The Fall

My father's death at the fault of a heart attack left me traumatized, especially as a 16-year-old living alone with him and no friends. I had no mother to turn to, as she died in childbirth. I had no home, having lived with him as a nomad, so I was completely lost; I broke down. I took his prized katana with me and left to wander from there on.

As I walked down a vacant city street in the middle of the night, I thought to myself about my life and what I would do with it. I wasn’t going anywhere in particular. I just wanted to go to somewhere I would enjoy being in, which was, as far as I was concerned, everywhere. I had failed to help my father find his sister. All I could think about was the horrid guild that came with being unable to help grant my father’s greatest wish.

I eventually became fatigued and went to sleep under a bridge. The riverside was pleasant as a place to rest. I could feel the inside of my nose being soothed as it was covered with water from the misty air I breathed in. The air felt cool, like a morning spring breeze. Nobody else was under the bridge. It was just myself, exactly as I wanted it. I hid my katana in between the gap formed by the bridge and the hill it was ingrained in and then laid myself onto the patch of grass that covered the hillside. I let everything go and fell asleep.

The next morning, I was awoken by the feeling of my flank suddenly becoming hot as a burning fire. It felt like the point where I felt the pain was pulling the surrounding portions of my body into itself like a black hole. I took one look at the point of the pain to find blood. I swiftly took my coat and shirt off so I could examine the blood source. There was a hole in my flank: very clean and oozing more blood. I knew what had happened. I had been shot. My first instinct was simple: get out of there as quickly as possible. I grabbed my coat and shirt and ran. I didn't bother putting them on. I just dashed away as quickly as I could. I felt another shot: not another injury, but rather the shockwave generated from the bullet hitting the area of the sidewalk just shy of my right foot. I took cover behind the nearest building and tried to come up with a plan to stop the gunman from chasing me. I came up with one. I looked frantically for the biggest rock I could find to fake the act of myself jumping into the river to escape. I found one, ran over to the edge and threw it towards the river as hard as I could. The very instant I heard it splash, I searched for a place to hide in case the gunman tried to chase me to the river. There was a basement stairwell similar to one at a farm. I carefully dropped down to the bottom, and I heard the gunman run past the stairwell. There was silence for a moment, and then the gunman walked past the stairwell again. I froze completely still, sitting on the concrete ground. I saw a flash of long, blonde hair above the edge of the wall. I didn't expect my attempted killer to be a woman, but it was. I wondered if the Black Snake Fang had finally found me. The Black Snake Fang was known for heading its teams with female members, yet she couldn’t have been a Black Snake Fang captain, because her ambush style didn’t match. Plus, captains are generally chosen from their native homeland of Japan, especially when not needing to maintain a disguise.

After hearing the gunman, or gunwoman, walk a good number of steps past the stairwell, I exited by climbing up the wall behind her. I carefully came from behind the bush wall against the side of the building and managed to properly observe her. On top of being female, she was nothing like how I envisioned her. The most unexpected trait about her was the fact that she was a child. I estimated her to be about 2 or 3 years younger than I was. The rest of her appearance resembled that of a cosplayer. She was wearing what looked like black compression shorts that reached just above her knees, a blue mini skirt extending to about half of that length, a white, sleeveless, unbuttoned jacket, which I figured due to how baggy it was, a pair of long, purple gloves which reached just below her elbows, and very dark green boots which extended to her knees. A thought past into my mind that this might not be the gunman. I hesitated for a while before finally attempting to speak to her. However as I tried to say something, I quickly noticed a revolver in her hand, and I covered my mouth tightly with one hand to block any sound that came from my delayed reaction to stop. It was surreal to say the least; as a boy of the hunt, I had always been a hunter, chasing and killing animals and taking pride in myself for my skill. Now I was the hunted. She was the predator, and I was the prey.

Of course, I was still confident in myself. I reached for my katana in order to keep myself on guard. But then I came to a realization that turned the tides of the situation. There was no katana resting on my back. I had left it under the bridge where I was sleeping. I instantly realized that she greatly had the upper hand in the hunt. I had to be more strategic. As she approached the corner of the building, my first thought was whether she would go left or right. I couldn't abandon my father's memento, so I had to go right no matter which way she chose to go. If she went left, the hunt would end immediately. I could easily get to the bridge and retrieve my katana. But if it was the right path she chose, my task would have been much harder. I'd have to stay behind her at all times and find a way to sneak past her. Regrettably, she went right. I targeted the corner and rushed behind it to observe her further movements. On the next route that she had 2 options to go again, but she went closer to the bridge. And then the next set of options, she still kept going towards the bridge. Every single step of the way, she proceeded closer and closer to the bridge. Finally she arrived to where I had been resting. She knelt down and dragged her fingers across my blood. After that, she looked around herself and started gazing at something under the bridge: the katana. And to my horror, she snatched it and walked off. She already made my morning hell with that chase, but after taking my primary memento to remember my father by, I had no choice but to stalk her.

I followed her for a very long time until she finally went into a house, presumably her own. It was a remote house; there were no surrounding houses, and the nearest ones had disappeared from my vision roughly 30 minutes prior. I couldn't break in there and then. If the girl would see me, I would have been at her mercy. I waited until night, eating up time by experimenting with different ways to get in. When it was finally night time, I broke into her house through the basement. I furtively searched through her rubbish to find my katana. But it wasn't there, so I decided to search the main house. As I came to the top of her wooden stairs, I reached for the doorknob and grabbed onto it. Before I turned the knob, I stopped to think to what would happen if it was locked. It probably wasn't, but if I were to misjudge, it would make a sound. Or there easily could have been something else that would make a noise. Depending on where it led, she could have been awoken by my attempted break in and would have easily killed me. After a great deal of hesitation, I twisted the doorknob as slowly as I could, ready to let go the instant I felt tension. It was unlocked. I opened the door and made my way into a hallway. There was a room adjacent to the left side of the door. I mustered up my courage and looked inside. It was a empty bedroom. I searched the whole room; there was a bed, a dresser, a shelf and a desk. None of them had anything in them. I left the room and proceeded to the next room: the kitchen. I didn't anticipate it to be there, but knew it was possible nonetheless. So I set it off as a low priority and left. The same applied to the living room.

There was a staircase leading up to the second floor. I went upwards and opened the nearest door. I saw the girl sleeping in her bed. I first took a look at the girl in order to make sure that she wouldn’t wake up as I searched for my katana. I was ready to counter if she got up and panic attacked me. I looked underneath her bed to find a computer, and more importantly, my katana. I slowly drew it from her bed and reequipped it onto my back. I could have killed her in her sleep, but I decided to spare her; I was certain she did not see my face clearly, and I did not think it was necessary for me to escape. I closed the door and made my way out.

As I reached the door however, I had the urge to stop in the kitchen to get something to eat. This would limit the basement as my only escape option if the gunwoman woke up, but I hadn't eaten anything all day. Even though I thought I had trained well against this sort of urge, the stress of losing my father made my hunger that intense. Against my better judgment, I started to search for food.

I looked through the foods in unopened wrappers. These made the most noise increasing the risk that the gunwoman wake up, but they also had the least risk of being poisoned. I'm not an assassin, but my father was. After rebelling against the Black Snake Fang, it and several other assassin guilds spent the rest of his life targeting him. Because of this, the gunwoman most likely was another assassin, and therefore may very well have poisoned certain food stashes as a trap. Running away from her, while dangerous, was a lot more manageable than potential cyanide poisoning. I planned to indulge myself until I could fully satisfy my hunger.

Unfortunately, my attempts at eating inevitably woke the gunwoman up. I heard her desperately look for my katana, so I rushed to the staircase. As I heard her follow me, I made my way to the basement to make my retreat. As I touched the floor, I heard something softly land in the grass. And when I opened the door to the outside, I saw the gunwoman standing at the top of the stairs, pointing her revolver at me. She was beautiful. Her face was smooth with fluid curvature. She was wearing nothing but a black jumpsuit, with which what I mistook to be compression shorts was apart of.

She had big, blue eyes. They weren’t massive, but I could very clearly see her irises, even as she was squinting somewhat, most likely from her exhaustion and panic. Those eyes stared coldly at me, as if she wasn’t going to let me go in my current condition. Fear rushed through my body. I may have dealt with shooters before with my father, but this was my first battle all on my own. I backpedaled at walking speed towards the stairs, and the gunwoman shot at the bottom of the stairwell, forcing me to back towards the opposite corner from the exit and admit defeat. The gunwoman spoke.

“Give me the sword!”

My father meant as much to me as whomever you hold dearest to your heart, and this sword was my only keepsake of him. I had come this far and thought I was at her mercy. Despite this, there was no way I would give my father’s katana to her. I spoke myself: nervously, but I stood my ground and nervously protested,

“N-Never… You can’t- I-I can’t let you have this… sword… It’s too important-”

“That sword’s important to me too!”

Her voice was thunderous and seething with rage and frustration, but her gaze remained pure cold.

“I- There’s no way that this sword… could… co-could possibly be so impor-”

“I will not explain this to you! I need that sword! Give it to me!”

She wasn’t going to have any of my desperation. I tried to find a way get out of this situation. I didn’t feel ready to fight her. My father died so suddenly that I had no time to prepare to fight alone. Even when I was the only one inputting techniques, he was by my side to help me if I needed it. Nonetheless, I felt that I had to protect my katana, even with my life. At that point, that feeling overcame my fear. I decided that I would put my katana up to my chest in a defensive position, making it seem like I was ready to give it to her. I did this, then immediately stood my ground, stared at her with equally cold eyes and threatened her to shoot.

「やってみろ。」(Try me.)

I unsheathed my blade, waiting for her to pull the trigger. I have much better eyesight and reflexes than most people. Even in the darkness, I could see her start to pull the trigger. My katana was halfway out, but the scabbard had a slit in the back to let the sword come out faster and more easily. I aligned the blade’s face to block the barrel’s line of sight and quickly swiped it. The bullet didn’t hit. My technique deflected the bullet out the exit, letting down a pile of rubble that let the door barely remain open enough for me to get out.

The gunwoman’s cold stare almost immediately faded. Her eyes were now wide and her mouth open: not wide open. It was roughly the size of a nigiri. She quickly shifted her focus to the pile of bricks and stones, and then slowly back to me. She pointed the gun back at me. I readied my stance to land a proper deflection back into her body. But then she slowly rotated the gun and looked at its clip, clutching it. I let my guard down: something I should have never done at all, especially then, but I was starting to realize that she was no threat. She alternated between putting me back at gunpoint and cradling her clip, appearing to grow more terrified the more cycles she completed. Eventually I said:

“Out of bullets?”

Most likely not, but I wanted to rub it in that I had won with that taunt. Nobody hurts my pride and gets away with it. She looked back at me and slowly shook her head. She fell to her knees and stared at the floor. I could see tears coming from her eyes. She spoke.

“I need that sword…”

“This isn’t yours.”

“If I don’t get that sword I’ll lose everything!”

“If I lose this sword, I’ll lose everything. I won’t give this to you: no matter what.”

There was a silence, and then I heard her start screaming. She got up and rushed towards me. I felt sorry for her, but I had enough of her at that point. Normally anybody who saw me would die immediately to my blade. They were too much of a risk to my stealth. However, I ultimately found her pitiful. She was a scared and desperate child, so I did not want to kill her. I decided to leave her to herself and allow myself to escape. I went through the door, slammed it behind me, and wedged it shut by brushing more of the pile behind me.

I could hear the gunwoman behind me, pounding against the door and crying violently. I didn’t care. I still continued to run. I wanted nothing to do with her anymore. I didn’t stop until I realized her sounds had stopped minutes ago. The next thing I l knew, I had finally escaped from her. But I was alone again. Nonetheless, I continued my interrupted wandering.

Since I was surviving on my own without a home and with an illegal weapon in my equipment, I had to adopt a hardcore scavenger lifestyle. My primary concern was water. Other than that, it was food. I got both by sneaking into homes and raiding their supplies, even some stores a couple of times. I learned my lesson from Alice’s ambush and slept in concealed locations. It wasn’t hard for me to survive. It was tiresome, but I managed without my father, even if it was miserable. I still had something else I had to take care of, after all.

A week after my assault, I ended up somewhere in Indiana. My father and I used to live with the widow of a Black Snake Fang captain, so I thought she may have leads on where my aunt was. Besides, my younger sister Sayori also lived here, and she deserved to hear what had become of our father.

Yet when I came to the house, something was horribly wrong. The house was in terrible condition and looked like it was falling apart. There was no electricity. As I came closer, I learned the house didn’t even have any water. It was as if Sayori and the widow had gone missing years ago. Yet this seemed like such a strange thing for them to do. The widow was horribly concerned with her secrecy just like my father, yet she would choose to abandon the perfect place for her hideout? When I came inside, I found that the house had been horribly devastated. Furniture was broken all over the place, and there were numerous slash marks and craters covering the walls. Kumiko had been ambushed by the remnants at some point.

As much as I wanted to believe that my imagination was merely deceiving me, I ultimately had to give in when I found the skeletal remains of Kumiko. All her clothes were still properly attached to the frame. The top half of her skull was nowhere in sight. Her collarbone and shoulder blade were clearly damaged by some sort of chop. Kumiko was killed by the Black Snake Fang, and Sayori’s fate was completely unknown.

This had to be some sort of horrible nightmare, I thought. Not only had my dearest father died, but we had failed at giving our widow the chance of a good life. I can’t imagine what could have happened to let her fall to such a fate. I knew neither of these losses were my fault, but even that was part of what frustrated me. I couldn’t have done anything to stop what happened either time. I didn’t know what I could do next. After trying my best to accept what had happened, I walked out of the house to figure out what I would do next with my life.

Yet when I stepped out, I felt a knife press against my neck, and somebody turned me around as a voice softly said,

「お前はここの娘の父だよな、死神。」(You're the father of the girl who used to live here, aren't you? God of Death.)

This was somebody roughly my age staring me down with cold, glassy eyes. The person had slender, well-balanced proportions with equal elements of both sexes. I thought this was a boy based on his speaking pattern, though it’s difficult for me to know for a fact even in present day. He had shoulder-length, neat, dark-brown hair. He wore a heavy, black jacket and jeans. The left side of his body was covered in dirt, and the front of his body had several streaks across it as if he had been in a forest fight with a bear or a wolf.

In any case, I had to analyze how to counter this situation. It was too risky to resort to physical means immediately, so I tried to buy time to think by calmly responding,

「だったら？」(And if I am?)

「な、死神。一体何でお前の娘を置き去りにしたんだ？」(So God of Death, Why the hell did you just up and leave your daughter like that?)

Rather than general interest in Sayori like a Black Snake Fang member would have been, he seemed to care deeply for her. I thought that if I kept answering honestly, I would reduce the risk of injury. I responded like my father,

「置き去りにしたわけじゃなくて、久美子さんに子供を与えてあげたんだよ。もちろん我は自分のやる事をやった後でここの娘をちゃんと守ってあげるつもりだったがっ、」(I didn't leave her behind. I gave Kumiko here a child. It's only natural I would come back to protect the girl who lived here after I finally did what I had to do. It's just-)

「なんだよ、お前から「ここの娘」って言いやがって？！彼女の名前を知ってんのか？」(What do you mean "the girl who lived here?!" Do you even know what her name is?)

I thought he could be tricking me into accidentally revealing my sister’s identity to a higher interest, so I asked,

「そちらこそ知っている？」(Do you?)

I felt his knife dig a little bit deeper into my neck: yet another of many scars I would bear. Realizing I wasn’t getting out of this alive without giving my best information, I answered,

「分かった。ここの娘の名前はサヨリだ。自分から決めたんだ。」(Alright. Her name is Sayori. I came up with it myself.)

「そうか？お前はサヨリが大切な人なんだよな？でも、やっぱり9年前に黒蛇の牙が奪ったと分かってくれるほど大切じゃないな、てめえ！」(You don't say. Sayori must be pretty important to you. But not enough to know she was kidnapped by the Black Snake Fang 9 years ago, you son of a bitch!)

「一つだけ聞かせても頂けないか？」(You mind if I ask you just one thing?)

「さっさと聞け。」(Ask it already.)

「そちらもサヨリさんを気に入っているみたいだ。それはなぜだ？そしてもしそんな事を聞いては行けなかったら、なぜあくまで探している？」(It seems you care about Sayori just as much as I do. Why is that? And if that's too much to ask, why are you trying so hard to find her?)

The person paused and seemed to loosen up his muscles.

「それは…」(I...)

His stance remained as ready as ever, but his eyes darted as he tried to think of a response. I soon saw a mistake I could capitalize on: his gaze momentarily shifted to my right hip, the side where his knife wasn’t. I used this opportunity and punched his knife upwards with my left fist. Then I shifted to the left to avoid a counterattack. I drew my sword and stabbed the assailant in the gut for good measure. As he writhed on the ground in agony, he stared into my eyes and said,

「やめておけ…俺を殺しても、暁の奴はきっとお前を見つけて殺す…」(Give it a fucking rest... Even if you kill me, we both know Akatsuki's going to find you and kill you...)

I had to know what the assailant was talking about, but I knew letting him waste my time was a good way to fall into a trap. I demanded twice to know what he meant before finally deciding to retreat. He did have a pistol, so I snatched it before making a run for it. I just ran away as fast as I could like I did with the gunwoman. But this time, there was no stopping once I didn’t hear anymore noises. I just kept running. I didn’t stop until my body couldn’t take it anymore. Unlike what scientists say, when your muscles become paralyzed when you can’t use anymore fuel, I just simply passed out.

The next thing I knew, it was night time. I slowly opened my eyes trying to recollect what happened, and then I remembered the knifeman incident. I got up immediately and took in my surroundings. It was a forest, one with a flat section and a long, narrow clearing to my left, halfway between the horizon and me. I was safe from the Black Snake Fang for the time being. But more than that, I knew this forest. It was where my father died. I looked around, and I saw my father’s death-place. His body was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a strip of paper rested on the ground. I would have mistaken it for a leaf if I hadn’t seen the writing on it.

「すまない、天使。」(“I’m sorry, Tenshi.”)

He must have been alive shortly after I left, and then he wrote his note as he truly died. I didn’t get it. I had checked to make absolutely sure he was dead. His blood didn’t flow. He wouldn’t breathe nor move. I even pounded his body to make him react. I don’t know what I had done wrong, but he must had still been alive. Or perhaps it was a note he wrote shortly before his death, or years before. Further yet it could just as easily have been a note my assailant from Indiana planted on me before it slipped out during my unconscious fall. But I wanted to believe that he was still alive: to still have hope. That hope turned into pure despair as I smelled something horrible. Resting in a small ditch further away from me, I found a severed arm. It had rotted for what seemed like days, and it had bits of cloth on it: my father’s clothes.

I fell to my knees and tried to rationalize what was happening, confused by the literal mixed messages I was receiving all at once.I was certain that my father had died, so I couldn’t search for him. Even if, or rather especially if he was still alive, he was harder to find than the holy grail. I was hesitant to wander again after what happened, but I had no other choice. After thinking about it I realized who could know about my father’s fate: the gunwoman. She had tried to kill me in order to receive my katana: a weapon that’s generally considered obsolete in the modern world. I believed she knew who my father was and had mistaken me for him. I believed she had answers to what happened to my father. I dashed back towards her house in order to spy on her and figure out what was going on as soon as I could.

I finally arrived at her house by dawn. As I approached the door, I thought more and more of that night. I contemplated the wisdom of my decision to return to her after she had tried to take so much from me. I knew the risk, but I had no choice if I wanted to know my father’s fate. Even if I could only distantly observe her, I had to do everything I could.

I steeled myself and opened the door. Then I closed it behind me. I stealthily walked through the house and looked for the gunwoman. I did not intend to confront her; I simply wished to learn her location so that I could position myself properly. My first guess was her bedroom. As I came up the stairs, I slowly noticed a soft sound that was growing in size. Eventually, I recognized it as crying. I quickened my pace whilst remaining furtive. I soon reached her bedroom and confirmed it was coming from there. I decided to just listen for the time being. She eventually ceased and started speaking to herself.

“Why… It’s been over a week since he came… How could I have failed to keep his katana… How could I have let him slip away… That was my one chance at freedom!”

I was interested in her situation, and her monologue made me fortify my own belief she was connected to my father. There was no way I would leave her without knowing more about her. I decided to spy on her and collect as much information as I could to find out what happened. With that settled, I snuck into her basement and set up to rest.

I lied down, relaxed, and tried to sleep for the next day.