Prologue

Should I really do this…?

The last light from the fading sunset glittered in the distance like a fire amidst the water. No matter how many times I look off into the sunset at this time, I can't help but appreciate its beauty. The light soon faded extinguishing that fire and letting the night creep its way into town.

I'd been standing by the window and gazing off, letting the thoughts of leaving stir. I was still unsure if I should go or not. I heard a knock on the doorway to my room. I turned to see Mom standing there. She was dressed in her usual waitress outfit from the bar down the street. She had an extremely tired look about her. Her hair was damp from sweat and smelled like cooking tinder. She struggled to just take off her soiled apron. I hated seeing her like this. All the hard work she does just to support me.

"Its night now, you should get ready to sleep soon," Said Mom with that warm smile of hers. "I'll see you in the morning, good night," and she left the doorway walking towards her room. The echo of her steps seemed slower then usual.

How can she smile at me like that…? If she knew, would she still smile at me?

"Good Night Mom!" I called as she walked off. This was going to be the last time I'll say this to her. That smile of hers. I feel guilty whenever she smiles at me. I've been the cause of much grief in her life. Because of me, she's become an outcast in the town amongst a majority of the townsfolk. She's looked upon as a tramp or a slut. But she's only been with one man, and he was Dad.

It's almost time for me to leave soon. Just need to wait a little longer till she's fully asleep…

I walked over to my desk and picked up the lone picture that our family had. It felt strange when I picked it up. I noticed that a lot of dust had accumulated on it. Well not dust really, more like the ashes from the coal that the smiths and the ships burn from the Alberta ports. I looked into the old picture of the family and some friends. I was in the center and Dad rubbing my head with his hand and mom smiling at the camera, and with them, their two friends on each end of the group. It's been so long since I've seen them. I can't even recall their names anymore. I just remember the stories Dad would tell when he adventured with them all. They wore their armor and swords in the picture. Dad did too. I always admired him for looking like a true swordsman wearing that manteau draped around him and having his katana at his side.

Dad was a good man. He lived an honest life protecting his family and friends while working hard to earn his money earnestly. This town doesn't take too kindly to foreigners though. Nobody would insult him in his face I noticed. He was a healthy man known to be decent with his sword. But it was us; his family that would be the ones looked down upon. Insulted and ignored…

How could Mom possibly endure this all? Maybe if I wasn't around she wouldn't have to go through all this…Would Mom have stayed with Dad if she knew that this was the life she would have to life? Am I really worth all this trouble?

If I left… things would be for the better…

It was dark now and my Mom sounded like she was in bed, sleeping deeply now. With care, I placed the picture back onto the desk and walked over to my bed. Underneath I kept the money I'd been saving for Mom when I decided to leave. It was around 200 thousand zeny and I was certain that she'd be able to live off this.

Maybe this will make up for some of the pain I've caused…

I placed the bag on my bed, certain she would find it. Along with it, I placed the farewell letter besides it. I began walking out of my room, but I turned around slowly looking over my room once more. A habit formed to make sure I didn't forget anything. I walked back to the picture and gently wiped the dust from it. Then, I made my way to the store room.

Inside was mainly just dry food and spices. But Dad's belongings were here too. Probably because he liked to eat food so much, it does him justice to have his belongings hanging here with the food. His old manteau was placed on a hook opposite of the wall where his katana was. I took the manteau down and put it on. Dad was taller then I remembered because it nearly touched the ground.

Do I resemble him when he was younger?

I slowly took father's katana off the wall. I slightly drew the katana from its saya. The blade gave a faint glow as it drew in whatever light still lingered in the room. I re-sheathed it and secured it at my waist like father. I always wondered why father would use this weapon. He was strongly built; a broadsword or a claymore would have been like a child's toy to him. But his stories of using this sword to protect his friends and fight off monsters while adventuring made it sound like a treasure among swords. It's ironic how these are as highly revered as great swords, yet those from that country are despised for being foreigners. Growing tired of these thoughts I set them aside.

Leaving the storage room I saw my old practice sword leaning against the wall. It was a wooden sword crudely shaped to resemble a katana. I picked it up and remembered the long hours of practicing in the forest. I'd spend hours using this to emulate my father's sword skills. I managed to learn a handful of his techniques, yet I could never compare to his skill with a sword. Memories of practice drawing and swinging came back to me. I smiled and slid it into my belt as I did years before. With this I finally felt ready.

I stepped out in front of the house and closed the door quietly. Letting my eyes wander, I stood there taking in the scene as much as possible. The house on the highest hill of the town which overlooked all of Alberta, my hometown, all that I've known. This will be the last time I'll look at this town with these eyes.

Be safe mom… and forgive me for making your life this hard…

And with that last thought, I headed down the road. I stopped a few steps down the path and turned around.

I can't just leave on an empty stomach, now can I…?