A Nameless Past

  ?It started with a boy. A boy who could not remember his name or his family, he did not even know if he was alive.

  ?Flames surrounded the young child. Houses burned, the people cremated. In front of him stood what used to be his parents, or at least he thought they were. Maybe not.

  ?The snow was falling around them. The only reminder that he was alive, breathing, anything but dead. Yet if one were to look into the boy's eyes, nothing but emptiness would be seen.

  ?He began walking, not with a destination in mind, not because he wanted to. His body simply did.

  ?The moon was bright in the sky, clear despite the smoke rising from the burning village. Shining brightly, the light reflected off the boy’s blank face, illuminating his otherwise dead eyes.

  ?Eventually, his body stopped, standing in front of where his house would be. Not caring if he burned, the boy walked into the ruined house. It had already fallen apart. Nothing to save except a singular sword.

  ?A katana, black like the night, with a hilt in a beautiful frame. Not sure why, he took it, just as his body finally gave in. Falling in the ash, he did not mind the soot, nor the damage his body had taken. He felt his body give into the darkness, his eyes felt heavy, yet he grasped his sword harder. It was the only thing that held meaning, the only thing for him.

  ?Death had never bothered him, yet neither had life. So now? All he could do was lie and be curious about what death would hold for him.

  ?Waking up, he did not know where he was. He saw people rushing, children crying, and healers and such rushing around everywhere. He stood up, not really minding the pain that raced down his body as he walked. The only thing that he cared for was finding his sword.

  ?When he first stood up, a bunch of people came rushing to him, checking on him and asking how he was. He let them do as they wanted but stayed quiet through it all.

  ?After a while, they let him go, and he could continue to look for his sword. As he walked, he saw more and more children crying. It perplexed him. They were safe, were they not? So why would they still be crying? He struggled to make sense of it, but he did not linger long on it.

  ?His body felt slow, to the point he wondered if crawling would be faster, though he gave up on the idea when he finally saw his sword. They had hung it on top of a shelf, so now the new challenge was how to get it down. His first thought was breaking the shelf, but people would wonder what was going on. It's not like he wanted the attention or the people who would come because of the sound. That was without even questioning how he would destroy it in the first place.

  ?The second thought was asking someone for help, but he doubted anyone would give it to him. They might take it further away, and that was the opposite of what he wanted. It would be weird if they gave a child a weapon.

  ?As he continued thinking, he saw that the sword was quite close to the edge. Had it always been this close, he asked himself, though he was more curious with what he could do with it now.

  ?“Thank you.”

  ?The words were quiet, but undoubtedly there. He did not know who he was thanking. God, the sword, maybe just himself. And he knew less of why he was saying thank you. He felt like it was something his mother used to say, or at least that was the first thought, but he was unsure of which mother. Did he have multiple? Thinking too much caused his head to hurt, so he stopped.

  ?Stretching as much as his body would allow, he managed to barely reach it and make it fall, though he fell as well. Feeling the blade land on his chest, he felt his body shut down again. He did not feel it much, but he had landed on his head, and in his state, that was all his body needed to open a wound. The last things he heard were the sudden, distressed voices of healers and helpers coming to his aid, before he blacked out, refusing to let go of his sword again.

  ?Waking up a few days later, he saw the bandages hanging around his head, and the worried healers letting out a breath of relief. From what he gathered, he had been knocked out for a couple of days. The wound on his head had been pretty serious, making him lose a lot of blood and fall unconscious for a week.

  ?In that time, quite a lot of distant relatives and friends had come to pick up the other children who had been sheltered. Even now, there were still people coming to pick people up. Each one had a smile on their face. He wondered why they were smiling when they were crying moments earlier.

  ?Fascination was what he felt when he looked at their smiles. It was envy. He himself did not care much for smiling, but he wanted to see more smiles. They just filled him with this feeling.

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  ?He continued observing more and more, seeing fewer and fewer people as more left. Until finally, it was nobody but him.

  ?Nobody had come for him. No family. No friends. Did he even have friends? When he thought about it, he saw the faint silhouette of a girl, yet that memory felt so foreign to him, it might as well just be his mind playing tricks on him.

  ?One of the days where he had nothing to do, he simply went out on a walk. The healers had told him he was free to do as he wished as long as he did not push himself too much. They did not want a repeat of what had happened before. He had agreed, having no reason not to, and they even let him keep his sword with him but insisted it stayed in the sheath. Not like it was a problem, he just liked having it, he had no idea how to wield a sword.

  ?As he walked, he came across people, but also beautiful nature. He had never really been one for exploring, or at least he thought. While wandering, he accidentally walked into a bustling street. After pressing through the crowd and managing to get to the side, he looked around, observing all the people.

  ?His puzzling came to an abrupt end as a man walked into him.

  ?“Sorry there, little missy.”

  ?The man offered a hand, but the boy could only think about the word. Missy? Did the man believe he was a girl? His hair had grown considerably, and he had not cut it in a long while, but still…

  ?“I'm not a girl.”

  ?He said calmly, taking the hand and getting up.

  ?“Well then, kiddo, what are you doing here all alone?”

  ?“Taking a walk.”

  ?“I see, but aren't you a little… little, to be taking a walk out here alone?”

  ?“I am?”

  ?“Yes, where are your parents, kiddo? I bet they're worried about you.”

  ?The man said, looking down at him. He smiled, only wanting to help what he perceived as a lost child. Yet as he followed the boy, he began questioning things when they passed all the houses, going up a hill and eventually, to a gravesite. When they reached, the boy gestured to the area. He himself was unsure of which one was his parents' graves, but he guessed it must be one of them.

  ?As he looked, the man was quiet. He simply stood still for a moment before saying.

  ?“I'm sorry, kid, I didn't mean to wake up any bad memories.”

  ?The boy, meanwhile, could only question what he was apologizing for.

  ?“It's okay.”

  ?“It's not, though. Where do you live now?”

  ?At the words, the boy led him back to the place where he stayed. When the healers saw him, they smiled that he had come back in one piece, which was then quickly followed by surprise when they saw who he was with.

  ?“The—The [Sword Saint] is here!”

  ?Before the boy knew it, he and the man were separated as people flocked to the man apparently known as the [Sword Saint].

  ?Not really minding it, the boy simply left the commotion to go and eat. As the boy readied his food, the man finally escaped the attention, closing the door behind him as he came to the kitchen to see the boy eating.

  ?“So this is where you went off to, kiddo.”

  ?He says, patting his head, while the boy only looks up at him as he continues eating.

  ?“You never told me your name, kid.”

  ?He continues, trying to strike conversation only to be met with silence. Persevering, he said.

  ?“My name is Ryuma, though most know me as the [Sword Saint], and you are?”

  ?“I have no name.”

  ?The boy finally spoke, though it was not what Ryuma expected.

  ?“You have no name? Are you joking? Everybody has a name.”

  ?“Not me.”

  ?If it were not for the seriousness in his voice, Ryuma would believe he was being played. It was almost unnerving seeing a kid this calm and serious, especially when said kid was nameless.

  ?“You sure you aren't a demon?”

  ?“Not to my knowledge.”

  ?“I’m joking.”

  ?Ryuma said with a small sigh. That is when he noticed the sword the boy had been carrying on his hip.

  ?“What is that?”

  ?“A sword.”

  ?“I mean, why are you carrying a sword?”

  ?Ryuma almost found it impressive how literal this kid took things, coupled with how easily he managed to get on his nerves, though that seemed to be more a personal problem on his part.

  ?“It’s mine, that's why I have it.”

  ?“Seriously, you are impossible.”

  ?“I am?”

  ?“...”

  ?Ryuma felt he would do something stupid if this conversation continued, so he switched back to the first one. Taking a deep breath, he asked.

  ?“You said you don't have a name. Why don't we give you one?”

  ?“Why?”

  ?“Do you like being called kid and kiddo?”

  ?“I don't mind.”

  ?“No, no. You're supposed to be all for getting a name.”

  ?“Why?”

  ?“Why? Why would you not want a name? A name is a part of our identity, it tells us and others who we truly are.”

  ?“Isn't it just a convenience to distinguish people?”

  ?“Not at all. Are you telling me you have no desire for a name?”

  ?“Not really.”

  ?“Well, you're getting one either way.”

  ?Ryuma said, determined. He did not know if it was pride or pity for this boy, but he was at least not losing an argument to a nameless kid.

  ?“Have any idea of what you would like your name to be?”

  ?“No.”

  ?“Well, do you have any preferences on what you want to be called?”

  ?“No.”

  ?The calm denial from the boy only agitated him further and pushed him on.

  ?“Well, I'll choose for you then.”

  ?He said before thinking deeply on it. Even if it was for a kid who did irritate him a bit, that did not mean he wanted to give him a bad name.

  ?Looking around, he noted the different things. A shelf with some books in it, the magic stone-powered kitchen devices, the table, the chairs, and finally, his sword.

  ?“Blade…”

  ?The name sparked the slightest reaction from the boy.

  ?“Blade?”

  ?Ryuma noticed the reaction, however small it was, as he smiled at finally one-upping the boy.

  ?“Yes, from now on, your name is Blade.”

  Character Card:The man who bested the Sword God in a battle, who claimed the lives of eight dragons in a singular slash, and who revolutionized swordsmanship, to what it is today. Truly the greatest swordsman to exist.

  Name: Ryuma Aogiri

  Age: 27

  Race: Human

  Title: Sword Saint

  Appearance: Ryuma is a tall, handsome man with short messy grey hair. He is well-built and has sky blue eyes.

  Ryuma is usually seen wearing a white long coat with a black tie.