Autumn light danced feverishly around them, as they waited for the precious strands of gold to dissipate into soft silver. His makeshift parents found themselves waiting rather impatiently for once in their lives, for their young charge refused to come inside. He was much too engrossed with the sun and its morning dwellers, he watched them slowly travel home as the last vistages of sunlight danced across his cheeks leaving a small trail of pink.
“Shinta Chan, you can’t just leave us hanging like that. You know when we get excited its impossible for us to travel in the warmth of the sun,” his new mother scolded him lightly. The small boy smiled lightly nodding, his new father standing from the door frame observing from a distance, “so did you meet anyone today?” She was cheery, as if his presence demanded that of her. In a way it had, the way he had shown up blood stained silver hair on the shoreline one night, his mystifying amber eyes slowly dying to light indigo.
“Yes, indeed I did. They reminded me of someone, like an older brother, but he turned out to be from Wa. So perhaps he is not,” his words might have puzzled them, had they not known he wasn’t from Japan originally. They had taught him Japanese for the last several years, but he still retained parts of another base language. They assumed it was Chinese for all the strange pronunciations in the process, he had given in on a lot on these foreign ideas.
“An older brother from Japan instead of China? How very interesting for you then Shinta Chan,” she smiled still despite the strange news. She turned the strange child to face her, noticing his slight turmoil at the subject, “shall we visit them with a warning Shinta Chan? So that they be persuaded to leave you alone?” The small child shook his head, he had lived long enough in Wa to know that this couple would fight to keep him away from those who hunted him.
“Shinta you should be more careful, you know we are of no protection when you do such things. Shinta?” he was looking at him from the doorway still, “your blood is thick with that of the Imperials. You should stay lying low for a few more years, you know how dangerous those hunters are that still seek you out.” Shinta frowned, he looked at the woman holding his shoulders and moved her hands away softly.
“Daijoubu, I am not so reckless as to go looking for trouble,” he responded lightly, “I am sorry for worrying both of you.” He cocked his head sideways and walked inside past his ‘father’. The man simply nodded and let him pass by to his room. He looked at his wife of several hundred years, she frowned only slightly as the young man passed. They waited until his footsteps vanished to finish their earlier conversation.
“Do you think the Paladins will be enough of a distraction? So that the Chinese bounty hunters finally leave him alone. Even so, he will probably be considered one of us anyways. After all he’s been staying here certainly long enough without aging the Paladins will certainly think so,” the man with dark aristocratic features, and his pale wife exchanged glances.
“Felix, certainly there has to be a better way than them chasing him to ends of the earth,” the blonde haired woman frowned. Her fair phantom hair swaying in the pale moonlight of eternal night. Her companion, whom she shared her blood and life with for many centuries now, held her gently against his chest. Despite they would never feel warmth, they could still feel comfort from each other’s being there.
“Anata, you shouldn’t be so worried about him. He is the Imperial Prince, the one who might be able to kill off all those annoying Paladins,” Felix whispered softly through her hair, she breathed lightly watching the city settle.
“We should do something to help him, do you think perhaps he will be able to?” she looked over at him softly. He murmured softly in response, it sounded as if he said that ‘perhaps’ like a soft sleep response. Shinta was indeed worthy of being chased after, blood that could absorb the abnormal properties of any other type. In short any other creature he came across he could take in their attributes and make them his own.
Later on. (And with less of the half chinese half japanese lingo that he had been using.)
Shinta had been with Sophitia and Felix for a long time, long enough to learn his new culture and understand just was so truly unique about his new country. He learned more than he could ever have anticipated from this new country about his own unique bloodline. He refused to acknowledge it, he would not return after the treatment he had received from his own family. He didn’t care what happened as a result, he would never return.
He had engraved every reason why he would never do such a thing into the very fiber of his being, and he would allow himself to forget the cruelty that had been shown to him. His old family from the continent would not find him, and they would pay if they ever came for him. He would not allow himself to be put in that situation again. Imperial command or not, he would not be trapped in such a way without a fight.
Shinta journeyed around his new homeland, it was quiet and offered a break from his dreary prison on land. While he had little to do he still had his fears to conquer, he was becoming quite paranoid in his years. Most children did not look over their shoulders for spies, he simply did not trust anyone but Sophitia and her husband. They were almost more paranoid than him, if that was somehow possible.
He walked along the shore, he would have to check on China again soon. He had sensed the Samurai’s unease here and wondered what had become of his homeland. He would return only to look about, he would not linger, perhaps he would wait until he had some backup to do so…
Ashita (later) ~After lying low and forgetting about Sophitia and Felix for the millionth time~
“Shinta, run!” that was all she could say as one of the bandits came after her as well. Blonde spider webs flickered through his mind, then red splattered across his face. He became so traumatized that he forgot where he was, all he saw was blood, he curled in a ball and hid behind the two remaining girls. That was until they were slaughtered as well, Shinta froze. The men before them were much bigger than he was, but he had not fought in such a long time… He also did not have a weapon, could he manage to save his own life on these terms?
Yes, apparently was the answer, he had taken one of the bandit’s swords and knocked them away. It was heavy in his hands, but he paid it no attention as he still had several threats to deal with. The men eyed him wearily, they hadn’t expected a fight from a child of his size, and Shinta was not going to provide them with an opening. He could only remember basic patterns from his earliest memories with his brother.
He swung once, catching the first off guard as he smashed through the other blade, kicked off the man’s stomach to free his weapon and swung at the next one. The next bandit dodged his swing, his strike might have been more successful had Shinta not been almost two feet shorter than most men. The boy ducked below the blade and ran through his legs, slicing through his knees as he went. The bandit cursed loudly as the boy jumped back out of reach. Shinta couldn’t stop here, he launched at the next foe, his hit was sloppy and far from perfect. He had managed to knock himself out in the process, or so he thought.
He had sliced through the man’s gut spraying himself with blood in the process, the effect was more or less the same as the last time he done it. Shinta fainted at the feel of blood spraying all over him. He had tapped into something that he had locked away centuries ago, power. Power that many sought and few had, even less knew what to do with such power.
When Seijiro Hiko the XIII stumbled upon this scene he could feel the ripples of power ripping through the air. He hadn’t been fast enough to the save anyone, but he did realize that the child drenched in blood was the only survivor. He took up the limp body in his arms and took him away from that place, he would return later to bury the dead, for no one should have to stumble upon that scene in the early morning.
He took pity on this child that was forced to take another's life at such a young age. It was a pity that such a thing was so common, but there was nothing to be done about it. Such was the result of bloody conflicts, they took the innocence of everything, including innocent little idiot apprentices. Hiko thought about it, it was a fairly sound idea, the boy would need to be trained to handle and improve the talent he likely already possessed.
The Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu master sighed, he had no idea if such a boy would accept his offer. He didn’t know why, but the boy made brought out his superstitious side. Dark chi surrounded the boy, lots of dark chi, if he didn’t know better he would say the kid was possessed. A simple conversation would answer that question.
A small boy with the darkness of a thousand, abandoned and asleep in a field of death, stumbled upon the lone survivor and the massacre in the odd hours of the night. The boy’s body seemed to draw in all the chaos, all the bloodshed, and all the violence. It seemed to make the world just fade away, Hiko could sense great power around him. Among the power was childish innocence, an overwhelming presence of understanding despite his appearance. The swords master wasn’t sure if he was more disturbed by that chi, or by the way his hair had taken a dark crimson stain.