Burning.

That's all I can see.

That's all I can think.

Just burning.

Watching that flame consume everything, burning, destroying, uncontrolled.

It doesn't just happen in reality, it happens in your mind.

That flame stops thought, feelings, all morality.

You just see the remains of that fire.

Everything blackened and charred beyond recognition.

As my senses come back all I can hear is the crack of flames. The snapping of beams. My eyes watch as the house collapses in on itself. My mind cant form words. All there is just red. Just everything. I look down at myself. I'm covered in it. Just red and black. Taste soon returns. The copper taste bites at the back of your throat. Smell finally returns as well. Burnt wood and melting glass ….. and human flesh. Its sickly sweet. Its hangs in the air like burnt meat. You never forget that scent. I turn my head, away from that Hell and focus upon the figure at my feet. The body is no better looking than the house. What's left of it anyway. Its body is contracted in a foetal position. If not for the bindings of its hands and the rubber around its neck I'd say he would have just tried to escape an accidental one. But the bindings….looks more like he was executed. The black skull leers back at me. Its hollow eyes stare back accusing.

SNAP

I turn quickly towards the sound, mind racing but nothing. There's only me out here. Me and this corpse. But it happens again. More snaps, echoing through the trees. I panic and sprint away from it. Anything to get away from that sound. Trees fly by me as I seek salvation. Branches whip against me and roots threaten to trip me. I come to a clearing and stop checking for anymore sounds. Then SNAP. Behind me a figure appears from behind a tree. She's petite, her head only reaches to my chest. She wears a red jacket and jeans. If anything you could have mistaken her for a ordinary teen girl going out. What makes it different is that her face is bruised and cut. Her fingers broken. One of her eyes have been slit across. Yet her injuries unhinder her. She walks slowly towards me. As she comes closer I hear a whisper coming from her.

'What have you done?'

My mind tries to reply but my mouth is silent.

Again, but louder.

'What have you done?'

As I open my mouth to reply she screams.

'WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!'

She smiles and lunges forward, laughing manically as her hand disappears into my chest and rips out my dead heart.

I sit up quickly and clutch my chest, feeling, searching, clutching for the whole that should be there. But its not. All there is muscle and bone. I stare down and I see no hole and no forest either. I'm on the floor, caught up in the covers of a futon. Sitting up I study the room. It's the same one I look upon every night and every morning. My room. At least it has been for the last few months. Long enough for me to recognise all the chips and marks on the floor and walls. I pull myself to my feet, allowing the covers to fall off. Sighing and rubbing my head I walk to the shower. Not even bothering to get out of my clothes, I let the hot water flood over me. Helping me to forget the dream and the sleep that beacons me to it. After drying off and dumping the clothes I return to my room. I begin getting dressed for school. A crappy shirt and tie plus the blazer and trousers made me look like one of those desk boys. The kind you get big money for lounging around on their arse all day. As I get on my shoes, a searing pain courses through my head again, worse than the last. I fall back and as I place my hands on my head, I think back to that dream. The burning house, the corpse, the girl…I knew all of them. All of them burned in my memory like the fire that forged it. It wouldn't go away. Scars like that never could.

KNOCK KNOCK

'John….John! Breakfast is ready if you want some. Uncle wants to see you afterwards.'

I sigh and listen as she walks down the hallway back to the kitchen. Getting back to my feet, I take one more look at the room, eyes darting, remembering every detail like before except for one. My eyes fall upon the picture at my desk. Walking over I stare at it as I had done many times. It was divided into two segments. The first was a picture of a family at the beach. Three boys, one girl. Two parents. The old days when you were too young too have much care for responsibilities. The other photo was of an older boy and girl, held in each others embrace and they smiled at the camera. You could see that they were happy and loving. If you studied for a bit longer, one would notice that the girls stomach was slightly rounded. The tell tale signs of a pregnancy. Smiling grimly, I walked out of my room, removing myself from memories long since past.

'So, John, I have heard that you have you are having trouble with your mind.'

'Yes sensei , its been like that since the incident.'

'Sigh' From experience I know that it is hard to escape the past. But in the end we all must find a way.'

'I know but this is something that's plagues me in my sleep. Its been five months and I can count the amount of times I've actually had a good nights sleep on one hand.'

'Your father expected you to be having some sort of after effect after that incident. The fact that you remain sane and calm about it, even talking to me now gives me hope that you will someday find peace. You Ryan's were always renowned for being a strong willed bunch.'

He chortles softly and finishes off his tea. He then plays with his moustache, getting the dark stains out of his white hair. The small man that sat before me was kind and gentle. He would listen and answer accordingly. It made me smile to think that this man was once a ruthless member of the Yakuza. Now, he was a master, refining his ways of Bushido and Kendo. His name was Masamoto Haguishia. But to me his name was sensei. Not out of expectation, but out of respect. His training over the last few months had helped reduce the effects of my visions and left me with a clearer mind. He had given me a home, food and even to an extent, education after what had happened. But even with all that the burden of what I had done plagues me with each step. What I did on that day was … I cant even think off a suitable way or expression to explain what I did. The closest I ever got to describing it was 'Fucking evil'. I had done for Tonya, I couldn't let those bastards get away with it. And yet it cost me my humanity, my place in society. Forever exiled.

My thoughts are interrupted by a voice behind me. Turning I find a young woman in our presence. She's wearing a pink kimono that hides most of her features. Her hair tied up in a bun. Face covered in her morning make up rituals.

'Uncle, would you like some more tea.'

'Yes, Emi , that would be nice.'

After pouring the brown liquid she leaves us to return to the kitchen.

We sit there for a few minutes, enjoying the silence brought on. Sensei is the first to interrupt it.

'I think our session is finished for this morning. If you need anything, John…

'….just ask anytime as long as it is before bed. I know sensei. Thank you.'

Standing up I bow low to him, (he in return nods his head), pick up my cup and get ready for morning practice. It was only five am in the morning, and I still had two hours to burn.

I slash forward quickly with my bokken, onto my opponents guard. He holds the blow. Turning, I close into him, pushing his sword away exposing his guard. Striking forward I skewered him in his stomach. He falls to the floor withering in pain. I stop and just stare at his expression. Before our fight his eyes were full of confidence and cunning. Now all I can see is fear and uncertainty. He squirms for a few seconds more before he

disapparates into air. He had only been a figure of my imagining. A person with no identity or known history. He was just my opponent, my nemesis, my target. I return to the centre of the Dojo and retrace the steps of my kata, going through the motions of slicing, cutting and blocking. I repeat it until the bokken becomes like lead in my hands. Until my legs ache from being in stance. I continue until the grandfather clock chimes for seven. Sprinting towards the shower, I dodge Emi as she walks through the hallway. She shouts a remark after me but I ignore it, I knew I was pressing for time, but even then I was so fixated on getting my moves right that I had forgotten about the time. After washing, brushing my teeth, changing into my crappy uniform and grabbing my bag, I dashed out of Sensei's house catching the bus in time. As I file in to take my seat, a voice shouts over the volume of the passengers, ' Hope your ready for Kendo practice gaijin! I'm going to kick your ass so hard you're going to be shitting up your guts for weeks!' I ignore the remark and take my seat next to a window. Closing my eyes I reflect on what price I have to pay for this. Ah, well. Just case day of 'same shit, different day'.

Within thirty minutes we reach School. Fujimo High school to be more exact. Large buildings, graffiti, smoking spots. Its not much different from England. Then again when do you get a school with a freaking 20 foot observatory. And with every school, there's the bullies, the arseholes, the 'I'm going to make your life a living hell.' Problem is, with my foreign appearance and accent, I'm resented by them, an outsider, a nobody with no status. To them I'm the shit on the schools shoe, and they want to wipe me off.

I quickly walk to the sports hall, eyes alert, watching for any idiot who decides to cause trouble. Even though this was my last chance to living a 'normal life' I wasn't going to trampled upon. Too many times I've let things go and as a result they went to shit. As I turn the corner, I pass a few lads surrounding a portly kid. He shrunk underneath their gaze and as a reward for his trouble was punched in the stomach. Ignoring this I continued; it wasn't my fight, regardless of my heart telling me to go back and break their fingers.

Im going to keep uploading chapter 1. Finally. After a year planning im off my writers block. Hopefully ill get this completed before June :)