Starting With You

Every end must have a beginning, and in itself represents a new one. Sometimes, for the sake of drama and emotion, we consider the man lying comatose in a hospital bed for most, if not all of his life as the man worthy of sympathy; the armed soldier putting his life up for sacrifice for the nation's sake as a man worthy of being crowned a hero; the secret spy of an international organization as the master of shadows and subterfuge.

And perhaps, where these cases are concerned, credit is due where it is deserved.

But what most people fail to see is the single red rose that a broken, penniless man gifts to his lover, or the deep cut from a chainsaw a father suffers from a single mistake he made at the factory that costed him his arm forever, only to feed his children who had no mother to call their own.

A hero may fight and bleed, win and lose, but so do we.

Taking this into account today, I stand here amidst the crowd of bodies shuffling about in all directions around me almost in a blur of a myriad of colors. I smell a sharp lavender, a clean soap scent, the stench of sweat and dirty socks, and the unmistakable flavor of baked goods.

I see a woman seated eight steps away, face in her hands and weeping her heart out, a couple that embraces one another, glad to be finally reunited, I see the haunted look on a man's face as he walks past an unsuspecting lady dressed in branded goods, see him expertly undo the zip on her handbag and pocket her tiny purse without her noticing.

I feel the coolness of the air conditioning, the bearable warmth each person exudes as they stride close enough to me, the dirt scrunch beneath my boot as I squirm on the spot, and the pressure of the piercing stare someone is directing at me.

I turn to my right, just slightly, to see who exactly it is that seems intent enough to look at me this intensely. I see a man, tall, dark, and handsome. He has his hands in his pockets of his jeans, just as I had mine in the pockets of my vest.

Our gazes connect, and in his eyes I see a new pathway alight.

A Space Where You and I Exist

Life is indeed a huge irony, made for a good laugh, or an entertaining parade at the point of our last breaths. Where one has naught but dirt, it becomes the very foundation in which bonds and relationships are formed. Where one has enough gold to last ten lifetimes, one many often find himself alone, shrouded with suspicion, and overridden with paranoia to the extent of asphyxiation.

Alas the question that befalls us is the matter of which path we choose to take, despite being trapped in undeniable circumstances.

What we make most out of what we have is what ultimately decides our fate. This leads me in turn to wonder what tonight may bring.

Under the cool spring breeze in the dark of the night, when the blossoming florals have decided on captivating slumber, the people stir in their beds expecting anything but such fallacy. The dread weighs heavily down on every person present, each second representing but another tick of time, counting down to the end of time immemorial.

Today is the day.

I rise with bullets of sweat rolling down my temple, heart thudding the lion's roar, and arms trembling beneath the thick sheets my wife had once made for me. The wolf's howl from a far distance confirms it, one of them have arrived, and they are not here for simple pleasantries.

A screeching voice propels me forward. "Asane!" I barely make it out of my futon without tripping over the sheets and my own feet. The invasion has occurred much sooner than expected.

I snatch my blades and armor, expertly fastening them onto their rightful places before I dash to my family's safety - my darling wife, and my beloved child.

Daisuke and Rihito fall in behind me as I rush to the kitchenette. "The northern gate has been breached." Rihito reports, his breaths coming in even and steady, but anyone who knew him as well as I did would recognise the slight hitch in his breath before he even began. "It is where they started. Our troops are dangerously outnumbered."

Daisuke starts, but a body flies into our view from the right, slamming into the wall and sliding down, eerily unmoving where he settled on the floor. I look up from the bloodied face of one of my dearest friends into stone cold, obsidian eyes that mirrored mine.

"Naga." I stare, silent, not a stutter, and at a loss for words. I never imagined this day would come - rather, I never wished to imagine it.

"Hisashi." My half-brother greets me. Now, more than ever, I wished for his old ignorance, his indifference, and his silent hostility. "I have come to take my rightful place." He announces, a wicked smile etched on his sharp features. For the first time, I notice the drops of blood splattered across the sleeve of his shirt and the right cheek of his face.

At this, Rihito starts forward, temper churning, teeth grinding. "You're speaking to the Emperor! Pay your respects!"

"Or else what?" Naga chuckles, scorning. "You'll kill me? Why don't you go ahead and try?"

Rihito attempts to make his first lunge but Daisuke leaps out after him, getting a hold of his shoulder and firmly keeping him in check. "Calm down." Daisuke chides softly, but his eyes are hard on his Emperor's traitorous sibling.

"Leave now and never return." I say, for I cannot stand another moment of this. The rusty stench of death - kills made to our kin by our own blood; this was uncalled for, and Father himself would never have stood for it.

"You have no right to tell me to leave my own home. I'm the real first-born son." He takes a few steps towards me and both Rihito and Daisuke unsheathe their blades, ready to defend their Lord. "You're just the first-born bastard, who happened to win in the game of favorites. So don't you tell me what to do."

He stops in his pacing when the tip of Daisuke's blade scratches the surface of his metal thick leather armor. Naga looks at Daisuke as if he's a disrupting fly that is of no other good but to squash, yet Daisuke does not waver.  "Not another step, young master." Rihito warns. "If you know what's good for you."

Naga disregards them. Instead, he reaches out with an empty hand towards me, palm facing upwards and fingers sprawled out. "Hand it over." He demands of me needlessly, for we both know I would give him anything in the world except for the very thing he wanted in this moment.

I say nothing and stare as my hand slowly slides to the side of my waist, where I had my katana hidden beneath my night cloak. "Leave us." I countered, just as needlessly.

"Your Lordship." Rihito does not move an inch, not until he is to be given a command.

"My wife. My child." I look to Daisuke, whose fire suddenly seemed to flicker. "How do they fare?"

He does not respond, and I already know. It is too late.

I feel my heart sink in my chest, heavy as it is, falling hard and deep down until it breaks into a million shards. Even with all the riches one can possibly imagine, and with a title befitting of it, I cannot protect the ones I love. I feel the instant despair and rage hit me like a tidal wave, and it wipes out any hesitation I have left.

"Did you do it?" I ask Naga, voice trembling with barely contained fury.

When Naga did not speak, Rihito prodded him with his blade. "Did you?"

Naga's eyes shift from Rihito's to mine, and in them I see no mercy, no regret, no loss for the lives he has taken. Such a man wanted to rule our nation. His reign would be the apocalypse if I let it.

"I did." Naga admits, lifting a brow, challenging. "Why, do you-"

Before he can finish, I have brought my blade up against him, but he evades, just in time. The edge of my blade takes a part of his hair from his head. He snickers and doubles back with his own twin blades. He is strong and quick, but I am just as formidable.

For a long time, all I can hear is the clashing sound of my blade against his, the few thumps and grunts of another man or woman falling to his or her death not too far away, and the sound of Naga's wretched laughter. It does not end. He has been driven mad.

And so have I, it seems, when a sharp pain wedges its way between my ribs and twists and turns until the pain becomes so overwhelming that I cease midair and fall to the floor writhing in it. I lose my grip on the katana and instead clutch the end of the blade protruding from my torso, fervently wishing this moment undone.

I muster the last of my strength and reach behind me to tear the blade out of my body. I feel my warm blood gushing out onto my garments, over my skin, and sealing its image in my mind. Everywhere I look, I see the colour red.

Finally, I make a last ditch effort to face the perpetrator of my untimely death. The simple twist of the neck was so excruciatingly painful I almost instantly regret having done so. I was rewarded with a face, one I had never so much as suspected since the beginning.

Rihito.

He does not miss a single beat, and with a swift swing, slices Daisuke's head clean off his shoulders. A merciful act of killing - with one blow. I feel myself sputtering blood from my mouth, my vision grows hazy at the edges and the cold suddenly feels much more chilling. Numbness overwhelms my sense of touch, I can barely feel a thing besides great disappointment, and even further appalled by the result of tonight's game of throne.

In Rihito's eyes, I see a flicker of remorse, and then I just know. He only did what he had to do to survive.

The sole of Naga's shoe dives into the side of my face and I choke, but little does Naga know I could barely feel any longer. "You should've surrendered when I gave you the chance." He remarks, appreciating his blood red victory tonight, painted by his own kin's blood.

"Goodbye, Hisashi. May you find your rightful place in the afterlife." The compression strengthens, and for the last second I envision my wife and child waiting for me. Only the veil between life and death separated us now. Perhaps this was a satisfactory end after all.

There would be war no more between the brothers. No more senseless fighting. Only peace, serenity, and love.