Devotion [complete]

[Kyashi]

<font size=1>ooc. Finally finished! To anyone who takes the time to read this, thank-you. I put a lot of work into it and hope that you enjoyed reading it.</font>





In a snowy village on a small planet in the Outer Rim, a young boy sits quietly on the kitchen floor playing while his mother cooks dinner. She hums a soft tune to herself, smiling down at her son as he works on building the tallest tower he can out of blocks. His dark hair and brown eyes make him the spitting image of the woman at the stove, and the man who has appeared in the doorway behind her.
The woman's smile fades as she glances at her husband, her eyes slowly going back towards the pot boiling on the stove. He had been acting strangely lately, staying out all hours of the night with stranger men, Force-users, and was becoming increasingly cold to her and their child. The boy smiles up at his fathers' emotionless face before gathering up his toys and heading into the next room.

The boy, Kyashi Hatake, has also noticed a change in his father. In spite of his young age, he can sense something is wrong, that something doesn't "feel" right about him anymore. His mommy has told him about this, "feeling" things from other people, being able to pick up on their thoughts and how it's a very special gift he has. All of this is forgotten as he continues playing, his thoughts off in his own little imaginary world. He doesn't hear the raised voices in the kitchen, the sound of flesh hitting flesh and dishes clattering on the tabletop.
When he finally looks up, it's just in time to see his mothers' corpse hit the floor with a sickening thud. A dark red puddle forms under her still form, the same shade that stains his fathers' clothes and the blade of the knife he holds in his hand. Kyashi staggers backward, making a muffled sob as he falls onto the floor, his tiny hands moving up to protect himself. His father looms over him…the blade slashes, he feels a strange pain in his throat and then black….

His eyes slowly open. Something warm and wet soaks the front of his shirt and is smeared across his arms and cheeks. He sees the same red stuff on his hands, the floor, everywhere. A trail of crimson leads to the broken and battered body of his father, slumped against the wall. Hot tears sting the boys' eyes as he crawls towards his father, gently touching his shoulder, trying to coax him awake. The wound on his neck makes quiet gurgling noises, as his whimpering becomes loud sobs when he finally stumbles into the kitchen. His mothers' body lays on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling. He kneels beside her, calling her name and shaking roughly, not understanding what's happened or why they won't wake up….

[Kyashi]

Three years later Kyashi, now seven, stares forward, his expression blank as he watches soft flakes of snow fall, leaving another blanket of white on the ground. He draws his legs up tightly to his chest, resting his head on his knees. His black hair, now shoulder length, is loose, a few stray strands falling into his eyes. The clothes on his back are worn; a simple pair of sandals covers his bare feet.
He thinks back to that day - he has a better understanding of what happened. His father killed his mother, and he had murdered his father with his "gift". He wiped at his eyes, a tear or two sliding down his cheeks. The other villages had said his father was hungry for power, the power of the Force had driven him to do such a thing… and it was the same thing that Kyashi had used to kill him. At times, he wondered how anyone could consider it a "gift", when it was something that caused so many people so much pain and sorrow.

There was a loud crunching of footsteps; someone was coming down the alley that Kyashi had called home now for months. A pair of boots stopped in Kyashis' line of vision. One boot lifted, pressing into the boys' chest, forcing him to make eye contact with the man before him. He was hidden in shadow, his teeth glinting dimly as a wicked grin spread over his face.
"Well, lookee here.." the man sneered, pressing his boot harder into Kyashis' chest, causing him to wince slightly. "Aren't you a pretty one?"
The man removed his foot, leaning down to get a closer look. He ran one dirty finger across Kyashis' cheek, brushing back a strand of dark hair. The boys' expression didn't change as the man leered at him… before being slammed back by strong Force push. His skull made a resounding crack as it bounced off the brick wall, his shoulders slumping as he fell into unconsciousness.

Kyashi rose to his feet, brushing himself off as he approached the man. Gently he opened the mans' overcoat, rummaging through the pockets for anything of value, taking what few credits the man had. He stuffs his find into his pocket, humming softly to himself as he left the alley.

Clapping. Someone was slowly clapping, someone who had suddenly appeared behind him. Kyashi looked back over his shoulder; a man stood in the middle of the empty street, the hood of his long black cloak drawn up and covering most of his face. The boy turned, facing the man, his hands clenching into tight fists at his side.
The man smiled, his hands going behind his back as he approached, pacing around him.
"Tsk tsk," he shook his head, smile fading into a disappointed look. "Such wasted potential."
Kyashi followed the mans' movements with his eyes, his body tense and preparing for an attack. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
"Who are you?"
The man stopped, looking down at him, his smile returning. "My name is Okami. You're coming with me."
The boy didn’t respond, his face still an expressionless mask. "Why?"
"Because," Okami sighed, as if his reasons should be perfectly clear to the young man in front of him. "I know what you are, what you could be. And I will no longer allow you to waste your talents on such petty things as our dirty minded friend in the alley."
He placed a hand lightly on Kyashis shoulder. "I can help you use your pain. All I ask is that you come with me. Now."
"My pain?" He felt a tingle at the base of his skull, his eyes meeting the mans. A rush of images, emotions, flooded his mind -- his mothers' life-less form on the kitchen tile. His father coming towards him, knife raised, then slumped against the wall, his skull caved in on one side. His own tiny blood-stained hands…
Okami is knocked off his feet by a powerful rush of Force energy. Kyashi squeezes his hands to his ears, tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Don't…ever do that…again." He glared at the fallen man, rubbing his left eye with the palm of his hand. "Or…"
"Or what? You'll kill me?" Okami laughed as he raised himself up on his hands, sitting on the pavement. "See how powerful your pain and your anger can make you? I can show you how to use it, control it, so that no-one hurts you again."
Kyashi took a step back. He wondered how the man could know what he was thinking, how much he longed for some control over his Force-powers, to have some sense of purpose. To be able to protect himself from ever being hurt like he was in the past again. He folded his arms across his chest.
"What? You don't believe me?" The man rose in one quick movement. "Come with me and I'll prove it to you."
He held out a hand. Kyashi hesitated. Then walked up to him. Okami patted him gently on the head, mussing up his hair as he lead him down the street. "Good boy."

[Kyashi]

"No, no, no." Okamis' stern voice echoed off the walls of the large room where the pair had been training. "Concentrate, Kyashi. Focus."
The boy stands in the middle of the room, blindfolded. Between his fingers he grips three six inch long needles, called senbon. He concentrates, reaching out with the Force to find his target. The needles fly through the air, ripping through the bulls-eye of each paper target.
Kyashi sighs heavily, removing the blindfold. His training had begun months ago -- Okami was a good master, teaching him basic control over his growing Force abilities. Their training had begun to intensify; Kyashi was now learning to find his target through the Force alone, unaided by his other senses. No longer wearing the rags from his life on the street, they're been replaced by a pair of long, loose brown shorts, a warm sweater and a thick blue kimono. He grins sheepishly at the man who was now inspecting his handiwork.
"How did I do, Master Okami?"
Okami returned the grin with one of his own. He reminded Kyashi of his own father -- the same dark eyes and hair, the same height, build. "Good. Your skills are improving already."
Kyashi bowed, his grin growing. This was the first time in years that he felt useful. Wanted, needed. Okami fed him, clothed him, cared for him. And all because of his "gift". The thing that made some people hate and fear him was appreciated and wanted here.
His master crumpled the targets and tossed them aside. He looked at his young student, and Kyashi noticed a glint in his eye. A mischievous smirk played briefly over his teachers' lips.
"I think it's time for us to step up your training, with a little real world experience."
"Hmmm?" He watched as Okami walked briskly passed. He had to jog to catch up. "What do you mean?"
"You'll see." He said simply. He went to one of the few pieces of furniture in the room, a desk, and opened the top drawer. He removed a cloth wrapped package, handing it to the boy. "This is yours."
Kyashi took the oddly shaped gift, carefully unwrapping it to reveal a white mask of enamel and wood. The inside was smooth to the touch; the white enamel face gleamed in the light. Two lines of red swirled across the lower half of the mask. He ran his fingers across it, a semi-embarrassed smile on his face.
"Thank-you Master Okami." He bowed deeply, only to rise up to hear laughter from his master. He frowned. Okami walked around the desk, patting him on the back.
"Come on now, let's get going. The sun is setting and there's work to be done."

The wind blew what Kyashis' long hair back behind him as he exited the stairwell onto the rooftop Okami had lead him to. They walked to the edge, the older man resting one foot on the ledge. The boy beside him looked down -- a few people were still mingling on the street at this late hour. Three men stood out, with their long black cloaks, and how they were grouped closely together, yet away from the other passersby. He raised a brow, his eyes moving up to meet those of his master.
"Yes. Those three. They're our targets this evening." He pulled several senbon from inside his cloak, his other hand drawing his hood over his head. "There are eight vital points on the body -- the spinal column, the lungs, the liver, the jugular, the subclavian artery, the kidneys and lastly, the heart. We're going to use the Force to pin-point these targets, like you've been doing in your training."

With that, Okamis' eyes close; he leans a bit further over the edge, and strikes out with the senbon. The three needles are barely visible as they fly through the air, until they hit their target. One of the men falls, clutching his throat. His companions look around, confused, kneeling to inspect their friends' wounds. More needles rain down from the rooftop, hitting the second man, puncturing his lungs. He hits the ground, a gurgling coming from his mouth, seven needles sticking out of his back. The third man looks up; finally realizing where the attacks were coming from, only to end up with ten of the senbon imbedded into his face. He screams loudly, clawing at his face in an attempt to tear out the needles.
The boy watches silently. He can feel the Force around his master; it's so thick and heavy, like a fog. Okamis' dark eyes turn to the boy with a sleepy look to them, his smile wide. "Finish that one off."
He hands the boy five senbon, the polished steel of them shining in the moonlight. "I know you can do this Kyashi. It's what you were meant to do; it's why I took you in. Once you learn this, nothing and no-one will be able to stop us."
He sighs, his brown eyes closing tightly as he leans close to the edge. He can hear the wind blowing, the muffled crying of the man below. He concentrates on that noise, focusing on the man -- he can sense the pain he is feeling. He can almost picture the man, lying on his back in the street, whimpering like a dog that needed to be put down. Reaching out with the Force, he tries to find the mans' heart. It seemed like it would be the easiest of all the targets, and the most effective. As much as his master seemed to revel in these mens suffering, Kyashi still had some softness in his heart. But he wouldn't allow himself to disobey the one person who was most important to him. Gripping the needles between his fingers, he focused all of his senses on the man below. Slowly, the sound of the mans' racing heartbeat filled his ears. His hand draws back, the needles whistle through the air, each one hitting their target. One final cry is heard and then silence.

[Kyashi]

He hated Coruscant with every fiber of his being. The 15-year-old folded his arms over his chest, a look of disgust on his face as he rode the lift up to the room he shared with his master. His hair was pulled into a cloth-covered bun on the back of his head, long bangs hanging down each side of his face. He still wore his usual clothes, though they were a little more worn then they once were. Okami had brought him here exactly eight months ago -- they had a very important job to do here, one that required a lot of research and surveillance.
He stepped off the lift, walking down the dingy hall and entering the small room where Okami sat hunched over several data-pads. His master barely acknowledged him as he walked passed, slouching onto the bed.
"I hate this planet, Okami-sama." He flopped down, his arms behind his head. "There's no snow, it's not natural for a planet not to have snow."
His master didn't even look up from his work. "Coruscant has snow, but only in certain places. It's not like home."
"It's still disgusting. People here seem to like living in their own filth." He rolled onto his side, watching as the older man tapped some information into the data-pad that he held. "You still haven't told me why we're here."
Okami tossed the pad onto the dresser, standing and walking towards the large window that took up most of the far wall. The lights from passing ships shone on his face, as he stared out into space. "There is a group of men that need to be disposed of. This job is going to make us very rich, we won't have to work for a long time once we get rid of them."
Kyashi nodded. "So, it's just another job? But why do we have to do all this preparation?"
He sat up. "We could find them and be finished before tomorrow. Then we can go home."
Okami folded his hands behind his back; "It's not going to be that easy. These men are strong in the Force, stronger than I am if my informants are correct. I'll need you to be ready…"
He looked back over his shoulder at the boy. "You've grown so much, and yet, you're still the same innocent boy I took in off the street. Sometimes I think that you'll become more powerful than I even imagined."
Kyashi watched as his master turned away yet again, and couldn't help feeling a little odd. He was sensing something from him, but he wasn't sure what. Okami turned around, his trademark smirk back on his face.
"Tomorrow, my boy, is when we will strike. I suggest you head to bed now."
Kyashi sighed but nodded in agreement. He slipped off his sandals, taking off his outer kimono and crawling into bed. "Yes sir."

He rolled over for the millionth time, staring in the dark at the crono on the bedside table. Kyashi had probably only had 2 or 3 hours sleep. His mind was occupied with thoughts about Okami, and what he had said earlier. He couldn't imagine being more powerful than his own master and he certainly couldn't fathom having to kill men who were stronger than Okami. He rolled onto his stomach, pressing his face into his pillow, willing himself to go to sleep.
Before he knew it, the sun was streaming in through the window. He rubbed his sleep-deprived eyes, yawning. The bed beside him was already made and empty. Kyashi got out of bed, his bare feet padding quietly across the shag carpet. He searched the room, and Okami was nowhere to be found. There was no note. His cloak was gone, as were his weapons. Kyashi felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he slipped on his kimono and sandals, grabbing a small bag that held his weapons and mask and throwing it over his shoulder. Taking one of the data-pads with him, he hurried out the door, practically running down the hall and into the lift.

He managed to figure out where the hit was to take place. Unfortunately, it was all the way across town. Kyashi flagged down a cab, lying to the cabby about having to see a sick relative. It had taken him a long while to realize this, and by the time he did, they had arrived at their destination. And Kyashi had driven two senbon into his jugular. He stepped out of the speeder, pulling his mask from his bag and placing it on his face. He was unsure of what he would find inside the large warehouse that stood in front of him, but he wanted to be prepared for the worst. Senbon in hand, he slipped silently inside, keeping to the shadows.
The warehouse was nearly empty -- a few stacks of boxes here and there, some old equipment but nothing else. He crept closer to the center of the room when he heard it. A faint moaning, men talking. He pulled himself up onto one crate, peering down from the shadows at four men. They were standing around a figure that lay on the floor in a puddle of blood. One of the men picked up this figure, grabbing him by the front of his black cloak. The hood fell back, revealing the bloodied face of Okami. His eyes were glassed over; blood smeared across his face, dripping from his broken nose and busted lip. Kyashi growled low in his throat, holding back as he watched the man laugh in his masters' face before tossing him aside like a rag-doll.
The mens' laughter was quickly cut off by senbon burying themselves into the back of one of their skulls. His hands reached back, struggling to pry the needles from his brain, falling onto his face, twitching. The others shouted, whirling to face the direction the needles came from. Kyashi hid his Force signature well, escaping back into the shadows. He kept his eyes shut, using the Force to guide his hand as more needles flew through the air. Another went down, scratching at his chest. He fell forward, ten senbon sticking out of his back. The others seemed to panic, rushing around to find their weapons, all while trying to watch their backs. Kyashi smirked beneath his mask -- these men were stronger than he was? They were running around like ants under a magnifying glass. The third man went down, his throat looking like a pincushion.
That left the man who had picked up Okami. Kyashi had purposely left him for last, wanting to punish him…for the first time in his life, his hate was overwhelming his sense of himself. He was a killer, but he had always kept his distance. The boy stepped out of the shadows, standing in front of the man. A wicked grin grew under his mask.
"You know…I thought this would be much more of a challenge." He pulled six senbon from his bag, holding three in each hand. "I expected so much more from you."
He glanced over at the crumpled body of his master, anger growing inside him. "You shouldn't have hurt my friend. You've made me very angry."
Needles bury deeply into the mans' arms as he tries to shield himself from Kyashis attacks. Senbon dig into his legs, his stomach, any exposed area is soon full of needles. They hang from his flesh as the assault continues. His face, his eyes, every inch of him is soon covered in steel. The boys' angry thoughts drown out the mans screams until he finally collapses on the floor.
Kyashi stops. He removes the mask. Tears are rolling down his cheeks as he hangs his head. Placing the mask in his bag, he walks towards his teachers' body. He lifts the man onto his lap, gently cradling his head as he starts to sob.