An Assassin's Story

Chapter 1-Fire

I was guilty. I had done something very awful. My brother warned me. He begged me not to but I didn't listen. He may have been older by a couple of months but he was not the boss of me. The room was silent, the wooden floor smooth against my socked feet.

I inched closer to the display of katanas that were exhibited. I came to a stop in front of the glistening swords that shined from the candle light that I held, so I could see. There was a large wooden chest with a dragon etched into the dark timber of the coffer.

I knelt onto the tatami mat and slid my fingers over the cold surface of the coffer. I put down the candlestick and then I opened it; it creaked as I did. I took it from the coffer, and pulled it from its sheath. The metal of the sword against the sheath hissed as I pulled it and I smiled up at the blade that I held vertically in my hand.

The katana had a distinctive appearance. It had a curved, single-edged blade with a squared guard and a long grip to accommodate both hands. Holding onto the handle of the blade made me feel powerful even if I was only ten. I knew what power felt like.

Then a sudden sound of a vase breaking snapped me out of the daze I was in. I had accidentally bounced the candlestick and the candle lit the mat. In panic; I quickly put it out. I was sweating from the sudden jolt of adrenaline that I experienced. I put the sword back into its sheath and into the coffer.

I closed it, took up the candlestick and ran out of the room. I had sneaked into father's armory and interfered with his katanas. If he were to find out I would be surely be punished. I went back to my room, slipped underneath the covers and went to bed. Thankfully, I put it out, or so I thought.

"Kitsune! Wake up!" He shook me from my sleep. His voice was booming through the once silent air. It was my dad. His eyes mirrored a child in fear. "Hurry and get up now."

"Dad, what's wrong?" I asked as I threw the covers off and slipped off the bed; my feet barely touching floor. I rubbed my eyes so my vision would adjust. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything will be, soon." He ran about the room frantically and grabbed a blanket. "Wake your brother now." I had never seen my dad fear anything. My feet touched the floor and I sprang into action.

"Kisho, wake up." he mumbled something under his breath and turned his back to me. He slept like a baby." I shouted at him and slapped him on the back, "Wake up, Kisho!" He flew up and when he saw me, he screamed and rolled of the bed.

"Kisho, get up, we've got to go." My father told him and my grumpy brother obeyed.

My mom appeared at the door. "John we have to go now." My mom sounded grave. Dad scooped me up and mom grabbed on to Kisho's hand. We ran down the hall and that was when I saw it. The angry flames of heat and fury reached out to burn me.

The ceiling was on fire and the lumber broke away from where it was built to last. Timber fell from the ceiling; they crashed to the floor and ignited the curtains. As dad ran, he and I came closer to the exit and we ran out safely. He put me down and assessed me, to see if I was okay. However, when he was about to tend to Kisho and mom, they weren't there.

The screams of my younger brother alerted us to the awful truth. They were still inside, somehow maybe trapped. Without hesitating, my father ran in after them. The house went up into even harsher flames. The light fall of snow was freezing my ears, fingers and toes. My father went in and I waited. I stood there, still looking to see if they were coming. First for ten minutes; those minutes advanced into an hour, and an hour into hours. I stood there watching as my home was burnt to the ground and along with it, my family.

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7 YEARS LATER
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"Your mission is to kill the Indonesian ambassador. Stop him from making peace with the Americans. He is a traitor." It was a man. His voice was coarse and deep. "Leave no trace of him." He ordered.