(Warning: this read is extremely long, to the point that I had to split it with hide details, make sure to thoroughly commit before continuing.
Dishonor
“What is the motto of this family?”
“Honor above all!”
“And you believe this?”
Rivka flinched at the thunder contained within his tone. His face was pressed against the ground, his body formed into the lowest of bows for respect, yet he knew it would spare him no wrath.
“Yes.”
The kick came like lightning, striking his face with explosive force and forcing him to land in a sitting position. The place where he was struck burned like fire, fueling his own anger, yet he kept his eyes down, not willing to meet the storm that raged in his father’s eyes.
His father stalked closer, the sound of his geta echoing off the wooden floor.
“I ask you again, do you believe this?”
The shame Rivka felt, through apparent, was not enough to cover his frustration. He knew what he had done, yet he still believed he did the right thing. Was doing what was right not honorable in itself?
He breathed deeper, making his voice clearer and stronger as he answered.
“Yes fath-”
The blow caught him in the jaw this time, lifting him clear off the ground and slamming him into the shoji of the room. Before he fell, his father’s hand flashed out, grabbing him by the neck and pinning him in place with his strength as well as his magic, a hurricane force that twisted around him, suffocating him.
“Honor? HONOR? YOU SPEAK OF HONOR YET YOU DISHONORED ME, DISHONORED THIS FAMILY, DISHONORED OUR VERY CREED IN SUCH A WAY THAT BRINGS SHAME ON US ALL!”
The wind grew in strength, howling like that of a fearsome beast as it pressed on Rivka, crushing his lungs and robbing him of his movement. Beside him, he saw the force of the wind begin to shred into the lattice of the shoji and rip it apart, an impressive feat as the entire house had doom wood incorporated into its designs. The gale eventually ripped through the wall, throwing Rivka clear into the lushful courtyard that glowed a dim light under the moonless sky.
The impact left him stunned, his vision blackening and his mouth filling with blood as tried to regain his breath.
“I was a fool to believe you had any worth, a fool as to think you were worthy of the food you ate, the bed you slept in. It is only right that I correct this foolishness.”
Despite the buzzing in his head, Rivka was able to hear clearly the scrape of steel against its bamboo, the sound of a katana being drawn, a sound, in their household, that was usually followed by a gruesome demise.
His eyes clearing, Rivka looked up, staring into the cold eyes of death reflected off the arching blade, fear taking control of his heart as the blade fell towards his neck, his own thought echoing through the fear.
Why must he be punished?
Why must he be killed?
What was the purpose of such a thing?
Yes, he disobeyed his orders, yes he cost everyone the mission, but it was for a greater cause, a cause that saved the life of one of their own. Were they not supposed to look out for each other?
How was it that he was expected to put his honor above the life of his own beloved sister, the first one to welcome him, to make him feel at home. The only one he truly ever loved, a compassionate soul with crimson hair, nicknamed Sukāretto for that reason. He wanted to protect her, yet he ended up bringing suffering upon his family and, indirectly, her as well.
It was pathetic really, his weakness, his own inability to protect himself when facing an opponent head on, his over reliance on the shadows to kill and hide.
Death came for everyone, it was said, but for the weak it came first.
His body stilled as the blade came down, a lethal blow with the force of a hurricane.
At the last second the blade shifted, scratching his neck before slamming into the earth.
“Let it never be said that I am not merciful.”
His father stood before him with his arms crossed, faint wind still flowing from him as he smirked like a wolf.
“Run and let us see if you have any worth.”
He was shocked beyond belief. His mind was uncomprehending yet his body understood the weight of the words. Stumbling to his feet, he ran towards the forest on the outskirts of the estate, shame at his own cowardness pulsing through him yet unable to stop his feet, fear being an even greater motivator.
It is only natural for the weak to flee from danger, to run at any given opportunity.
Just as it is natural for the strong to hunt the weak, devouring them with their might.
:----------------------------------------------------------------------:
He watched with bored eyes as the boy fled into the forest, his form swallowed up the thick foliage.
Turning, he threw his sword into the foliage before heading back through the wreckage of the shoji. His children were arranged in rows in the now broken house, all of them bowed before him as he made his way to his seat.
Sitting down, he signed, a headache beginning to form as he addressed the assembly of kneeling children before him.
“Kill him.”
His children, so wonderful in their obedience, exploded into a flurry of action, racing towards the forest to hunt down their wayward brother.
Hunt
He ran.
It was all he could do.
Or so he told himself.
A prey who hunts. Interesting.
:----------------------------------------------------------------------:
The trees shivered in the frozen claws of the wind, snow pouring from the heavens to cover the earth.
His breath seemed to freeze within his lungs, a sentient cold invading his body. His eyelashes were flecked his ice, his tears frozen against his face.
The pain he felt from the numerous wounds, however, were a burning contrast to the cold air, leaving ruby stains on the pristine white blanket that now laid over the earth.
The storm proved to be a hindrance to his movements, yet Rivka continued to run, adrenaline being the only energy he had. He did not need to turn behind him to sense the bloodlust of those he used to call siblings.
Their assault, filling the air before with lethal pieces of metal and magic, slowly grew silent, the sudden snow storm restricting their means of attack.
Though a curse for his pursuers, the storm was an unexpected blessing for Rivka, allowing for him to better cloak himself in the shadows of the night with his own corresponding magic. Though leaving behind a trail of blood, he knew his brothers and sisters would eventually lose track of him, the storm being as brutal as it was.
His breath filled the air, dancing in the air as if joyful for the new found perceivable state the cold gave them. His heart was roaring in his chest, each muscle full of fatigue, as the events of the night catched up to him. He stumped along the slick ground, catching himself on a twisted tree before continuing on his path.
His siblings, having been lost in the storm, were no longer an immediate threat, allowing for him to slow his pace and will his heart to slow. There was a local village nearby that lived by a code of hospitality, a small safe haven that would get him out of the wicked cold and safe from his pursuers.
No longer focused purely on running, his emotions began to make themselves known again, his anger coiling around his heart and his shame. Having seen the cruelty of his father before, he was not surprised how he reacted, though the pain of being made into prey to be hunted down like a dog was sickening.
He had loved his father once, for it was he who took him and gave him a family, who provided for him with the means of survival. Although having no blood relations, he still took pride in the fact that they were, truly, a family.
This was not the time to reminisce on such thoughts, however.
Looking around, Rivka noticed that the storm had picked up, observing his view of his surroundings in an impenetrable white haze and hiding the little light that was to be found in the moonless sky. Such darkness was usually perceived as a bad omen, many warning against wandering the forest on such a night, lest you fall prey to the spirits that haunted the land.
Such fables were widespread throughout the entire region, used to scare children into good behavior. In truth, the only dangers present were his father and siblings, he himself among them though he did not consider himself a danger at the moment. At least not to those that were helpful.
He continued along his walk, watchful but quiet, drifting in and out of memories and thoughts.
The storm was a constant companion, never leaving but no longer growing in ferocity. The white haze provided a sense of lull in a way, blurring the distance.
Maybe it was this reason that Rivka was so slow in noticing.
The forest, although deep, was not of grand scale. The amount of time he spent walking should have put him past the location of the village.
So why was he still in the forest?
He attempted to brush off such a thought, attributing it to fatigue before stubbornly continuing on his trek, passing a twisted tree.
His froze in place, his heart picking up as he studied the tree, recognizing it as the exact same tree he had passed before.
Disbelief and confusion battled through his mind, his own fear picking up once again. He began to sprint, flying past trees and underbrush with breakneck speed. The storm, having been indifferent before, now seemed to mock him, taunting him on his own failure to find a way out of a simple forest.
His foot slipping on the slick ground, Rivka fell to the ground, twisting as he fell so as to land on his feet. Grabbing the tree closest to him, he hoisted himself up, feeling a weird groove. Glancing over, he once again recognized the twisted tree.
His heart began to pound within his chest, his breathing uneasy. The white haze of the storm seemed to grow darker, stretching towards him in long, vicious claws. He spinned around, searching for a way of escape. Deciding randomly, he started sprinting again, not caring for his direction, only seeking escape.
The trees flew past him, each grinning cruelly as he ran, reaching out their bare limbs as to trip him, the storm laughing each time he fell. His body trembled from the combined might of the cold and his own terror, each muscle spasming. His body felt frozen, his wounds no longer bleeding but frozen shut.
He tripped over an exposed tree root, crashing head first into the frosted ground.
Pain began to bloom in his head, the wound on his face having reopened. He turned to see that the tree he tripped on was mockly twisted, glimmering in the dark night.
Fear turned into frustration as he flew to his feet, raining blow after blow on the tree. Screaming, he unleashed bolts of shadows at the tree, cracking it in his rage.
Having exhausted his energy he fell to his knees, new tears beginning to form at the corners of his eyes when he saw a small pulse of black and white lightning race through the crack.
Such a thing was only caused by an equinox reaction, a collision between light and shadow magic. Reaching forward, he saw what had made the tree glimmer before, a small coating of dust-like light. The dust reappeared a bit away from the tree, in the shape of an animal print. Not knowing what else to do, Rivka began to follow the trail, diving deeper and deeper into the night. His own magic no longer felt like it was under his control, dancing around him and interacting with the night itself. He continued following the trail, not knowing what else to do. All the while, the darkness of the night continued to creep closer, slowly but surely swallowing the sights of the trees around him. It was when the trail ended that he froze.
I’m being watched.
He could feel it, the weight of an unknown gaze resting on him. The origin of the gazed seemed to be from everywhere but nowhere at the same time. He felt dizzy, the world spinning around him as the darkness nearly blinded him. Panincing at the unknown watcher, he threw his shadows wildly, showering the surrounding forest with bullets of darkness. His own ears began to buzz, cutting off all sound including that of the storm. His heart thundered as a cold sweat enveloped him. His eyes roved over his surroundings in a futile effort to find the watcher, not even able to see the trees due to an overwhelming amount of darkness. He attempted to gather magic energy only for it to be dispersed each time. His own desperation was clearly evident in his voice as he shouted.
“Who’s there!? What do you want?!”
He could feel the watcher stalking closer, seemingly everywhere around him. A small crunch caused him to whip around, wielding his shadows for an attack just as pain exploded in his back, a forceful blow like that of a monster throwing him to the ground. He was in agony, blood flowing freely from a massive wound on his back. Before he could even scream the object came again, picking him up by his shoulder in a crushing force before smashing him against a tree. He dropped like a stone, colliding brutally with the ground in a way that opened a new gash in his head, blood filling his mouth. His shoulder was very clearly dislocated, his collarbone crushed. He was drowning under waves of pain when it came.
A thought, but not his own, invaded his mind, crushing everything through sheer force.
I am a hunter.
The voice was piercing, striking with a deep sense of terror. Rivka’s own thoughts no longer held any place in his mind, the invading voice leaving him with nothing but his pain. He tried to talk, choking on his blood when the thoughts came again.
My question is whether or not you are prey.
He could now feel the location of his tormentor, circling above him in an endless circle. Reaching out with his good hand, he began to drag himself, having no strength in his legs.
You crawl there like a worm, waiting to be eaten, yet I have seen you before, hunting others with that flock of yours, slipping from the shadows in order to deliver death.
The pain brought tears to his eyes, his mind breaking in rationality. A nightmare was too inadequate a word to describe the experience Rivka currently experienced. His eyesight was completely closed off, the buzzing of his ears dominate. Each slight movement reminded him of his wounds, drowning his senses in a deeper sea of pain.
He was helpless before the being that lorded over him, a helplessness greater than that he felt before his father.
This question has brought me much confusion, a sense I have grown to hate. If you were a hunter, you would not be fleeing from those who currently pursue you. If you were prey, however, you would have most definitely died by now given your work.
Rivka could only moan, begging to be released from the crushing weight of the voice, from the unbearable pain of his body.
Do you need examples in order to answer? Look up.
He twisted his face, his eyes aimed toward the sky. A star fell to the ground, crashing in a cloud of glowing dust. The exact same dust that he had followed in order to get here.
We all have our roles.
His eyes focused on the object, shock reverberating through him as he recognized it to be a rabbit, seemingly made of soft light. It’s body was scratched and broken, its eyes, like twin moons, a mirror to Rivka’s own terror. Numerous wounds covered it, leaving liquid light in a small puddle beneath it.
He had heard tales of such an animal, described by his sister as a source of supposed good luck to those who encountered it. The part that had intrigued him most, however, was its counterpart.
Some are prey…
The rabbit stretched its shaking body, gathering strength before leaping into the air with a broken grace, light forming and solidifying under its feet as it attempted to flee.
It came then, barely visible in the darkness. The rabbit was snatched out of its leap, being brought down back to earth in a violent collision of light and darkness. The shockwave of the crash did not discriminate against Rivka either, flinging him back into the same tree he had hit before, landing in a sitting position, worsening the wound on his back as it came into contact with the rough splinters of the tree. In that moment, however, pain was beyond him as he cracked his eyes open to gaze in front of him.
…while others are hunters.
The owl was several times bigger than Rivka, each of its feathers like that of the night itself. Its claws could only be described as cruel, weapons made for killing. Owls were usually seen as symbols of knowledge and wisdom. Despite the radiating darkness of the owl, the way in which it pinned down the rabbit, the same symbolism applied to it. Its eyes were like pools of broken stars, dim in the shadow of its body as it gazed at Rivka. The rabbit, now pinned under its claws, began to squirm. In a flurry of shadows the owl lowered its head, closing its obsidian beak around the rabbits neck before crushing it, ending the rabbits misery.
I ask you again, are you a hunter or prey?
The owl came closer, filling up Rivka’s sight, putting its face inches from Rivka’s own. It was clear it was waiting for an answer, his life depending on whether or not he satisfied its curiosity. The owl no longer dominated his mind, leaving it in turmoil as Rivka raced from thought to thought, in no shape to answer.
He never truly figured out what happened then, but he knew it was the sole reason that he lived.
His mind, not his mental one but the one that hosted the source of his shadow magic, came to the forefront of his consciousness. It silenced the chaos of his mental mind with a cool darkness, bringing a small calm. Stretching with invisible fingers, it cracked open Rivka’s mouth, bringing forth an answer.
“Hunter. I am a hunter.”
The owl peered closer into him, no longer speaking to him alone but his shadows as well, his magical mind.
Prove it.
Roles
The sun peeked over the horizon, illuminating the broken boy stumbling through the undergrowth.
He could have been no more than seven yet his body was inflicted with numerous wounds, the one on his back and head being the most prominent.
In his hands were a pair of tantō with blades like the night.
One of his arms was limp at his side, barely holding the weapon.
His eyes were hollow yet crazed, like that of one who had seen death one to many times.
Across from him was a girl.
In her hands she held a ninjatō.
She too was young, barely above nine.
Her hair was like fire, a deep crimson that haloed her face.
The world held its breath as it watched the two of them, the silence broken by a sigh from the girl.
Her eyes were sorrowful as she dropped her blade, showing her hands to be empty as she began to cry.
Despite her tears she smiled, a warm smile that defied all pain, even the pain she surely felt as the boy closed the distance between them, sinking his daggers into her heart.
She smiled as she fell, her eyes losing life as she spoke to the boy in a loving manner.
Smiled as she died, her body stilling.
The boy did not smile, for a hunter never smiles at its prey.
He was a hunter.
All were his prey.
.
.
.
Or so he told himself.
Writers Notes
This was fun to write.
Hope y’all enjoyed it at least a little bit.
Thanks to @liu for allowing me to neglect my homework partake in this.
If you guys have constructive criticism for me or noticed any spelling mistakes, please share.
Thank you for reading, here is a cookie for your time. 
