SOUKOKU | ORPHIC

ORPHIC - ONE

THE boy's cheek was burning, his small stature shaking, glistening tears filling his blue eyes. He spit at the ground, brows furrowed. Not daring to speak up, he avoided the woman's glare, his own small hand rubbing the side of his face. The child stood up straight, stabilizing his breathing and rubbing his tears away before looking up at his mother's face, eyes holding nothing but pain and rage. "I apologize, Mother," he muttered, keeping his voice stable, "Forgive me for my mistake. "

The woman's lips turned down into a scowl, shrieking in her coldest voice. "Get out of my sight, Chuuya. You're the sole child of the household and yet here you are, being a disgrace to the family! Your actions are unforgivable, pathetic. If you can't be the assassin we are raising you to be, then you're better off dead! I refuse to have to look at the face of the Nakahara disgrace. Tend to your injuries and report back to me in an hour. I have a new job for you. "

Chuuya looked away from his mother's pale face. He could look nowhere else but directly at his mother when she spoke.

"I understand, Mother. "

He turned, eyes hooded, and briskly walked away silently, the whisper of his mother ringing in his ears.

"As always, this will determine if you get to have your meal tonight, Chuuya. "

His arms were littered with splatters of red, blue and purple. They hurt, but not as much as the constant bleeding of the lash marks on his back. There were only two today, and Chuuya could not help but be grateful that his mother only whipped him once a month at most. He knew she did not want to make him completely immobile. That would ruin his purpose. The home they lived in was isolated in the middle of nowhere, so his family was not afraid to use painful measures against him. No one would hear his pitiful cries and screams.

Tonight would mark his fifteenth, sixteenth?, job. It was considered a rather large number for the twelve-year-old boy. He could not remember.

Chuuya wrapped up his stomach and chest, making sure the bleeding stopped before pulling on a black long-sleeved top to shield the bruises on his arms. This would suffice. The pain was like needles digging into his pale skin, however by now, he was far too used to it to even think anymore of it.

Before he knew it, it was nearly time for him to see his mother. Chuuya grabbed his dagger and carefully stuffed it into the small pocket his belt had. He was not allowed a revolver yet; his mother probably feared he would try to retaliate and use the weapon against his own family. The child was unstable and had a tendency to be difficult.

The red head strode out the room, quietly shutting the large door before he went to the work area of his parents.

His eyes were still bloodshot from the crying, rage and lack of sleep.

Chuuya knocked on the door of the office softly, adjusting his clothes, pulling his mask up to cover his nose. "Mother, it's Chuuya. May I enter?"

He heard the quiet noise of approval from the other side of the room and the child nodded, opening the door slightly, and walked in.

"Greetings, Mother..." His eyes travelled to the side of the room, where a man stood, the surrounding aura absolutely frightening. He gave Chuuya nothing but the element of fear. "...Father. Greetings to you as well."

His father nodded silently, obviously absorbed in the book he was holding. Probably another important study for the job Chuuya was about to be presented with. "Mother, what is it I'll have to do tonight? I will try my best, no matter the subject, I assure you."

The woman sighed softly, lips curled up, wicked.

"Kill this man."

--

Chuuya spat, the taste of metal in his mouth growing, pooling, engulfing him completely.

The lifeless body of the adult was sprawled before him, his soulless eyes staring up at the deep, night sky. "Pathetic," He leered, the words of his mother rubbing off him. "Absolutely pathetic. He knew he was going to die. Why did he have to hit me, it's so bitter. Bitter, bitter, bitter."

Chuuya's eyes sacrificed the slightest feeling of pity and envy for the man. He could leave this world so easily. All it took was 2 stabs to his chest and a final slit to his neck before he was pooled in his own red. It was that simple, and yet Chuuya was not given this opportunity to leave.

The emotions disappeared like dust in the wind, and he left the site of the assassination.

He was a murderer, but that could not disturb him anymore.

Chuuya Nakahara. The sole assassin of the infamous Nakahara household. His hands pooled with the heavy burden and responsibility forced upon him. He would survive and live to see his family collapse, burn and perish before his eyes. He thanked the lord above for this chance, despised the lord above for the pain he was being put through, disregarded the lord above for how life seemed to ignore his pleas. He prayed for it to be over, not at the death of himself, but at the expense of the blood and souls of the people that surrounded him. 

No matter what.