A second chance

Fallen innocence, fallen thunder

Four years ago

Unnamed village

A little boy ran through the streets, dodging carts and stands as he ran away from a large, burly man pushing his way through the bustling town square. A few people protested or gave the man nasty looks when he pushed them aside, but the vendor did not care. His dark gray eyes were zeroed in on a tiny figure who easily weaved their way through the crowd, his small stature being used to his advantage.

The little boy looked to be about three years old; he was pale with a tattered, dirt-stained green kimono with a rope tied around his waist. The boy's face was beginning to grow gaunt. Thankfully, his meager clothes hid his thinning frame from sight. For how much longer that small mercy would last, the boy didn't know.

He clutched the small pouch filled with four peaches close to his chest, his hands trembling. Glaring at the incoming cart crossing his path as if the wagon and its driver personally offended him. He slid beneath it and leapt to his feet on the other side. The driver cried out in shock as he pulled the horse. Not wasting any time, his bare feet began moving across the ground, kicking up dust and small pebbles while continuing with his escape.

The boy blew back his short, spiky black hair, with two thick strands framing his face from his turquoise eyes. They were framed by thick, arched eyebrows.

Wiping a dirt-covered hand over his forehead, the boy continued forward. His shoulders lifted instinctually to his ears, the sounds around him growing unbearable.

"GET BACK HERE, YOU THIEF!!" Roared the vendor, who was nothing more than a growing spec in the distance.

The boy grimaced, continuing to run, seemingly gliding across the ground, the outskirts of the village coming into site.

———

Present day

Kaigaku opened his turquoise eyes to a familiar world of pain, cold, and hunger. He blinked, trying to rid himself of the memory. That day had been his first time stealing food to survive. It marked him as a thief, but it also marked the day he had met the kind blind monk who had taken him in.

He gazed around his prison for the past six months. Everything was the same: the tiny cell, the chains connecting to his ankles and wrists, the small cell with its barred window, and the blood coding his back.

His turquoise eyes shifted towards the window, and he noted it was still dark outside. Letting out a grunt, he curled into a ball, his knees pulled up to his chest, his chains clinking on the ground. Back firmly facing the door, he closed his eyes, trying to rid himself of the memories.

It was, of course, to no use; he could still see himself running towards the monastery, with his goods forged from the nearby forest.

He could remember tripping over one of the candles before continuing towards home. He remembered the screams and the blood covering his clothing and himself. His turquoise eyes grew distant from the echoing screams of the other kids echoing in his mind.

"No," he whispered, envisioning himself waking up after being thrown against the monastery stone wall. He was covered in blood and surrounded by the remains of the other children surrounding him.

Kaigaku hadn't been sure where the kind-blind Monk had been; the only other person he noticed was a little girl also covered in blood. The only thing he was sure of was that the monster was gone and that the monks from the other nearby temple in the village had come with a handful of men and accused him of killing the younger kids.

His fellow orphan was of no help when he tried to explain that it was a monster. The girl looked scared, and when he tried to convince the adults again, they didn't believe him.