9 Eyes God [on-going]

ELEVEN

Chapter 11 // A Beautiful Secret

"A pact, a holy agreement binds individuals with superbeings in a unbreakable oath. Disruption of word may result in self-destruction."

*****
(flashback)

"mama..." a small boy called out, tugging on a white apron that it had growned accustomed to feeling the touch. It was roughened from age, the usual white pristine surface had few streaks of sauce and other cooking materials he had no idea of. But a sniff of the wafting scent made his mouth water.

The woman smiled, discreetly using a spoon to scoop what she was cooking. She fed it to the boy who happily gulped down the soup. It was Japanese Tofu soup. Her son's favourite food.

Her brows downturned as she took in the condition of her child. He was sweating, small body shivering even under the scorching sun.  "Raphael? You need to drink up—"

"father wouldn't let—" his voice hitched, rubbing his tiny fist to wipe away his tears. The last time he cried infront of his father, he was slapped. It stung really bad. It was only when father left did mother gather enough courage to give the boy a small bag of cooled peas.

He cried so much that fateful night. He spilled all of his thoughts to his mother, who had tears of her own as she cradled her first son in her arms.

His mother wore pretty dresses everyday, but due to her job only reserved on cooking, the apron hid the beauty of her dresses. He favoured the purple one. It had polka dots lining up its puffed sleeves, and they were comfortable to sleep on. Her eyes were a brilliant brown, they shone like honey whenever the sun kissed it.

Raphael wished to have her brown hair too. To forget whose hair colour he had inherited. It pained him to have his father's. They were blonde, a few spots golden that many people in the village praised him for. But he didn't like it one bit.

"Raphael!!" A familiar male voice bellowed.

The two froze. The voice came from the backyard, the place Raphael spends his afternoons practicing.

He turned to his mother, shaking his head at her as he uttered, "Mama... I-I don't wanna go!"

She nodded to her son, her eyes trickling down with pearly tears. "I promise. I'll talk to your father."

However, a set of footsteps had them holding their breath. Turning to the entrance, it was none other than her husband.

She held her hands out which shield the boy who was shaking like a leaf, peeking through his closed fingers. He peeked out, locking eyes with the golden orbs of his father, who was glaring at him with such intensity it made him hiccup as tears fell from his face.

"Davien! You need to stop this!" Mother exclaimed, "Raphael is only 3!"

Mother was 5 months pregnant. Everytime Raphael had his 15 minute breaks from sparring with father, she would always go to him. He barely had any energy left from practicing, so he was grateful mother would go to him instead. Her steps wobbled as she dragged the boy to a shadowed area. She fed him food, rice balls dipped in soup. The pleasant warm feeling of the soup always charged him just right, and he was more than energized to endure another fight.

However, the first time mother stood up for him, turned out to be the last.

Father slapped her. She was rocked away like a feather from father's force. It was only when she dropped to the floor, the wall she rested on had began smearing blood did father snapped awake.