Within seconds, Daisuke closed the distance between himself and Kiyo. Arms tossed up high, he slugged them down and latched onto Kiyo’s shoulders, Daisuke's face encapsulated in a pinkish lively glee. Unable to contain the excitement within for what was to come. Years of training and preparation would now pay off for the real thing.
The day of departure was near.
Tomorrow they would embark on an eventful journey out of Nippon. Their graduation from marked children to recruits. On the path to earning the first tier star rank, a branded 0 on their right palm.
It was all moving so fast in Daisuke’s mind, barely able to keep up with himself as he repeatedly shook Kiyo back and forth. Face lined with a clean-cut cheery smile, the overly eager child let the energy spill out.
“Tomorrow! Kiyo! We get to leave tomorrow!” Daisuke cried out through a rosy gaping grin.
“Yeah—I—know—Dai—su—ke,” Kiyo said in a wobbled voice as Daisuke thrust him back and forth.
“I can’t believe it! Can you? Can you?!”
“Yeah—but—Dai—su—ke-”
“What?”
“Could—you—stop—shak—ing—me?”
Kiyo’s eyes boggled from the constant thrashing, stomach in knots as his head bobbed like a booey in the ocean. Daisuke noticed Kiyo’s slight discomfort and released his hold on him, arms falling to his sides with a tinge of pasty reddish guilt. Even so, Daisuke was brimming in anticipation for the big kick-off. This day a catalyst for the next big step in their lives.
Kiyo, once released, slumped his shoulders down and gasped for fresh relief. He peered at Daisuke through the glisten of his golden bangs between wheezes of frigid rough air. A little glint of joy peeked through his lips, a hint of a smile that was quickly snuffed out as Kiyo remembered what today meant for him. What his father had informed him would happen.
“Sorry. . .but still, can you believe it?”
“Yeah. It’s—it’s great.” Kiyo said halfheartedly as he scratched at a nervous itch on the back of his head.
But Daisuke could see through the hairy facade.
Daisuke’s inner joy fell short under-recognition of Kiyo’s dejection that crowded out his smile. Head tilted down to get a better look at Kiyo’s face, Daisuke tried to read his friend’s hidden emotions. Beneath the loose strands of white hair, a bitten dehydrated scowl lined Kiyo’s lips. The brief bliss from Daisuke wiped right off Kiyo’s face, buried beneath the monumental pretense of his father. Ronin's words implanted in Kiyo’s mind that very morning were still ever-present.
What it meant to be a chosen one, a marked child, and a warrior.
A glimpse of the post-training endured flashed back into the forefront of Kiyo’s mind. Sprawled out on the training square in the middle of his household, he peered up from the feet of his father to his squinted judgment. Highlighted by the Sun above, disapproval rained down with Ronin’s spit that splattered on his son’s face. The boy was nothing more than dirt to be trodden upon.
“You’re not committed. I can see it.” Ronin bent over and knelt before his son. “You’re holding onto something. To addictive emotions.”
Smack!
Without warning, he slapped Kiyo across the face. The impact sent the boy flying to the other side of the training platform. He groaned for relief, for an end to the madness his father called training. But the heavenly light of the Sun above was shrouded by the hazy outline of his father.
There was no escape from this life.
“Kill your inner self. You are worthless unless you build yourself into something more. . .into someone greater.”
Kiyo struggled to push himself upright, his unruly flesh held down beneath the insurmountable weight of his father’s presence. His aura was the equivalent of a hydrogen bomb that continually broke Kiyo’s will again and again.
“Until you can hit me . . . you’ll never be anything more than that. Worthless.”
Coming out of the memory, Kiyo let out his transgressions with a hefty sigh.
The burden of it wasn’t something Kiyo wished to bear. One laced with the cost of connections and relatability to those closest. His father forced him to become something greater yet something unnatural. Kiyo wanted no part in it, in the trials that would decide his future. But what choice did he have?
Daisuke stood oblivious to the true nature behind Kiyo’s dismay and tried to think of a reason. Moreso a solution to cheer up his friend and remind him of the childish dream they still held dear. The possibility of traveling beyond the horizon was just at their fingertips.
“Are you not excited? You tired? Hungry? Bored?” Daisuke asked with a sway of his body from side to side.
“It’s nothing.” Kiyo groaned out wearily.
Daisuke was naive but he could still take notice of his friend’s apparent sinking emotions. Confronted with Kiyo’s dejected spirit, Daisuke gazed around for a solution. An easy way to change the atmosphere, to transition into the festivities that made the holiday so special. One that should be for celebration, the graduation of marked children a momentous occasion.
“Want to go check out the stands?” Daisuke said with a tug on Kiyo’s right sleeve as he pointed to the marketplace.
Dread was all that laced Kiyo’s slow pitiful gaze as he laid it in the indicated direction. But a part of him grasped at the opportunity and what came with it. The emotions.
Not wanting to abandon his friend and get through the day as fast as possible, Kiyo bobbed his head up and down. He gave into Daisuke’s pull with a plain emotionless smile, one he could hold for the time being.
For his friend.
That’s all that mattered.
“Sure,” Kiyo said casually, his usual plain tone overwhelmed by a touch of warmth.
It was enough to revive Daisuke’s spirit, to blind him to the truth.
The two made their way further into the crowd, bobbing and weaving between other celebrating Paladinians. Some were drunk off fermented Atlas beer, brewed for days just for the festival, and others were out with their families to experience the cherished event.
With a few bumps from elbows here and there, the duo eventually found themselves in the carving section of the festival. Where all the children always flocked to. New uniquely carved swords, axes, bows, knives, and spears were on full display. Most of the high-valued weaponry wasn’t even for sale, already pre-purchased by village warriors in distant towns. But this was a usual circumstance within the village. Nippon was known to be a popular weapons district due to its direct access to fields of teratoma and cliffside obsidian. Some towns had never even come into contact with teratomas, built on the outskirts of the vastellys or immensely high cliffs, safe havens as those from the outside liked to call them.
Or cushy loafers for those with crude lips.
Bone and the glass-like jaded rock were lifted high above all else in the Paladninian clan. Both were the best-known and most commonly used resources for weapons, but the precise craftsmanship was where it all differentiated. Nippon, a town held in high regard for its smiths, dominated the Sunretsu clan's production of war-forged materials.
And it was clear on this day as Daisuke and Kiyo both looked on with broad twinkling eyes. Full of spontaneous wonder, both were awestricken by the sight. The gleam reflected off a particular blade that caught their eye. A sword carved with countless jagged yet sharp edges like a modern-day chainsaw.
“Daisuke. Look.” Kiyo muttered as he pointed up at the massive obsidian broadsword hung above one stands rack.
“Woah! That sword is huge! Like taller than me, right?”
“Has to be.”
Walking down aisle after aisle of weaponry-sculptured stands, the two eventually made their way over to the marketplace center. Stood right before the opened sanctuary, a small stage was constructed at the foot of the staircase. Built for one sole purpose: the soothsayer.
Next in the chain of communication after the High Priest was his soothsayers, those who intercepted his word from the head council and dispersed it amongst the villagers. A link throughout the clan, that even if they parted on different terms of leadership via chieftains, they all fell under the command of the High Priest. Of the Sun.
“Let’s go listen!” Daisuke relayed as he took ahold of Kiyo’s hand.
“Wait, but—”
“It’ll be fun!”
Without another word, Daisuke took Kiyo around the open square to go hear a few of the stories past warriors had to offer. Grand tales of the lands far beyond the horizon, places littered with lively green trees and exotic colorful species. Some teeny and docile to those massive and fatal. Wonder pulled at Daisuke’s mind as he tried to picture them all, yet Kiyo remained distracted as the time grew near.
Kiyo was lost in his own transgressions. In the future to come.
He gazed at the stage aimlessly. Its presence taunted him, plagued his mind with questions about what his father meant. About what his purpose was in the grander scheme hidden from the public eye. All the other chosen children he would soon be forced to meet and battle against for the one role sought above all.
The savior.
“Everyone, gather around. Especially you dear children. Those foretold to be the next line of warriors, saviors of our dear village Nippon. Of the Paladinian clan itself!” A voice beckoned from the stage eagerly.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Daisuke dragged Kiyo with him toward the foot of the stage, his young anxious mind set on getting a good view of the ceremony. Yet Kiyo stalled back, feet planted into the rubble cobblestone path almost fifty feet from the stage.
“I can’t see. Kiyo, c’mon. Let's get a little closer.” Daisuke said good-naturedly.
“No.” Kiyo shot back, his happy facade absent from his voice.
It only took one glance for Daisuke to give up on his endeavor. His grip went loose and flimsy beneath the grievous stare that lined Kiyo’s face, one brought on by pure resentment for what the stage embodied. An inner purpose Daisuke failed to uncover. Left with no other option, Daisuke let go of Kiyo’s hand and fell still beside him. Disheartened confusion fluttered within Daisuke’s mind as he tried to piece together what set Kiyo off. What was going on inside his head?
Wham-wham-wham!
The soothsayer slammed the blunt end of his staff into the stage, rilling the attention of all those throughout the market. Crammed in with the crowd, Daisuke and Kiyo peered up and watched the soothsayer take charge of the mass gathering. All Paladinians in Nippon were present, a tingle of excitement alive and well within the crowd. A feeling absent from Kiyo.
Daisuke became swept away with the rest of the town as his attention wrapped around the stage, his thought of Kiyo shoved into the back of his mind. Unable to peel his eyes away from the soothsayer.
Draped in bright red blood-soaked robes, the only part visible on his face was his crusty scar-ridden lips. The rest of his face was concealed behind a mask of bones that edged on white linens that swaddled his body from his neck to his feet. His staff was constructed from multiple limbs of a teratoma, reaching far above his height with a little glowstone nestled in the top of the spire.
Surrounding him and the stage were all his apprentices clothed in black robes. They were the lowest on the spiritual chain of command within the clan. The coal that was used to fuel the fire that consumed the belief of all Paladinians. An expansion of ideology that enveloped villages in holy light.
Behind the stage is where the stately drummers resided, all clustered together for the ceremony. Years of preparation integrated into this very moment to play their hearts out for the people and the Sun herself.
Needless to say, all Paladinians were swept away by his grand gestures and voice as it boomed into their ears. Loud and clear enough for all to grasp. To understand that this was it.
“Let the graduation commence!”
Bum-badda-bum-bum! Badadadadadada!
A flurry of drums sounded out in unison, banging to the beat of the soothsayer’s movements. His dance was one of tradition, a beacon to the Sun of this providence. An offering presented via the town’s offerings, which were clustered together in a bone chamber hung over the stage. Cuts of meat, flowered adornments, and rare goods lined the walls of the cage.
Bump-thump!
At the end of the soothsayer's fluid motions, he took his staff and slammed it against the cage. Within an instant the sacrifices burst into flames, an offering accepted by the setting Sun. A direct allowance for the marked children to be moved up in the clan. Now recruits, ready to be shipped off.
“She has accepted our sacrifice! Rejoice! Rejoice!” The soothsayer cheered joyfully.
A mass of voices yelled out, fists pumped into the air at the notion. All present were overly grateful for the future of Nippon, the next generation of warriors already blessed by the Sun herself.
They were now warriors in training, their lives as children lost to the past. Who they were became buried beneath the betterment of the clan, beneath the prophecies that resided over their lives.
“Not all will pass, but few will become grand warriors for Nippon! I see it now! They will return with battle scars, seared and blessed for a millennium! Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, it will be glorious!” The soothsayer continued to clamor on.
He spun in circles on the stage, stomping his feet on the loose decayed deadwood boards. Every thought that came to his mind, every prediction he spewed out to the crowd. Many cheered and rejoiced at his words. Hopeful all he said would come to pass, that Nippon would remain at peace and thrive in this new age on the rise.
All except Kiyo.
“Oh yes, oh yes, oh yessssss! A boy of fire—of tainted green blood will be the—be the. . .” The soothsayer stopped dancing, the thought he had confronted divisive enough to stall his aged and vast mind.
With a quick shake of his head, the soothsayer mumbled to himself as he fiddled at his lips with his fingers. Unsure of the recollection he had witnessed. Idle chatter spread throughout the square. Many fell into confusion and were left empty-handed the longer the silence waned on over the stage. What did he see?
He scuttled off to the side of the stage and whispered into one of his apprentices' ears. The boy cloaked in all black ran off, body interlocked in a dead sprint into the sanctuary. For what purpose, no one knew. Whatever it was, foretold news that required the High Priest’s immediate attention.
“One of them will be a savior. A leader for this clan, and those beside him brothers in the movement to sustain our power! To become something greater!” The soothsayer yelled out in a sudden flurry of joy that drew his focus up to the heavens.
“You think that’ll be us?” Daisuke side-mouthed Kiyo keenly.
“Maybe.”
Kiyo didn’t buy a word that left the soothsayer's dried-out lips. His preaches fell flat upon the boy’s deafened ears. Daisuke, quick to become enticed in the movement like all other Paladinians, was whisked away from his concerns, enticed by every single word the soothsayer uttered.
“Let the graduation ceremony—begin!”
Bum-bum—bum! Bum-bum—bum! Bum-bum—bum!
A small bustle of cheers erupted at the thump of the drums. Yet Kiyo stood there, eyes aimed down toward the ground, refusing to give any attention to this process. Enraged at what his role was in all of this, what Ronin had molded him into. Himself.
“Now, as of tradition, may the promised child please step forward?” The soothsayer said as he stretched out his right hand toward the crowd.
Eyes wandered and whispers spread as everyone waited in anticipation for the aforementioned special child.
For Kiyo.
Daisuke instantly picked up on the reference as he turned to Kiyo with a giddy grin. Eyes full of marvel for his friend who had already been prophesied over to be a pivotal role in Nippon’s future. In the times laid ahead for all Paladinian's sake.
“Kiyo, that's you. Go on up there.” Daisuke whispered through cupped hands as he nudged Kiyo toward the stage.
Kiyo’s back tensed at the contact, voice hollow and empty as he mumbled to himself. Words murmured no one near could understand or ever comprehend. Daisuke barely caught a whiff of such foreign speak, unheard gripes that were laced with vile hatred. Feelings that couldn’t be described in words.
But Daisuke could tell something was wrong, off about the essence that resonated from Kiyo’s vengeful spirit. His reaction to something others would be more than glad to accept a total surprise from out of left field.
With a slight grasp on Kiyo’s right shoulder, Daisuke’s smile sunk into a crease of concern. Unsure how to console his friend and the right words to say, he fumbled with his thoughts for a solution this time. How could you ever put yourself in someone else's shoes?
“Kiyo, what’s wrong?” Daisuke asked timidly, his voice softer than usual.
Kiyo’s shoulder flexed back and knocked off Daisuke’s hand. Tired of the celebration, of being forced to live out his father’s goals, of the torture he endured daily at home, of the childhood he had lost for something he had no care for. Kiyo carried the weight of his regrets on his back as he trudged off toward the stage. He did so not for himself or Daisuke, but for his father.
What else would a good son do?
“Leave me alone.” Kiyo mouthed off back at Daisuke, his head hung in shame.
Daisuke watched Kiyo disappear off toward the stage, the crowd closing in around him like a stone in a river. Left divided, Daisuke simmered into a bitter loss. All his joy for the event drained from his face into his stomach, emotions swirling in a mesh of unknown, untampered discussions. He had never really delved into Kiyo’s home life, not one to intrude, and Kiyo enjoyed that silence. The endless array of questions he would usually receive as the son of Ronin was absent in Daisuke’s presence. Words that Daisuke kept riled up in the folds of his tongue never made their way to the surface.
But that was all Daisuke could think about in the moment.
Why isn’t he happy? He’s the chosen savior, but he’s sad? How?
“Oh, here is the treasured boy. A young Kiyo, son of Ronin, the radiant star champion of Nippon. One of the greatest warriors we Paladinians will ever see!”
Kiyo rolled his eyes as he stepped onto the stage, the soothsayer quick to drag him over to the very center. With a sorrowful glare, Kiyo’s hair hid the wretched guilt and distress that yanked at his face. His black-enveloped yellow pupil eyes were bloodshot from countless restless nights. Skin shredded along his back and stomach, scars that would never fully heal even with time. Time something he would have to learn to endure, every waking and sleeping moment laced with turmoil from the abuse he learned to call fatherhood. Wounds Ronin referred to as character and necessities to become the best. Internally a mess from overexposure to the genetic breaded gifts he was born with.
Every movement was agony, but endured it all. He walked through hell with his head cowering in his chest. But still, he walked.
“This boy’s name will be one of legend! From the archives of our people’s foundations, this boy will become the one foretold to expand our reigns of power. Amaterasu the mother of this very prophecy. Our provider of the lands touched by the great Sun, by her gentle grasp!” The soothsayer continued, arms raised out toward the setting crimson Sun.
The crowd glanced back toward the Sun then to Kiyo and the soothsayer.
“Now, give me your right arm my dear boy.”
Obediently Kiyo lifted his right arm as he continued to sulk, letting it all happen for his father’s bidding. His will was second in his mind, nothing more than a mere afterthought to the instructions he followed religiously. His vessel a slave to his own father.
Daisuke could only watch, face twisted in sorrowful bafflement. What he thought would be one of the best days of their lives only further corroded beneath the resentment that emanated from Kiyo. Jaring waves of uneasiness pulled at Daisuke’s feeble soul as he struggled to pin down a reason for Kiyo’s shift in mood.
Regardless, the ceremony continued.
“With the very blade blessed by Lady Amaterasu herself years ago, let this boy be the prominent one to bring our great clan into a new era! Into a new world!”
Slash-slash-slash-slash-slash!
Kiyo winced at the sudden strikes that grated through his supple skin. Motions carried out by the soothsayer who slit a star sign into Kiyo’s right palm, a marker for his advanced placement in the trials to come. One who should be seen to fly up the ranks with ease, the High Priest’s attention directed toward children with such prominent status. Their chance of fulfilling the prophecy was all he sought for.
For the one who would save the clan.
With the symbol carved, the soothsayer raised Kiyo’s hand high into the air. Silence rested over the crowd for a moment, many eyes locked onto the bloody palm of such a squeamish child. But it all changed within seconds. All paladinians went ballistic at the sight, rejoicing at the thought that something so pure had been born in their midst. A possible future savior or even ruler of the clan. One who could unite the distant masses.
“Tomorrow, they set off! This boy and all other marked children deemed ready for the journey ahead! All living and dead of this world will know their names!”
With a last-second upheaval of cheer, the ceremony concluded. Everyone stayed out a while longer, enthralled in the glorious moment; dancing, drinking, and talking about their expectations for the next generation. Hopes were set high for the young children, for the chosen one who didn’t even want to be a part of any of this.
Bum-bum—bum! Badadada! Bum-bum—bum! Badadada!
Kiyo slipped away from the crowds, body fastening into a full-body sprint home to drown out the noise, the future lay before him. Yet he left behind the very person who cared for him, who waded through the sea of bodies in hopes of providing some comfort.
Daisuke found himself helpless to find Kiyo in the waves of people that brushed against him, discovered first by Ayame with Misumi still bound to her. A lifeline out of the hectic brawls to ensue on the holiday, she forcibly dragged him back home to escape the drunks. His search forgone at the helm of his own family, nestled back at home in preparation for the big day to follow. The duo’s first moments as recruits were bittersweet, tarnished by split confusion over the situation.
But what could they do?
They were from two different ways of life; one brought up on peace and the other war. Instilling each was all the more the same, yet they could never coexist as one. Life itself was a divider of this property, as how could the living coexist with the dead?
The festivities drowned out as the night rolled in and with it, the beginning of the next step in their lives, all at rest win dire anticipation for the Sun to rise again. To embark on the trip to the providence that held the Sun itself.
The expedition to Harion.