A story that didn't go very far. Shin from the jap. name, meaning true, pure. |
It was raining all day long and it drags through the night on. The crowed city rushed, back and forward, never stopping to appreciate or notice the rest that staid still. Walking down the street, covering the floor with umbrellas and folded newspaper, hovering over naked heads, getting along with there lives. A boy, wondering in the middle of the flow, calmly passing, watching over, making sure that that feeling was nothing. The storm raises, lightning blasts the sky apart, echoing through the tall buildings down the street. A feeling, a night sky with no stars, the boy’s eyes fills in a blue flash. The pressure raises, stars appear, gazing directly at him, speeding with every moment that passes. Two blasts hit the floor in loud noises, two more follow, getting closer, until the last two meet their target. Astonished, the boy reaches for the sky, gathering them in that last moment, incasing the blasts to death. The air sucks in around him, a tremendous pressure is released changing the cloths it self into an armor. And for a moment he vanishes, rising in the backs of the wind to the origin of the blasts. The watcher, high above the city, standing in the tallest building in town observes quietly. The boy appears from thin air, whiteout a sound or notice behind him, drawing whiteout hesitating the blade through the watchers back. With is balance lost, he wobble and tremble as if trying to escape, to get away but to no avail, for the second blow strike, only to the boy amazement, steel. Steel from a shadow that mysteriously stands in the middle. Blue light shines down, faintly showing what’s under the shadow. There, tall and judging it stand with is sword in hand. The boy retreat confused, the attacker is now showed in the light, reveling no other than the older brother, bleeding in a corner, trying to focus in healing what the youngest brother had just done. The shadow now revealed their father standing, considering what now, losing is temper with that childish son of his. Nearly healed, Koujy, start to think of a way to get away. The father plants his sword in the ground and call out to him, with a shout that cleared the storm away. Koujy raises in a hurry, scared, muttered something and fled home. With that, the father turns to the boy, concerned by what had just happened. The boy was more interested in why was their father there. He starts to explain, by telling the story he never told before, even to the other sons. It was written in the stars a long time, eons and eons ago, before the vast creation of the gods themselves, by the last being that stand over and beyond the last great war, the remains, the hatred, the envy, the lust, all the things that drove the great war, will again return and stain deeply the great family. From the nine, only three will remain from the family dispute. The ninth child would by the last one to reach the status of God. With this the father sought to warn the son, but still it leaves him uneasy, even a god can die at the hands of other god, and with him all the life of their kingdom, of their universe. The father picked up his blade and with a smooth movement from his hand, a portal ripped the air apart reveling his way home. He left saying only this: “Shin, brace yourself, dangerous times are coming.” Shin, pondering the way down from the top of the building, was suddenly interrupted as soon as he touched the ground. A middle age man in dark sunglasses, hat and a sax in the hands was in the street. A peddler, a street performer, a musician asking for some, unfortunately for him the god can’t give money, nor does he carry any. With that said his eyes seemed to light up, he raises the sax to his lips and instead of some sweet music, only loud noise of a scratch leave that golden tube. So loud that the surrounding people jump in horror and fright, and soon he receives what he wanted, but just to stop. And so Shin returns home to the temple, under a full moon and the light colors of the night. |