Branches - Two Fates. One Tale

Legend of the Past and the Future

Blood spluttered out of the wound. A fountain of scarlet liquid, sipping through two holes having been plunged deeply into the flesh, poured down the white bloodless skin. A death rattle, the rasping breath of a living thing dying, accompanied the sight, disturbing the silence.

Watching the display in front of him, he frowned.

He had seen it before. Had seen it often. There had been a time he lived for it. Loved to see the life slowly fade, fear and pain clouding their widened eyes, contorting their faces into masks of terror. They had no idea how good they had it.

He'd spent years amusing himself, feeling the rush of the hunt and the pleasure of soaking the life out of his victim. He'd slain and slaughtered before he'd spent decades on envying their short-lived lives. Envied their ability to sense – everything! – while he could not taste anything but blood, could not smell anything but fear and could not feel anything but lust and agony.

And then there had been one thing and one thing only on his mind: To free his soul from the slings attached.

He had searched for one person, the one man to end this endless repetition of sating his thirst and growing new hunger, and before he knew it, centuries had gone bye. He'd crossed realms searching for him, had seen creatures like himself and monstrosities that made even his hair stand on his neck. He'd traveled through dry deserts, over cold snow dunes and shipped over the big sea; only to find himself back where he had started. Where it all began and where he was born not once but twice. Where he was killed and revived by the hands of something more powerful than himself. It wasn't luck. He knew better. It was yet another carve in the coffin that was his twisted fate. He would not be surprised to find out that his one task was impossible.

The thud on the floor startled him out of his line of thought. The wide eyed corpse rested against the wooden wall of the house he had been lured out off moments ago.

He looked at his brother, who had walked the surface of earth for centuries at his side and now wiped off the blood from the corners of his mouth, tainting a snow white handkerchief with a deep red. The color of the liquid of life, which he and his brother needed to prolong their death.

Raising an eyebrow, he waited for a reaction of his brother, who had the same red flaming hair and similar sky blue eyes as he had. Though, Keiji was said to look more friendly; eyes less icy and quick to smile, in contrast to his own constant scowl.

Probing for information, he asked his brother, "Did he know something?"

"Seems like our henchmen were correct. There is someone living in this village who is believed to be the one we need," Keiji turned. The end of his dark coat swiped the air, swirling up the dark alley's dust. He sighed and complained, "I do prefer the sweetness of a young girl over the sour and dry taste of men."

"So it all ends where it began, huh?" He commented, rather sour. He was tired of this game, a game he had not known he agreed to play, back when his heart had ached in pain and love enough to blind his reason.

"Narukami," his brother murmured lowly. They both had unfaded memories of this place, where they had lived until they died.

"Did you miss it?" Keiji inquired.

"After what happened here? Hardly," he answered. The short span of his life hadn't been the one with the fondest memories, when every day, starving had been more likely than surviving.

Nevertheless, even after centuries, he remembered how he felt, when he heard her kind laughter or saw her sweet smile. He remembered how his heart had clenched, jumped in joy and twisted in awe. He could almost feel it while he remembered, almost felt the silent organ start pumping in his chest again. Yet, it was an illusion.