Brother…How could you betray us… ?

Shock. In one second Yasuo woke up, gasping after that cold feeling. A few shaky breaths came as he tried to forget what he just saw in his sleep. A nightmare, another one. Or was it really one ? This was his life now and nothing could wash the blood on his hands.

It still left him so tense and distressed, a persistent image in his mind that haunted him the few time he managed to sleep. Yone dying in his arms, a grave nearby hidden under beautiful trees blossoming in that blessed season. Beauty wasted by a crime. Maybe it was only fair. Yone didn't deserve to die so soon, especially not chasing the wrong person. Nonetheless his blood was on Yasuo's hands and blade, it wouldn't go away.

Again and again he lived the same memory, sometimes made worse by his lack of sleep. No words or on the opposite screams and yells about his betrayal, gaze full of disgust at it died little by little. Imagination did some much and guilt gladly took the rest. No rest for killers.

So tense on this spot he had ended up collapsing on, Yasuo gathered his strenght but the motivation was gone. He hadn't completely left the area, lingering not far as if his very soul had been captured there to stay forever. It hurt. Breathe. Even such a small needed reflex was painful now that it meant he was alive unlike his brother.

The tears came back too soon. No please… It never truly ended, only when his body had nothing more to give. Or when he slept. This wasn't very often because he knew that when it happened, it would be only to give him the worst memories of his deeds or a twisted versions that would shock him out of sleep. This was hell and there was no rest for him.

Funny how now he felt concerned about the death of yet another warrior chasing him through the First Lands. It only took that this same warrior was related to him by blood and even that couldn't save any of them. Yasuo hated himself a bit more, for having made a choice between his mission and his family.

Yone…

The second person to show him mercy and acceptance. Why did he have to slay him ? Why among everyone was Yone sent after him ? It felt like a sick joke made by the village, aware that this was the most 'perfect' solution for them. Either Yasuo surrended and accepted his fate or he had to take his own brother down. Maybe they were so confident he would let Yone kill him or that he was less skilled than his older brother. And yet everyone at the sword school was aware that Yasuo had the biggest potential, one that came up only in generations and worthy of Elder Souma's teaching. It was a trap. It sure looked like one. In no universe this could have turned out well for both of them, whoever told Yone had doomed them. This was on purpose. Two birds with one stone. If that wasn't enough, they got rid of one of this damned family of outcasts and the second one was definitely guilty.

From the start Yasuo would have been charged for taking down each warrior coming after him and probably they had proof of that – even as he wouldn't deny it, he still had honor. Now to know Yasuo was still standing and running meant he had committed fratricide. No forgiveness would be given, even from his remaining family.

Speaking of, it came to his mind that their mother wouldn't know before some time. Even if information reached the village, who told she would hear of it ? They had already changed facts to accuse him and get Yone on his tracks, what did they say to this poor widow ? Already pushed away of the community and now her only family was reduced to nothing – almost. To consider Yasuo dead to her would be the minimum, as soon as she would learn about his actions.

More tears. Ahhh… He couldn't bear to imagine her reaction. Sadness, horror, disgust, hatred. All of it so vivid on her face. He had already seen it once in a nightmare a few 'nights' ago, awful feelin creeping up until he couldn't bear it. And not once he could look away, forced to witness the despair of a mother that lost her two sons at once. No doubt they wouldn't just tell her what happened but also add many false details on how horrible he was for that. It was meant to happen, salt ready to be poured on an open wound.

Would she believe them ?

Yes. Why wouldn't she ? For all Yasuo could think, the most likely was that they fed their lies to both her and Yone, when himself broke out of this semblance of jail. They would say that he had killed Elder Souma, that he had refused to accept his punishment, that he had ran away and deserted. And now they would come back to her saying how terribly sorry they were to inform her about the death of her legitimate son, by the hand of her bastard. Feigning compassion and sadness for someone that they had always despised for no valid reason. Her only usefulness for them had been in having a good son that believed the lies and chased the supposed culprit. How evil to manipulate everything in the name of justice. Incredibly bitter, Yasuo could just realize how they were all used in this, a pawn among many others. Possibly these people didn't think as much about taking control and ruining lives simply for power or else but the result was the same, they had managed to tear apart a small family that had asked nothing.

Wait.

Could that be true ? Could someone do this on purpose ? What did he truly know about the first crime, the one he never did ? So far it was only words he had heard from everyone at the school, the result that mattered. Elder Souma was dead, the murderer was gone – and returned as they thought – and nothing clear about what happened. Was everything a lie ? Did someone among the village or the sword school do that and covered it up by accusing him ? It was almost perfect, Yasuo was the most hated kid around and no one would miss him. Why not accuse him ?

All these thoughts weren't happy and it fueled his anger. At least it distracted him even for a while from the infinite pain of slaying his own brother. Yasuo clung to this, to truth and justice. It was in this ideal that he had covered his path in blood and losing this purpose would kill him too from despair. His life depended on it.