Chapter 2
Kira aimlessly staggered around. He walked down from the castle and went into the towns around the base of the mountain. He did not know where he was going nor he did care. With the only reasons for living his life stripped away from him, he couldn't care less about anything else. His life was now meaningless. His empty eyes seemed like looking into a cup of glass without water in it. If a living object with no meaning existed, there would be no reason for it to live at all. Kira's lips sagged sadly as his face took on a couple more months into its features.
The pain of sadness seeped into his soul. His eyes wandered off into the distance while seeing nothing there at all. He knew he would never be able to see, hear, or hold a decent conversation with Athrun ever again, nor Lady Lacus for that matter. He was too ashamed of himself. His last meeting with his once precious friend was absolutely horrible. Kira thought the event couldn't have gotten any worser than it did.
Kira was humiliated and shamed in front of all who saw the event. Two noble families were witness to his degradation. Lady Lacus, Lady Clyne, Lady Zala and some servants and an imperial messenger along with the two great daimyos. It was set on the ceremonial stage that Kira stumbled upon, except this time he was under the limelight. A significant amount of sakura flowers stopped cascading towards the earth. It seemed gravity no longer took interested in them. Rather, nature was interested in another thing. The veranda consisted of silent nobles, all intrigued in what was happening. The clouds seemed to darken as if to foreshadow what was to come. The fading wintry wind stopped blowing while a trifled smell arose in place of the aromatic smell of the blooming flowers. Meanwhile, a miasma of feelings, anger, confusion, and betrayal amongst the many emanated from the scrutinized gaze of emerald orbs.
When asked what he had done with his gift, he could only reply in falsehood. One look from Lord Zala sent enough shivers down his spine to match a month's worth of icy cold baths.
"Kira! What did you do with it?" asked Athrun disbelievingly.
"I . . . I sold it," Kira replied in untruth truthfully. His head angled perpendicular to the floor having felt his nudity under close observation of noble eyes. He knew what they were thinking and a part of himself convinced him that they were right. He was an ungrateful servant. After having processed the information, several pairs of eyes bore faultfinding holes into his being. The glares themselves did not make him uneasy. He could handle them as he had always done so. It was the misconception. Deceit etched in truth. Truth etched in deceit. Four pairs of eyes dissented from the group consensus, one held happiness, two held sadness, and the last held kindness.
Happiness came from a victorious man who hid the topic of conversation within his extravagant kimono. Sadness seeped from Lady Lenore and Lady Clyne who seemed disbelieving of such an event, but were forced into silence and a dejected look that tore Kira's heart into shreds. Kindness came from a worried young woman whom was befuddled by the event. He even felt genial sympathy for his plight emanate from her. He hated himself for having drawn compassion from the woman, compassion that he felt undeserved. He could not manage to look into the baby blue eyes that were not judgmental of his character or seemingly lack there of.
Athrun was distraught and aching inside, his precious friend was no liar. His aggrieved emerald orbs wanting to smash the brunette's face and at the same time shield him from the scrutiny. He could not find the heart to do neither though. Remorsefully, he turned his back on what used to be his precious friend. A simple gesture that retaliated against the insulting offense that Kira had committed. Kira's eyes almost dripped that familiar moisture, but he could not allow himself to do so.
To ease the tension, Lord Clyne reluctantly revoked Kira's duty as a servant and banished him to the outskirts. After his declaration, all were silent. There were no public objections, but a part of all of the people's hearts felt the impact of Lord Clyne's words. Leaving in feigned robust, the former servant walked away from the castle forever. No tears were shed by him even at that point. Though, his violet eyes betrayed him easily. Before he went out of sight, one remorseful glance at Lord Zala stirred a small flash of regret from the middle aged man. The reason why--Kira held no ounce of hatred towards him. Just a silent acceptance with a face that asked for forgiveness for whatever he had done to the daimyo to incite his heinous upon him. Kira was leaving. Never to return. All the sakura flowers stopped falling seemingly marking Kira's leave of eternal absence.
His thoughts dwarfed his reality to the point of almost no return that he did not even realize his new surroundings. He was considerably a great distance from the castle where he used to work. Homes were cluttered so close together they seemed almost unable to breathe. A pungent smell was evident from the lack of hygiene of dirty men floundering around. The roads were a sickening sight of feces mixed with mud and some indistinguishable elements. The place was overall inhabitable for any nobleman to dwell in. He was in the rundown streets of the eta.
An ominously subtle shaking of the earth viciously pulled him back to reality. Quite common in Japan were the mild tremors, but Kira so much did not even care about it at the moment. He was empty. The unbearable shame still squeezing the life out of his heart as if it were juice being taken from an orange. He wanted nothing more then to take his life right then and there as he had felt it would have been easier. However, that was yet another impossible task. His head hung low in defeat at not even having a weapon nor the heart to do the deed. Equally degrading was the smell of his own cowardice in his fear of death. Something that was said to not have ever been a factor for any samurai. In fact, death was assuredly embraced by many samurai while fear itself was eliminated. Though the crudeness of the world seemed overwhelming, there was no way the boy could take his life.
After trudging heavy steps on the weary earth, he found himself lost in a decrepit town just as his heart was lost in nothingness. A little ways over he found a small child of no more than eight years of age. He found her to be cute despite her rugged appearance and shabby clothing that almost matched his own. Her brown hair was tied up into a small messy bun. A few freckles adorned her mildly pale cheeks and her big brown orbs envisioned the world in chastity. A small empty smile graced his sulky lips. His mind's eye saw the innocence of the girl which made him grimace inwardly after having felt such a trait taken away the day he was born. He silently wished that the same would not happen to her. The girl seemed to have been unhealthily skinny, she was eta after all. Just as he is now or should have always been. The boy wished he could have offered her some food, but sadly he had nothing to give. He himself was nothing.
The harsh reality befuddled him once again as a group of drunken peasants who seemed to stumble into the eta village. The peasants, who made up the majority of the population, were the second highest social class of the Edo Period. Only second to samurai. The peasants held more privileges than Kira ever had even as a merchant boy. Consciously aware of the social standings, Kira turned his head away and resumed his sullen walk to nowhere. After all, he belonged nowhere.
After walking for a while, he turned around after hearing a small scuffle. His solemn violet eyes watched in horror as the little eta girl was stalked maliciously by the small group of intoxicated peasants. Their sloshed eyes glimmering with vile intentions while their grubby hands began to draw closer and closer to the frightened girl. Her eyelids soon closed tight with her small hands draped over her in an effort to imagine the bad men away. After a few moments of trembling silently inside her body. She was surprised. She felt a pair of warm arms, definitely not belonging to the drunkards, pick up her tiny frame protectively and swiftly rushed away from the danger. The little girl peeped out from the small gap she created between her tiny middle and ring fingers. She noticed her saviour's messy brown hair and the concerned look on his face. Ever the smart child she was, the little girl pointed out a peculiar small house nearby. The brunette meagerly smiled at the intelligence of the child.
A distressed mother seemingly in her late thirties came out briskly from the house. Kira plopped the girl down on the ground safely as she received warm matriarchal death hug and lighthearted admonishment. Conscious of his un-needed presence, Kira began to walk back steadily towards the group of drunkards seeing as his job was only half done. He was momentarily stopped by a pair of small arms wrapped around his right leg. Smiling back at the child, he waved her away causing the girl released her hold on him while a grateful pair of eyes looked at the boy kindly. He motioned for them to go back inside while he returned to do his bidding.
Reluctantly, the mother and daughter entered their house. The mother caught on to the boy's intentions as she eagerly stood by the door observing with keen interest from afar. She watched with keen interest as if studying the soul of the boy. Nobody else would notice the following events.
Upon reaching the few men, Kira placed his arms down in defeat. He struck a heavy bargain with the drunkards. In release of the girl, he would give himself up to a rowdy beating. A beating he took willingly. The tightly clenched fists berated the boy with an endless amount of left and right hooks. All of which were sloppily thrown. After several long minutes, the drunkards gave up to exhaustion and settled for one last kick in the stomach of the flattened boy. The dirt of the earth tasted dryly bitter in his ajar mouth. The pain was good. After all, Kira could tolerate physical pain easily.
Slowly getting up, he found himself faintly surprised as a pair of arms helped him onto his feet. The mother had came to his side. She led him graciously to her home, supporting him with tenderly. Reaching the innards of the home, she generously offered him a cup of water. One of the few things she had. Having a better look at the home, Kira noted the inferiority of the condition the house was in. It barely had a roof. The cedar walls was ridden with large holes inconveniently placed to allow a mild draft to enter unwillingly. It was a tiny room compared to the castle like an ant compared to a human. The what would be a shoji was poorly made, its washi paper was tattered with several holes.
It all did not matter the least bit to him though. He never had a house to call a home. This place was a home to the mother and the daughter. He believed happiness can come from the poorest places on earth because even if it is poor, there was at least a meaning to it. The home for instance, served the purpose of a shelter for this small family. Then he thought about himself. A boy without meaning for the only meaning he had had just been taken away. He would soon drift away into his wistful thinking.
A small touch on his left shoulder found his attention and reeled him back. Snapping back to reality, he noticed he was in front of a small audience. There were two pairs of eyes gazing at him intently. One with brown eyes looked at him in mirth as she giggled at his funny mindless expression. The other pair stared at him intently with a serious expression sketched on her face. They belonged to the mother.
"Why did you do it?" she asked simply.
After a while, Kira thought of a witty answer. "Because I am samurai," Kira said with feigned belief. A bundle of ironic remorse inwardly laced his words with enough sarcasm to fill the small house. In reality, he wanted to believe in his words, though he knew they would never be true. Not even close. It was a complete lie. He didn't want to say the real reason why he saved her. He said those few words only to see how they would sound. He wished could be true, but it was not.
"No you're not," a third voice intervened, "you don't have a sword."
Kira stared at the girl stupefied at her perception. She was right. After all, he could not protect her with his own hands. All he did was spare her the pain. That was the sad truth. His life was meaningless. He was meaningless. "Gomen nasai . . ." he whispered weakly.
The tears that threatened him on several occasions finally fell. The day's events caught up to him in one fluid motion. It struck him like a mean left hook to his ribs. His body was at all not aching. There were no wounds. No soreness. Just nothing.
"For what?" she inquired in confusion.
"For not being able to protect you . . ." he managed to stammer out through his cries.
"Silly!" she said jovially slapping the crying brunette on the arm. Her rash gesture stopped the flow of tears momentarily. Then they resumed again. The little girl would manage to stop his crying by presenting him a crane origami she had made. The boy was surprised by her kind gesture at first and then accepted into his hands warmly. He admired the roughly made paper crane. It was beautiful despite its faults. He smiled happily at the small girl and eagerly stashed the origami inside his rickety kimono for safekeeping.
All the while, the mother smiled knowingly. She knew from the moment she saw his warm violet eyes that there was something about the boy. Grabbing the brunette's soft yet calloused hands, the mother led him to a secret backroom. Upon closer inspection, Kira noticed that the place was a makeshift forge. A small man made heating furnace at the center. It was dimly lit save for the light that shown through the backdoor. At the corner of the small room, a wizened old man grimly held a sheathed katana tightly in his elderly hands. The Tsuka or handle of the sword was decorated in a an unusual pattern that differed from normal katana and even those of the higher ranking samurai. It was coloured a mix of vibrant blue and scarlet red, both unusual colors of a katana. The mother nodded towards the elder inciting him to unsheathe the sword two inches of the way. A small and unfamiliar inscription was written on the shiny metal.
"It is for you" she said simply.
Kira still had a baffled look plastered on his face.
"Chichi-ue said he would only give it to the one who is worthy of it, but in our eyes, you are indeed worthy of it," she smiled.
Kira dumbly pointed at himself while lipping the word 'me' questioningly.
A simple nod assured him it was his. Turning back to the aged man, he noticed a small frown of disapproval on his crusted lips, while two encouraging smiles could be seen from about a quarter of a mile away. Kira looked from the mother to the daughter to the old craftsman and back to the mother again. Tears started welling in his eyes as he turned for his leave. Immediately, the mother's hand flung out to his shoulder stopping him politely. Her eyes glistened with confusion and compassion.
"Gomen nasai . . . I am too weak of a person to wield a weapon . . ." Kira stuttered having tears prick his vision at having to swallow a hard pill, "I do not like to fight . . . that's why I cannot protect anyone, not even myself . . . I am a coward . . ." he could barely manage saying the last of his difficult confession, "I am no samurai," Kira said softly in sadness. He turned to leave through the backdoor of the hidden shop. The mother and daughter were utterly bewildered by his response. They were surprised at his kindness--not once did he ask for a reward and when they were handing him one, he politely declined the offer. The wizened craftsman's frown turned into a small mysterious smile.
All of a sudden, a tremor in the earth shook the house wildly. Kira's movements were stopped altogether by the sound. The thunderous rattle of the floor seemed to have a rhythm of its own. It seemed everyone was bracing for impact from the instability of the earth. This was not nature's doing. This was something else. Curiously, Kira exited through the back and blindly ran on top of a nearby hill. Reaching the top, he turned to look over the town. What he saw frightened him to the core of his bones.
Homes were ablaze. People were being slaughtered--peasants and eta alike. A swarm of brown colored kimono samurai ran amuck through the town seemingly burning everything they touched. Seeing further beyond the town was an even larger amount of samurai marching synchronically. The taps of their feet causing the rumbling of the earth. A blow horn sounded, an antiquated device that hadn't been used in ages to alert the people of Plant of an invading force. After several minutes of hesitation, the boy ghastly realized the home he came from was up in flames. The breeze of the wind spreading the fire like soy sauce on rice. The wooden frames and thatched roofs eagerly fueling the flames. Many houses were burnt to the core already. Suppressing his own fear, Kira managed to break out of his stupor. He ran back towards the house with his speed increasing as he feared for the family's safety.
Upon entering the home, what he saw broke his broken heart. Without a doubt, he was crying in agony. The forge room was no longer dimly lit as searing heat radiated from the embers surrounding the chamber. A small pile of bodies could be seen in the middle of the room next to the furnace. Each body losing the ounces of remaining life left within them. Kira staggered towards the familiar faces sorrowfully. Crimson streaks of blood trailed from their wounds. The light in their eyes slowly fading away into darkness. Kira reached out a hand to cover their eyes honourably, but failed halfway through his attempt. Pure grief shaking his whole entire being as his legs buckled under him and his fist clenched firmly. He could feel the wet tears trail down his face as he screeched a hoarse sounding yell madly in an attempt to dull out the grief. However, his choked scream of agony did little to compensate for his sorrow.
Too caught up in his grief, he failed to notice the last remnants of strength left within the bodies. The dying daughter who was in the arms of the fading mother each held a peaceful look on their faces. They seemed even relieved to have fallen but that was not case. The look in the mother's eyes conveyed to him the real reason behind their faces--it was a powerful message. She was given life because they were treated kindly--by him, and for that she was forever grateful. Over the years, her kind heart slowly grew with anger and malice at the unfortunate life her daughter had to live. She was angry for not being able to give her anything better. She had thought life was unfair. All that changed when she had met him. She was ashamed of herself for having given up to the feeling of resentment and hatred. She had thought she knew herself what it was like to feel meaningless while it was him who truly knew what it felt like to be meaningless. Yet, despite the sorrow of his life, not a single trace of hatred remained in his tender heart.
The mother knew her daughter was happy without having lived in lavish wealth, lavish houses or lavish castles. The boy taught her that simple lesson. He also gave her daughter a moment of happiness and protected her from his similar plight. She thought his heart was worn on his sleeves too much.
It was indeed a weakness to have a soft heart.
It was indeed a weakness to be kind.
This still warring era never allowed it.
But it was through these flaws that truly protected people.
To feel meaningless was the same thing as being lifeless. It was Kira who had given her meaning, thus it was him who had given her life.
A small smile formed on the passing girl's lips as she faded into the dark abyss. She smiled one last time at her protector while the mother softly closed her daughter's eyes without remorse. She would soon follow, but her karma was not finished.
She saw the aching look of the boy. His boyish features were etched in agony and worry. His eyes showed him off the most. He was wishing to be able to save her, her father, and even her already deceased daughter. Her eyes watered from the kindness evident in his expression. The boy was selfless and guileless.
Flames engulf the house threatening to collapse the rickety design. A peculiar object shimmered illogically from the surrounding fire. The object was held tightly in the old man's weakening hands. Slowly, with the last of his energy he lifted up the object in earnest offering. A silent wish was made as he passed on the sword. The elderly man smiled at the teary-eyed boy and with bloodied hands, he unsheathed it just enough to show the engraving once more. Just as the burning house began to collapse. The fading grandfather whispered, "It means ningenmi . . ."
"Human weakness and human kindness."