Young Writers Society

III

The town we arrived in was called Wakayama.

It looked like a predominately Shinto town, because I could see a large Buddhist temple off in the distance. It had its many tall gates, each looking exactly the same, all in a row up to the temple. They were red, with a curved shape to them, like an upside down katana.

Ohagi put me down when I asked him to, for I hated feeling like I was delicate. Even though I still felt lightheaded, I continued walking, and fought the weak feeling in my knees. We were silent for a long while, but suddenly, Ohagi dropped down to my height by going to his knees.

“Jin, I want you to understand something.”

His voice was gentle again as he started to fix my clothes. He started to fold my lapels properly, and fixed my hakama by pulling the legs into the belt. I wondered why he was doing that, because usually, you only do that when you're running.

“What ever happens, I'm doing this all for your well being. You'll be face to face with death, but I'll do all that I can to keep you safe. I'll teach you, so that one day, you can keep yourself safe when I'm not there. And I really did not intend on making you choose between your father and I, and for that, I apologize.”

Being a child, I never understood the gravity of my actions, nor the sincerity of Ohagi's apology. I'd thought that he was apologizing for being firm with me. I smiled and told him that it was okay, but I never expected that it was for something more. I was a young boy, and as such, I was self-centered. A child's universe revolves around only himself, after all.

Ohagi then gingerly grasped my hand, not my wrist, and guided me along. He knew that I was pure, and that I would never be able to understand at this age the sins that I'd committed. I'd indirectly killed my father, and I had no idea I had done it.

“We'll be at the dojo soon. I want you to meet an old friend of mine. Does that sound alright to you?”

I said yes, and we continued into the town.

*

I was pushed into a dark room. As I felt around for anything to help me stand up, all I could feel was the sensory touch of the wooden floor.

My opponent was a man a bit older than Ohagi. He had a grey beard, and his hairline was receding. He was taller than Ohagi, and manlier. Though, he had a slightly meaner aura than Ohagi. My opponent looked at a slip of paper.

“Sasaki Jin, I presume?” He asked with a dark tone.

I didn't look him in the eye, because I knew what would happen if I did. Nakayama-kun had taught me that lesson. Though, my pride had made me a raging bull. I looked him in the eye as I confirmed his statement.

The man smirked. “So much fire. So I guess Takamura-san was right- you are a fighter.”

The man, then, shoved his fist into my abdomen, and I nearly passed out again. I was on the ground before I could have a chance to fight back. I coughed and wheezed, but I rose to my feet again. The man laughed, almost evilly, and then he took out two boshuriken.

He threw them, and I covered my face by crossing my arms across my face. The boshuriken caught onto my sleeves, throwing me against the wall. The throwing spikes had trapped me, and I was immobilized. The man then dropped to his knees, and to my horror, lifted my hakama pants. Only my undergarments were exposed.

The man cackled cruelly. “Takamura-san!”

“Yes?”

Ohagi was watching the whole thing, and he wasn't doing anything about it. He wasn't telling the man to stop looking at me.

“This boy's testicles haven't even descended yet! How do you expect me to train him with Itsuki?”

Ohagi smiled sincerely. “Don't underestimate him, Watanabe-san. Jin is a strong boy, and a magnificent fighter. He has spirit, and ultimately, that's what will make him an asset to the Oniwabanshū.”

The man called 'Mr. Watanabe' then smirked and pulled down my obi. I was flushed with embarrassment, but I was wondering why Ohagi had called me 'Jin' and not 'Little One'. Perhaps to promote my fighting potential? Whatever the case, I cherished the memory that Ohagi called me by my name, and not by my horrid, patronizing nickname.

“Itsuki!” Mr. Watanabe called sharply.

Immediately, a teenaged boy, even older than Nakayama-kun, stood at the doorway. He was much taller than the bully, if that were possible. He was panting and sweating, as if he were training just a short while ago.

“Hai!” He said, snapping to attention like a soldier.

Watanabe-san threw me into the direction of the boy named Itsuki, and I was shaking. I bit my tongue and I pinched myself to make me stop. My pride would not allow me to show any form of fear, but I couldn't stop. Something was telling me that I would have to fight him. That was when I reacted by going into kamae, or fighting stance. The adolescent called 'Itsuki' laughed, almost cruelly, not unlike Watanabe-san.

“He truly is the son of a samurai. Look at that fire.”

He knelt down to my height and started to examine me. “So you're the new student?”

He started to touch my shoulders, my neck, my back, and then I screamed for him to stop. I was afraid he was going to examine me like Watanabe-san did. But after I did that, he threw me to the ground, by sweeping my leg outward. I fell, and felt like crying, but held the tears in as my eyes welled up.

“I can do whatever the hell I want with you. Understand?”

His voice was as cold as my late father's. I stood, and wiped away my potential signs of weakness. It seemed as though everyone waited for me to calm down. It seemed as though they understood that I was a child, and they had sympathy for me. Unfortunately, I didn't want it.

“I'm not a child!” I hollered. “So don't treat me like one!”

Everyone was silent for a long time, even Watanabe-san. I feared that he would embarrass me again. Ohagi was still in the corner, and Itsuki was trying not to laugh.

Watanabe-san chuckled. “Alright then. Starting tomorrow, you're mine.”

I looked to Ohagi, and to my horror, he nodded.

“He's right, Jin. Watanabe-san will be teaching you- not me.”

At first, I couldn't speak, but once I gotten that ability back again, I'd asked him why. It was a meek question, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. My pride was wiped clean, like a slate.

“I have close ties with you, Jin. It wouldn't be fair to your fellow student.”

I looked to Itsuki, and he was cracking his knuckles. I gulped, wondering if I would be able to spar with him, or even endure the rigorous training sessions with Watanabe-san. He was instructed to bring me somewhere, and he shot upward and grabbed my wrist. As I reflex, I went against his grip and looked at him defiantly.

“Fight me, again, shrimp,” Itsuki growled. “See what happens.”

I was still weary from traveling, so I did what I was told, for now. But I said to myself that I would never let him talk to me like that again. I didn't care if he could beat me up, or how much authority he had over me as my senior student.

He shoved me into another room. There were two futons, and one candle. I started to get shivers down my spine when I imagined how that candle would illuminate the room. The dim light seemed to show more than it left out. It seemed to burn deeper than any illuminating light would. I guess the reason why I feared dim light so much was because it revealed what I really was.

“Ridiculous,” Itsuki mumbled to himself. “I have to share a room with a little kid like you.”

Itsuki was rummaging through a closet, possibly to get out his old night clothes for me to wear. I was staring at the unlit candle.

“Itsuki-kun,” I said uneasily.

“What?”

The answer wasn't really a question, but a demand. I was stuttering on my words as I imagined what the dim light would show.

“Does Takamura-san have a twin? Perhaps a meaner one who looks just like him?”

Itsuki let out a booming, bitter cackle. I flushed with embarrassment, but luckily, the night hid my red face and ears.

“I could never imagine anyone meaner than the original. Takamura-san is an even tougher trainer than Watanabe-san. He's the sort of person I hate. He never keeps his promises-”

A force that was even stronger than my own physical capabilities knocked Itsuki down, and soon enough, I was on top of him. I was choking him with my left fist, and beating him into silence with my right. At least, I was trying to do all of these things.

“Take that back! Take that back!” I shouted, though it sounded more like a desperate whine.

Itsuki smirked after I tried to punch him, and he, like lightning, reversed my mount. He'd shot his hand, grabbing onto excess skin on my leg, and rolled me over. I was on the bottom now. He kept his tight grip on my leg, and no matter how much I tried to resist, the pain was nearly unbearable.

“What will you do if I don't?”

It was then that Itsuki released me, and threw his old, patchwork nightclothes in my face. He took out a book, and lit the candle.

Almost like a reflex, I screamed and covered my face. The candle lit up my memories, and they wouldn't burn in the fire. All of a sudden, though I don't know what compelled me to do so, I started crying. I bit my lip hard to stop the flow of the accursed liquid from my eyes, but I couldn't. My crying soon turned to an anxiety attack. I was hyperventilating, and it only made Itsuki point and laugh all the more.

“What's this?” He mocked. “The little moth is afraid of the candlelight?”

He took the candle and started to put it up to my face. I begged him to stop, but he kept coming at me with the little flame.

“Little moth! Little moth!” Itsuki chanted. “Little moth! Little moth!”

I blubbered and whimpered, but nothing like those pathetic attempts could bring that dim light away from my eyes. Nothing could take my father's death away from my memories.