Not that terrible long ago.

But long enough any-way, that at that time, Yanopp knew nothing of any-body called Orion, Damon or Komunryu.

Even the name Alejandro, at that time, had meant nothing to Yanopp, as she had spend her days at syrup island. Feeling more and more trapped by the minute. Feeling like she would burst if she didn't soon get to taste real freedom and adventure.

On another island, not to terrible far away from Syrup, but yet far enough, had a peculiar young man been walking around..

He was a pity sight to behold, when people caught a glimpse of him, they would wrinkle their noses and turn away as quick as possible, trying to walk a big circle around him to avoid having to smell or look at him.

"Don't get to close." A mother whispered as she pulled her curious child away. "He'll just beg for food, and then steal our money, that's how that kind of people are." She told.

The young man barely battered an eye-lash at that, he didn't seem to care.. he was very young, but that wasn't very obvious, at that moment he looked much over his age.

With dirt covering his skin in cakes, in a way so you would never know that he was naturally pall, he looked sandy brown, there was not a bit of him which was not covered in dirt and dust.

His cheeks were sunken in, his arms and legs were skinny, and thus the rest of him clearly weak, his clothes were old rags, it was impossible to know what they had might looked like ones, now they were just rags, the same brown colour as the rest of him, the colour of dirt.

Even his hair, which had been black ones, was also caked and had a weird brownish colour to, it looked disgusting.

His eyes that had ones looked sharp as razor blades, and calculating over all what he saw, were dulled and uncaring.. in fact, it seemed downright impossible to see his eyes, due to how they were sunken into his skull, and covered, with a pair of spectacles, that was also dirtied on the lenses, but the young man didn't seem like he could care less about it.

How had it come to this?

Him, who had been raised to dignity, whom hated mess or dirt, whom would at ones fix it if his shirt had a wrinkle in it, or were just askew. Whom would feel genuinely embarrassed if a button were buttoned incorrectly.. He was a Shinjin! The last of the shinjins! The prodige of a proud clan, the best of the best. What the rest of the world should aspire to become.

He was not just a poor beggar! If these people only knew, they would beg to be allowed to feed him and have him as their honoured guest!

He didn't want their help, he didn't need it! He was Shinjin, son of Engel, the proud leader and the best of the Shinjins.

He was the best in the class, the smartest most talented youth on their island for decades!

THIS WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE HAPPENED! THIS WASN'T HIM!

So how? How could it have happened? How?

Damon remembered, it was nearly three years ago now, three years ago as he had wide-eyed turned around.

He had run as fast as he could, through the forest, across the island. Begging, that his preminisations weren't true.

But as he came closer to the village, the smoke became more and more apparent, as it whirled up towards the sky.

Damon hadn't been able to think, he had barely been able to breath.. And then he finally saw it, the village, laid bare in front of his feet's.

Not one house was remaining whole, not one piece of land had gone untouched.

Who ever had done it, was far gone by now.. whether they were pirates or marines, what difference did that make?

What difference did it make to the sight Damon saw before him, that would now be burned into his skull for-ever!

They were all brutes! All savaged beasts! They had proved that now, all of them!

Damon had done the only logical thing he could do, he had searched the village thin for survivors. But there was none.. only all the bodies, dead bodies. Corpses.

Damon whom had never done labour work a day in his life, now had to do it for the first time ever, as he was the only one, whom could give his people just a little dignity, by burying them probably, digging them graves by himself.

It ended up in Damon developing blisters on his lovely, smooth hands, get pains in his body, that was different from any pain he had ever experienced before! Not even days of training, had given him pains like this.

He fell on the ground from sheer exhaustion, as he had barely dug the first hole, and then fell a sleep on the ground.

That he had done before, during training in the forest.. But not entirely like this. Not this, not so.. Alone.

It took him a week to dig the graves and bury the villagers, he knew every single face, said a prober good-bye to each and every one of them.

His mother and father got a hill a little higher than the others, so you could see that they were the leaders! They were the important ones.

And then his mind had all-ready made his calculation for him. He had to leave, who-ever had done this, would probably be back to make absolutely sure that they had really gotten every-one, and if they found him, he would be dead, just like the rest.

His father had send him away for a reason, there had to be a reason that Damon hadn't been allowed to die fighting alongside the others.

But what? What did his father want him to do?

Why couldn't he have left a clue, any kind of clue? But Damon had nothing, absolutely nothing!

How dared they just to leave him to his own devices like that! How dared they?

This was not how it was supposed to be! His purpose was so clear! But the shining example of the Shinjin clan, one day take over leadership, and then lead them into another time where he could show the others the Shinjin way.

But there wasn't even any-one left to teach! Not a child he could protect, not a sacred roll for him to safe-keep.

Or perhaps there was? Perhaps that had been Engels plan?

Damons head! It had all of the knowledge of the Shinjin, all the discipline, was that his purpose? To keep the Shinjin clan alive?

As long as his head was still there.. then maybe.

That had been three years ago now.

Three years of misery, there was nothing glorious about this quest, nothing at all.

The thing that had kept Damon going, was the idea that he was special, that he was better and had to go on, so he could be that example his father wanted him to be.

But now, for the first time in three years, Damon saw his own reflection in a window.

The reflection of an old, thin, worn out shell of a man.. And it suddenly clicked for Damon, he suddenly realised.

No.. he was not any-thing special, he had no chance in this world, he was not that shining example his father wanted him to be.

Damon glanced down in the bag he had over his shoulder, at the loaf of bread there he had stolen earlier that day.

Stealing.. it had become so normal to him now, that he didn't even think about it. It was disgusting, he wasn't behaving nor looking like a shinjin at all… he was unworthy, unworthy of his name and origin, he was lower than the people he had looked upon as being beneath himself.

And then Damon realised.. there was no point going on any-more, there was just no coming back after this.

All he was doing now, was just to further soil his peoples legacy.. he would rather die than do that.

This would have to end, and end now.

Damon managed to walk out in the forest, using a long stick as a cane, as he had gotten long enough out, he laid down, having decided that he was not going to raise from this spot, ever again.

Weakly he reached into his bag, after the stolen loaf of bread, and then threw it away, just far enough so he couldn't reach it and be tempted.. this was it. This was the end of the great Shinjin cland, it should have ended three years ago.

What-ever his father had wanted him to do, he had failed the test and was unworthy, this was right, the only right decision.

Damon closed his eyes, and sighed deeply, finally, after three years, feeling some-what at peace with this situation.

It was just then, that a pair of feet's came stomping through the forest, rather loudly as well.

Damon didn't even bother to open his eyes or look up, he had decided never to care again.

Then the foot-steps stepped, right beside Damon, and a young voice loudly asked. "You going to eat that?"

Damon blinked, as he slowly opened his eyes, annoyed looking up at this person whom dared to disturb him, a young silver haired boy, around sixteen years or so, whom was pointing straight at the bread Damon had thrown on the ground.