Hi everyone! How're you? After a long time, huh?

I'd like to dedicate this story to one of my sweetest reviewers and cutest little sisters: Chiya because today's her birthday after all! Many many happy returns of the day, Chiya! May God bless you and keep you happy always. You're the most patriotic reader of me. So, a patriotic story for a patriotic girl!

Warnings: Character death, fights, blood, swearing, violence, nasty politics, sexual assaults (Not graphical). So, I rate it T+ :P. Besides, this story greatly deals with politics and student politics. Somewhat like "All truths shouldn't be spoken". You remember it, right? Like that, it's also based on a lot of real events of Bangladesh. Little children, please don't read this. Your brains aren't fledged enough to carry the weight of the dirty movements of politics. Thank you :P

This story comes with a lot of lessons. The readers who're around my age and studying in colleges will be able to understand it, I think.

Vastly KaiHil, along with Boris, a new OC is doing the role of the villain here. So...enjoy!

The motorbike was being driven by a purple-haired man in a vast speed. Flurries were hastily blowing against its direction, against them, he was in a competition. How old was he? Between 30 and 35, shining like the sun in the middle sky of his youth. The leaves of the trees standing by the zebra-cross-painted roads were trembling as he was leaving his gusts to them. The velocity left throbs in the stagnant water of the nearby ponds and tanks but he didn't care. His wrist-watch was saying that the time was passing faster than he was. Soon, he had to inform his boss about a pretty serious matter. He couldn't wait more, nor his leader. At least the migrated Russian was thinking so.

Stopping by the big banyan tree, he parked his bike there and landed from it. Under the shady tree, the brown-haired politician around the age of the violet-head was waiting on his chair, sprawling his lower hands on the four-legged rectangular wooden table. His ruby orbs were checking the Over his head, his secretary was unfolding an umbrella for saving him from the scorching heat of the summer sun though the shade of the tree was enough for him. Seeing his most trustworthy secretary aka best friend on his crazy bike wavering sands around it at the unusual moment, he stood up, frowning. What had happened all of a sudden?

"Boris Balkov has principles, not beliefs!" The purple-head blurted, "Stop these calculations and start the calculations of your safety. It's at stake now, Tachibana."

"What the hell are you saying, Boris?" The brunette frowned, totally confused.

"Susumu is creating a gang," He sat on the chair kept by the table, "He's claiming that he'll gather all the farmers, laborers, beggars and put fire in the barns!"

The ruby eyes of the politician turned bloodshot at the unexpected outburst of his friend as he tightly clutched the pen kept on the table, "How dare him!"

"I'm also saying the same thing, Hachiro," Boris slapped on his forehead, "If the common people stand by Susumu, we all will be doomed. If they really destroy the barns or loot them, we have to spend the rest of our lives by begging from doors to doors. I have principles, not beliefs!"

"There's a proverb in politics," Hachiro shut the registered notebook, "Self-preservation is the foremost task. If needs be, I'll drive Susumu out of this world!"

"No no no, don't try to do it, Hachiro," Boris held his left shoulder pleadingly, "If you do this, we'll face losses more than the profits. Rather, let's bring him to our track by convincing him."

"Hmm…." The notorious politician puffed his cigar, "Your idea is not sounding bad at all, Balkov. Let's talk to him at first."

"That's my leader!" Boris punched on the table.

"Smack!"

Someone blew on the pewter podium, sitting on it in lotus pose. Beside him, a few young people were being seated in diamond position. Some hurricane lamps were ignited, hanging from the upper corners of the walls. Behind the stage, a white curtain was blowing in the air, preventing it to enter the assembly. In front of the speakers, listeners were sitting, spreading jute mats on the ground. Most of them belonged to the so-called lower classes of the society. They were farmers, day-laborers, the drivers of public transports, cobblers, potters and blacksmiths. When their leader was showering fire from his throat, they were burning in it too. The vigor of him was more heating than the lamps.

"What kind of famine is it?" The dual-haired man in his early thirties screeched, "In the barns of the rich, the foods of the poor are held captive. In the darkness of the nights, the commodities are being smuggled and we are blaming our fate?"

"Mr. Hiwatari," One of his teammates informed, "The coffins of dead bodies are being stolen too with the corpses and their cloths!"

"The bodies of starving people are being eaten by dogs and foxes!" The leader shouted, "Will we all remain silent yet after it?"

"Never!" One of the listeners raised his hand, "We won't remain silent anymore!"

"Then, come with me." Susumu's tone became calmer, "Farmers, laborers, students-together, let's jump on the highways on behalf of the people of all classes. You all will spread in the areas and regions. Convince the folk that this famine is artificial. If needs be, we'll fight another battle for our lives. Looting the commodities from the storehouses of the rich, we'll distribute them among the poor. We'll lead a procession of hunger!"

"Yes!" Everyone chorused, "We'll lead a procession of hunger!"

"No no, silly," The notorious politician shook his head, cackling and keeping the half-burnt cigarette in the round porcelain ashtray, "I am not meaning it. But you have a family consisting of your wife and a three-year old son. I'm also a father of a two-year old angel, you know. She doesn't have a mother. A child without a father or a mother is helpless, Hiwatari! Think of your child once! There's a proverb in politics: Self-preservation is the first law of the nature."

"Hachiro," In a cold tone, Susumu replied, "Along with parents, spouse, children, siblings and other relatives, the whole world is a family to a human being. Had I had the fascination towards my blood-related people, I would never have come to Japan leaving my self-obsessed and heartlessly rich father in Russia. This society is a family, this family is a society, a country. This country where my mother was born is my idol."

"Who knows it better than I do, Hiwatari?" The purple-head chuckled, "Once upon a time, we used to deliver the same slogans and follow the same ideologies. Now, I have principles but not beliefs, friend. Hehehe…"

"Coincidently," Tachibana rested his left leg on his right thigh horizontally, enfolding the neck of the half-Russian in a friendly way, "Our ideologies and principles are different from one another today. But it doesn't mean that our friendship will be destroyed."

"A friend misguided from the ideologies of real politics is not a friend, Hachiro," Susumu snapped, getting the dirty hand of his ex-friend off, "For their selfishness, they can even fire at the chest of the people!"

"Who am I to fire them?" Hachiro chuckled, patting on the knee of his ex-friend "Police have all the rights to do it, not us, Hiwatari. That's why, as a friend, I'm advising you to forget these silly activities."

"Listen to me, Susumu," Boris offered, "In the barn of Tachibana, there are the commodities of about 20-40 million. Without creating any hassle, you can also take an amount from it. Then, you can lead the rest of your life in comfort, without doing politics."

"Woah!" Tachibana seemed to agree with his secretary.

"You both have sold yourselves to black policies!" The dual-haired bit his lips, standing up from the sofa, "But this Susumu is not a good that can be bought ever. You both can go now!"

"Well, Susumu…." The brunette also stood up calmly, "The offer of Balkov isn't a trap at all."

"I don't want to hear!" Susumu snapped, "Just get lost!"

That fueled the anger in the brains of both of the brunette and the purple-head. Yet, calmly, Tachibana spoke, "In politics, there goes a proverb. You have to pay a hefty price if you cannot control your enthusiasm. Balkov, let's go!"

"Hmph!" Snorting, the violet-haired guy left the house along with the Japanese politician. Once they were out of Susumu's sight, a pale raven-haired woman came out from her bedroom, pushing the curtains. The signs of worries and panic were evident all over her face, fingers were curled in tension. Behind her, a three-year old boy resembling his father plodded slowly, clutching her cloth in his nervous petite fingers. Bubbly amethyst eyes were filled with fear and astonishment. Even he himself didn't know from where they were coming. As a child, he could guess that something was terribly wrong with his dad.

"Susumu…" The lady placed her hand on the shoulder of her husband, "Their words are appearing very fishy to me. I'm…I'm feeling so nervous. Please, be careful."

"Compromising with them means selling my righteousness," He wasn't afraid at all like his family, "Do you suggest me to do the same, Misaki?"

"No, not at all, Susumu," The jet-haired shook her head, stroking the hair of his son, "Just think about our son, Kai. Think about the baby who is yet to come. Please, don't lead the procession."

"It cannot happen now, Misaki," The husband caressed the head of their son, still being adamant, "The procession will come out tomorrow at any cost!"

The roads and streets of Tokyo were billowy with the waves of the restless Pacific Ocean. The surfs landed on the lands of Japan, the heavy procession was passing through the lanes and highways. Cars and buses were stopped from moving. Peeping out, passengers were looking at them. The people of the political party were fisting in the air, carrying red, white and blue banners on which the mottos of their lives and ideologies were written in bold white fonts. As always, Susumu Hiwatari was leading it, holding the hands of his teammates. Anger and the want of justice were visible on all their faces. They were determined to get their deserved rights back. Trees, ways, lamp-posts-everything was being reckless with their chorused slogans:

"We want food, we want cloths!"

"We want to live like living a life!"

"We want food, we want cloths!"

"We want to live like living a life!"

"Someone will eat, someone won't!"

"It won't happen, it won't!"

"Someone will eat, someone won't!"

"It won't happen, it won't!"

By the side of the roads, the police were standing with their guns and pistols, straightening their backs. They had to come out to fulfill their responsibilities and maintain the peace everywhere in the city. Soon, from behind a tin-shade house, the purple-haired came out, still hiding from the world like a real coward and concealing the bangs of his hair with a sport's cap. His hands were carrying a pump-action shotgun. Staring at the procession, he gestured his friend to come there. Following it, the brunette also appeared to notice. The Russian pointed at the parade with his index finger.

"I cannot see him," Hachiro wrinkled his brows, "Where's he?"

"Don't you know where he should be?" Boris tittered, handing him the firearm, "As he's the leader, he should be in front. Now remove this pricking thorn from your way, Tachibana!"

Slogans were continuing still:

"The black hands of the filthy rich!"

"Break them, crush them!"

"The black hands of the filthy rich!"

"Break them, crush them!"

Keeping his right eye at the zooming lens, Hachiro placed his fingers on the trigger, targeting at his archenemy. Since Susumu was moving, it wasn't an easy task. Yet, Hachiro was an excellent gunman. Not letting his concentration break, he slowly, coolheadedly pressed the trigger:

"BANG!"

Within no moment, the disciplined procession became disarrayed, all the people spread here and there. Their leader clutched his chest painfully and collapsed on the ground, biting his lower lip in extreme physical inflammation. The bullet had already made a sieve in his chest, linear streaks of blood reddening his cloths. His secretaries and teammates rushed to him to hold him. Everyone screamed by his name, gathering around him. Yet, the dual-haired didn't leave his ideology. With all the power mustered in his throat, he announced:

"Brothers! Loot the barns! Go!"

One command of their leader was enough. The rest of the people ran here and there to the nearby houses of the rich people. The police also had to land in the field, stopping them from looting. Guns roared; corpses collapsed. The heated procession became a parade of death and dead bodies with the passage of time. From a peaceful one, it became rampaging. Carrying sacks on their heads, farmers were escaping from the place to safe spots. Holes could be seen in the banners too; the letters couldn't be read anymore but they couldn't also be removed from the hearts of the followers of Susumu Hiwatari. Smokes and the obnoxious smell of gunpowder spread everywhere. Amidst all of them, holding the hand of the notorious politician, the Russian fled away.

Nightfall fell on the earth, darkening everything, along with the life of Misaki Hiwatari and her only son, Kai Hiwatari. Soon, it entered her house through her gate in the form of the motionless and limp, blood-drenched body of her husband carried in the arms of his teammates. All they were mourning, shedding tears. Only the newly widowed wife was tearlessly standing, leaning against the pillar of her doorway. Seeing his father in this way, the little boy couldn't hold his legs anymore. Rushing to them, he innocently asked, not realizing the harsh truth of this cruel world, "Why're you carrying my dad? Why cannot he walk?"

Not answering, the people descended his dead boy on the ground. Kai kneeled down beside it and tapped the reddened cheeks of his father but alas! He wasn't responding to his calls, nor was he moving. His eyes weren't opening and looking at him in an affectionate way. Biting his lips, the dual-haired boy gaped at his mother, throwing hundreds of silent questions to her. She wasn't also in the state of staring at her son. Hundreds of knives were ripping the veins of her chest then. She wasn't even shifting her eyes to the lifeless figurine of her husband. She didn't want to imagine him as a corpse.

"Mrs. Hiwatari…." A farmer whispered, "Mr. Hiwatari has shed his blood for us. We will never forget him!"

"Shut up!" Misaki pressed her ears, shutting her eyes completely. She didn't want to listen to their soothing words too. They would only enhance the agony of her heart. For the first time on that day, beads of tears brimmed in her lotus orbs.

"What will happen with his shed blood?" She questioned everyone, "If his blood could do something good, there would be no scarcity of foods on this surface drenched in the blood of millions of martyrs! In fact….."

Finally, she stared at the blood-soaked cadaver of her late husband. Biting her lips, she continued, "There's no profit of the blood of a dead man."

"Mrs. Hiwatari," A cobbler objected, "Mr. Hiwatari hasn't died! He's been martyred!"

"Which profit has it brought?" Misaki lifted her baffled son in her arms, "I've been a widow and my children have already lost their father. No…no death goes futile. Be it anyone's, it does make us cry. In this way, Susumu has given me the opportunity of weeping through the rest of my life."

Crouching by her no-more husband, she placed her head on his chest, stroking her blood-soaked shirt. Her tears were streaming but the stains of blood went deeper. That's why, the waterworks couldn't wash the red. Rather, his red smeared her hair. Her body convulsed badly; her lungs ached. Her little son soothingly patted her back which worsened her condition, the intensity of her weeping increased.

Though our little hero didn't have the ability to understand what was happening around him, he took a vow that one day, he would make his mother smile.

"Ding-dong! Ding-dong!"

Yawning, the purple-haired moved towards the door and opened it. Seeing a force of police in that very dawn, he became surprised. They all were having pistols and sticks in their hands. What happened all of a sudden? Why did they have to come to him? Was everything okay?

"You?" He raised an eyebrow, "Here? At this time?"

"There's a search warrant," A policeman answered.

"Search…." Boris felt baffled, "Search warrant?"

"Hey!" He ignored Boris's question, ordering his teammates, "Go inside!"

Obeying his command, all the policemen entered his house. Boris felt enraged but he couldn't speak anything in front of the cops. Keeping one of his hands on his waist, he diagonally propped his body against the wall and worriedly thought, stroking his beard, "What's the matter after all?"

Soon, he understood what the matter was as a policeman came out with a pump-action shotgun in his hand. Boris's eyes went widened at its sight because it was the same weapon which had been used in killing Susumu Hiwatari before a few days by his most faithful friend; Hachiro Tachibana.

"We're arresting you," The chief blurted, "Charging you with the offense of murdering leader Susumu Hiwatari in the procession of hunger. Arrest him!"

Nodding, the cops fastened his wrists in iron handcuffs and pulled him to their van. At first, Boris was so perplexed that he couldn't understand anything. He closed his eyes and tried to remember what had happened there actually. Then, everything came before him. Hachiro Tachibana had been wearing a pair of surgical gloves then. He had surely touched the gun but he hadn't left the signs of his fingers on it. On the other hand, Boris Balkov had been in bare hands. Believing the political leader, he'd caught the gun without any hesitation. Who knew that Hachiro would use it as an opportunity?

'Oh….' Boris gritted his teeth, 'You've showed your friendship in such a splendid way, Tachibana. In the end, you've proved that nobody in the world can be believed.'

'There's a saying in politics,' In his room, Hachiro rubbed his hands together, 'You should not believe anyone ever, not even your own shadow. Balkov, after years, you'll be a criminal and I'll be a kind political leader, famous for his wit and big heart! Hahahaha!'

'Wait and watch, Tachibana,' Boris smirked, being dragged by the police, 'This Boris Balkov has principles but not beliefs. During this time, if it's possible for you, please die because when I'll be out, I'll neither let you live peacefully, nor will I let you breathe your last in an easy way.'

'Now, I'll be the most powerful leader of Japan,' While playing with his little baby angel who had the same hair and eyes like her father, Hachiro assumed, 'Nobody will able to stop me! Nobody!'

Done with the first chapter! Phew!

So...how was it? Good or bad? I don't think I should continue it :P

Dear readers of Kingdom, please don't kill me. It will come by the next Wednesday, I promise. Actually, I'm busy a bit but couldn't resist my hands from writing it XD Btw, you must have got the RaySal vibes of "Kingdom" in this story, right?

Dear Chiya, hope you're liking it. Don't worry, I know you cannot find enough KaiHil fics to read but as long as your Misty didi is in this site, she'll continue writing KaiHils for you *Smooches* Once again, many many happy returns of the day! (Now send me your cake XD)

Do read and review. Pardon the grammatical and spelling errors since I haven't reread it. Take care and stay safe :D

-Misty ^_^