begins to recognize a variety of deeper, richer questionings that the Sparrow can't quite comprehend yet - religion and philosophy, moral decisions and loneliness itself.
It saddens the heir - it feels as though he's only able to float on his own in a sea that's only populated by people of very polarized ages. The older ones talk to him as if he was one of them, only he's not. The younger ones don't even seem to notice him.
It seems he's become the only fifteen-year-old boy in the whole world.
2054
(Hanzo: 16 / Genji: 13 / Misaki: 4)
Misaki speaks and, with the arrival of her words, the heir's so-called freedom dies.
He can't talk to her now like he did last year. She's a repeating machine now - every single word leaving their parents' mouths, she repeats it. Clumsily, not exactly in the most intelligible of ways, but she repeats it. Every word. Every single word.
Her innocuous giggles have also evolved: now the young heir can't seem to figure out whether she's mocking him or not. He finds her exasperating, more than simply irritating.
He doesn't like children. He has never thought about this before, nor has he ever felt the need to make such a statement, but this truth resonates through him as he leaves Misaki's house: he just doesn't like children.
He's not father material. He can't stand children - how they lose their innocence, how their little gestures become more and more annoying by the second. What are they even supposed to be? Tiny adults? Smaller versions of old people? He is not entirely sure but he does know one thing: whatever they are, he doesn't like them.
On his way back home his mind thinks about his brother - it strikes him as a surprise how everything always seems to lead him back to Genji. Thank god he's growing - he's still pretty much annoying, now more than ever since an early puberty has decided to show its ugly face, but he's his brother so he has to put up with him and all his antics.
He'll have time to despise Misaki when they're older, he knows.
He misses his brother. Every passing year seems to come with a little extra distance that the heir cannot outrun. He has lost count of all those training hours and those days long gone thanks to yet another clan assignment. As death becomes just another ingredient in the recipe for his unhappiness, his brother becomes a distant, blurry image that seems destined to be forgotten before it's remembered.
At least their father remains stoic in his relentless sense of protection. A couple of weeks ago some of the elders suggested it was time for the Sparrow to go on his first mission but Sojiro told them off, and the heir was glad to know their father was still a sensible man when it came to protecting his precious little Sparrow. Perhaps their fates had already been decided; perhaps the blood the dragons shall spill will run like a river - but there will be a time for violence. For now, the heir is glad to know that the Sparrow will remain a child for a while longer.
When the heir finally reaches home, he sees his younger brother talking to the twins under a sakura tree - he hears the Sparrow's voice in the distance, as he tells them the story of how he managed to watch while one of the maids was changing her clothes. With a toothy smile Genji claims he has seen it all and the twins blush and cover their mouths with their hands. They are three years younger than the Sparrow, and while the heir laughs quietly to himself, he sees how those two boys are afraid to ask if, maybe, that poor maid he saw was their own mother.
They seem to understand that, even if they play together every day, Genji is the kumicho's son - and the thought is scary.
As Genji goes on, exposing the obvious obsession with tits he has developed in the last couple of weeks, another maid walks up to them and indicates the twins it's time to go inside: the heir watches their faces as they jump in surprise, half-happy, half-scared: Meisa has just given them a brand new sister. They ask if they can go meet her, and Genji asks if he can go as well, but the maid only laughs and tells the small group that Meisa-sama and the baby girl need to rest now.
There's mild disappointment in their faces, but it fades away quickly as Genji tells them yet another sassy story but, just judging by the excessive amount of detail he offers, the heir knows he's making it up. In the distance, the baby cries and the sound gets carried by the tepid evening wind - the heir leaves the garden and walks to his room thinking how ironic this day has turned out to be.
Just as he was beginning to realize how much he dislikes children, Meisa's baby was entering this world.
2055
(Hanzo: 17 / Genji: 14 / Misaki: 5)
A five-year-old Misaki visits Hanamura. This is her first time in Shimada Castle, and her wide-eyed gaze gives open testimony of her obvious fascination: the place is much, much bigger than the house she shares with her parents, the gardens look beautiful in bloom and her mind can't help but daydream about games and afternoons basking in the sun.
This year, Hanzo's visit has coincided with Genji's fourteenth birthday and so, Sojiro suggested that the little girl joined the festivities, for a change. At first the heir had his reservations, but the kumicho assured him there was nothing to worry about.
It was a gesture of profound connection between father and son - one of mutual understanding.
They haven't shared many of those. So the heir appreciates the gesture, and meets his father halfway.
The kumicho knows what a fourteenth birthday means to a clan boy, and even if Hanzo's memory of his own fourteenth birthday is still vivid inside his darkest memories, the heir knows that Genji won't have to go through the ritual because the clan already has a future leader in the making. At least, that's what logics say - and that's what the clan elders believe.
The truth lies elsewhere. Sealed in secrecy, hidden behind the stare that connects a father with his son.
Hanzo has failed the test - his weakness prevailed that night. Now Genji was the one supposed to take his place. But the elders don't know that. Sojiro has made sure the truth stayed far from their reach. Still the heir fears - deep in his heart he's afraid they'll find out one way or another.
Perhaps that's the real reason why he's been spending so little time with the Sparrow: he doesn't want to find any trace of pity or shame inside those eyes the second they tell him it's time to go, face the ritual because his brother has failed.
But the elders don't find out and the heir breathes, finding solace in the life of such a necessary lie.
Genji's fourteenth birthday comes and goes. And while they celebrate and dance and sing and drink, the elders surround Sojiro and let him know that now that the Sparrow is finally fourteen, they see no reason for him to stay in Hanamura while the rest of the men are sent on missions and clan assignments. The father understands that the Sparrow has now crossed the last barrier separating his childhood from the raw life that waits for him as an adult.
The kumicho knows what a fourteenth birthday means to a clan boy…
The kumicho knows there's only so much he can do.
The time for violence has already started, and the Sparrow is forced to join the clan men as they leave the compound. Blood stains his fingers, drips from his clothes and finally takes over his infantile visions. The time for toys and TV shows is over - something begins to die inside that child.
They can see it, they all can see it. But there's nothing they can do about it. The damage is done, the wonderful crystal box that used to keep him safe is shattered now.
The father says it was time for his wings to soar freely, but Genji cannot seem to make peace with such a peculiar concept. There's a furious shade of red contaminating the feathers - his wings feel way too heavy. He can fly no more.
The heir struggles in silence, though deep down he wants to grab Genji by the shoulders and scream from the top of his lungs: how could you not see this coming? Did you think that childhood was going to last forever? What did you think that all those hours of training were for? How come you could never realize what this family did for a living?
You thought we were businessmen?
Well, we are, in a way. But what type of businessmen speaks so freely about honor?
But even if the heir feels like dying inside every time a broken Genji returns home from an assignment, his mouth never conjures the words. Only his silence travels the distance and envelopes the wounded Sparrow.
Yet it's not enough. It's never enough.
2056
(Hanzo: 18 / Genji: 15 / Misaki: 6)
Misaki reads and Misaki writes. Vaguely, barely, but she's getting there and communication becomes a reality. No longer the empty vessel that could contain the heir's stormy thoughts, no longer the barricade of endless, senseless repetitions. She has a voice now, a voice of her own, but it only disheartens the heir - even if all her dolls and toys are still there, the early teachings of her brand new tutors have already begun to shape the proper young lady they expect her to be.
Her long path to indoctrination has sadly begun.
Now she crosses one leg over the other every time she sits, resting her hands on her knee. Now she always minds her dress and her contagious giggles have been replaced by a much duller grin that doesn't allow her to show her teeth.
Proper. Cultured. Indolent.
Things back home aren't any better. The gap between the heir and the Sparrow keeps growing in both magnitude and meaning although some other changes have begun to take center stage between the brothers: Genji has been making new friends, and even if the heir thinks his brother is only trying to fill some sort of dark void caused by his brand new role in the clan's affairs, he can't help but feel envious of the Sparrow.
Evidence suggests that even if the heir is the one supposed to be getting all the attention, Genji seems more amenable to others than the heir himself. More accessible and laidback, more friendly and approachable.
Even more attractive than the somber heir.
New topics begin to surface during their broken conversations: the Sparrow wants to know about Misaki, he wants to know if his brother is ready to marry.
But the heir only laughs at his brother, indicating that the girl is only six years old. He doesn't say that he feels nothing for her. He doesn't say that he's not ready to marry. He doesn't say that he dislikes children, that he never wants to become a father.
Through the days of madness and chaos that the Sparrow is living, the voice of the elders reaches the heir and they say, over and over again, that Genji is slowly becoming a bad influence for him. Clan member during the day, party boy during his hectic nights, the Sparrow is becoming a liability. And while Sojiro says there's nothing to worry about, the heir begins to see the crack dividing his younger brother.
Genji goes on, trying to jump across the increasing distance separating him from his brother. He wants to know if Hanzo is still a virgin - but when the heir says he is not the Sparrow can't hide his evident surprise. He doesn't understand how could his brother find the time to do such a thing - and above all things, with whom? Hanzo has no friends, there's literally no-one with whom he could have experienced sex for the first time. But the heir does not add any sort of detail, he can't bring himself to explain how it all happened.
It's gruesome, it's haunting, it's despicable.
The Sparrow says he is not a virgin either, and the heir suppresses the bitter sense of rancor filling up his stomach, concealing the uncomfortable feeling with an easy smile. It's not jealousy he feels, far from it. It's an envy so profound he can't even find his voice. Why does everything have to be so different from one sibling to the other? Why life is determined to be so hard on him while Genji seems destined to be… happier.
Genji had a childhood, but even after it ended, their father's protection was still there for the Sparrow. He had a freedom that allowed him to make friends and even enjoy his first sexual experience. Every single girl in town seemed to have a thing for him, they all wanted him. The heir was a prisoner of discipline and duty, forced to marry someone he didn't love, bound to the elders and their teachings, the kumicho was a leader, not a father to him - and sex, that distant nightmare that still haunted him most of his troubled nights was not something he was willing to experience again.
But the heir fails to see that Genji has grown up without a mother, and he also fails to see that in the greatest portion of the adolescence that the Sparrow is now transiting, he's lacking the guidance of his older brother too. He fails to see that, unlike him, Genji was born without the certainty of being the kumicho's heir - he didn't have his entire life planned out for him: he was supposed to struggle to find his place in this world.
Past his silence, the heir perceives that something's not quite right.
Beyond all these new experiences, something remains broken inside the Sparrow. Then Genji says the words that Hanzo doesn't want to hear: he has killed someone during his last mission and sex cannot erase the feeling.
Friends are not enough to mitigate the pain.
The Sparrow seeks his brother, that distance lighthouse that towers over him and eclipses all his colors. He says he's afraid of the man he's becoming - that this taste of true power is unsettling. He cries and asks what is wrong with him, why can't he just adapt to this life, why does this power feel like a thirst that won't ever be fully quenched.
The heir holds him in his arms for a brief moment. Yet his mind, distant, cannot seem to remember when it was the last time he has seen his younger brother cry.
2057
(Hanzo: 19 / Genji: 16 / Misaki: 7)
Genji's group of selected friends gets bigger and bigger every day and, deep down, the heir can't help but wonder if his brother really knows the meaning of the word selected. Their karaoke nights know no distinction between weekends and weekdays, and the clan elders are becoming more and more upset.
They say Genji's late for his training every single day. That he acts distracted, that the most frivolous things seem to dominate his attention. That he's been drinking and having sex with a variety of strangers - and that he has been bringing home some of those strangers, acting as if Shimada Castle was some sort of luxury resort.
Some of them dare say that Sojiro has lost control. That the Sparrow's erratic behavior is getting out of hand. That the kid lacks all sense of duty and discipline…
That he should be more like his brother Hanzo.
The heir sees his father in distress - he watches as the kumicho curses the Sparrow behind closed doors. A part of him wants to mock the leader, a part of him wants to tell him that it's all his fault. That freedom must be earned, that it shouldn't be a consolation prize. But then the feeling of guilt overcomes him, so the heir stays quiet, and watches in silence as his father and mentor asks himself what went wrong.
For the first time since meeting Misaki, the heir actually wants to go visit her. He just wants an excuse to leave Hanamura, even if only for a little while. But the moment of peace is short and agonizingly trivial. The indoctrinated girl cannot help him. At least, not yet.
The heir goes back home, but even if the elders and his father are silent, there are other sounds preventing him from falling asleep. A choir of moans keeps his eyes trained on the ceiling above him, the vices of an orgasms galore taking place in his brother's room are getting on his nerves.
Respect for the home their parents built together - such a lack of manners, such a decaying taste for good morals.
He gets up and leaves his bed. He is determined, furious feet lead him through the corridor. He doesn't knock on his younger brother's door, even when their father has taught them to always respect each other's privacy. His unwanted presence, far from interrupting the Sparrow's pleasure, only elicits a quiet chuckle from the ninja - then he turns around, stares into the heir's cold eyes and asks,
"Brother, would you like to join us?"
He's mocking him. His younger brother is making a fool of him.
Little does the heir know, but this won't be the last time he'll be hearing those words from his brother, and while this unexpected first time makes him snort and scoff nervously to the point of almost spilling his green tea, the last time will be remarkably cruel. The last time will make his heart tremble in desperation.
The last time will make him doubt.
As he turns around and leaves the Sparrow's bedchamber, the lonely heir catches a glimpse of a shadow moving inside the room - the shape is so magnificent it forces him to stay put and stare for a while longer. The shadows belong to his brother and his brother belongs to the shadows, as he moves and breathes and enjoys his sexuality without any restraints. Looking down, the heir realizes that the chains that immobilize his body are his and his alone. That the nightmares that still plague most of his nights are his and his alone. That the shackles around his wrists are his, and his alone.
One last thought crosses his mind - his brother's body, the body that casts such a magnificent shadow, is the body of a man.
The Sparrow is no longer the fragile child he still remembers.
Genji is a man, albeit a rather premature one, and the heir can only wonder how on earth he managed to waste so much time.
2058
(Hanzo: 20 / Genji: 17 / Misaki: 8)
Even if the heir has been feeling like an adult for a very long time now, when he turns twenty, he finally becomes one. Legally.
There's little time for Misaki now, and so the heir's visits become dull and short: a polite greeting, a silent stare, a goodbye kiss. He can't blame the little girl for his lack of interest: being eight years old is an intrinsically boring situation, even for a girl who's in the middle of a rather dogmatic race against the clock.
Coming of age day, (a ceremony that has been celebrated in Japan since at least 714 AD, when a young prince donned new robes and a hairstyle to mark his passage into adulthood) is held in order to congratulate and encourage all those who have reached the age of majority, twenty years old, over the past year, and to help them realize that they have become adults - but the heir has already realized.
He has realized his own adulthood a long, long time ago.
There's little controversy in his mind about this day and what it represents. As a matter of fact, those people around him - the ones that are also entering adulthood, still look like children in the heir's eyes and so, he envies them in silence, trapped in his private elucubrations.
The festivities continue during the night as countless strangers gather together in order to visit Shimada Castle and celebrate the heir's adulthood. He walks among them, trying his best to blend in a sea of faces he can't seem to recognize. People are strange, he muses: many of them live in fear thanks to the clan yet this occasion brings them all together and, in their eyes, he can see the comforting closeness and the hungry proximity to power and money shining under a blanket of stars.
Women seem to notice him now. In fact, they have been noticing him lately - as his twentieth birthday began to get closer and closer, women began to pay attention to the heir. They praise his velvety black hair, they admire him for his skills and his impeccable disposition… they want to be near him, touch him if possible, get lost in those dark eyes of his…
He begins to wonder why all these women seem so interested in him - why now. He wonders if they like him for him or for who he is, he wonders if they like Hanzo or if, perhaps, it's the figure of the future kumicho the real reason why they've been seeking his company. When he looks over his shoulder and sees Genji surrounded by friends he feels the doubt grow within him - he wants to ask his brother if he ever doubts his friends, if he's sure they want him for him, and not because of who he is.
When alcohol takes over, the heir loses his inhibitions. He's free to smile and engage in small talk with people he doesn't really know. He laughs and even stares at some of those beautiful women who are obviously trying to captivate him with their charm even when they all know he has a half-baked future wife. They don't seem to care in the slightest but, truth be told, neither does he.
Easy company means no harm after all...
Sex finds him again, after six years of fear and regret. After the nightmares and the screams, the time has come for the heir to break free but this brand new freedom feels different, it tastes different, it smells different.
When the heir returns to the party, he is finally able to look at his younger brother without getting that feeling of jealousy or envy. He has finally had a taste of that life and even when he knows it's only a temporary panacea he has to admit: it felt good.
Looking over his shoulder, the heir spots the one that takes his breath away. He doesn't know her name, but he's seen her many times working at the little ramen shop just outside Hanamura. Keeping score of all her moves, her father watches her carefully but when the man notices the heir staring at his daughter, he suddenly begins to instigate the poor girl, trying to convince her to go talk to the future leader of the Shimada Clan. Hanzo turns around and leaves the party: she's lovely, indeed, but she does not deserve the terrible life he has to offer.
2059
(Hanzo: 21 / Genji: 18 / Misaki: 9)
Death has decided it's time to revisit Shimada Castle.
It arrives unannounced, surprising everyone when its unexpected dark wings envelop the living. Meisa's husband was found dead this morning. Father of five, strong and hard-working Reiji has sadly passed. His heart, they say, gave up all of a sudden.
A small ceremony is held inside Shimada Castle. They honor the one that is no more and give their heartfelt condolences to the ones he's left behind: three daughters, one of them still a small child, his beloved twin boys and a wife that doesn't cry.
The kumicho stands by her side, holding her hand in his.
The heir wonders if, perhaps, the leader of the Shimada Clan hasn't heard the rumors implying an affair between him and the maid - but he finds the thought ridiculous: his father knows everything; not a single detail escapes his sight and so the heir realizes that, if the kumicho knows about all those rumors, he simply does not care.
The Sparrow stands by the twins, and even if their friendship has stalled over the years, it's nice to see them together again, even if they're bonding over a tragedy.
The heir, bored and seemingly unmoved by the circumstances, walks around the garden all by himself. There's something fascinating about those rumors, he thinks, and even if he's not entirely sure if they're true or not, even if he doesn't know if he positively likes the idea of his father finding love again or not, a part of him wishes he was as brave as the kumicho.
His father had been promised to somebody else, just like he was now. But his father had broken all rules by marrying his mother - he had deceived the clan elders, he had managed to create the family he wanted to have, with the woman he wanted to marry. Hanzo knew he didn't have it in him. He would marry Misaki and she would give him children that, in time, would find their separate ways in life just like he and his brother have done. But if the rumors are true, that means his father has done it again. A kumicho cannot marry another woman after his wife dies - at least, they're not supposed to. But here, the leader holds the maid's hand in front of everyone and breaks all walls, amputates all traditions.
He's proud of his father.
But he doubts himself. He knows he doesn't have what it takes, he knows he doesn't have the guts to be the man he wants to be.
They have taught him many things - but they never taught him how to say no.
He walks by himself until the sakura trees become a blurry landscape playing tricks on him. The stones in his path are nothing but milestones of the life he won't get to live. The pond finds him rather quickly, his hair in the wind dances around his shoulders. He doesn't know it yet, but his feet are moving as if they had a mind of their own.
His mother waits in the valley of death. She longs to hear his voice, but his constricted throat cannot find the way to release the words he longs to say - how he misses her, how he wishes she was still around.
What would she think of him now?
The heir sits before her immaculate name and closes his eyes - he thinks about Misaki, and wonders what she'll think of him in the future, when he becomes her husband. Would she remember how he visited her each year? Would she think it was nothing but the dictatorial course of tradition? He fears she'll see him as some sort of pervert - a delusional man obsessed with a child. If only she knew he felt absolutely nothing for her…
He contemplates the process with eyelids that don't want to see the world. He senses the perverted nature of their bond, forcing him to witness all her transformations: from careless child to indoctrinated lady; from girl to woman, from woman to wife.
It's repulsive, it's irksome.
It's bloodcurdling.
But still, he plays by the rules and he visits her each year and takes note of all her changes. Just because they want him to.
They have taught him many, many things.
But they never taught him how to say no.
2060
(Hanzo: 22 / Genji: 19 / Misaki: 10)
Misaki is ten years old, and the heir cannot believe just how much she has grown in the last year. She's brighter, clever, funnier and for the first time since meeting the girl, her delightful company makes him call her young lady and her mother blushes for her, anticipating the life her daughter has earned just by… being born - and consequently traded, like cattle.
Livestock…
He still doesn't feel anything for her and, deep inside, he wonders if he ever will. He knows love is only for the brave, and he might be the future leader of a yakuza organization but when it comes to the heart, he simply has no clue.
Genji has been trying to get him to talk about Misaki again, but to no avail. It seems, lately, his patience is wearing thin. Every time he tries to reach out and talk to his older brother, the heir only shies away from him, offering only monosyllabic answers and vague explanations. He says he's busy, says he doesn't have the time and Genji knows he's only trying to avoid him because he fails to see that even if their worlds are changing, there's still so much they have in common.
But the heir can't seem to see it.
Lately the elders have been spending a lot of time with the heir - teaching him numbers and how to properly administer the clan and the compound. Math is exhausting, but the heir knows he needs to pay attention to these lessons. The importance of these moments is crucial: in the future, not only his capacity for leading the empire muscle will suffice to ensure the continuity of his predecessors' legacy.
Still the Sparrow misses his older brother. He has been missing him for so long a part of him still struggles to remember what it felt like to have a brother.
Taking the seemingly petulant heir by surprise, the Sparrow tells him that he has been seeking help from a professional. He says that he can no longer discern between day and night, right and wrong, company and solitude. Genji says that the woman has been most helpful so far, and that they've spent several hours talking about the heir.
Hanzo trembles - is his brother so naively stupid as to tell a stranger about their family business? Even when everyone in Japan knows that the Shimada lineage conveys one of the strongest names in the yakuza business, the elders still demand discretion - and so does his father.
But the Sparrow only laughs, as if he doesn't know the man staring back at him with eyes that can't seem to see beyond the most obvious facts. But then he says nothing else, and the heir thinks that perhaps, he has just lost yet another chance to connect with his younger brother.
Why is he seeking help outside? Why does he feel the need to trust a stranger?
Why - when he's there for him.
Is he there for him?
He doesn't have the guts to admit it. He can't face a truth he knows by heart: year after year, the bond between them seems to break a little bit more. They haven't really talked in ages now, and while the elders say that it's better this way because the Sparrow's rebelliousness might be contagious, deep down the heir knows he has to take responsibility for his actions.
He should have done more.
He should have listened more.
He should have talked more.
But he fails to see that the Sparrow doesn't have the time to keep up with his silent monologues. He fails to see that his younger brother misses his voice, not his judgmental stare.
Genji just smiles, a mocking grin that taunts the dubitative heir.
"Do you like babysitting your future wife that much? Isn't it a bit weird?" The Sparrow asks, and he leaves.
2061
(Hanzo: 23 / Genji: 20 / Misaki: 11)
Misaki stands in the middle of nowhere, facing a childhood that's slowly starting to leave her as she timidly takes her first steps into the bumpy roads of teenage heaven. She's not this, but she's not that either, and the lifeless expressions taking over her face give testimony of just how hard it is to grow. And the heir understands.
Growing up has been troublesome and even traumatic for him. The years gone by have come to represent an entire universe of missing stuff that he can never recover. Raw experience has molded his mind, subjugating his will. Now the headache goes wherever he goes and the tremor underneath his skin makes him feel much older than he is.
He, too, has fallen victim of alcohol and substances - just like the Sparrow. And while Genji needs it to fill the void, Hanzo needs it in order to face reality: he cannot fill his brother's void. He should. But he just can't.
This year, Genji is the one officially entering adulthood. The celebration makes the heir think about himself only a few years ago, back when he was just a desired face trying to blend in a sea of countless strangers. The Sparrow's friends are there, all of them, they greet him and they congratulate him but they don't know that the second son of the leader of such a macabre empire is about to face his darkest years.
Alone with everybody, the Sparrow dances and laughs - and speaks, but he does not talk. Says, but he just won't mean it.
One after the other, his companions march in a mad parade of easy pleasures. And the heir watches, from afar, as his younger brother's every sin becomes a vice that cannot be neither repaired nor expiated.
He will trace his younger brother's steps, and will be led down the same corridors now bursting in profane lights. He'll see the sparks come blazing, aiming for him. And while their moans and their groans echo through the decaying layers of yesterday's tradition, each brother alone in each separate bed, with each separate companion will drown in an ocean of complete emptiness.
The bridge between them has ceased to exist.
Now they only dance as broken shadows, always longing for the lost innocence of a shared childhood, always bleeding the brotherly bond they could not save.
By the time the party ends, the kumicho walks up to Genji and offers him a book: White nights, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. The Sparrow thanks his father, and then the kumicho notices it: his younger son does not remember.
"It was your mother's favorite book," He says, almost brokenhearted by the notion that his beloved Sparrow has forgotten the woman they have loved the most.
Genji contemplates the book, as it weights lightly on the palm of his hand - he can see the yellow pages, sees the edges that have been worn away after years of oblivion and the symptoms that time has inflicted upon the item. Yet it's not enough to bring her back - her voice has faded from his memories a long time ago.
He can't remember her.
He can't remember the last memory he has of his mother.
The following morning, he puts the book back on his father's nightstand and claims that he finds it boring, slow-paced, and terribly old-fashioned. But the heir rescues it and once he starts reading through the pages, he can't stop.
Because he remembers her.
Because he still needs her.
2062
(Hanzo: 24 / Genji: 21 / Misaki: 12)
Genji is in Ibiza.
He didn't tell anyone about this trip, nor did he care to explain why he was leaving so suddenly but with every picture he sends the elders explode in sheer fury and Sojiro, for the first time in his entire life, doesn't know what to do with his son.
Hanzo remains inalterable in his place as second-in-command. He's the perfect son, the perfect clan member - he's the perfect product. Thoughtful, strong, determined… The only one that stands when everything else falls down.
And down they fall.
Sojiro looks at his older son like a caged animal that's about to be devoured by the most gruesome of beasts. And the elders are relentless in their witch hunt, pointing out every flaw and picking on the weak. The clan leader tries to defend his younger son by stating that even if Genji's behavior has been questionable, he still is one of the most important members of the clan.
He is his son. They cannot touch him.
He's getting tired of this, so his voice becomes loud and clear: as long as he lives, no-one shall question his beloved Sparrow.
Hanzo works harder during Genji's unexpected absence. He fills in for his brother in missions that don't require his presence, runs all his errands, and completes his every task. He knows Genji won't appreciate the gesture and, perhaps, he won't even say thank you - but at least he's trying.
Misaki understands why this year's visit is so brief - the heir has been incredibly busy lately, and while Genji is gone and partying someplace else, he needs to make sure that nothing comes in the way of their family business.
Until one night, Hanzo's phone rings and the sky turns a shade darker. One of his brother's closest friends is asking him to come pick him up at the airport. Alone. And discreetly.
Genji has ODed on their flight back to Japan.
He's rushed to the hospital and while the doctors try their best to save his life, Hanzo weights their name down upon the cops waiting for the Sparrow to regain consciousness. It's a good thing they're feared, the heir thinks. It's a good thing they rule the entire city.
He should be so furious right now… but he's not.
His worry blinds him.
One by one, the Sparrow's friends leave the hospital. It seems that an unconscious Genji is not entertaining enough for them. Hanzo remembers their names, and commits their faces to memory: they don't deserve his brother's affection but if he has to be honest, neither does he.
He sits by the Sparrow's bed, once the doctors say he's been stabilized, and waits ever so patiently for those young eyes to find him again. It takes longer than expected and the wait quickly becomes torture - there's just so much he wants to say to him.
But when the Sparrow opens his eyes and finds his brother waiting for him, he breaks down and cries like a helpless child and so all of Hanzo's words are put on hold again. The heir promises his brother that he won't say a word about it, that he'll make sure the elders never find out about this and Genji listens and nods his head, appreciating the gesture.
As the IV drip gives his brother the substance he lacks, the heir's heartbeat quiets in the middle of his chest and for the first time that night he breathes out.
They both have hit rock bottom. Now the only way out is up.
2063
(Hanzo: 25 / Genji: 22 / Misaki: 13)
It is safe to say that after the incident, the brothers have found peace in each other's silence. While Hanzo stayed true to his words, Genji understood that the least he could do to repay the favor was to pretend his life wasn't so miserable. So he joins his older brother and becomes the perfect son, the perfect clan member. Thoughtful, strong, determined…
They still don't talk as much as they should, but at least Hanzo has recently showed him a picture of Misaki and the Sparrow congratulates his older brother - although little does he know that the last thing his brother wants is to be congratulated.
Five years.
Five years until their wedding day becomes a reality. Five years until his last dream dies.
Such a slow agony for the soul… The period of time he's meant to wait seems capricious and inconclusive: is it too long? Is it too short? What's life going to be like in five years' time? Will he change during those years? He breathes out and realizes that, for example, five years ago he was entering legal adulthood. Five years ago he was welcoming sex as yet another part of his life - a part finally dispossessed of the nightmares and the trauma.
His silent tribulations don't reach the Sparrow. His younger brother is staring intently at him, as if trying to deconstruct his every thought with nothing but the powerful magnet of his eyes.
But then he looks down, and Hanzo knows that even if his brother is trying his best, he's clearly losing the battle. He's becoming a machine: the perfect clan assassin during the day, the perfect playboy during the night. Excesses are knocking on his door again and the heir worries once more - he almost lost him once, not so long ago…
"Some of the elders saw me the other night, making out with a guy." The Sparrow says and Hanzo shrugs his shoulders in a rather innocent manner - they all know Genji has been with both boys and girls.
But the heir has once more misinterpreted his younger brother's words - Genji does not care about the elders, it's the boy he likes the one that actually worries him.
"The elders have tried and will keep on trying to find arguments against you," Hanzo says, "But father knows, so you'll be fine. There's nothing to worry about."
Only there is - and his brother is not asking for his opinion as future kumicho. He just wants him to listen.
"I like him." The words are so simple yet they carry so much meaning that the heir doesn't know what to say in response. "I really like him."
"Well, of course you do. Otherwise you wouldn't be with him in the first place."
Genji doesn't want to fight, that's why he doesn't ask his older brother how he of all people could say such a thing. He, the one who was being forced to watch Misaki, a woman that means nothing to him, grow under the inescapable scrutiny of the doctrine in order to become his wife.
The heir fails to see the whirlpool of questions assaulting the Sparrow. He fails to see that his younger brother is feeling something he has never felt before.
Genji smiles, ending the conversation. Then he pats Hanzo on the shoulder, and leaves.
2064
(Hanzo: 26 / Genji: 23 / Misaki: 14)
The elders only offer him their most serious faces today, as they summon the heir alone. It's not the first time they seek his company - it's not the first time they try to talk to him without his father's constant supervision. Three of them are waiting for him in a dimly lit office, the large wooden table separating them feels like a barrier.
They inform him that there's something wrong with the girl. The heir asks them about her, then, he wants to know if she's sick - and this sudden act of unprecedented concern surprises him until he realizes that, perhaps, that was the point of his annual visits: to facilitate familiarization as if it was yet another step in the seemingly endless path to systematic indoctrination.
She's already fourteen, the elders say, but she still hasn't had her first period and while it's a known fact that age at menarche varies considerably between populations, they are visibly worried by this unexpected delay.
So they ask him, plain and simple, what he thinks about the possibility of not being able to provide the clan with a new heir. They want to know his honest opinion. They demand to know what he would do in such a situation.
The heir contemplates his options for quite a while but then he simply shrugs and says that if she wants to have children, adoption is always a viable option.
He doesn't tell them that he doesn't want any kids - he understands that becoming a mother is transcendental for some women and if that's Misaki's case, he'll help her - it's the least he can do for her, he thinks, after the perversion of all these years watching her grow, after dragging her down to yakuza hell.
That's the least he can do for a woman he does not love.
The heir doesn't know it yet, but the elders are about to teach him the most important lesson of his life.
"Adoption…" One of the elders says as he stands up and walks towards the heir, "Such a befitting answer for half a leader."
It takes him a moment to understand the meaning of those venomous words and, for a fleeting instant, he fears they have somehow found out the truth about the ritual - but then he sees it, crystalline and unavoidable: he's only half an heir because her mother was not the woman they had chosen for his father.
Half an heir, half a bastard.
Rage burns within him, the feeling directs his fists forward and so the heir punches the man in the face until the weakling lies on the floor, with his hands up, begging for mercy. But when he's about to deliver one last blow, the other two surround the heir and reduce him, forcing him down on the chair again.
The man on the floor laughs, and rivulets of blood paint his lips. They throw her blood-stained panties across the table for the heir to catch. They lied, once again. There's nothing wrong with Misaki. The lesson becomes evident: the clan will never accept an adopted leader - blood shall always come above everything else.
He throws away the garment, he doesn't even want to know how those elders got hold of such an item. His stomach churns in complete revulsion, he feels sick - he wants to throw up.
That's what she is to them - a trophy, a pretty little ornament meant to embellish him like an expensive tie or an ancient brooch. But underneath all that superficiality, absolutely nothing lies therein: she's just a pan, a container for a future heir. A living test tube. But the leader himself is also made of shadows: he's just a sperm bank ensuring the clan continuity - he's the one that makes their dreams come true, allowing them to live in luxury and opulence.
A name to blame when things go wrong.
An idol to adore when power and money soar over the horizon like the only silver linings that can save them from the shitty lives they have to live.
"If your wife does not give you any children, you go fuck some other woman," They say, "Do you understand?"
He nods but the dragon roars. For the first time, the man controls the beast, and not the other way around.
2065
(Hanzo: 27 / Genji: 24 / Misaki: 15)
He's waiting for Misaki to come visit him for a change as his mind drifts away and he realizes that it's been long since Genji has brought someone over. The Sparrow's multiple companions have become part of the landscape, always coming and going and practically owning the place, but now the parade of countless strangers has stopped.
But even without all of his partners, Genji doesn't look lonely or depressed and the heir thinks that's a good sign. After everything he's been through, the Sparrow could use some peace and quiet.
Slowly, gradually, he's also becoming more and more responsive to the clan's demands. Genji doesn't protest now, he doesn't fight back and the elders are pleased to see the boy finally changing. He goes on more missions, he gets chosen more regularly… they say he's even getting better and better with the sword, perhaps, even better than his older brother.
Hanzo does not mind. He's too busy tasting this unprecedented feeling of stillness, just as if every single piece in their puzzle was finally falling into place.
A new mission requires the Sparrow to get on a train, and go to Kyoto - and Genji goes, without saying a word, without rolling his eyes at them. He takes longer than expected to return home but the heir doesn't mind: his younger brother has been working hard, he sure deserves the rest. When the ninja returns his hair is green and his smile is wide and toothy - he hugs his brother and says he wants to take a picture,
"My hair is green, brother, come on," He begs, and the heir accepts, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans closer.
The Sparrow tells him about his trip to Kyoto, about the mission, about his duty - he even says he has met someone.
He says he's changing, says he's feeling better.
But the echoes of their laughter disappear in the cold morning lights as the place comes to life and the wind makes the curtains dance. The kumicho has died peacefully in his sleep and such a delightful death is befitting of him.
Now they are alone, they know.
Now life begins.
2066
(Hanzo: 28 / Genji: 25 / Misaki: 16)
Rehearsal time is over.
He's a leader now. An actual one.
And those who mocked him in the past now fear him. Those who didn't know who he was are now being forced to learn his name by heart - letter by letter.
They tell him that he's beginning to change. That power is corrupting him. But he shakes his head, stubborn as ever, and denies whatever they have to say. But the truth is that he has already changed and those around him can sense the dragon taking over the man.
Misaki is afraid of him now. And no, he hasn't hurt her, he hasn't even touched a hair on her head but the girl sees the darkness spreading and she knows - when it reaches her, it will demand a reaction from her.
She reacts, or adapts or… what does she mean to him? She has two years to prepare herself, to become something she's not, to meet his expectations. But what does he expect? She's known that man for fourteen years now, how come she still doesn't know who he is?
The girl decides to start by the simplest part: he's attractive. He's visually attractive. She could like him. She could be with him. But he wants a wife, he demands a wife - he doesn't want her to like him, he wants her to love him. He is not interested in holding her hand, his body has walked long paths she has yet to visit. He won't want to kiss her, he will want to fuck her.
The girl breathes in and breathes out, alone in her room, as anticipation quickly turns to desperation. Two more years until their wedding, two more years…
She has to be ready by then. She has to. So she calls him and tells him to come visit her and the kumicho, polite as usual, obliges. She has never kissed anyone before, she doesn't even know how to kiss someone but she knows they expect her to do it right. So she tries her best, as she clings to his neck and her tiptoes struggle to keep her standing firmly against his frame but the man grabs her by the wrists and tells her to stop - he hasn't come to steal from her these last two remaining years before their wedding, he says.
"There'll be time." He calms her, and the girl cries in his arms for she knows she won't be ready.
He doesn't love her but he can't deny a certain attachment. He's watched her grow, after all, it's only natural, he thinks. That's their dogma - that's the clan.
When he gets back home, they're waiting for him. They're furious but their anger is different - he senses the change.
"He betrayed us," They say, "He betrayed the clan for Overwatch."
He cannot hear the words they say, there's a numbness in his head that he can't fight. Their filthy echoes surround him as he moves across the halls. Perhaps that's why his brother was acting so nicely lately - was he selling them, exposing them? Was he destroying their father's legacy? More than once, the elders had told him that Genji was a liability, that there would be a price to pay for all his pointless rebelliousness - but this… he can't. He just can't.
They warned him. They told him to do something about it, to make his brother change, to force him to take responsibility.
But now the Sparrow stands right in front of him, and his hair is green, and his hands are in his pockets.
The kumicho asks him only one question: he wants to know if what they say is true.
The Sparrow smiles and opens his arms,
"Look around us, Hanzo - what more could they possibly offer me?"
Freedom.
His hair is green, and there are a few freckles scattered on his cheeks, but you won't get to see them unless you look really close.
He hears his older brother say that he has the high ground and he knows Hanzo's right. Hanzo's always right. Hanzo is the perfect son. So he won't fight Hanzo. How could he fight Hanzo?
His father says he's like a small Sparrow.
His hair is green.
His smile is contagious.
It's obvious and confusing at the same time. They haven't really talked in ages - why start now?
His name is Genji. He loves to eat ramen with his brother, sitting side by side on the sidewalk, right after training.
His name is Genji, and while he barely walks, he dances on his tiptoes as his older brother plays the piano.
His name is Genji. His hair is green.
Most of his porn is animated.
When it's done, the kumicho looks at his father's sword - the same weapon from the ritual, cursed and bloodthirsty, forged by demons, wielded only by sinners.
Are you happy now?
Am I good enough now?
He gets on his knees, cuts off his hair and leaves the sword behind. Each symbol still represents the mystery of all those ones that are his no more. His hands... his own hands have left him on his own. His loved ones are a museum now and the dragon dies a little death, its iridescent blue fades away in the night.
His name was Genji, and his hair was green. His smile was contagious, and most of his porn was animated.
His name was Genji and he loved his anime.
His name was Genji, and he didn't remember his mother.
His name was Genji.
But his father would always call him the Sparrow.
