The Capital of the Empire, sprawling and lifelike, was seated firmly in the most fertile river Platte of the land- an area once known as the Plains of Koroth. Abundant in clean water, plentiful forests, and ringed by steep, well-defended mountain ranges that cragged for as far as the eye could see. It was marvelously beautiful, harboring the mighty Empire for a thousand years...

And from the tallest tower of the Imperial Palace, two men gazed upon the fertile land they effectively ruled.

Both men were tall, though the more dominant of the duo could be described as a hideously bulked monster- true, and the man agreed, but that didn't mean he wouldn't place his accusers in the deepest, most horrific dungeons in the Palace for saying such.

The Emperor and his Wife were now dead, leaving the young princeling Makoto behind. And who better to guide the child but him, Prime Minister Honest? The fat man grinned, so satisfied with this "Tragic turn of events" that he didn't even hunger for meat.

...not very much, at least.

Behind him, Syura waited patiently for his father to speak. He didn't know if his father was the one responsible for the tragedy...but he didn't really give a damn about the stuffy Royal couple anyways.

Down on the streets, the common rabble flooded the streets in mourning for their Emperor, to which Syura and Honest scoffed. The filth of the city were just that; filth, no better than the stock animals that filled their dinner plates. Short of (former) The Beggar's Feast, the Palace had always remained unsullied from commoners. Now that Honest was in charge, of course, they wouldn't even get that.

Then, movement in the otherwise empty garden drew their gaze.

Zaiten, with his silvery long hair and waifish looks, settled cross-legged upon a bench with a large tome. Silent and giddy, the child cracked open the ancient tome and began to read. He would spend the next few hours there, simply enjoying his book...and completely oblivious to the happenings above him.

Funeral ceremonies and mass mourning forgotten, both men's thoughts turned to the child.

Honest barely bothered any thought for the boy, and when he did it was out of sheer distaste. Hatred of the weakness that dared intrude on the rearing of his chosen heir. Syura's claim to the wretch was the only reason he lived.

For Syura though, it wasn't quite the same. Even grown-up as he was, he couldn't help but gaze fondly at his younger brother. Long hours spent telling stories. Smuggling extra sweets from the banquets for the lonely boy. Just being near Zaiten brought a unique sense of peace and joy...

Honest and Syura, father and son, were both despicable human beings. Both were already guilty of crimes against humanity itself, and history dictate things would be worse. It is history as we know it, after all.

Yet, there would always be one humanizing aspect to the young monster Syura.

It was the only thing that set the two apart.

Even monsters could feel love. The special warmth in your chest, the genuine smiles and praises...and like any monster or demon, he had something to protect at any cost.

He would, of course, brutally torture and kill those who would dare try to hurt him; to assassinate anyone that let the boy go to dangerous places where he could get hurt. This was something that Syura had privately vowed to himself, but he also had his father to please. Like with that bastard princeling or the pesky young Imperial Heir, not everyone was within Syura's reach. No matter how much he wished otherwise, Syura wouldn't always be there for Zaiten.

Still, a faint smile graced Syura's face ...until Honest spoke up.

"My son, you have proven that your training has gone well. Although…" Syura stiffened as his father paused. "You've been growing soft around the brat. He's been making you weak."

Honest praised his heir one moment then insulted him the next as easily as breathing air. His demeanor changed easily from a gluttonous fool to a dark and devious man. Like a pit viper, enticing one moment and poisoning his prey the next.

My little brother hasn't been making me weak! He's been supporting me and making me strong... old man!

Syura grit his teeth, wanting nothing more than to pound his father's face in. But, he wouldn't survive saying such things aloud, though he was sure Honest knew exactly what he was thinking.

"But," the Prime Minister continued, "now that you're old enough, I believe it's time for you to head out, and truly experience the world as it is." Honest turned back to his jovial self with a hearty (disgusting) chuckle, followed with a swig of wine.

Syura's glare smoldered to a stop as he realized what Honest was saying. Killing intent became faint curiosity, and not a little pride.

"I want you to roam the lands; train your technique, gather some strong people, and get yourself a teigu. When you feel like you've grown strong enough, come back to the capital and I'll give you a job." He explained casually as he swirled his drink, staring down the neck of the bottle. "Don't disappoint me, son. If you are to become my heir, you have to be useful."

"Of course father." Syura grinned eagerly. "I'll make sure that anyone in my way shall be crushed."

"Hmph, good, good. As expected of my heir! But, don't tell the brat about the plan. Otherwise you'll always be a pathetic failure. Like him."

The words froze Syura's heart, but he quickly shoved the guilt aside, nodding. "Of course, father. He won't find out until I'm gone."

Inside, his consciousness, a voice cried out in protest.

'This means I can't...I can't be there for him, when others hurt him..!'

However, he silenced that voice, knowing that now was the chance for him to become great, and appreciated by Father!

"I'll be going then, Father. I won't fail you."

Honest hummed, halfheartedly, as he gulped the rest of his wine attention already turned back to the view of the Palace courtyards.

For Syura, it was the beginning of his long journey into the history books. It was also the beginning of the end.

Smiling, Zaiten flipped the page of the book with careful precision. The content held within the ancient, yellowed pages were fascinating...the knowledge truly remarkable! Wordlessly, he pursed his lips as he silently read, tracing his finger along with the engraved letters on the tome.

The sound of footsteps made him pause. It was a sound that he could always recognize from anywhere! Just as he had his whole life, Zaiten lifted his head and smiled joyfully as Syura approached him.

His book lay, temporarily forgotten, as he met his brother halfway and hugged around his waist.

Yet…

Something felt off to the boy.

Syura wasn't smiling...and he always smiled around him!

Suddenly uncomfortable, the minuscule boy shuffled his feet on the cobblestone path. With deliberately widened eyes, he whispered, "Big brother?"

He broke the hug.

'...it didn't work? B-but he could always get a reaction with the "doe eyes"! This...this is wrong.'

Wrong, so wrong, that the joy and warmth Syura always gave him was gone. That the one person who truly loved him, who was always there for him...was no longer smiling. What had happened?!

…

Even as the younger brother's upper lip trembled, Syura's heart ached. Father was watching, no doubt. Finally, after all these years, he was being given the one thing he wanted: approval! And yet…

He had also sworn to himself that nobody would make Zaiten cry into the dark hours of the night...and that included himself. By leaving…

Syura would make him cry. He already had.

The thought sent a searing pain into his chest, burning and searing into his soul. It took all the strength not to rush forward, to hold the child in his arms and comfort him that yes, everything is okay, that he would never leave.

This pain...was nothing compared to what Father's training had put him through.

Still, he had to say something. His precious little brother deserved that much. Breathing out a deep sigh he spoke to Zaiten in a low tone. "I am leaving, little brother… For a long, long time… I'm sorry."

He could say nothing more. They were being watched.

Zaiten's eyes went wide in shock, his eyes started to tear up a moment later. The boy took a step forward as if to hug him again as the tears flowed down his cheeks.

But.

It wasn't allowed.

So he stood there waiting for his brother to.. to stop. As if, by waiting there, Zaiten would learn to stop his tears.

They would only mean more suffering here in the palace.

However….

The young Heir of Prime Minister Honest, Syura, hardened his resolve. Syura, the older brother of Zaiten, would be gone with this last act. He growled to the pair of guards standing frozen a dozen meters away.

"If a single lock of his hair is harmed by the time I return, you will all answer to me. Understood?"

Quelling the rebellious pain in his heart, Syura turned away from his silently crying brother. The guards, caring and devoted to their young charge already, nodded eagerly. They had long ago grown used to both Brothers and knew that when Syura made a threat, it was just as real as the Prime Minister's promises of pain.

And, with that, the story of Syura, the Song of Prime Minister Honest, was set in stone.

Bloody. Merciless. Bound for a brutal end as a monster to be put down by Night Raid.

Doomed.

"Forgive me, brother."

Note: And so, we take the next step, accelerating faster and faster towards canon. Syura is leaving...and he will be almost exactly the same as he was in the original tale of Akame ga Kill. Are there still going to be happy moments between him and poor, lonely little Zaiten?

...perhaps.

Before I finish, can anyone spot the reference I made very early on in this chapter? It's very obscure, but it's a hint to the very, very overarching idea I've had with my first Akame ga Kill fic (Ashes of an Empire, I think it was called? I removed it long ago, but I will re-write it as a sequel to this, of sorts.)