HIRAYA: The Call for Blood (Untold Stories 2)

12

"Wait," as we were about to go and exit the ship, someone from behind called to make us stop.

I looked around and so did the others, to see to whom the voice belonged. I raised a brow when I soon get to beheld the bearer of that voice. "Nerezza,"

She continued to walk, going to the front while the men watched her every step. "Your Highness," she wore an odd-looking leather vest that matched the mud-like color of her blouse. She had her hair tied to a tail and she slid in her leather boots.

My eyes roamed the entirety of her presence as she gave me a bow and her eyes find the floor. "How's your memory?" I questioned as to determining her state would give me somehow the details of her recovery.

She placed her hands behind her and stood straight while she looked at me. "I see pieces but they're still not entirely vivid, Your Highness. All that's clear is the name you allowed me to remember."

I had no idea whether she knew things such as my abilities, her knowledge of my social status was beyond my reach as well but knowing that she was in the infirmary for days allowed me to dismiss the thought.

As I wanted to dig deeper towards her current apprehension, I decided not to walk through her mind as I promised myself not to enter one's head unless necessary, I wouldn't want anyone reading my thoughts without my permission as well, so I dare not to do it to others.

Nerezza already got Ran's consent to come with us and so she goes with him. When we took a stop at the port by the near waters of Japan, the moment I open my eyes to behold the wonders of the place where I was once, took my mind to the times where chaos was behind every possibility.

"Forward, back and forward and back.." it was one great afternoon when my uncle allowed me to hold and learn how to properly fight with the sword. He taught me accurate footwork, at the backyard of our humble home, we spent the winters wrapping ourselves in thick clothes.

The white and steady grounds of the snow-covered land maximized the minimalistic greed as it came to approach the winters of the year. No one dared to step out of their houses without wearing fur coats and such warm padded wear-on.

Almost all chimneys were fusing with smoke and the smell of warm bread always captivated my nose as the bakery beside our home opens their window for the scent to be spread. All-day long I wanted to have a grip on the soft and delicate bread whose butter lingers to my fingers.

However, as someone like me who is as guarded and observed as any other kid is oppositely treated, I never had the high chance to grab that sweet moment of tearing the bread into chunks with my teeth. I was always served with mushrooms and soup, cabbages and meat.

Looking back, Japan was always the place of comfort and remedy as I thought it would still be. As my eyes roam the cement walls, surrounding the city, I dare say such a revolution had already taken its place in the midst of the worldwide gore.

No more open seas just barricaded walls and high chain-link fences. I looked at my men and they seemed amused with how guarded this part of Japan was. My little childhood memory flashes instantly away as soldiers coming from the far side of the port managed to grab our sight.