The Choice

Chapter One

Ichimatsu, a frail orphan at the age of fifteen, pulled the thin brown blanket on his bedbug infested bed a bit closer to his face.

His room was cold, damp, and light rarely even entered the room. Though this was just an orphanage, it felt much more like a prison.

The children at this orphanage were only fed one small meal each day. And even then, the terrible food was so scarce, that often the older kids like Ichimatsu didn't get to eat but every other day.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Ichimatsu listened to the sound of huge droplets of water creating a puddle on the floor beside his bed.

It was terrible living in the basement of the orphanage, but what could Ichimatsu do? He couldn't speak for himself. He didn't have the right to.

Both of his parents had abandoned him when he was five years old, after having abused him as much as they wanted to. They had grown so bored with their disgusting excuse for a child, that they ended up killing themselves after killing all of the people in the village they had lived in.

"And even now..." Ichimatsu thought, shivering in pain as chills ran up and down his spine. "I am not loved."

There was a sudden loud bang on the wooden door that separated Ichimatsu from the other kids his age who lived in the basement.

"Wake up, filth!" the orphanage master yelled angrily as she threw open the door and stormed up to the boy's "bedside". That is, if his "bed" could even be called that. It was much more like a pile of dirty, old rags that made up a strange mattress of some sort.

Grabbing Ichimatsu by the collar of his ragged clothing, the angry master, threw him to the ground and began to kick him.

"I said wake up!" she screamed, continuing to kick him with her pointed black boots.

Ichimatsu curled up in a ball for a moment, trying to block her excruciating blows that would most likely break his bones if he didn't do such.

"Please stop..." Ichimatsu whimpered, and the orphanage master snorted, kicking him harder than before.

"Oh, please stop!" the master cackled mockingly as she grabbed a pail from the other side as the room and threw it at Ichimatsu. "Get to work, young man." she snarled.

The pail clanged on Ichimatsu's head as he weakly stumbled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. His ribs were killing him, and he wouldn't be surprised if he had known he had broken one.

Taking a deep breath, Ichimatsu shivered as he grabbed the tin pail an made his way through the other kids' room then walked up the stairs.

"It's my job to clean the kitchen today, isn't it?" Ichimatsu thought bitterly. "Once again...it's always me. They don't even try to hide how much they hate my guts, do they? If they hate me so much, why won't they just kill me?"

"Hey! Filth!" one of the workers snapped at Ichimatsu as he staggered into the kitchen. The worker threw a wet rag at Ichimatsu then laughed rudely. "Nobody loves you!"

"I know.." Ichimatsu mumbled, grabbing the rag, beginning to scrub one of the pots.

"Oh, boohoo!" one of the other workers mocked. "He even knows nobody loves him! I mean, who could love such disgusting filth like him!"

"I agree," another said, walking into the kitchen. "he'd be better off dead."

"If you hate me so much..." Ichimatsu muttered. "Why won't you just kill me then?"

"Because we want to watch you suffer," the first worker said. "Then we wouldn't have anything to look foreword to each day!"

Ichimatsu grew very hot, beginning to get angry as he turned the faucet on, washing out the pot.

"Your parents even hated your face so much that they just couldn't take life anymore! I'd gladly kill myself if it meant I didn't have to see mister filth each day!" the second person laughed loudly.

Ichimatsu slammed the pot down, trembling in anger, but he didn't say a word.

"Ohhhh somebody's angry," the first person said in a mocking tone of voice.

Ichimatsu threw the rag into the pot, grabbed a knife off of the counter top, then ran out of the kitchen, still not speaking.

Nobody even cared to go after him. And for some reason that made Ichimatsu even angrier with the entire world.

He pushed through the smaller children who were lined up down the long, dirty carpeted hallways, waiting for their breakfast.

And in just seconds, he managed to slip past everyone, making his way towards the two huge doors at the entrance to the orphanage.

Panting heavily, Ichimatsu bent over, taking in huge gulps of air. He didn't even feel like he had to be in a hurry. There was no one there to yell at him, telling him to not leave.

"They don't care if I'm alive or not...so I'll make them care that I'm alive..." Ichimatsu thought insanely, beginning to giggle a bit. "They'll care..."

Madly, with his knife still in his hand, Ichimatsu kicked open the two huge doors, escaping for his prison, setting himself free.

And though it was raining outside, Ichimatsu walked at a casual pace, flipping the knife around.

"They'll care. They'll care. They'll care. They'll care..." Ichimatsu thought, smiling as he stared at the knife. "I won't let them NOT care. I'll MAKE them notice who I really am."

And after only thirty minutes of walking, Ichimatsu stumbled upon a nearby village.

A sly grin crept across his face as he looked about for shopkeepers who were all alone.

Immediately, he spotted just the perfect people.

Ichimatsu licked his lips and tightened his grip on his knife as he approached the local baker's shop. His stomach growled loudly and his mind longed for death.

And by the end of the day, Ichimatsu had not only become a thief, but he had also become the most wanted murderer around.