Chapter 10
Why are you still alive?
Kira's mind unconsciously questioned himself.
His entire being had an answer, but he was not sure of what exactly it was.
He felt it from his wet fingertips, to the top of his damp hair, and to the bottom of his murky toes.
The steady trickle of rain beat against the cold earth endlessly. Each damp droplet seemingly resonating harshly on deft ears. The sequestered land was covered in moist darkness. The moon of light shrouded in the midst of ominous clouds. Not a single source of light dotted the heavens. An ill omen. There was peace in the land
Leaning on the trunk of a withered tree, was a boy.
He was wearing a ragged kimono, though a significant improvement.
He was not samurai.
His sash was missing the swords that entitled such an honor.
It was.
Kira.
His frame balled into the trunk. His arms spread across atop of his knees. Lavender eyes hidden from view. His dripping wet hair cascaded down the front. His arms and feet were both bandaged, freshly patched while trickles of blood moistened them once more. He was all alone. In the still of the night, he found himself alone. Something he had grown accustomed to.
There were two sources of water dripping down from the heavens.
A chilly breeze cut through the rainy silence. Freezing everything in its path.
He was reminded of a time in his life, of the cold hard truth.
The unmistakable certainty behind all questions.
He was no longer confined to a vile jail cell. No longer deprived of food. No longer deprived of clothing. No longer beaten to the brink of death.
However.
There were things worse than encarceration. Worse than starvation. Worse than bareness. Worse than pain.
One of the many lessons he would soon learn.
It had several suns since he last smelled the fetid stench of the air lingering humidly over the wooden cell block. Though, those hellish nights remained a memory locked in his mind, that he could not forget. He could still feel the many wounds he had come to receive. The very snot ridden, dewy earth bathed in mud and slime could still be felt on the tips of his toes. He was not at that awful place, but at the same time, he was there.
He was crying. The relentless splatter of water deftening his pleas.
His strength returned to him in no time. It seemed he had even gotten stronger. But that was a sick perversion of truth.
His tears fell to the floor. His gaze looking down ever so sadly.
His hands shaking in every passing moment.
In his kimono, was the the source of his pain.
He could not stop his tears from falling.
But his tears seemed to have been dry.
There were some wounds that were meant to never heal.
Wounds that went deeper than the skin, deeper than the senses, and deeper than the mind.
"Kira-kun . . ." a menacing voice started, emerging from the nowhere. Protected against the rain with a large straw conical hat. His face was hidden, but there was no mistaking who it was.
The violet eyes of the boy gazed upwards.
"Rau . . ." Kira said matching the low tone.
His head snapped back up to see the cause of his sadness.
A fierce look that could only bore holes gazed from his violet eyes. It caused a rare involuntary shudder of fear from the deranged samurai.
"You hate me. Good. You are starting to make progress already," the voice said.
"I do not hate you," Kira replied truthfully.
He did not hate him.
To Rau, the boy's gaze seemed fierce at first, but there was something about it.
He wondered what it was.
It seemed empty . . .
But how could that be?
The boy still puzzled him.
"You are still crying again, tsk tsk tsk, that's no good," Rau said with an evil laugh, regaining his composure.
A silence ensued. The harsh droplets of water steadily growing even louder.
"That will all change Kira-kun," Rau said confidently.
"I won't let it happen," Kira defied.
"That is not up to you," Rau said.
Silence. His violet gaze lightened. Was he right? Kira asked himself.
"You have yet to become samurai, but you have always wanted to become one, is that not right?" Rau said.
"Nani?" Kira replied, obviously bewildered. His questioning eyes looking at the blonde who revealed his face. The rain had stopped falling.
A small menacing chuckle escaped his lips.
"You lack the truthful meaning of the samurai. You lack the thrill of the kill. And most importantly, you lack the hatred in your heart."
Kira stared at him in silence. His resolve slowly beginning to waver and drift away. His eyes returning into a cold and empty glaze.
"That will all change very soon," Rau laughed menacingly.
Kira continued his empty gaze.
"To be samurai, is to kill. The purpose of the sword, is to kill. Hatred, is to kill."
Kira sat in silence. Seemingly unphased by what the maniac man had to say. After all, his hands were not stained.
"What you lack in mentality, you make up for your natural inhuman talent," Rau continued.
Kira contined to look right through him.
"You still wish to remain a merchant scum?"
Kira remained lifeless.
"Hmph," Rau said, a flash of irritation drawing into him. He recovered by placing that delirious look in his eyes once more.
Rau grabbed Kira, viciously yanking him onto his feet.
Out of his drenched kimono, fell two pieces.
It was his wakizashi.
Tori was broken in pieces.
"We will see about that."
"Mu ha ha ha . . ."
Rau's evil laugh reverberated in the passing of the silent night.
Kira would soon be broken.
His screams heard throughout the night. His pleas falling on deft ears.
By the rise of day, the screams had stopped.
Unhealable wounds would open.
The katana, called Strike, was placed back in his shaking hands.
The scabbard loosely tied onto his crimson sash. It would soon fall to the floor.
His body soon giving way.
Followed by the unmistakable crying, that continued from sun up, to sun down.
The dry tears would soon subside.
A promise sealing his eyes.
He questioned himself once more.
His mind still had the answer.
But what could it be?