Thicker Than Blood

CELL 01: THE CRUELTY OF NATURE

Zen aimed at the target with his handgun, let out a small breath and fired.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the bullet had made a hole in the second ring, a few inches away from the centre.

He sighed. One of these days, he was going to hit a bullseye. He cleared the chamber and popped out the magazine, walking outside. He took off his ear mufflers and put them on the desk in front of him.
"Thanks, Shin," he said, handing over the gun.

"What's the matter, kid?" the old man asked. "No more? I only heard five shots."

"I think I've had enough for today," Zen said. "Mark my words, when I come back next week, I'm going to get that bullseye."

"Good luck with that."

"Yeah. Well, I'll see you next week, Shin," Zen said and walked out. He took the short path through the woods, pulling the jacket tighter around him as his breath frosted.

His name was Shigemura Zen, age fifteen, only child, resident of Japan. He was told he was a bright student, but he didn't believe that. His parents were very busy and he hardly saw them, as they left quite early in the morning and evening.

However, when he was younger, Zen's father had taken him to this same shooting range to have a good time. And while he held no expectations of his father to take him again anytime soon, Zen still came to the range at least once a week. He really didn't know why.

He lived in the country, a mile or two away from the city of Tokyo. He had a fair amount of friends, his best friend Ouji also being an avid gun lover.

Zen wondered why he didn't live in the city. He knew his parents were wealthy, and they would probably do a lot better in a place like Tokyo. Zen lived in a remote but large house on the edge of the woods. Ouji's parents were divorced, his mother living in the city. Ouji himself stayed with his father a short walk away from Zen.

Zen walked down the small hill to the back door of his house. He fumbled with the key and let himself in.

"Zen!" his mother yelled.

Zen grunted. It was as if his mother had superhuman hearing. It was impossible to be discreet with her around.

"Hi, mom," Zen said. His mother came downstairs and pinched his cheek.

"How did the shooting go?" she asked.

"Okay. I almost got the bullseye, but I just couldn't get it."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm sure you'll get it right next week."

Zen nodded and began his way up to his room, when his mother called after him.

"Zen, did you take your pills?"

Zen stopped. "Ah. No, no I didn't. I'll do that now."

"Zen," his mother said, suddenly very furious, "how many times have I told you, you must not forget your pills!"

"I'm sorry, mom. I'll take them now." He walked back down.

"Make sure you do," his mother said and walked upstairs.

Zen muttered to himself and opened a bottle of his pills. He took out two, popped them in his mouth at the same time and gulped them down with some water. He shook his head and blinked. He had been taking these pills twice every day, without fail, since he was four years old. And they tasted terrible.

He was told he had a rare disease, and that these pills were keeping him from falling into a fatal state. He had no idea what exactly would happen if he stopped dosing, but he had been told the symptoms- extreme cranial and abdominal pain, starvation, and powerful, strange desires.