Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Deuteronomy ❯ Eyes of a Raven ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter 1
The Eyes of a Raven

The start of a new day; to the faithful, it is a blessing from their Lord to witness another day of His sterling creation. To others it can be considered another day, another dollar; another twenty-four hours to put in much time as you can before the next day. Yet while time progresses, some are not as fortunate to see the next day, and are buried beneath the very earth. Though many people ask, what becomes of their souls? What of the stories about those who are reincarnated, the sun brimmed skies of the cloudy heavens, the eternal damnations of the fiery pits of hell? What if everything you were raised to believe was not the truth? How can one live purely on faith with no physical evidence of their beliefs? What if someone knew, but couldn’t expose the Truth? Sadly the mystery of the afterlife is one to never be solved by man, which is why this fact, this Law of Trinity, stands firm with great authority, and also why there are beings protecting this said mystery.

Under the beautiful, clear blue skies, lies a bustling and lively city: the chaotic patter of active citizens, the unavoidable mixture of vehicle exhaust and attracting aroma wafting through the air, the wide diversity of culture, race, and religion meld into a single habitat. It was a city filled with life with something to do, for good or bad. Unaware to the local populace, a young boy named Kushiro Yamanaka: age sixteen, short chestnut hair with bangs; desperately flees from a furious group of young boys through a back alley. His grey hooded coat and orange shirt, blue jeans, and white sneakers. Certain areas of his clothes were soaked from grimy puddles and trash. Though it was a small price to pay; this alley was a second home to him.

With the alleys at his disposal, Kushiro begins to formulate his plan of escape; leaping on top of trash cans for a boost to the top of upcoming fences, avoiding the brick layered twist and turns that lead to dead ends, he was sure to gain enough time to lose them within his domain. Weaving and turning through every possible corner available to him, he grins while running towards the entrance back to the streets, embracing the spoils in his coat’s left pocket; so he thought. One of his pursuers somehow manages to outmaneuver him and stands between him and his way to freedom. He adverts his footing while sliding across the wet ground, and retreats back into the alley, only to have two more of his pursuers block off his remaining options. With no other way, he cuts left into a dead end, trapped between the structure of a building and an angry crowd of thugs.

No where to run, Kushiro turns to his pursuers out of breathe; beads of sweat run down his face, already soaking the collar of his shirt. He could hear faint footsteps drawing closer as a spine shuttering scrapping noise draws near as well. Hanging above the life threatening scene, a flock of ravens were perched upon multiple clothes lines; faint sounds of cawing filled the alley. The vague figures of his followers begin to shift to the sides, revealing the last figure’s indistinct description from the few illuminating sparks spraying from his knife. Kushiro’s muscles clinch tightly, he swallows his fears to prepare for the worst; he slowly maneuvers his right hand over his right coat pocket, where his only source of protection was his own pocket knife as well. The young man pulls his knife from the wall as he enters the manmade corridor; they close the opening with their bodies.

Lance, leader of his own gang, the Wild Fangs, slowly approaches forward; his black haired fashioned in a gel backed style, wearing his distinct black leather jacket bejeweled with chains, white t-shirt, denim jeans, and black shoes. One by one, the sound of hidden switchblades could be heard. Both their eyes meet. He could feel the overwhelming intensity of hatred pushing him against the wall. To break the tense atmosphere and to calm his nerves, Kushiro speaks first.

Kushiro: I’m sorry Lance; I would return the money you lost, but gambling is a non-refundable sport. I’m afraid those are the rules.
Lance: Shut it! I noticed from the get-go you were using loaded dice. Didn’t think us Americans were ignorant of that kind of bullshit did ya?
Kushiro: Well I thought since you didn’t say anything, after swiping $500 from you, all was fair. Right?

His snooty remark is promptly answered with a swift punch in the stomach, followed with a rising knee to his lowered face. When his body makes a violent thud to the ground, Lance gives a signal with the snap of his finger; his members move in and hoist him back on his feet, arms restrained, and a stream of blood running down his nose.

Lance: Wrong. You know, you really make this hard on me when you do things like this. Do you think I like going around torturing people who fuck with me?
Kushiro: Forgive me if I’ve thrown your entire agenda off for today.  
Lance: You remembered what I said back then when we first met?
Kushiro: ‘grins’ Smart asses get killed quick?
Lance: Yet you continue to push my buttons…‘sighs’ I’m only going to ask once; where is the money?
Kushiro: I gave it to a hobo.
Lance: ‘growls’ Kushiro…
Kushiro: I gave it to a local charity before running in this alley?
Lance: That’s it!

Kushiro had sealed his fate with his last remark. The enraged Lance draws his arm back with knife in hand, and aims directly for Kushiro’s lower abdomen. Before he could carry out the initial thrust, a voice cries out to their mischievous intentions and stops his actions.

???1: Freeze!

The group turns around to find a teenage girl around the age of sixteen, dressed in the boys’ school uniform; a white shirt with a loose black tie that rested in the center of her plump chest, black pants and shoes. Her long, dark lavender hair was tied near the end with a red ribbon, and her light violet colored eyes shot an intimidating stare at the group.

Lance: ‘exhales’ Shit. At first I thought it was a fucking cop. Girlfriend of yours?
Kushiro: She’s not my girlfriend; though I would really appreciate it if she would scream at the top of her lungs and yell ‘rape’.
???1: Are you serious?
Kushiro: Well people in this city are prone to helping girls in distress.
???1: You are right; though you’re not the prettiest girl I’ve seen so far.
Kushiro: ‘snickers’ Touché; you got me there.
Lance: Will you two shut the fuck up?! Now unless you’re looking to get eaten alive, I suggest you quietly walk out of this alley, and leave.

Without warning, a brick comes spiraling down the alleyway, and nails one of Lance’s grunts square in the forehead. A string of blood shoots into the air and splatters in a trail after the incapacitated thug drops to the ground out cold. The rest, including Kushiro, turn their attention again to the peculiar guest, who was currently dusting her hands off from the grime.

???1: You were saying?
Lance: You got a lot of spunk to be messing with the Wild Fangs.
???1: A name is a name. All I see in front of me is a bunch of immature boys pretending to be grown men.
Lance: You’re about to learn why they call us the Wild Fangs. Get her.

The group immediately surrounds her preventing any chance of escape. One by one, each goon falls mercilessly to her impressive fighting skills. Suddenly, two other thugs catch her off guard and grab her arms. With an opportunity at hand, Lance rushes in and thrusts his knife towards her. Fortunately, Kushiro managed to break free, and interrupts his moment by grabbing the loose chain on his jacket. He throws Lance to the wayside, and then takes the two thugs down, freeing her from their grasp.

???1: Thanks.
Kushiro: I think you should leave.
???1: If I didn’t show up, he would have killed you.
Kushiro: Yeah, but it’s against my moral code to let a girl do the fighting for me.
???1: Don’t get chauvinistic with me.
Kushiro: I’m not.
Lance: You’ll pay for that Kushiro and your bitch!
Kushiro: Gee, rude to girls and an asshole; to think I was about to give you your money back.

A couple of minutes pass. The fight soon comes to an end with Lance and his crew limping away from the bold yet battered duo. Left with a few facial scars and bruises on his face, he flips his knife closed, and conceals it back in his coat.

Kushiro: Thanks for the help back there.
???1: No problem.
Kushiro: Mind telling me what brought you through here?
???1: Mind introducing yourself before questioning another?
Kushiro: The name’s Kushiro Yamanaka.
Miwa: Miwa Kanagawa. I normally run through here to get to my apartment; it’s quicker than my normal route. So what did they want with you?
Kushiro: That’s none of your concern. Though I will warn you; you’re on Lance’s Shit-List, so watch yourself.
Miwa: Please, I’ve fought things far worse than him. ‘brushes her hair to the side and walks off ’ I’ll be watching you.
Kushiro:…Great, now I have a gang and a stalker watching me.

As he walked away with his life, the black feathered audience took to the afternoon sky; with one that remained watching Kushiro as he leaves: a raven with a scar running diagonally across its beak. Meanwhile, far away from his current location in the New-Sights News station, Kushiro’s mother, Ume Yamanaka; age thirty nine, brown short hair with a part in the middle, earrings, wearing a black suit and long skirt with a white hourglass design in the center, and black high heel shoes. She sits quietly in the chair, twisting her wedding ring on her finger while being interviewed by her manager, Kent Linshaw, for the news reporter position. Kent Linshaw has been the editor of the NSN for nearly thirty years, thanks to his father who pushed him into the family business. Kent is rarely permissive to his coworkers and is always in a bad mood, unless he has his morning coffee. Even still, his infuriate and wrathful intonation grabs the attention and respect of all of his coworkers.  
The muffled symphony of telephones ringing and minor rumbling strokes from keyboards behind her only piles up on her stress as Kent looks over her resume. His heavy grunting along with his consistent scribbling of his company’s golden engraved, red, ballpoint pen only added more tension on her while she twirls her brown blades of hair in her hand. He then clears his throat and responds in his baritone voice.

Kent: Mrs. Yamanaka?
Ume: ‘cracked voice’ Yes Mr. Linshaw sir.
Mr. Linshaw: You have an outstanding resume as always.
Ume: ‘normal voice’ Thank you sir. It’s been my dream to become a news reporter sir. I majored in Communications in college back in Tokyo. I just never had a chance to finish due to—
Mr. Linshaw: I remember hearing you say that from time to time, but, ‘stands up and opens the blinds to the outside window’, it takes more than to dream to become what you want. It takes a certain dedication, an iron will to perform better than any man or woman competing for this position. Do you have that kind of will Mrs. Yamanaka?
Ume: Yes sir, more than anyone around here.
Mr. Linshaw:…I just don’t believe you have that kind of mentality news reporters have Mrs. Yamanaka. The way you speak, you belong behind that desk as my secretary.
Ume: But sir!
Mr. Linshaw: Or would you prefer a lower accommodation because of your uproar Mrs. Yamanaka? I would hate for you to tell your two sons that you’ll be making a lower income. From what I hear, it’s hard enough for you as it is to take care of them both.
Ume: Uh, how do you know?
Mr. Linshaw: This is the NSN Mrs. Yamanaka; we always have our sights on new things, and our ears help us unveil the truth. You may return to your desk Mrs. Yamanaka, I’ll inform you if you even come close to a mile to the position.
Ume:…Yes sir, thank you for your time.

She bows and takes her leave into the bustling office area, where her desk awaits her along with seven ringing phones greeting her with a noisy welcome song. She sighs heavily and takes her seat, trying her best to take messages within the noise polluted area.

Ume: NSN, New-Sights News. This is Mr. Linshaw’s secretary speaking.
???2: Yeah, tell that no good boss of yours to give you the position already. Or do I have to come up there and say a few words?
Ume: Y-Yukio?!

Yukio Aichi, Ume’s brother and Kushiro’s uncle. A tall thirty-eight year old man with brown hair, with three blades of hair sprouting from the left side of his hairline, brown eyes, rugged peach fuzz, and a slightly visible vertical scar on the right side of his cheek. As he stood occupying the nearest payphone, his black kimono and hakama was attracting the eyes of the curious and the charming smiles from a few who were intrigued. Currently living in Tokyo as a dojo instructor, he is currently visiting Ume and the others after hearing Kushiro’s problem with gambling during school.

Yukio: You should have stayed in Tokyo sis; a few of my graduates were interested in meeting you when they saw your picture. ‘chuckles’
Ume: You know better brother and you better hang up. You’re holding up the line, plus you’re running up a huge long distance charge.
Yukio: Don’t worry; I’m here at the airport waiting for your sorry ass.
Ume: Oh no! That was today?! When did you get here?
Yukio: Hey, don’t sweat it. I brought a couple of microwavable ramen with me, and some other accommodations; so I’ll be fine.
Ume: You sure? I can always pick you up on my lunch break.
Yukio: Relax, pick me up when you’re off. I got enough ramen to make a good meal for the day.
Ume: Ramen isn’t a meal silly. Listen I have to let you go. I got so many calls and I’m so sorry that I forgot. It’s just all these bills, the boys, work.
Yukio: Stop with the apologizing. I understand the situation, which is why I’m here to help out.
Ume: Thanks brother. I’ll pick you up soon around the afternoon.
Yukio: Okay, see you then…later. ‘hangs up’ Why she moved here I’ll never understand.

The evening draws near and Kushiro had finally arrived at his little brother’s elementary school to pick him up from his after school daycare. Hamaru Yamanaka: age ten, same colored hair and eyes but hanging, spiky hair. Their school also followed the same dress code as Kushiro’s. He finds Hamaru sitting at a table in the cafeteria alone from the other children completing his homework.

Kushiro: Hey there runt. Can’t keep your head out the books huh?
Hamaru: Brother!
Kushiro: Ready to head home?
Hamaru: Yeah.

The evening time had just arrived as the streets slowly become somewhat vacant, giving the two a quiet, relaxing walk under the orange sky. Along their way back to their home, Hamaru could not help but notice some of the bruises around Kushiro’s face. He tried his best to remove the aftermath of the struggle.

Hamaru: You’ve been fighting again huh?
Kushiro: So you’re going to lecture me like a mother?
Hamaru: My mom told you all that fighting is pointless and that it may mean more trouble for you in the long run.
Kushiro: Relax; they don’t know where I live. I make sure no one follows me back; I’ve been quite lucky.
Hamaru: But what if you run out of luck?
Kushiro: That will never happen. Each morning I roll a one hundred sided die to see how my day is going to turn out. So far it’s been nothing but above seventies. Let’s hurry home, it’s getting late.
Hamaru: Odds or not, one percent is enough to ruin anyone’s day. It’s pretty sad that you resort to that die Kushiro as some sort of good luck charm.
Kushiro: I don’t consider it as a charm. Like Christians with a cross ‘throws the dice in the air and catches it’ this is my symbol of what I believe in life. Everything that happens in life is a probability; it all revolves around percentages, statistics, numbers, and a thing called logic.  
Hamaru: You’re hopeless.
Kushiro: Just keep quiet; I don’t want to get into a religious dispute with you.
Hamaru: Hey Kushiro, there’s a hot dog stand. Think we can get a hot dog?
Kushiro: You’ll spoil your appetite.
Hamaru: Look who’s lecturing who. ‘laughs’
Kushiro: Shut up.

The two soon quail their brotherly laughter as they approach the supplier of the mobile metal stand; an old friend of Kushiro from his early childhood, Mr. Chez Lezner. He is very hefty and jolly person, completely bald, an abnormal sized nose, with a dull brownish beard and mustache combination. He was wearing his company’s uniform; all white with an apron with red and white vertical stripes, a white cap with the company’s logo on the side of an animated hot dog portraying a thumbs up with a bright smile, and white sneakers. Seeing his two favorite customers, he welcomes them with a cheerful salute, and his usual ebullient laughter.

Chez: Hello there boys.
Kushiro & Hamaru: Hey Chez.
Chez: So boys, the usual?
Hamaru: Yes please.
Chez: ‘prepares their food’ How’s Mrs. Yamanaka doing?
Kushiro: Probably still at work.
Chez: Hope you’re staying out of trouble. Your mom is doing all she can to support you.
Hamaru: He will. Aren’t you Kushiro?
Kushiro: Keep this up and you can pay for your own meal.
Hamaru: Hey!

As Mr. Lezner nearly finishes their orders, at the corner of his eye, he manages to catch a shifty blur step back in the corner of the building. He stares intently, hoping for the figure to rear its head for a better look, but there was no sign. He then switches his behavior back to his carefree spirit with their orders ready to serve.

Chez: There you go boys.
Kushiro: Thanks. ‘hands Chez a $20 bill’ Keep the change.
Chez: So Kushiro, I hear there’s a new girl around the block. ‘winks’
Kushiro:…Yeah, I might have seen her.
Chez: Well?
Kushiro: Not my type actually.
Hamaru: Thanks for the hot dog sir.
Kushiro: Whatever kid, beat it.
Hamaru: ‘walks away; thinking’ Mr. Lezner must have spotted one of the Wild Fangs. Hopefully he wasn’t tailing us for too long. It sucks that my brother and I have to refer to each other as if we never known each other. Then again, it has proven useful just encase their eavesdropping.
Chez: Come on, she looks like the wild type.
Kushiro: Nah, I’m looking for a more submissive character. ‘takes a bite; thinking’ Luckily I don’t have to worry about this stray going after Hamaru. If he does, he’ll have to expose himself, and even then, he’ll get his ass kicked if he goes the same way Hamaru is going.
Thankfully I thought ahead and set up a little safety zone so they don’t follow us home; we can take a break at any of the two adjacent spots. If Mr. Lezner or my other informant spots any of these dweebs, we simply communicate with word play to rely the information on who and how many. At the same time, I can’t keep playing this ruse too many times; they’ll catch on that Hamaru is a close friend or a relative, and use him to draw me out. So far they haven’t caught on, so we’re good.
Chez: Well be careful and try not to get your heart broken.
Kushiro: Don’t worry; they’re usually the ones that get their hearts broken. Take care.

While Hamaru heads west, Kushiro heads north; their home lies south in the suburbs. As the two part ways, Mr. Lezner’s suspicions were right on queue; the predator continues to stalk Kushiro. A smile shoots across Mr. Lezner’s face as he closes the compartment’s door.

Chez: Hot dogs! Get your red, hot meat right here!

After announcing his advertisement to lure in customers, he flicks the bell twice in succession that was hanging on the side of his cart. His message was conveyed perfectly to Kushiro and Hamaru. With the thug’s back turned, Hamaru quickly crosses the empty street, and heads south towards home.

Hamaru: ‘thinking’ Careful brother.
Kushiro: ‘smiles; thinking’ Alright, time to walk the dog.

The two go off a good distance while walking in public areas; the raven populated park, shopping centers, fully aware that the scout was only trailing him to find out where he lived. Even still, everywhere they went, squads of police officers were not too far, and were in a constant line of sight. The thug had no clear opportunity to lay a finger on him. Thirty minutes in, and the two continued to take a tour around the city. Kushiro had had his laughs; it was time for his cover to be blown, but first, he decided to make one quick detour. The two stood at an intersection waiting for the walkway to give the right of way; the tired grunt at a safe distance. The light gives the signal as the group makes their way across the street.

Wild Fang Grunt: Hmm…this place looks familiar…Wait a second.

As Kushiro turned the corner, the grunt final came to a realization; Kushiro knew from the very start that he was being followed.

Kushiro: Hey Chez.
Chez: Hey Kushiro. Hot meat! Come get your red, hot meat! ‘jolly laughter’
Wild Fang Grunt: That fucker led me around! That’s it; you’re dead!

The thug swiftly whips out his switchblade and charges Kushiro from behind. Fully aware of his attack due to his heavy footsteps, Kushiro promptly turns around, and readies himself.

Kushiro: Sit boy! Huh?

Suddenly, one of the pedestrians that concealed themselves with an opened newspaper springs from the building’s wall, and immediately clothes-lines the rushing grunt by the neck. The sections of paper clutter the scene before Kushiro, as the assailant was brought down abruptly. Kushiro then notices the lavender colored hair rustling in the dancing litter of paper and soon realizes his unknown assistant. The obscurity dispels itself revealing Miwa on the scene; the knife tumbles and lies at rest on the ground.

Kushiro: Miwa?!
Miwa: Good boy.
Chez: ‘whistles’ KO.
Kushiro: Last I checked, the only apartments in this area are fifteen blocks that way; from where we last met.
Miwa: You’re right…‘runs off’
Kushiro: Get back here! ‘gives chase’
Chez: ‘laughs’ These crazy kids.
Kushiro: Don’t think you can outrun me; that busty chest of yours will slow you down!
Miwa: ‘blushes’ What was that?!

She comes to a screeching halt and immediately turns right-about-face with an immense glare of hatred across her face.

Miwa: You perverted asshole!

She rears her head back; with Kushiro still rushing towards her, she unleashes a tremendous force that halts him with a bone shattering head butt. The shocking impact sends a subtle yet disrupting shockwave. Most of the spectators witnessing the one hit strike stop with curiosity of their dispute. Suddenly, a woman shrieks and comments on the running of blood leaking down the center of the right side of Kushiro’s face. The two faceoff in a close range standoff; never moving an inch, their expression of anger never changed. His left eye twitches as he releases recurring grunts of weakening. After a few seconds, his body falls limp; his vision goes black with Miwa being the last thing he sees.
Moments pass by; a disoriented voice beckons Kushiro from his unconsciousness. The voice and noises around him gradually becomes clearer as his eyelids flutter blurred visions of Mr. Lezner upside-down. He fully awakens; surrounded by paramedics, spectators, and a few police officers who had already apprehended the Wild Fangs member. Mr. Lezner then carefully lifts Kushiro for him to sit up. The different posture shocks his heads with a throbbing sensation; he hisses and quickly grabs the source of his pain. His hand becomes covered in his humiliating blood.

Chez: Welcome back.
Kushiro: What the hell happened?
Chez: You got knocked out by that young girl you were chasing. She’s a tough one; head butted you and ran off like it was nothing.
Kushiro: Miwa.
Paramedic1: Are you ok sir?
Kushiro: I’m fine.
Paramedic2: Come with us; we’ll patch you up.
Kushiro: No thanks. As soon as I get home, my mom is just going to undo it and patch it up herself. ‘struggles to stand’
Paramedic1: But sir!
Kushiro: I’m fine! ‘shuffles home’ ‘mumbles’ That damn bitch…

Shuffling his troubled feet, he manages to return home before nightfall; their two story, three bedroom, two bathroom, white layered, brown roofed home, with a small lawn, and well decorated porch. As he approaches the lawn, there to greet him home first was a flock of ravens scattered about the lush green patch. The cawing flock was feeding from the scraps of moldy bread probably thrown out by Hamaru. Annoyed and his face petrified with a nonchalant look with his face caked in his own blood…

Kushiro:…Boo.

Startled, a raven screeches, scaring the others to take off with whatever left they had in their charcoaled colored beaks. Surprisingly, one raven stayed; the one with a scar running diagonally across its beak. It boldly stood there as if wanting to start a confrontation; its burning red eyes embedded with a black pearl staring deeply into Kushiro’s gaze.

Kushiro: Well aren’t you a rebel…Whatever; stay there if you want.

He walks past the bird without any concern; though it watches him as he climbs the steps. He opens the door, to his surprise; Hamaru, his mother, and a surprise Yukio were already home in the living room. Their cheerful expressions quickly switch to horror and worry over Kushiro’s current condition. Ume rises to her feet and thoroughly examines her son’s injuries.

Ume: Oh my God, Kushiro! What happened to you?!
Kushiro: It’s nothing mom.
Ume: This is not nothing! Hamaru, go upstairs and get the First-Aid kit!
Hamaru: Yes mom! ‘runs upstairs’
Yukio: Oi Kushiro, you look like a mess.
Kushiro: I told you; nothing happened.
Ume: I told you this gambling of yours is going to get you in trouble! They could’ve killed you!
Kushiro: They didn’t mom.
Hamaru: Here mom.
Ume: Bring it over to the couch Hamaru; you get over there too young man.
‘the two sit on the couch’
Ume: All this blood…I’m serious Kushiro; you have to stop this gambling.
Kushiro: I didn’t get this from gambling.
Ume: Then who in the world would do this to you?
Kushiro:…‘blushes’ A girl.
Yukio:…‘laughs hysterically’
Ume: Brother! ‘begins wiping off the blood’
Yukio: I’m sorry; I just find it so funny!
Kushiro: She’s been stalking me all day; showed up at least three times with no explanation whatsoever!
Yukio: Really Kushiro? Did all my training that summer go to waste?
Kushiro: How is cleaning your junky ass dojo training?!
Yukio: You really haven’t seen those movies have you?
Kushiro: What are you doing here anyway?
Yukio: I’m here on the account that your mother needs my help; with the house and you.
Ume: Be still Kushiro. ‘applies soaked alcohol swab’
Kushiro: ‘flinches’ Ow, that stings!
Ume: Well maybe if you stayed out of trouble, you wouldn’t be flinching tonight. Why did a girl do this to you?
Kushiro: Beats me.
Ume: I tell you. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s in a gang. God only knows what she did to join.
Kushiro: She’s not a gang member mom.
Ume: ‘sighs’ This day couldn’t get any worse. ‘finishes wrapping bandages around his head’

Indeed it could. Abruptly interrupting her concentration on her son’s injuries, Hamaru notices the answering machine had recorded a few messages. Ironically, the first message was from Kushiro’s principle, Mr. James Henderson.

Mr. Henderson: Mrs. Yamanaka, this is Kushiro’s principal speaking. I’m calling in regard of your son’s absence in his classes and I would like for you to set up a meeting time with me to discuss your son’s grades. Give me a call, at—
Ume: You skipped school again didn’t you?
Kushiro: No I didn’t; I was on school premises, for awhile.
Ume: Kushiro!
Yukio: ‘laughs’
Ume: I don’t even want to look at you right now. Just go to your room; I’ll give you your punishment later.
Kushiro: Fine. ‘gets up’
Ume: No television, no games, nothing! The only thing I want to hear in there is quiet!
Kushiro: Okay. ‘heads up the stairs’
Ume: Kushiro; coat, here, NOW!
Kushiro:…Whatever. ‘takes off coat; hangs it on the back of a kitchen chair; heads back upstairs; thinking’ Good thing I hid the money elsewhere before entering. I’ll just go upstairs and—
Ume: Where is it?!
Kushiro: Where’s what?
Ume: The money you stole! I want it now!
Kushiro: ‘comes back down stairs’ You’re welcome to check my pockets if you want. I got nothing.
Ume: Don’t test me boy; I will go there.
Yukio: She’s right. When it comes to money, the Aichi family has a distinct sensation to finding what others owe.
Kushiro: I owe nothing.
Ume: That’s it; come here.
Kushiro: Wait. Mom what are you doing?!
‘indistinctive argument; struggle’
Hamaru: ‘whispers’ Where did he hide the money?
Yukio: It’s taped to his lower thigh. Man, I hope he’s shaved. ‘laughs’
‘sound of tape ripping’
Kushiro: ‘screams’
Ume: Sorry Kushiro. You know better to hide anything from me.
Kushiro: ‘mummers’ There’s a bald spot on my leg…‘whines’
Ume: You have a long time for that to grow back before any girl sees your boney ass. Now pull your pants up and go to your room.
Kushiro: ‘pulls pants up’ I can charge you for child abuse!
Ume: I know how to hurt you physically without leaving marks. So try me.
Kushiro: ‘horrified look; rushes up stairs’…‘door slams closed’
Ume: ‘sighs’…Hamaru, don’t ever make me do that to you too. ‘counts the money’
Hamaru: I won’t mom.
Yukio: So how much are we looking at?
Ume:…This is $500 in cash…
Yukio: Really now? ‘rubs hands together; snickering’
Ume: ‘walks by’ I’m burning it.
Yukio: ‘falls over’ What?! Ume, if you were rich, I wouldn’t mind if you burnt a $1000 as firewood; but the fact that you need this money and you’re willing to get rid of it all?
Ume: I don’t want my children thinking they can get by simply by placing a chip on their life. When you have children brother, you can raise them anyway you choose, but this is my house, my children, my rules. Understand? ‘starts up the fireplace’
Yukio: I fully agree with you sis, but, I must interject on your atrocious decision.
Ume: Which is your last…‘looms the money over the fireplace opening’ Your statement?
Yukio: Considering that money is from gang members, it could have traces of many foreign particles of drugs: C, PCP, MDMA, LSD, and even more. You’re going to set that on fire, in your own home, where the smoke can travel outside, and linger inside. Not only will it hit us, it may hit a patrolling police officer that may have a knack for smelling narcotics…You can fill in the rest. ‘smiles’  
Ume:…Okay, case in point, but what do I do with it?
Hamaru: Turn it in to the police.
Yukio: Yeah.
Ume: Are you serious?! I’m not walking around the streets with $500!
Yukio: Then give it to me; I’ll report it in the morning while looking for a job.
Ume: If you say so. Nowhere else, got it?
Yukio: Sis, it’s your dear brother. You trust me right?
Ume: Yeah. Look, I’m almost done with dinner. Can you talk to Kushiro for me?
Yukio: Good cop, bad cop uh? Ok, I can do that. Care to join me Hamaru?
Hamaru: Sure.
Ume: I want you to go to your room.
Hamaru: Sure mom.

As Hamaru retreats to his room, Yukio follows from behind as he approaches Kushiro’s room; located at the end of the first hallway. After walking past Hamaru’s room and the upstairs bathroom, he gently knocks on the door.

Yukio: Kushiro, can we talk?
Kushiro:…sure.

Granted permission, he turns the doorknob, and enters. A plain normal room with brown shaded carpeting; blank white walls from posters or pictures, and a slide closet to Yukio’s left. To the right, Kushiro was laid back in his bed; a mahogany framed bedpost with white sheets, and two pillows. Behind Kushiro was an open white framed window with white curtains. To the left of Kushiro was a mahogany framed chair shoved in place in front of its desk cluttered with many of his belongings; dice, scattered school books and paper, a few facedown picture frames. Yukio takes a seat on the left side at the foot of the bed; a strong draft enters the room caressing the curtains and dies down.

Yukio:…So, $500 in one day. Not bad.
Kushiro: You’re here to lecture me too aren’t you?
Yukio: Kushiro, your mom is really worried about you—
Kushiro: ‘sits up’ Then you know how important this money is.
Yukio: I can understand you want your mother to be happy again, and you want her to go back to college, but…what you’re currently doing is not good for you.
Kushiro: Maybe I wouldn’t be like this if Hiro had stayed. Maybe all these bills wouldn’t be piling up on mom like this. Maybe she wouldn’t be working overtime at that shitty job while still being paid crumbs!
Yukio: Kushiro…
Kushiro: I’m sixteen; no one will hire me at this age because it would be considered child labor. I at least chose a path that wouldn’t drag this entire family down like dad did. I’ve planned my moves carefully; I did what had to be done!
Yukio:…It’s been hard hasn’t it?
Kushiro:…Nearly every day, when mom comes home from work late at night, that answering machine would always be debt collectors harassing her to pay her bills; we lost the car already. Since she hasn’t been back in college for a good while, her lenders are now joining the rest of the pack; hounding her each day…She would be downstairs, all alone in the dark, secretly crying herself to sleep on the couch. The next morning, she would put on a façade, and greet us with a smile; hiding all that pain to create the ‘perfect world’ for us…I often wonder how she manages to give us huge birthday parties ever since this started.  
Yukio: Well that’s because she doesn’t want you two to worry so much about it. One of the jobs of a mother is to create the so-called ‘perfect world’ for her children; creating less stress in their lives as possible.
Kushiro: Like I haven’t caught on about her lies of our financial crisis. That’s why I’ve been gambling, that’s why I’m taking all these beatings and cuts. Someone needs to take that responsibility.
Yukio: I understand Kushiro, but in the end, you need to stop this gambling.
Kushiro: We need this money.
Yukio: And that money will have you and this family killed…I’m here to pick up the mantle Kushiro; you won’t have to throw away your childhood so early. Leave adult matters to the adults.
Kushiro:…This is the only way I know to get money quick enough to pay off those debts that he left on us. ‘stands up’ So it’s this, or would you prefer me to sell drugs, because I hear the money flows in pretty well than gambling. ‘walks out’
Yukio: ‘sighs’ Me with kids; doubt it. ‘takes out a cigarette’ Uh.
Ume: ‘shows up’ If you’re going to smoke, do it outside.
Yukio: You didn’t stop him.
Ume: I could smell the overwhelming stench of teenage angst; a combination of scolding is not recommended with a headache from parenting.   
Yukio: ‘smiles’ Sorry. Mind printing out a sign with the house rules on it so I don’t break them?
Ume: ‘giggles’ Now what fun would that be?
Yukio: Tch, you’re just like mother.

The two step outside. The climate was calming against their skin; not too cold, slightly lukewarm, but with a cooling night breeze. The cigarette Yukio was currently smoking was another nice condition as well. He exhales a stream of smoke into the air with Ume sitting on the porch’s homemade bench, crafted by Hiro.

Ume: So how did it go?
Yukio: Not so good. He’s just like the family; a stubborn gambler. Give him some time by himself before you scold him.
Ume: I feel like it’s my fault Hiro left; if only I hadn’t turned on the television when that earthquake hit Tokyo.
Yukio: Yeah, that’s the downside in Tokyo. Luckily, the family was okay.
Ume:…If only he was here, Kushiro would straighten up.
Yukio: Yeah, straighten up for a left hook to his face. Listen, I knew Hiro ever since we were kids. He was really happy with you guys and he only wanted the best for you.
Ume:…I wanted to fly out there, back to Tokyo to find him…I just don’t believe he was crushed by falling debris. It sounds so unbelievable.
Yukio: Does Kushiro know this?
Ume: It was hard to tell him at the time; he was eight and Hamaru was close to becoming one.
Yukio: And now you’re armed with a self-compliant teenager and a straight-A bookworm. I think they have the backbone to hear the truth, let alone deserve it.
Ume: I just couldn’t bring myself to tell him. All those nights while Hiro was gone, he would always pray to God at the foot of his bed for his safe return. ‘smiles’ I would have to often check up on him because he would wake up in the middle of the night and continue to pray. I mean, how can you be upset with your child when they do something so innocent?
Yukio: And you didn’t want to break his faith…‘exhales’ Hate to tell you Ume, but a prayer gone unheard can break a soul as well…Humans are just that fragile; a blind faith is better than none.
Ume: Now don’t start that with me. I accept your beliefs brother, but don’t go bashing mine.
Yukio: I know. I’m not saying I don’t believe in God, but as an individual, who exercises his ‘free will’, I do have my opinions of the Bible. I believe He gave us brains to learn from our mistakes; not to live by them…‘scratches head’ Well other than religious disputes, he needs to know the truth about Hiro though.
Ume: I just wish I knew how they would take it.
Yukio: Here, ‘takes out his carton of cigarettes’, take one. You seem stressed.
Ume: No way; those things will only kill you quicker than stress.
Yukio: Really? ‘laughs’ Then how am I still living?
Ume: ‘laughs’ Then I guess you’re an agent of God.
Yukio: Guess you can say that.

A couple of hours pass, as most of the residents in the suburbs soon fall unto a peaceful slumber. As for Kushiro, he rests his eyes while traveling the city’s night streets on the city bus. Sitting in the far back, sweat begins to soak through his muscle undershirt; his facial expression indicating a troubling dream.
In his dream, he runs about the dark alleys, searching desperately for a way out. The alley was familiar to him, but each turn he made carried another hint of another alley’s layout. He then turns into an alley where he finds himself as a little boy, standing there helpless in fear as a man with a fearsome presence stood before him. An averaged sized man wearing a black kimono and hakama with a white long vest over it, stiff white spiky hair with three blades of his hair covering his right eye, bright yellow eyes that instilled fear in his heart, and equipped with three swords: two on his left side and one on his back. Blood was dripping from the tip of the man’s sword, into a puddle near the eviscerated body of another young boy. The man whips his sword towards Kushiro, as blood splatters across his face. With the last of the man’s murmured words, he steadies his blade, and thrusts it towards Kushiro’s throat.
Kushiro then wakes up alarmed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The bus had already made its last stop. The front doors of the bus open; the bus driver had stepped out to stretch his legs. Ms. Natasha Rye; age forty-two, shortcut brunette hair, blue eyes, fairly built, and smooth white skin. She was dressed in her uniform: a blue long sleeved jacket, white formal shirt, black pants, and a pair of respectable black shoes. Another early childhood friend in Kushiro’s life; she would drive Kushiro, Hiro, and Ume around the city. They would talk, share stories, gaze at the dazzling display of Christmas lights; the last of his fond memories together as a whole family.

Natasha: Last stop Kushiro; I stopped somewhat close to your school. I would go further, but they keep track of these buses now, so I can’t go off my route.
Kushiro: It’s ok. ‘gets up; yawns while walking forward’ Thanks for the ride Ms. Rye. I would tip you, but my mom took my money.
Natasha: No problem. You send my regards to your mother, and you listen to her. You hear?
Kushiro:…Yeah, I am.

With Kushiro off the bus, she gives him a salute, closes the hissing doors, and drives off back to the depot. The night was still young; he didn’t want to go home yet. He felt guilty for lying to Natasha about his mother. He wanted to walk off the dream he just had. That’s when he saw the empty, fairly lit park in front of him. Thirty minutes in, and he had already covered the entirety of the park. He finds a bench and lies down to gaze at the clear night sky; the moon and the Jupiter star were the only visible attractions he had. The cool night breeze gave a slight chill through his damp clothes. Either way, it was a refreshing feeling. As he lays his head back and closed his eyes, a caw from the same raven as of today disrupts him; perched on the other end of the bench. Its blood red eyes were reflecting the image of the moon as it continued to caw at him.

Kushiro: ‘sits up’ It’s you; the one with the scar running across your beak.
‘raven caws loudly’
Kushiro: Tough luck; I have no moldy bread.
???: It’s not asking for food.
Kushiro: That voice isn’t familiar. ‘searches’
???: Up here; on the tree behind you.
Kushiro: ‘looks up’ Miwa.
Miwa: Sup?
Kushiro: I see your head made a speedy recovery.
Miwa: I was never injured. That was all your blood.
Kushiro: Yeah right.
Miwa: We can go again if you like.
Kushiro: No thanks. Friend of yours?

She then puckers her lips and whistles a soft tune; the raven reacts and flies up to her. It lands gracefully on her open hand, as she brings it in closer; scratching around its neck.

Miwa: I found him in this very park one day. He had barely survived a confrontation with a stray alley cat. I managed to fight it off him and took him in; nourished and nursed him back to health. I tried to release Makato back into the wild, but he would always come back, pecking at my window.
Kushiro:…You’ve been tracking me with that bird. That explains why you know where I am all the time.
Miwa: Good job. Want a cracker?
Kushiro: I’d like an explanation instead. Like whom the hell you really are and why you are so interested in me?
Miwa: Please, I’m nowhere near interested in you.
Kushiro: I don’t know. You have a bird to follow my every move, you’ve protected me countless of times; if that’s not my personal stalker I don’t know what is.

She bravely leaps off the branch and lands in a stylish manner; the raven hovers down and perches itself on her left shoulder.

Miwa: It’s more than I can tell you.
Kushiro: Why not?
Miwa:…What’s your view on religion in general?
Kushiro: Where’s all this coming from?
Miwa: Just answer the question.
Kushiro: Okay…are you familiar with a hundred sided dice?
Miwa: I’m familiar with dice; I didn’t know there were one hundred sided ones.
Kushiro: Well I’m all about probability, luck, misfortune, subjects that can be mathematically explained. I-I use to be a Christian, but—
Miwa: God never answered you.
Kushiro: Yeah…same for you?
Miwa:…I went through so much my early childhood, I think God completely ignored me as well. I was lucky to even be alive.
Kushiro: I’m sorry to hear that…now back to my question. Why are you following me?
Miwa:…What if I told you, back in the alley this afternoon, you were supposed to die there?

Her affrighting question startles Kushiro, but he reassures himself by revising his escape plan he had in mind.

Kushiro: That’s impossible. Even if you hadn’t have followed me, I had a plan. As soon as Lance would have taken a shot at me with his knife, the goon on my left didn’t have a good footing. I would’ve thrown him in my path, broken free from the other guy, and wall run my way past the others with the trash as a boost—
Miwa: And fell.
Kushiro: Huh?
Miwa: Your plan would have worked, but as you desperately tried to escape, you slipped on the lid of the trash can, and fell facedown. Another two would have pinned you down, as Lance began to carve you up like he does to his victims. First, while your mouth was gagged, he would have cut off all of your fingers. Then, once he was done with that, he would proceed to cut off your toes. Finally, multiple lacerations around the lower abdomen, and a clean slit to your throat.
It doesn’t stop there. Your mother and brother are also killed during your funeral. It was a swift hit and run operation; the police escorts were already taken care of. All they had to do was play sheep, and they killed Ume and Hamaru while they were mourning over your coffin.

After her long deduction, Kushiro was shocked with an overwhelming fear. Not by what she explained and how detailed it was, but the fact she knew his mother’s and brother’s name. She could see the fear in his eyes; they trembled along with his wavering fingers.

Miwa: If you don’t believe me, touch Makato. He’ll show you everything you need to know.
Kushiro:…Tch, I’m not touch that flea bag.
Miwa: No need to insult him. If you don’t believe me, what do you got to lose? Prove me wrong.

She was right; what did he have to lose. Determined to prove her wrong, he reaches out to the raven with no hesitation, and grabs it. A few seconds pass as a chilling wind runs up Kushiro’s spine. Just as he thought; nothing had happened.

Kushiro: Now don’t you feel dumb.

Makato’s pupils begin to widen further. In a sudden flash, his mind drowns in flooding images of people mercilessly dying: homicides, car crashes, war, suicide, and drowning, different varieties of human life cut short. Some images displaying rape or other malicious acts before their deaths. Viewing those images wasn’t the only thing; he experienced their despair firsthand. He jerks his hand away, as Makato shakes its head to regain consciousness, and caws violently at him. He stumbles away from the two, shaken by the horrific images that rushed through him leaving him stunned and trembling.

Miwa: I’ve seen that look before; you did something you weren’t supposed to do.
Makato: ‘caws’
Kushiro: What the hell was all that?!
Miwa: If I even told you, would you believe me?
Kushiro…All those disturbing images…I could feel it…the stabbing…the gunshots…What kind of sick…‘vomits’…I can’t get these thoughts out of my head!
Miwa: Sadly, I can’t comprehend what you’re experiencing. When I first saw these images, it somehow didn’t bother me at all…‘rubs her hands’ All that pain and suffering…I just shrugged it off like it was nothing.
Kushiro: Make it stop! Make it stop!!

She replies to his request with a slap to his face. The shock somewhat brings some sense into him, the images slowly fade away from his memory; horrific memory after another.

Miwa: The only source of Truth is from a person who has lived through the Truth. Even then, that person also has the power to make that truth a lie. ‘kneels’ How does it feel to live in a life where everything you know can be a lie?
Kushiro…What are you?
Miwa: Through the eyes of this raven, your death shall be witnessed.

The raven releases a powerful caw; its cry echoes throughout the hollows of the city, scaring up more ravens into the depicted moon with more cries blaring into the night. Kushiro’s life has been shaken tremendously by this mysterious girl. What could she be after by pursuing him? What is the real truth that she speaks of? Most importantly, what is she?