by: Shiryu

Six Years Ago


Blood. There was blood everywhere.


And all he could do was run.


Footsteps. He could hear them pounding across the hardwood floors, up the stairs, past the closet where he sat, huddled in a corner.


His parents were dead. His brother and sister were dead. And he was being hunted.


Trembling, the young child, a boy of little more than seven years old, shoved himself farther into the corner.




His breathing stopped, the pounding steps halted, before continuing on again.


"Have you found the source of the reiatsu yet?"


"Yes, but I doubt it matters - he is but a young child."


"A child!"


"Indeed. While I do not see it as impertinent that we return with him, we'd do good to keep our eye on him. He is little use to us as a cowardly young one. Perhaps we should seek our army of vizard elsewhere."


The footsteps vanished.


Hours later, the boy crept out, timid. And at the sight of the bodies strewn across the hallway floor, his sight grew red.


His grandparents, gone long before him, and now his parents, the only children of their respective families, wiped out as well. Not to mention his beloved siblings.


Tears of loss turned to tears of fury.


And a little boy swore revenge in a puddle of his family's blood.