Story cover for Musuko (Book Two of the Kakureta Hana series) by firerose11
Musuko (Book Two of the Kakureta Hana series)
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    Parts 10
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    Time 1h 25m
  • WpView
    Reads 4,480
  • WpVote
    Votes 319
  • WpPart
    Parts 10
  • WpHistory
    Time 1h 25m
Ongoing, First published Mar 14, 2018
Bloodshed...Birthright...Betrayal.  Can he ever discover the truth?

"The first and only time that I dared to call Igarashi Sakura 'Mother', she placed a hand across my mouth and pulled me close.  For a long moment, she was silent, no part of her moving except for her chest and the tears that fell from her eyes.  Finally, she leaned close to my ear, whispering, 'Swallow those words, Kazuhiko, for your mother is not me.  She died years ago, and the moment someone hears you call me that, all of our lives shall be forfeit.'"

The young Lord Amachi Kazuhiko never questioned why his father's once-loyal general and his wife raised him.  He never questioned why the last of his father's advisers was given control of the clan until he came of age and not one of his dead mother's brothers.  That is until he returns from battle to find his not-mother Sakura has been captured...on the battlefield.

Setting off on a journey to help Ryuu rescue his wife awakens questions that Kazuhiko never knew existed, and he begins to seek answers.  Where did he truly come from?  Why did the general betray his father?  How did Sakura come to be on the battlefield?  And what was with the girl that looked eerily similar to him?

The truth may set him free, but it may also kill him in the meantime.

Book Two of the Kakureta Hana series

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The bandages that covered his face in life have fallen away, all incinerated and hanging loosely around his neck. His face is completely destroyed. Unrecognizable. The skin covering his face is no longer there, all having melted away. His blood vessels have all burst, his nerves have fried along with the majority of his muscles. His jaw opens and closes a little bit. His eyes bore into me. They're large and round and completely accusing. His teeth are covered in bits of burnt muscle. I feel my heart thudding in my chest. He steps closer, closer. His bone gleams in the dim light. As he closes in on me, a pounding noise begins ringing through my ears. My heart beat- ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. It looked like he had been tossed into a fryer, fried alive, and he had been. By me. I did this to someone. I killed someone's team mate, someone's son. I killed someone's important person. -- Kimiko Kioku, a memory keeper. Never forgets anything, always notices, from the exact way the wind blew her hair against her face to coloring with her brother at five to the lullaby her mother would sing to her as she rocked her when she was not even a year old. She remembers. She remembers the blood, the glassy, clouded over eyes her brother had as he said his last words. She remembers the very first person she killed. She remembers how abandoned she feels, and how everything always feels like it's falling apart at the seams. (Can you say 'worst summary ever to exist'? Okay, maybe not that bad. But still pretty bad.)