Genesis (Erityian Tribes Novella, #7)

02 : Ϟͽѯҁǂᵻ≬

Ϟͽѯҁǂᵻ≬

Shō had always had an insatiable curiosity since he was a child.

He could not remember his mother's face anymore, but he could still hear her voice happily answering his questions. His father would also feed him with information about hunting, the might of the samurais and shōguns, and places he would like to visit, but would not entertain any questions about their clan.

As much as he wanted to learn what their dark secrets were, he did not expect to discover them at the expense of his father's life. Witnessing how Shōtaro's strange abilities come to life was both horrifying and astonishing to him. But what threw him into a panic was when he felt the change in him, too. His senses were heightened. His mind was buzzing with too many thoughts at once. It was as if fighting instincts got hardwired into his brain.

That moment, he felt powerful. Too powerful that it scared him.

The fatigue and emotional distress from his father's death caught up on him and he wished he did not sleep that night. If only fear did not immobilize him when the villagers trespassed their land. If only he was courageous enough to help his father reasoned with them. Instead, Shōtaro sent them into an endless chasm . . . only to end up in the forest.

"What happened? asked Ryo, who was both confused and terrified of what just happened.

Even if it sounded preposterous, they knew their father just transported them instantly using some kinds of shadows and magic. And the way his eyes gleamed was that of a predator—someone who was born to survive.

When they witnessed their father's last breath, it dawned on him that they, too, would end up like him if they do not know how to handle the power that had been kept a secret within their clan. Shō wanted to know more about his newfound ability so he could guide his younger brother once it manifested on him, too . . . but Ryō's anger triggered his abilities to show itself sooner than he thought.

He looked at his brother's cold, aureate eyes. His clothes, soaked in the blood of his victims, looked like a crimson cloak, reflecting his desires to avenge their father.

They lived in the forest for several days, sometimes, going back furtively to their old house to salvage anything that could help them survive. Of course, the villagers painted them as monsters, after discovering several dead bodies in their own homes.

"We need to leave this village, Ryō," he reasoned, fearing for their safety, but his younger brother was obstinate in staying.

"I heard stories from those people," he murmured while Shō was preparing the deer they just killed. "They said our clan was once a proud lineage of samurais."

Shō halted skinning the deer upon hearing that. At the back of his mind, he already knew what their background was after seeing a meitou or a named sword as their clan's heirloom. Only those with higher status could possess such celebrated sword but seeing how their family was treated and how their father was adamant on staying tight-lipped about their history, he figured the head of the clan that time must have dishonored the samurai's code and became a rōnin instead.

"Why should we leave if this was supposed to be our fief . . . our land?"

"But—"

"Brother, they won't bother us anymore," he said, his eyes gleaming with contempt. "I assure you."

Shō did not like how his younger brother was bearing himself after what happened. He knew what Ryō did was wrong. Killing the villagers was not the solution to their problem, but Ryō had already had blood on his hands. Still, Shō wanted to be with his brother to make sure he would not let his emotions drive him to darkness.