Title: Window of Opportunity
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst
Summary: What if your window of opportunity turned your life into a living hell?
***
My mother had always told me to take every opportunity that I could. My father...well, my father just didn't care, as long as I did what I was told. So when an opportunity came to leave and be the best, I took it with hesitation.
But that's how I ended up here, regretting my life even more than I already had. Forced into slavery, forced to train to fight, the one opportunity I had turned me into a cold-blooded murder.
The man that approached me, Takahashi Haru (note: Haru Takahashi, in English) had told me that he had a wonderful job that, given enough time, I could learn to master and become the best. And I, bullied and ridiculed all my life, had jumped on the bandwagon at once, estatic and in a state of euphoria so magnificent, I didn't tell anyone anything, and merely packed my clothes, left a note saying I found a perfect job and would come back soon; and as quietly as a cat in the night, left behind my family and left for Hokkaido.
Once there, Takahashi-san (note:-san is a way of showing respect) had changed completely and become cruel and mean-spirited. He explained to me - for he had never told me what exactly I would be doing - that I would work for him the rest of my life as an assassin/mercenary-for-hire.
Horried and scared out of my wits, I had run from Takahashi and had gotten less than 30 feet when a boy a couple of years older than me tackled me from behind and dragged me back.
And so, utterly defeated, I spent the next ten years learning to fight better than Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee combined. I spent every night of those ten years crammed into a room with 20 other people tricked into this place just like me.
After that time, around the time I was 24, I started being forced into killing, kidnapping, and beating the crap out of every person I was ordered to. Because, sometime during my ten years of training, I had lost all heart and soul, and didn't feel anything after that.
I've been told repeatedly by my peers that the only way out was to die. And eventually I came to accept that. There would be no gravestone for me, just a mound of dirt and the erasing of my existence out of everyone's minds.
I have a feeling my mother will know exactly when I die. I know she's still alive because I saw her a few days ago in Tokyo when I returned for another mission. She didn't even glance in my direction, but I ducked into an alley and watched as she walked away.
She had looked only slightly different than the last time I had seen her. Her hair was almost completely gray, and her faced was grooved with lines that had obviously come from grief. I hadn't felt a thing, my heart killed forcefully years ago.
And as I write this, intent on sending this to my mother when I go on my next mission (for I have a feeling this will be my last). I'll include some pictures and hope that my mother doesn't grieve when I die, for she must have grieved for these last 12 years I've been gone.
My last mission is to kill an important political leader, who is so heavely-guarded I will surely be killed before I even get to the 5th floor of the 30 floor hotel he is staying at. Hopefully, they won't put how I die in the newspaper, for I'm sure it will be too gruesome for my mother to handle.
***
Ne, written on a spur-of-the-moment idea. Wrote this in half and hour so I wouldn't lose it. Hope you like!
Signing out, Wolfie-chan!
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Angst
Summary: What if your window of opportunity turned your life into a living hell?
***
My mother had always told me to take every opportunity that I could. My father...well, my father just didn't care, as long as I did what I was told. So when an opportunity came to leave and be the best, I took it with hesitation.
But that's how I ended up here, regretting my life even more than I already had. Forced into slavery, forced to train to fight, the one opportunity I had turned me into a cold-blooded murder.
The man that approached me, Takahashi Haru (note: Haru Takahashi, in English) had told me that he had a wonderful job that, given enough time, I could learn to master and become the best. And I, bullied and ridiculed all my life, had jumped on the bandwagon at once, estatic and in a state of euphoria so magnificent, I didn't tell anyone anything, and merely packed my clothes, left a note saying I found a perfect job and would come back soon; and as quietly as a cat in the night, left behind my family and left for Hokkaido.
Once there, Takahashi-san (note:-san is a way of showing respect) had changed completely and become cruel and mean-spirited. He explained to me - for he had never told me what exactly I would be doing - that I would work for him the rest of my life as an assassin/mercenary-for-hire.
Horried and scared out of my wits, I had run from Takahashi and had gotten less than 30 feet when a boy a couple of years older than me tackled me from behind and dragged me back.
And so, utterly defeated, I spent the next ten years learning to fight better than Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee combined. I spent every night of those ten years crammed into a room with 20 other people tricked into this place just like me.
After that time, around the time I was 24, I started being forced into killing, kidnapping, and beating the crap out of every person I was ordered to. Because, sometime during my ten years of training, I had lost all heart and soul, and didn't feel anything after that.
I've been told repeatedly by my peers that the only way out was to die. And eventually I came to accept that. There would be no gravestone for me, just a mound of dirt and the erasing of my existence out of everyone's minds.
I have a feeling my mother will know exactly when I die. I know she's still alive because I saw her a few days ago in Tokyo when I returned for another mission. She didn't even glance in my direction, but I ducked into an alley and watched as she walked away.
She had looked only slightly different than the last time I had seen her. Her hair was almost completely gray, and her faced was grooved with lines that had obviously come from grief. I hadn't felt a thing, my heart killed forcefully years ago.
And as I write this, intent on sending this to my mother when I go on my next mission (for I have a feeling this will be my last). I'll include some pictures and hope that my mother doesn't grieve when I die, for she must have grieved for these last 12 years I've been gone.
My last mission is to kill an important political leader, who is so heavely-guarded I will surely be killed before I even get to the 5th floor of the 30 floor hotel he is staying at. Hopefully, they won't put how I die in the newspaper, for I'm sure it will be too gruesome for my mother to handle.
***
Ne, written on a spur-of-the-moment idea. Wrote this in half and hour so I wouldn't lose it. Hope you like!
Signing out, Wolfie-chan!