The Memory Of Heavenly Hymn
1. It Should Have Been None
The melodious groove of bamboo flutes is blown, chanting the song of the sad form of longing that brings in the memory room where all is still in color before being replaced by the arrival of the fog that marched to the tragedy 11 years ago. When he was 8 years old, he saw his head rolling, his intestines breaking from his stomach, and he stood on a river of blood flowing through his legs. The tone of the song was increasingly high following the mood because he was unable to control himself looking at that time he pulled out the sword from the soldier who had been lying lifeless in front of the door of the room.
Trembling he held the sword and looked at the enemy soldiers who had already managed to enter the private residence. Everyone laughed, how not to scorn him for a little boy wanting to beat a grown man? Impossible, and his fear grew when a burly man with a thick mustache carried a great sword towards him.
“Do not approach!” while holding a gun in his hand he called for a ban on the man.
All the soldiers cheered to hear him make a loud noise. However, his warning was not heeded, the man walked over instead. The man's moustached hand was directed at him, but suddenly the outstretched hand broke off and made him surprised to release the sword as the owner of the body groaned and fell into disarray. Surprisingly, his hands grabbed his shoulders and dragged him to run away from the weird situation.
He knew the man who had saved him. Smelling sandalwood although smelling fishy smell of blood attached to the blue sea clothes was his brother.
“Sorry, I'm late,” regrets Her brother.
“Where are we going?”
“Mount.”
The two boys ran without heeding the wounds caused by the scratches of thorny plants because of the fear of entering themselves. Moreover, the sound of a heart-wrenching scream makes the two more inattentive when running even though breathing air feels unable to anymore. And, in the end the younger ones fell plummeting on the moist mountain ground.
“Stand,” orders his Brother while extending his hand.
The boy nodded, receiving an older helping hand to get back on his feet despite the trembling. Meanwhile, a 14-year-old boy gave her a bamboo bottle, “minum.”
He received a bamboo bottle while looking at the face of the firstborn, especially the dark red eye bead that has a shadow of himself like a mirror in a pool of blood. Before long his sister blinked, then shifted her gaze. The sudden movement made him realize that they did not have much time to stop from escaping, then drink the water until the gift runs out.
They chose to walk with accelerated footsteps before the youngest suddenly dazed forward, and fortunately the older brother was quick to hold his body. He felt his body could not be moved, even drowsiness suddenly attacked him. When he was about to ask, but moving his lips did not feel free. And, he felt his hands rub his head slowly as if they were showing a real form of love that was rarely spoken. So warm the embrace and whispers of affection as if he was being struck by his Brother.
The flute groove suddenly went haywire and stopped. The player breathes decapitatedly, then he looks at the blue sky that feels warm and comfortable like giving a hug like he felt when he was a child.
“Ryuji.”
He turned to the source of the sound, found a young man giving a bowl of matcha whose smoke was still billowing in the air, he could interpret that the drink had just been brewed. The figure of the man who had raised her as a Sister in just one meeting. The man who reminded him of his biological brother for having the same eye bead color, even though it belonged to the person before him was brighter than someone who had thrust a weapon at him, and left himself dying on the mountain. Surprisingly, he could not hate his Big Brother despite having done such a cruel thing to him, because his Big Brother's hand rub still felt so soft on the head, because the firstborn's close embrace at that time still felt so obvious, and his assumption that the treatment kept something hidden, let alone the last speech before he closed his eyes was still ambiguous in memory.
Even stranger is that he is still alive until he is 19 years old with a body without scars, though that time was clearly in the left abdomen pierced by the sword until he was bathed in blood. Events beyond reason do not stop there, because when he woke up not in the mountain forest, but in other countries that cannot be entered without the approval of the ruler. Because Ikumi State is surrounded by protective magic to hold something in it, and of course only the ruler knows what is hidden. So how did he get in? He still can't find an answer. Because, the ruler of the country he currently occupied did not know him, nor did any insiders invite him to enter the State of Ikumi.
“Ryuji?”
Once again the voice pulled him back from the daydream. His focus was on a man named Yashuhiro from the Kazuya clan, showing him a letter with the name of his younger sister there, Kazuya Yuka.
Ryuji downed the cooling matcha before his foster brother opened the conversation. As soon as the tea bowl was placed on the table, Yashuhiro immediately began a discussion.
“There was a serial murder incident in Matsuko area, the victims were prostitutes by leaving scars as if attacked by a wild animal. While the military arrested the suspected farmer with a rake as evidence, the public there did not accept the arrest of the man because the killings were still ongoing, the government again gave the reason that the perpetrator had a plot, and Yuka wrote that young farmers from the healing tribe who happened to be at the scene of the crime.”
Ryuji knitted his eyebrows together, then joked, “original catches to solve the problem as quickly as possible, recklessly once.”
Yashuhiro nodded approvingly, then burned the letter of her younger sister who was staying separated due to education.
“We leave now,” firmly His foster brother.
“Good," Ryuji replied as he bowed obediently.
