Venia (Forgiveness)饶恕


As Tao-ran watched the cloaked men drag his silently crying older brother he vowed to find him again. He bellowed his vow to the heavens to find his brother Minzhe before the world went black.

When the young Tao-ran woke next he was staring up into the eyes of a stone-faced monk who had a razor in his hand. Small hands stole up and felt smooth skin where before there had been a small ponytail of silver locks when he had last been awake. He looked down and saw human hair shining in the moonlight that streamed in through the wide, Chinese-style windows. The moon highlighted the far mountain peaks and once he noted the man’s orange robes, he knew where he was.

A Shaolin temple.

Tao-ran felt true fear for the first time in his eight years of life and did something he hadn’t done in years, he curled up into himself and cried.

Ten years later the boy who had grown into a young man and cast off the name of the boy who couldn’t protect his only family grunted and rolled out of bed. Yoki was the one to run a hand through his shoulder length hair and shake himself awake, collecting the weapons he had carried with him around the world in search of his brother. He walked out of the run down little hotel he had stayed the night in with nothing but his little duffel bag, full of weapons and clothes.

His step faltered when he almost ran into a woman who stood still in the teeming masses, a lone little unmoving island. She was a beautiful woman with long red hair that gleamed in the sunlight, and her skin was a nice tanned gold. Her brown eyes played with the light and shined red as she stared at him.

“You’re the one looking for your brother.”

It was not a question.

Yoki’s hands flew out and grabbed with a punishing grip onto her shoulders.

“What do you know about my brother!?” he demanded, giving her a shake, desperation quickly turning to anger.

“Temper, temper. Here, he knows more. Tell him Verin sent you.” she said, holding out a piece of paper for him to snatch up.

Astaroth
Rome, Italy
A boy with black and purple hair will find you


Yoki looked up to ask a question and found the woman, Verin he presumed, gone, not a trace of her red hair among the crowds. He didn’t usually follow such a mysterious lead, he was much too paranoid for that, but this was the first whisper to reach his ears in months. He had only enough for one last plane trip, so this was the all or nothing swing at the ball, and he had nothing to lose anyways.

After a week of wandering around Rome and cursing himself for falling for such a weak theory, Yoki settled down onto the curb of a street, his stomach growling and his tongue rasping against the roof of his mouth like sandpaper from a lack of water. A nutritional health drink was suddenly shoved in front of his face, startling him into tipping over backwards and landing on the sidewalk.

He stared up at another young boy who stood above him, staring at him with brown eyes that seemed dulled by the lack of will to live. He held the drink in his hand, still offering it. The boy had black hair with deep purple streaks in it that shone in the sunlight.

“You... you know about my brother!” he cried, lunging to his feet. The boy raised an eyebrow at him.

“Most people would be more concerned about the drink.” he said, still holding it out. Yoki glanced between the boy’s apathetic terracotta eyes and the drink before slowly taking it.

“Where’s my brother?” he rasped, thirst rushing back as he cracked open the bottle. He kept his eyes on the other boy, as if he would vanish like Verin had.

“I’m not going anywhere. Drink. You can call me Deon.” the newly named Deon said, as if reading Yoki’s mind. Yoki did as commanded and drained half the bottle before it was taken from him.

“Slowly. You’ll make yourself sick. Come on, this way.” Deon said, turning and walking away into the crowds. Yoki was quick to stay on his heels, not wanting to lose this one like he had the woman who had helped him.

The other half of the bottle later and Yoki found himself staring up at the Grand Hotel de la Minerva. He felt out of place as he followed Deon through the lobby, his scruffy clothings feeling tight and constrictive as he noticed that Deon’s clothes were some expensive fabric he couldn’t name.

He shifted uncomfortably as they waited for the elevator, the concierge and doormen pointedly avoiding looking at them. He briefly wondered why until the elevator dinged it’s arrival, startling him and bringing his mind back to his reason for being here.

“So... do you know anything about my brother?” he asked as they rode up to the penthouse, which made him even more nervous. Deon smiled a sardonic smile.

“You have a one track mind don’t you?” was the rhetorical comeback.

“I’d have to wouldn’t I? I’ve already gone around the globe once. He’s the only family I've got left, I’d do anything for him.” Yoki said as the elevator dinged again, announcing their arrival.

“You might regret saying that.” was Deon's reply as he stepped out of the elevator, earning him a confused look from Yoki.

Yoki opened his mouth to ask a question about that odd statement but shut it when he saw who he had no doubt come here to ask information from. The man was taller than Yoki himself, which was saying something because Yoki was a healthy six foot one. He was standing in front of one of the windows looking out over the city, his long, blond hair bound at the base to swing gently at mid back as he stood looking out over the city, and talked to a figure with a cloak and hood on, the cloak covering all identifying features.

The room was lavish with red sofas and chairs that looked soft and plush, and he could see a king sized bed through a door that led to the bedroom. There were expensive paintings on the walls, or he assumed they were (he couldn’t tell one from the next) and vases and all kinds of things on tables around the room. He paused between the end of the loveseat and a chair, not wanting to be too far from the elevator, meager reassurance that it was.

The man Yoki assumed to be Astaroth turned when the hooded figure twitched, near black eyes settling on the uneasy figure standing behind his first apprentice.

“Verin was the one to send you?” Astaroth asked as Deon continued to his side, their guest staying by the doors to the elevator. Yoki nodded, hand sliding up to the handles of his unique looking swords.

“How do we know he is worthy of your information?” the hooded figure rumbled, the dark abyss of his hood focused on Yoki.

“I’d die for my brother.” Yoki said, staring hard at the hooded boy, the figures voice the only identifier for his gender. He felt the ardent need to prove himself to this hooded figure, and couldn’t for the life of him know why. The figure calmly sidestepped to stand behind the couch, and Yoki followed suit so that they were in an area with less furniture. Yoki reached out with his foot and sent the loveseat skidding into the chairs to give them more room.

“Let’s test that then.” the boy rumbled, voice sounding deliberately deeper than it ought to, though how Yoki knew he couldn’t say. Astaroth nodded and stepped aside to a safer distance as the hooded boy raised his arms, the cloth sliding back over black steel weapons in the form of gloves. They were a dark metal that shone in the fading light as the sun died on the western sky, short wickedly sharp looking claws extended from the steel fingertips and bled into a protective gauntlet that extended back up his sleeve. The joints were covered by a multitude of smaller pieces of metal, giving them a scaled look and eliminating any weakness that might have been taken advantage of.

“If it will find me my brother.” he said softly to himself as encouragement, glancing over to see Astaroth staring hard at his opponent. He dismissed the look and pulled his Twin Hooks from his back, dropping his bag as he did so. His Hooks were a pair of swords that had a hooked continuation to the blade, which was just as sharp as the actual straight part of the blade. There was a small blade below the handle and the crescent guard had been sharpened as early as midmorning, in essence, the only part of his favoured weapon that wasn’t sharp was the handle he held.

The stranger broke their stand off and whirled forward, fingers held out straight to turn the sharpened nails into knife like blades. Yoki threw the blades in his hands up and knocked the deadly hands away, bringing the hooks down swiftly to each side of his opponents body to try and hamstring his opponent with the inner curve of the hook. The boy seemed wise to Chinese war tactics and leaped away nimbly, slashing at Yoki’s throat with one hand as he went.

Yoki bent himself backwards to dodge the blow, the backs of his swords slashing upwards only to be caught by steel plated hands. Yoki’s subtle muscles grew taught as he supported his opponents weight on the edge of his swords, the cloaked boy’s feet hovering off the ground.

“So strong.” was said with a fond though faintly mocking tone. Yoki snarled and threw the boy backwards and off his blades, the stranger landing in a crouch on the back of the narrow loveseat that had been behind him. Yoki faltered with surprise, the back of that couch was barely three inches wide, and this stranger balanced on it like nothing.

He shook off his surprise and locked the hooks that gave his weapons their name and slashed out with them, his reached doubled from three feet to six as the dagger at the end of one weapon swung at his opponent in a deadly arc. The other boy rolled forward and under the attack, slashing with his hands before Yoki could recover himself from the surprise of an opponent actually coming nearer to him rather than retreating.

“Who are you?” he hissed as he threw himself backwards, metal claws sliding through his sweater and shirt to slice into his skin, leaving a trail of blood in their wake. His opponent was no weakling to be taken lightly. The sword he had hooked on to the other to extend his reach clattered to the floor and he was left without half his weapon as he retreated under a flurry of deadly attacks that he struggled to dodge.

He finally managed to fish around the back of his shirt and grab the handle of the Jian or short sword he carried sheathed to his spine for an occasion such as this. He slashed forward with the Jian and overstepped when his blade was knocked wide by one powerful hand, the second hand sliding through his defenses like a fish through water and stabbing into his side. He fell back with a gasp and hit the floor, blood making his backwards roll to his feet sloppy.

Yoki stole a glance at his blood on the marble floor and took a chance, taunting his opponent forward with a slash and a step back. His opponent took the bait and stepped forward, foot sliding out from under him and sending him flailing backwards.

Yoki took the advantage of the stumble and leaped forward, landing with his full weight on his knees on his opponents’ stomach.

The steel of his Jian sang and drank deeply as it slid through muscles and twisted around bone, going straight through the hooded boys shoulder and pinning him to the back of the loveseat.

Silence rang with a thunderous roar through their ears; the only sounds Yoki could hear were his panting breaths and blood rushing through his ears. After a moment he could also perceive the harsh gasps for breath his opponent was heaving through pain and a harsh winding.

“Good. You are... the one for the information.” the hooded boy drawled before slumping back against the couch.

Yoki climbed to his feet slowly, breaths slowing down as the adrenalin left his system. He turned as Astaroth and Deon made their reappearance, both nonplussed by the sight of their companion bleeding profusely on the floor.

“You heard him. Now tell me what you know.” he snarled, tired of the games and chasing ghosts.

“I cannot tell you where your brother is quite yet. However, I can tell you why they took him away.” Astaroth said dismissively. Yoki bent and retrieved his other Hook to join its twin, strapped again to his back.

“Tell me then. I’ve always wondered.” he said, eyes narrowed as Deon slipped past him to tend to the boy behind him.

“Your family has always had the most peculiar hair colour has it not? Silver that gleams like moonlight, in poetic terms. Many of my colleagues, in the studies of mythology and the esteemed Ancient Civilizations, believe that once upon a century your ancestor made a pact with the spirit of the moon. Now, the spirit of the moon was dying, so perhaps it was the other way around, but the truth is always lost to time.”

“The ancestor in question was something like a seventeenth son, and so had no real means of passing on his blood line, his father would not spare him the money to take a wife, so he agreed. So the moon spirit fused with the man and the man became a god walking among men, worshipped and given numerous wives.”

“His first wife was the only one to conceive, and when the babe was born, the man died. The boy who was born had silver hair, and when he was grown, claimed to be the moon spirit. He also was worshipped, and over time, bore two children. The first he decreed was to be sacrificed so that the empty moon, deprived of its spirit, would not vanish.”

“The boys’ mother protested and kept the boys safe, until the moon vanished. Once she saw this she gave the boy up and he was sacrificed on the spot. The moon came back. He decreed that every ten generations he would have two children and no sooner than ten, and the elder of the two would be a sacrifice to keep the moon alive. Lo and behold his words proved true, and you are the second of two children with moon coloured hair, so your brother must die." Astaroth said idly, as if reciting a bedtime story for a child. Yoki stared at the floor with wide eyes.

“Who took him?” he croaked, every sense he had straining to find the lie in the older mans’ words. Astaroth sighed and looked out into the night that had fallen without Yoki noticing.

“The Order of the Red Lotus. It’s supposedly an order as old as the legend of your family. They were the ones to perform the first sacrifice, and have followed your family through the generations, killing the first child of any set.” Astaroth said tiredly, shoulders drooping a little, as if he had just been relieved of a heavy burden.

“Are you happy now, Verin? I have told him everything you’ve told me.” He said a little bit louder, and Yoki watched with wide eyes as Verin walked out of the bedroom, looking just as seductive as she had on the dingy streets of a city he couldn’t remember the name of.

“You… but… how!?” he stuttered, confused.

“I’ve got a proposition for you kiddo. Work for me and I’ll give you the location of your brother.” She said, one hand on her hip and the other running through her blood red hair.

“How do I know I can trust you?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“How about this then. You work for me, I give you your brother, and I give your brother the best medical help I can provide.” Verin said with a sneer, impatience taking over her face.

“Medical help? Why does he need that?” Yoki asked, heartbeat speeding up. Verin pointed at the cloaked figure Deon was helping to his feet.

“Because you just stabbed him in the shoulder.”