A Family Tradition- Soul Eater Short

Chapter 1: A Family Tradition

There was no denying that the weapon gene is in the blood of the Evans family. Historic accounts were evident of this, and even the most minor of research could be found on their family history. The Evans' were a renowned family of scythes alike.
Long ago, men and women of the family would marry off to other scythe baring families- much like royalty married into other royal relatives to keep the bloodline pure.
But eventually, the race began to dwindle. Scythes became more rare, and other weapons such as guns and swords ended up growing vastly in numbers.
The Evans' family's rate of scythes born into the family started to dwindle. Eventually, a lot of them married off to normal, non-weapon humans, as they didn't care much for blood purity anymore. This carried on for centuries, until the odds were one in three children.
A bride came from another family of scythes that had met a very similar fate, with the exact same birth rate of weapons.
David Evans married his wife, Felicity. The pair were only young, fresh from finishing from one of the most prestigious schools in North America. Soon after, Felicity became pregnant and became the mother to her eldest son, Wesley Mark Evans. Two years after, she gave birth to a girl, named Serenity Jean Evans.
However, three years prior to the start of progressive health problems, she had one final child.
A young son. Six years younger than her eldest.
Soul David Evans.
Soul Evans was always adored as a young boy; his siblings and parents found him adorable. Strangers and guests at their family home would fawn upon him, saying he could have a lot of potential for the family. Even as a young adolescent, he'd receive comments from women he barely recognised:
"My, how handsome has young Soul become? He looks just like his big brother!" One would say.
Another would chime in. "Yes, except instead of Wes' blue eyes, he has his mother's garnet eyes."
"So endearing! He is the spitting image of his mother! Though, he does has his father's charm."
As positive as the comments he received, Soul wasn't satisfied. He didn't want to be seen as the 'cute' one. He envied Wes and how he got credited as a musician.
Indeed, Wes was a very talented violinist. As a pianist, Soul couldn't shake off the annoyance he felt, and the bitter jealousy that he had.
How his bitter uncle Eric, a successful musician and businessman, wanted to make him and his siblings into success stories. Eric sucked up to Wes because of his confidence- he saw his success.
Soul hated how Eric frowned upon himself, as opposed to his older siblings.
All because he was an introvert.
However, Soul found it hard to be jealous of Serenity. She was incredibly talented, but he felt that because she was a girl- an incredibly strong and courageous girl- that he didn't feel the need to go up against her.
Soul adores his big sister; she was his first hero. You'd expect the older brother to fight off bullies. Not Wes. Although he got ready to fight, he wasn't seen as intimidating. He was too approachable, with kind eyes and a relaxed expression.
But in Serenity's case, her red eyes burned with fury. Waist length brown hair, side bangs usually tucked neatly with a headband, hung over her face. She'd stand, ready to charge- chasing them off.
No one messed with her little brother.
Soul loved Wes with every inch of his existence. Despite all that love, his bitterness kept him distant. He was desperate to be seen the way his brother was.
He accepted the fact that he, in his opinion, will never be as good as his brother.
It ate him alive.

The trees quaked in the early spring winds. It was around noon in the gardens.
"My happy place." Soul spoke, aloud. The serene spot, covered in sunlight and patches of shade, was beautiful. Daffodils and snowdrops had bloomed.
There was a river that could be heard from the patio.
He stood at the bank, staring at the river fish inside.
"I wonder what it's like." He told them. "To be free, like you are."
He looked up to the sky. Blue, with wispy clouds.
"That'd be nice."
He sat for a while; his eyes were closed as he enjoyed the gentle warmth.
"Hello, son!"
"Hey, dad!"
Like his mother, Soul got on with his father really well. He adored his parents.
His father, David, sat down. His messy chestnut brown hair shone in the sunlight. He looked at his son through rectangular, thick framed glasses. His light blue coloured irises observed Soul's slouched body.
"Imagine your uncle Eric seeing you slouch like that."
"Don't get me started." Soul smiled weakly, still gazing at the river. "How's mom?"
"She's doing better." His father told him. "The asthma has calmed down since the attack. Her condition remains unchanged."
"So it hasn't got worse?"
"Nope!"
"That's great!" Soul sighed, feeling relieved. He welcomed his father'a affectionate arm around his shoulder. "And your mental spells?"
"They're still trying to figure it out."
"Yeah." Soul nodded.
David looked at the boy. Sighing, he hugged his son. "Don't worry about me. Or your mother. We'll be okay."
They were quiet for a while; the wind whistled through the trees.
"Dad?"
"Yes?" His father asked.
"I have a question."
"What is it, Soul?"
"If I left here, like today..." Soul hung his head. "Would you be disappointed?"
David shook his head. "Not at all. Are you thinking about giving up music?"
"Kinda..."
"Why is that?"
"I... I hate having to work so hard to be within reaching distance of Wes." Soul looked up at David. "Dad, your brother- Eric- I think he hates me."
David nodded. "He hates everyone. He's just here trying to make a profit out of my own children. Yet he threatens to make us bankrupt if either I or your mother rebel."
"It's odd though. I'm not into the whole performance thing. But I love music. I breathe it and live it. I just get scared."
David raised his eyebrows in concern. "Scared?"
"I just... I feel like no one really wants to hear what I create. That no one seems to like it-"
"Don't be ridiculous!" David interrupted. "You live out your own name when you're up there! Your skills are beyond compare, my boy. You pour your entire heart and soul into your pieces, and you've been writing your own scores since you were seven. Seven! You, Soul, are seen as a child prodigy. Even if you don't hear them say it, it doesn't mean I haven't heard them."
Soul nodded. "Does Uncle Eric feel that way though?"
"Why do you think he puts so much pressure on you?"
"Hmm.."
"You're still debating giving up, aren't you?"
"Yeah... Sorry, dad." Soul hung his head.
His dad rubbed his back. "There's no use doing something that doesn't make you happy. I'm still proud of you, Soul!"
"Thank you. I really love playing music, by the way. That love won't go."
"I know, son." His father nodded. "You always seem so happy when practicing."
Soul agreed. Music was his escape, when he was alone or in small company. However, due to confidence issues, he felt anything but escape. He felt strangled, as if millions of hands were pulling at his limbs at once.
Soul was always dubbed as a severely anxious child, ever since he was little. He had trouble making friends, apart from two rather close friends, Rinko and Terry. They all met when they were small, and were family friends.
Soul and his father observed the surroundings together.
It was nice. Soul didn't have to worry about anything.
For now at least.