This chapter features the interesting debut of Bankotsu's father. I don't know about you readers (if there are any of you), but this chapter is maybe a little rushed. If you agree, tell me so in the review... And I'll be careful to slow down.

"Where's my family?" A rough, masculine voice demanded. Even before the question was finished, I knew who it was. Father. He was home!

"Father!" I cried, jumping at the silhouette in the doorway. I got closer, and I could see the blue of his eyes and the tan of his skin. He didn't hug me, in fact, he pushed me away with a warning glance.

"Never around others son. Not where they can see you. People will think they can take advantage of your kindness. That you're weak," Father explained as he held me at bay. Of course, Father had a good reason for acting as he did. He would always explain why we must act cold.

Father and Mother never acted cold, though. Mother would rush into the room and, before even I knew it, she was telling him of all the silly little escapades I'd conveyed to her at some point while he'd been away.

He would smile warmly and nod. Never really taking much of an interest in what I did but at the very least pretending to. Mother was just happy he was home, she didn't bother paying attention to his attentiveness. After all, he came home. He didn't just leave us.

And, as she would say if I'd asked, we should be grateful.

One thing I'd learned quickly was that anything we had was something to be grateful for.

After Mother's stories were shared, Father would tell her about all the people he'd seen and any demons he'd helped slay.

Father was part of a traveling band of warriors. The point of the whole group existing was apparently to slay demons and protect people. Of course, this meant my father would be out helping others instead of his family. After I thought about it awhile; I swore to myself I'd never get a penchant for wandering, or killing demons. I'd never leave my house.

Another promise I'd break. This time, a promise to myself.

What Father's weapon was, I don't know. I never saw it. Or, if I did, I don't recall. All I know is that whenever I went out to play while he was home strange men would come up to me, smile, and engage me in conversation.

Some of these men were extremely dull. And they couldn't answer a fourth of my questions, let alone enough to satisfy my curiosity. On occasion I would snarl at their ignorance, and my sharp tongue would get me into trouble. Some men would pick me up and throw me, others would be content with spitting on my shoes.

They were being ignorant, and their methods were ineffective in teaching me. If anything, it only made me burn with the desire to prove myself even more. However, when Father left, so did they.

Eventually, though, I discovered that it was best to keep everything I knew in my head, away from the people who would bash my skull in for saying things they thought were ignorant. Their own ideas only proved how close-minded they were.

One day, I wandered home to mother, my eyes both black. A couple of kids my age didn't think my opinions were very good, or enlightening. I'd given it my best shot, though. Even now I remember it. My first fight.

One grabbed my arms and tried to hold me while the other took his small, meaty fist and hit my face five times. That was all the encouragement I needed to pull my arms forcefully from behind me and catch the one actually assaulting me off guard, punching him in the nose.

The force flung him backward and I turned on the one behind me. He swung, and I grabbed his hand, deigning to simply push him into the ground and flee. As my feet pounded the ground I could hear them both chanting that I'd run away, but I knew better. I could've taken them. It would not have been fair.

For them. I would've beat them both to a pulp. It would've been easy. But Mother, what would she have said?

I knew. I could hear her voice long before I got to my house. 'Bankotsu. Fighting without a greater goal is wrong. That plays no part in hoping, praying, or loving.'

When I got inside Mother was brushing her hair, singing a song. Maybe it wasn't even a song. Maybe it was a chant. I couldn't tell, my head was pounding from abuse. Was she praying?

She stood up when she heard my footsteps. Then she looked at me. At first, her eyes didn't even register the bruises. She just... looked at me. In a way that made me feel... Like I was alive. Like I existed. I smiled through my

It lasted for a split second. Then her brown eyes widened in alarm at my fat lip and the quickly-forming black spots on both my eyes. "Bankotsu!" she cried, mouth opening in shock. "What happened to you?"

I licked my swollen bottom lip. "I got into a scuffle. Nothing big, Mother. I promise."

"Bankotsu." she murmured, inspecting my face. She gingerly pulled my cheek down to show my eye more. "This looks like much more than a little scuffle. I shudder to think what the boys you fought left with." she touched my mouth. "And you're bleeding."

"It's nothing. Just a scratch." I batted her hand away. "And I didn't fight back. Not really. I only did what I needed to to get away."

"Bankotsu." she backed away, suddenly serious. "Promise me. Please, promise me you'll not fight again. Not unless you have to. I don't want you to fight." Tears sparkled in her eyes as she spoke, and I could feel how important this was to her. It was emanating, floating in the air, making it difficult to breathe, to see, and I could barely choke out;

"I promise."