by J. K. Jones
Ryu has seen them parade around; they are the strongest, most agile wolves in all the clans! Ryu bites his lip, thinking hard about what he’s going to wear. He doesn’t have many clothes, but he will wear something good!
If he makes an impression maybe he can join? Thoughts like that consume him. Although he loves his home and his life with Amaya, joining the Silvercrest regiment would make her very proud. Those Alphas are strong, powerful, domineering, things he always wanted to be.
“Okay everyone,” Martha says to the rest of the servants. “The guest will be arriving shortly. Be on your best behavior!” She then turns over to Ryu. “Why don’t you go to the imperial gardens and pick some flowers? Bring them back so that Mistress Amaya can have some for the sitting room.”
Ryu nods quickly, taking a small vase with him and dashing out the front door.
At age ten he is agile.
Ryu ducks and weaves expertly through the crowds, running swiftly towards his destination. He loves the imperial gardens, something about being awash by nature soothes his soul. He finds his favorite spot, knowing that Amaya loves peonies, he begins to pluck them eagerly, smiling to himself when he imagines her face.
Amaya will surely reward him for this.
When nobody is around, she showers him with praises and sweets, even going as far as to say someday she will adopt him. Ryu loves those days because it means he will have a family.
Since Kenyon was taken Ryu doesn’t have anyone to talk to. Even the girl servants stay clear of him, claiming that he is evil.
Ryu didn’t know his clan was that evil.
They scorn and sneer at him as soon as they ask him where he’s from. Nine times out of ten it’s better to say nothing at all. He was born a Filthy Claw and he would die one. The best thing about being here is Mistress Amaya and getting his meals regularly.
Ryu takes as many peonies he can find, stuffing them in the vase prettily. A foot comes sailing through the air, kicking him hard in the back.
“Goddamn Omega thief!”
Ryu jerks in agony, he falls to the ground clutching his chest. He cries out, looking at the two boys, both of them larger than him. Alphas. These ones are different though, their scent is imposing, powerful as if they hail from royalty.
“Terri, don’t!” The other boy stops him from bringing his heel down again.
“He’s the one that’s been stealing our flowers!”
Ryu bows immediately, keeping his head low. “My Mistress bids me to—”
“I don’t give a crap!” the boy says. “These belong in the imperial gardens; you are not allowed to take them. Put them back!” He stomps his foot.
Ryu stares at the ground, perplexed. These flowers have already been plucked, how can he put them back? “Alpha,” he prostate,. “I am sorry—how can I—”
He kicks Ryu in the face.
“Shut up!” Terri seethes. “Did I tell you to speak?”
Ryu’s head spins, blood drips from his nose and lips, but he keeps himself still. Tears sting his eyes, as he touches his bruised face.
“That’s enough.” The other boy grabs his friend. “Hurry up or we’ll be late.”
“Damn servant,” he spits, before turning away from his friend.
Ryu trembles, gathering the broken vase and the flowers in shaky hands. It’s too late, the vase is in glass shards. He knows Martha will punish him for that.
He gets to his feet, taking what he can and going back to the house. There is blood on his clothes, his ragged pants are nearly covered in dirt in grime. When he looks at the time, he realizes that he is late.
Ryu enters through the servant’s quarters, hoping that nobody will see him before he has a chance to freshen up. He gets to the safety of the bathroom, putting on fresh clothes that don’t have too many holes in them, and wipes the blood from his nose.
Ryu combs his hair, which falls nearly past his waist. He emerges from the bathroom, finding a new vase for the flowers and bringing them to the sitting room.
Martha finds him and rushes him out of the room before the guest arrives. The servants line up at the front of the mansion, waiting eagerly for their guests to arrive.
Amaya stands waiting near the driveway, along with Alhazred and Listeria. They look amazing, their clothing crisp and clean, Listeria wears a long silky dress and Alhazred a fine black suit.
Chapter 15
A white Mercedes Benz pulls up.
It has two small flags with the Silvercrest Howlers coat of arms. Martha holds the door open as Michael, the Alpha of the Silvercrest Clan steps out. Ryu’s eyes widen, taking in his dark smooth skin and pure white smile. He embraces Amaya, clasping her hand tightly. Behind him is someone else, he’s wearing a vacant expression, as he follows behind his father.
Micah.
Ryu's eyes greedily take him in. He’s heard the clan speak nonstop about the young True Alpha. At age fourteen he already made a name for himself for being the fiercest warrior anyone has ever seen.
His skin is a rustic brown, eyes deep black, cavernous almost. Ryu thought that he looked somewhat sad. Perhaps, it had something to do with his mother passing not that long ago? Martha shoots him a dirty look, so he forces himself to keep his eyes front.
The servants keep quiet during dinner, listening silently to the conversations around them. Michael is gracious, complimenting Amaya and Alhazred on finally presenting.
Alhazred flusters easily, he blushes hotly under Michael's praise and gazes.
They all soon retire to the sitting room. Martha serves them hot tea as they converse. From what Ryu was told Amaya’s husband used to serve Michael for many years, he died in battle saving Michael’s life.
Ryu situates himself on the staircase, staring at them from up high, trying not to make a sound. Not to mention he still hasn’t told Martha about the vase that broke.
“Ryu!” she calls and gestures from him to come down quickly.
He jumps, sprinting down the stairs towards her. “Mistress wants to speak to you in front of Alpha,” she whispers hastily. “Keep your head down and only speak when you are spoken to.”
Ryu nods frantically, his stomach fluttering wildly.
Martha brings him towards the sitting room, all the occupants turn to look at him. Amaya smiles wildly, she opens her arms and Ryu comes over to her shyly, he tries to bow, but she pulls him into a tight hug.
“Mother,” Alhazred looks aghast, his face twists like he ate a sour lemon. “Your dress!”
Ryu is suddenly aware of how dirty his clothes are, although they are the nicest things he owes, they are ugly brown, covered with dirt and grime. Amaya wore a flowy floral dress, the color of deep pomegranates that accents her pale complexion.
“Nonsense.” Amaya laughs, running her fingers through his hair.
“This is him?” Michael asks, grinning wildly. “He’ll grow up to be a very handsome Omega.”
“My Ryu is a bit shy.” Amaya smiles, touching his cheek lovingly. “But he’s a hard worker.”
“I can tell,” Michael responds. “Is this what you truly wish?”
Amaya nods. “It is. I wish nothing else but to have my two boys taught and trained by the greatest Sensei. If Alhazred is to join the Silvercrest regiment, then Ryu must as well. I won’t have it any other way.”
Alhazred bits his lip hard.
Ryu feels his heart pounding in his chest. To be trained by Sensei Musashi would be considered the greatest honor. He beams, looking at Amaya for confirmation. “Yes, child. You will train.”
Ryu hugs her tightly, tears stinging his eyes.
Michael laughs, turning the conversation towards their training days and how Micah will keep watch over both of them. It’s a joyous evening, Ryu can sit at the table with them, he eats a hearty meal, brimming with satisfaction as Amaya showers him with compliments and dotes on him heavily.
Alhazred watches on, seething in an envious rage.
-
Ryu sits on an old cushion.<
br />
His back stiff, arms shaking as he forces himself to remain still. It’s five in the morning, all the other kids sit straight, faces expressionless as they wait for Sensei Musashi's instructions.
The training room is large, floral greens and blues, browns, and red mosaic paintings are plastered around. The ceilings are high, vaulted wood beams. Ryu notices a small table, burning incense so that the place smells faintly of sandalwood.
This is a training day.
On the first day, Ryu and Alhazred start training to join the Silvercrest regiment. Amaya sent them both off three days prior, forcing Alhazred to promise to watch after his brother Omega. However, as soon as Ryu was assigned to the Omega dorm rooms, Alhazred went out of his way to make sure Ryu knew how unwanted his presence was. Alhazred had taken his suitcase and dumped everything he owned in the nearby river, then kicked Ryu so hard his leg blistered and bruised, turning black and blue.
Ryu nearly whimpers, being forced to remain on his aching leg sent searing jolts of pain through him. The other boys were mostly Alphas, with a few Betas and Deltas in the mix. Ryu knew they didn’t want him here. It was bad enough they were training with an Omega, but a servant on top of that was almost unheard of. Alhazred didn’t hesitate to let everyone know Ryu came from the Filthy Claws, and that he was the enemy.
Sensei Musashi circles the room, the stick in his hand three inches thick, usually meant for disciplining those who stepped out of line. He wears a simple kamishimo, over the kimono. The upper piece is a sleeveless jacket with exaggerated shoulders. On the lower part of his body, he wears wide flowing trousers called hakama, these include proper posture, effective movement and balance, and basic sword swinging. Nobody knows his real name, some say he doesn’t have one, he just went by Sensei Musashi, rumor to be an immortal. He’s an older gentleman, with a double-barrelled chest, bald head, and a deep frown. He constantly strokes his long beard. Sensei Musashi also has a strange affinity for eating small red candies, he stuffs them into his pocket, then plops them into his mouth when the class is doing silent readings.
Micah sits front and center, his face serene, and the perfect picture of beauty and radiance. His skin is a smooth toffee, eyes dark as midnight, as his clothes a flawless pure silk white, traditional Kamishimo, the same one Sensei Musashi wears, but better.
The other boys strive to reach his level, most of them nearly shrinking at the aura of a True Alpha, even if he is still only fourteen years old.
They recite the seven virtues of bushido, while Sensei Musashi listens carefully for any mistakes. Most of it is very simple, a moral code concerning Samurai attitudes, behavior, and lifestyles. The Silvercrest Howlers lived their lives around these principles, formalizing moral values, ethical codes of conduct, oftentimes stressing a combination of sincerity, frugality, loyalty, martial arts mastery, and honor until death.
Ryu speaks lowly, keeping his eyes straight as sweat pools on his brow. Sensei Musashi cuts his eyes at Ryu, noticing him stumbling over a few lines, but he doesn’t comment. The second class is dismissed, he brings Ryu aside. He’s a large man, with a menacing face and twisted grimace.
“So…an Omega….”
Ryu keeps his head low.
“You’ll distract all my Alphas….” He tsks sadly. “Look up boy.”
Ryu does, shyly.
“No…too soft—”
“I’m not,” Ryu interrupts, passion burning in his eyes. “I’m not soft. I can fight. I can train.” To be a part of the Silvercrest Regiment is considered the highest honor, he would not let Amaya down.
“You have a forgiving heart,” Sensei Musashi says. “That won’t get you anywhere. You’ll have to train twice as hard to be half of what they are.”
Ryu nods, slowly.
“Your robe…isn’t suitable for training…”
Ryu sniffs, looking down at his dirty servants’ robes. “Alhazred threw my clothes in the river.”
Sensei Musashi scowls. “We will find you something to wear. Come on.”
-
Ryu tries his best to keep them clean.
He does, but Alhazred and the other Alphas corner him one day shove him down in the mud. Ryu comes to training, filthy and dirty, with other boys snickering and laughing behind his back.
Sensei Musashi says nothing about their bad behavior, he continues as if it never happened. He fails at calligraphy. He fails at archery and swordsmanship. He needs to master this first before he can move on to guns. Sensei Musashi looks disappointed, and as the months wane it grows to indifference. He’ll work harder that’s all. He’ll beat them and become stronger that’s all. They’ll see. They’ll see. Ryu strengthens his nerves, forcing himself to become steel.
They take his lunch.
They pee in his bed.
They spread vicious whispers and lies.
They force him to crawl and beg.
They chip away at him, piece by piece.
Slowly, inch by inch, Ryu begins to break.
Chapter 16
It becomes dreary and dreadful. Ryu begins to fray, his brick wall precipitously crumbles. He no longer comes to class, ready to learn, and eager to listen, attentive to Sensei Musashi’s teachings. Instead, he comes battered and withered, dark circles around his eyes from having to dodge and duck, claw and buck his away out of another brawl caused by Alhazred. He is riddled with scars and cuts, bruises so deep and blistering they rip the skin and bleed.
The rest stay away.
They don’t ask questions; they don’t even look at him. A servant. A Filthy Claw. Nothing. Nobody. He won’t last long anyway. Ryu takes stuttering to breathe, trying, and failing to keep up with the lesson today. Sensei Musashi asks them all to pair up, nobody wants to sit with Ryu.
That hurts the most.
Ryu’s lip trembles, tears sting his eyes and Sensei Musashi turns the other way, watching all the other kids pair into groups of two while Ryu does the assignment alone. Sensei Musashi asks them to present, each pair gets in front of the class one by one, talking about their understanding of the seven virtues of bushido and what it means to them.
Ryu tries his best to write the assignment quickly, when he is called up Sensei Musashi says nothing about his lack of partners, or how he stutters and stammers his way through.
The other boys snicker though, some even throw paper balls at him while he speaks. Sensei Musashi nods his head, waves his hand dismissively when it’s finished. When class is over, Ryu rushes out of the room, only to run straight into Alhazred.
He smiles down at Ryu, his handsome face sharp and wicked.
“Did you honestly think you would miss your daily beating?” He grabs Ryu’s hair, dragging him to the back of the building and throwing him on the ground.
Ryu is already crying, tears streaking down his face. He lives in torment. Alhazred does not rest in letting him know how beneath him he is. Ryu doesn’t beg, he clenches his jaw, standing tall as he rains his fist down upon him.
Ryu’s mouth fills with copper, he doesn’t shift to wolf form, knowing that the other wolves are bigger and stronger they will just wrestle him down and hurt him more. Ryu takes it all. The punch, the kicks, the jabs—everything.
“Omega bitch.”
One of Alhazred's favorite things to say.
Ryu's face jerks, each blow harder than the last. It’s pure agony now since he hasn’t healed from the days prior. Alhazred is relentless in his beatings, in his jealousy and hatred for Ryu. His courage is eroded, worn down, battered like rocks against the sea. Ryu curls within himself, shaking and crying, while the other boys kick and hit at everything they can reach.
“Stop.”
Ryu coughs blood. He struggles to breathe, sobbing loudly into the cold hard ground. Then suddenly, someone is touching him, their hands are large and gentle. Ryu looks up, sees black eyes staring into his.
Micah.
“Come,” he says gently, picking up his frail body and carrying him to the medic. Ryu’s vision fa
des in and out, eyes blur with disbelief and anguish.
Someone saved him.
That’s the only thing he thinks before he passes out.
-
Ryu wakes up in his Omega dorm-room.
The space itself is small, with a single bed with an oak bed frame, along with a desk and chair. He doesn’t have many things, since Alhazred threw most of his stuff away. Ryu gasps, clutching his chest, feeling pain shoot up his entire body. There are several bandages on his ribs and a few over his face, but other than that he should be healed within a few days.
Ryu takes a stuttering breath; he recalls the events of yesterday. Micah. He came. He saved him. The smell of White Sage, his vacant eyes staring down at him.
Why did he do that? Since Ryu arrived nobody was willing to stand up for him. Even now, he can still remember the feel of his gentle hands on his skin. Did Micah care? No. That’s a silly thing to think about. He probably felt bad. He probably thought Ryu was too pathetic to fight his own battles.
There is a knock at the door.
Ryu sits up, struggling momentarily to get out of bed before he slips on some clothes to answer it. Sensei Musashi is standing there, but behind him is Micah.
