Taiju's Backstory

Taiju's Backstory

The swords felt like extensions of his arms. They weren’t just tools for fighting—they were a part of him. Every parry to an invisible enemy, every stab, may as well have been done with his bare hands.

The thin sheen of sweat on his face threatened to let his glasses slip. He hardly noticed. Taiju kicked up one foot, imagining the crunch of cartilage in the imaginary opponent’s nose, then let the momentum spin him around and followed up with a thrust. He immediately drew his arm back again and jabbed his elbow behind him at another “sneaking up” behind him, then twisted around, pulling his other arm through in a slash that would have gashed the belly of a human, but only sliced the air.

The fight was intricate, as though a dozen men came at him, though he only fought against himself. Taiju’s moments to spar alone were rare nowadays, and as such he was always engrossed in the false battles. It was his time alone, when he didn’t have impress anyone else. Nobody criticized him. Nobody expected him to do better. And the imaginary soldiers fell one at a time.

He spun around again and dropped his swords to the ground. In the same fluid movement, he let his Magus creep out. He could feel the water in the ground, left after a recent rainstorm, and he drew upon it. Water rose up to the soil’s surface and gathered at Taiju’s fingertips as he continued to fight, launching into a flurry of kicks and parries. He carried the water constantly at his hands, using it as a weapon; subtly shaping it into sharp edges whenever he made a swipe, bringing it up in front of him in a sheet of ice when he brought up an arm to block. He worked with it as he had his blades, as a part of him, manipulating the liquid to flow with his body.

Something behind him made a scuffing noise. Taiju whirled around and threw his water straight outward at the person approaching.

His father looked less than amused to have the water splash in his face. His expression soured, but he said nothing.

Taiju stood for a moment in battle-ready position, then eased himself into a stand. His breath came in ragged gasps, but he never took his eyes off the older man.

“I’m surprised,” his father began, raising a large hand to wipe his face dry, “that you weren’t more wary of my coming. Or do you greet everyone like this?”

“No. Only you.” Taiju’s dry smile held no humor. “Don’t worry, I knew you were coming, which is why I had that special greeting just for you. Don’t you feel special?”

His father glowered down at his son. Taiju resembled very little of his father; the older man was tall, built solidly from the earlier years spent as a kingdom soldier and maintained by his arduous work as a blacksmith, and took pride in maintaining a fine scruff of facial hair that accentuated the sharp features of his face. Taiju, despite nearing his fifteenth birthday, had yet to inherit any of these traits. He stood a full foot shorter than his father, slim, with softer features that easily gave onlookers the impression he belonged surrounded by books, not in the forge. The only similarities to be found in the two could be found in the same crop of shaggy dark brown hair, and the same sharp hazel eyes.

Taiju finally broke his glare from the gaze of his father, leaning down to pick up his swords. He mentally steeled himself for whatever abuse that was to come. They could never speak without harsh words.

“So why,” began his father, adopting a condescending tone, “do you find it necessary to mix your . . . Magus--” he spat the word with disdain, “--with a perfectly good fighting style?”

Taiju’s grip tightened around the sword handles. “It’s good for focus,” he replied tensely. “It takes skill to manipulate one’s Magus while maintaining a fight. Considering you fought for so long alongside Magi, Damek, one would think you’d understand this.”

“I’ve never approved of them. Witchcraft will never compare to a fine tempered steel.” Damek narrowed his eyes. “And it would do you well to show some respect to your elder.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy Dearest, but my attempts are to improve upon my fighting, not make it worse.” Taiju sheathed his swords in the scabbards at his side; the hilts hit the scabbard tops with such force that his palms were left in pain. “Everything can be improved upon.”

Damek’s eyebrow gave a slight twitch. “Perhaps I would approve more if you had a genuinely useful skill to use in the forge. Maybe if you were a Soli or Incindeae.”

“Aside from the fact that I can’t control what I was born as, I’m sorry, Dad, but I don’t think you want to give me the ability to control flames.” Taiju smirked at his father, though the glare accompanying it dispelled any humor. “You really, really don’t want to do that. The urge to freeze the blood of some people is such a temptation as it is.”

“You should be more grateful,” Damek pointed out, crossing his arms. “You’re lucky we harbor you as well as we do.”

“Because it’s such a chore to take care of your own son,” Taiju said dramatically.

“Because you know the risk we’re at!” Damek barked, glaring back at Taiju. “If the king ever found out that we were taking care of you instead of turning you over to him, we would all suffer!”

“You don’t even give a damn!” Taiju spat back. “If Nale had my powers, you’d praise him for it because he’s just Daddy’s little boy, isn’t he?”

“And you’d do well to be more like him,” Damek reminded darkly. “Your . . . interests are not becoming of a male your age.”

“And so war and blood are more proper interests for a fourteen-year-old?” Taiju asked in disbelief. “I don’t understand that, Dad. Either way, you have to put up with it, so you might as well get over it and quit criticizing me. I can’t help it.”

“I wish you could.”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t, because I know how much it pisses you off.”

Damek’s next reply came in the form of a backhand across the side of Taiju’s face. He gave a small gasp of pain and stumbled backward, but only scowled otherwise.

“You are arrogant!” Damek snarled. “You put yourself on a pedestal, thinking that you’re better than your own brother, your own father, just because you have your abilities!”

“I never did anything!” Taiju shouted back. “You made that assumption! If Nale could do it, you would still be happy with him and you would still hate me as much as you do now! It’s not about the kingdom, it’s not about Nale, it’s not about my Magus, you just don’t like me! I spent the first ten years of my life trying to earn your approval and it’s never been good enough for you!”

“I’m trying to push you to be better!”

“You aren’t! All you’ve ever done is look down on me ever since I starting showing disinterest in becoming a blacksmith!”

“It’s an honorable business!”

“And what makes being a craftsman different?”

“All you ever want to make is toys! Useless things!”

“I’m still doing the same thing you are! Making things that people can use! There are a thousand weaponsmiths but rarer are the ones who want to make genuinely useful things!

Damek rolled his eyes. “Watches and knives aren’t useful!” he retorted. “And neither are those drawings that you love to do so much!”

“Only to you, because you love spilling blood so much!”

“Working for the kingdom is an honor! You should learn this!”

Taiju threw up his hands in disbelief. “You worked for a tyrant!” he argued. “A man who either enslaves or kills all of the people he doesn’t like!”

He paused for a moment, glaring up at his father. One eyebrow rose slightly. “Gee. I wonder why that sounds so familiar to me,” he said sarcastically.

Damek snarled and lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of Taiju’s shirt. He lifted the boy bodily off the ground, barely allowing the toes of Taiju’s boots to scrape the grass. Taiju felt his heart seize up in his chest with fear. Damek had never gotten this violent.

“Let me go!” Taiju demanded, pulling vainly at Damek’s wrist.

“You will learn to respect me!” Damek hissed between clenched teeth. He pushed his face into Taiju’s, fogging the boy’s glasses with his hot breath. “Perhaps I should start beating that rebelliousness out of you!”

Taiju reacted before he thought. He kicked out, planting his heel sharply in Damek’s stomach. Damek gasped as the air was blown from his lungs and dropped Taiju, who landed on his back and immediately attempted to scramble away. Damek managed to regain his breath and seized Taiju by his belt, yanking him back.

“You are done being so disobedient,” he growled, as Taiju fumbled to think of a way to retaliate. He grasped desperately at the sheath hidden inside his boot, and his fingers closed around the handle of his dagger just as Damek forcefully turned him around by his shoulder. The man’s grip was painful. His other hand swung out, curled into a huge fist.

Taiju’s reflexes kicked in as he thrust up his blade and squeezed his eyes shut.

He heard his father gasp out in pain and felt the grip slacken. Taiju pulled away from Damek’s hold and dared to look up.

Damek clutched at a bleeding stab wound in his forearm, face contorted with pain. Taiju glanced to the dagger he held and realized, with horror, that he was the one who had caused the wound. He backed away, his hand beginning to tremble as blood dripped down the dagger onto his knuckles.

Damek brought a deadly glare to meet Taiju’s frightened gaze. “Get out of here,” he growled, in a voice so low and dangerously cold that Taiju felt a fearful shiver crawl up his spine. “I am done with you. I will have nothing else to do with you . . . you worthless excuse for a son.”

Taiju couldn’t respond for a long moment. His mouth struggled to form words, but his voice failed him. “You can’t do that,” he said dumbly. “You can’t disown me.”

“I just have.”

“No . . .” Taiju’s lips curled into a scowl. “You can’t disown me. I’ll leave on my own, like I should have ages ago.” He started to walk away, past his father, toward the house. “Why I never left, I’ll never know, but I can guarantee I won’t regret it.” His hands shook as he began to unbuckle the belt that held his swords at his hips. He turned back halfway to the house so he could look at his father as he defiantly dropped his weapon belt to the ground. “And the best part? I won’t need to rely on your shoddy work anymore.”

Damek gave only a look of sheer hatred and disbelief as Taiju stormed back toward the house.

When Taiju threw open the back door, his mother, Kade, jumped with surprise. She looked on in shock as her son came into the kitchen and began digging through drawers with bloodied hands. He slammed down his knife on the counter so he could search.

“Taiju, what are you doing?” she asked, slowly advancing toward him as he bustled around the kitchen.

“Packing,” he replied gruffly. He found a plain cheesecloth in on of the drawers and laid it out on the counter, then began rooting through cabinets for food.

“Why? Where do you think you’re going?” Kadea rested a hand on Taiju’s shoulder, gentle but firm.

“I don’t know. Somewhere that isn’t here.” After shrugging her hand off of his shoulder, Taiju found some dried jerky in another cabinet and began packing some into the cheesecloth. Afterward he added a large piece of a bread loaf and tied it all into a neat bundle.

“I thought you were practicing your fighting. Did something happen with your father?” Kadea continued to press as Taiju snatched up his packaged food and left the kitchen.

“Yeah. And I’m done with him.”

Kadea sighed. “Hon, you know he doesn’t mean anything bad when he-”

“Yes he does!” Taiju whirled around to face her, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I don’t understand why you keep ignoring it! You know how he abuses me just because I’m not like him or Nale, Mom!”

“He’s just-”

“Trying to push me to be better? He already gave me that excuse! If he was trying to do that, he wouldn’t tear up the drawings I do! He wouldn’t try to break the watches I make with Len, or bend up the knives I make on my own, or tell me that the only thing I’ll ever do is bring the kingdom down on our heads!” Taiju didn’t realize that his voice was beginning to rise. “And you wouldn’t sit there and just watch him while he does it all, Mom!”

Kadea was taken aback. “Taiju . . . why . . .” She couldn’t form a proper sentence to counter his outburst. “Running away won’t . . .”

“Well, staying here won’t help either.” Taiju replied bitterly. He went into his room and picked up his messenger bag, normally used to carry his supplies back and forth when he went around town. Now he stuffed it with his food, then snatched his sketchbook off his desk with a handful of pencils and packed them as well. “Nothing’s going to be accomplished if I stay. I’ll just suffer the abuse more, and I’m sick of it.”

Kadea gently took him by the shoulders when he tried to move toward his dresser for clothing. “Hon, you know it’s dangerous,” she said softly. Taiju gave a dismissive ‘tch’ and started to move away, but Kadea just pulled him back. “You’ll be a rogue out there. With your abilities, you know that you can’t go into cities. The king will be looking for you. Making a living will be difficult, if not impossible at your age.”

“I don’t care,” Taiju said defiantly, staring at the floor. “I’ll manage. I’ll prove him wrong.”

Kadea sighed and affectionately tried to arrange a piece of Taiju’s hair. “You don’t need to do that,” she said.

“Yeah, I do. I don’t care. I’ve been thinking about this for a couple of years, and I’ll manage.” Taiju swatted away her hand, preferring his hair as it was. “I don’t care what you say. He disowned me anyway, so if I don’t leave on my own, he’ll just do it himself. But you don’t care, do you? You’ll just sit back as always.”

Kadea took her hand back, looking hurt. Taiju took a shirt out of the dresser and started to fold it up, but he hesitated when he saw her expression.

“Mom, I just . . . I can’t stay here, alright?” He let the anger leave his voice. “Dad practically tried to kill me just a few minutes ago, and even if he hadn’t, I can’t deal with him. I . . . maybe I shouldn’t blame you, but I’m done with him. I don’t care how dangerous it’s going to be. People hide. I can too. I’ll be able to take care of myself. Nothing you say is going to change my mind, so . . . just let me go, okay?” He finished folding his shirt and put it in his bag, then pulled some other clothing from the drawer and shoved them into his bag as well. “He’ll tell you the same thing. He doesn’t want to put up with me, either. He said he’s sick of me. It’ll be easier for everyone.”

Kadea watched him quietly for a few seconds, then, without a word, walked out of the room. She came back a moment later, carrying a bundle of dark cloth.

“I suppose,” she said, “that I should give this to you now. I was going to save this for your birthday, but I finished early and it would be more helpful to you now.”

She unfolded the bundle before Taiju could make a reach for it. A long forest-green cloak tumbled from the tight folds. She sighed softly as she looked it over, while Taiju simply looked confused and unsure of what to say to the gift.

“Since your birthday’s in the winter, it seemed appropriate. And, well, if you’re going to leave, you might as well have it now.” Kadea draped the the cloak around her son’s shoulders and fastened the silver clasp at his throat. “Maybe it’s a good thing I haven’t had much else to do lately, huh?”

She sighed again. Tears were starting to well in her eyes behind her glasses. She pulled her son into a tight embrace, already knowing that she wouldn’t have the chance to do so again. He didn’t protest.

“Mom . . .”

“Somehow, this just doesn’t surprise me,” she said softly, her voice wavering with the threat of tears. “I always wondered if you’d just up and leave home . . . I guess I was right after all.”

Taiju didn’t know how to respond. All he could do was grip the pair of slacks he still held.

Eventually, he rested his forehead against her shoulder, biting the inside of his lip as a wave of sadness hit him, too.

“I guess you’re right. I know I can’t change your mind.” Kadea held Taiju out at arm’s length and forced a watery smile. “So . . . I love you. Don’t forget that. And come back to see me sometime at least, okay?”

Taiju stared at her for a long moment, not trusting himself to speak. He pulled away from his mother’s hold, shoved the rest of his clothes in his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. He started to brush past her, then paused.

“I’ll come back. Love you too,” he mumbled, hugging her briefly with one arm before hurrying out of the room. Kadea watched her son walk away in solemn silence, trying to keep her tears from falling.

Taiju made haste for the front door, knowing that if he didn’t leave quickly, his father would decide to help. He paused in the kitchen to pick up the dagger again, grimacing at the blood but sheathing it again. He could clean it later, when he was farther away from his home.

He had his hand on the doorknob when one last distraction decided to hold him back.

“Taiju? Where are you going?”

Taiju looked back at his younger brother, frowning. “I’m leaving, Nale,” he said flatly. “So you don’t have to compete with me for Dad’s affection anymore. He’s all yours.”

“But why are you going?” Nale grabbed the back of Taiju’s shirt when he tried to leave.

“Because Dad hates me.” Taiju tried not to sound bitter to the eleven-year-old, but it was extremely difficult. “Look, let me go.”

“But . . .” Nale reluctantly let go but didn’t take his eyes off Taiju. “Why would you go? That just seems . . . weak.”

Taiju rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you and Dad will get along just fine without me,” he said.

Nale frowned. “Maybe he was right all this time,” he said accusingly. “A real man wouldn’t run away.”

“Our definitions are different. If you don’t shut up right now, I’m not leaving without giving you a healthy bruise or five.” Taiju’s threats were hollow. No matter how much he had learned to dislike Nale as the years went by due to the growing similarities between him and his father, Taiju just couldn’t bring himself to harm the younger one. He had been innocent once.

Nale looked disapproving. “I don’t understand how I’m related to you,” he said.

“Neither do I. Good luck.” Taiju spun around to leave before he said something he would regret to Nale.

“Good luck.”

Unlike Taiju’s farewell, Nale’s wasn’t laced with sarcasm.

Taiju hesitated for a brief second, then continued out, closing the door with a quiet click behind him.

As he walked down the dirt road, he found a sudden onslaught of tears. He grit his teeth against them. Home was nothing, he reminded himself. There was nothing good to remember from there. Absolutely nothing.

As he walked away, and each glance over his shoulder showed the house becoming progressively smaller in the distance, Taiju felt the knot of fear and apprehension growing larger and tighter in his belly. Where would he go? Kadea was right; the king would be looking for him if he chose this life. Rogues were frowned upon by everyone outside his small town, and he knew that he was young and life would only be made more difficult by that fact.

He stopped in the middle of the road and looked back, wondering for a second if he should turn back around. Perhaps this would be a bad idea after all and he should stay at home.

He thought of what his father would say. “Just like you. You can’t even hold up on your promise to leave, could you? And now you came running home to Mommy to take care of you again. You’ll never amount to anything on your own, will you?”

Taiju scowled. He was going to prove his father wrong today. He was going to take care of himself and make a living doing what he wanted. He would dodge all the king’s watchdogs, and live out on the side of the dirt roads if he had to. He was not going to give in to what his father said yet again, even if that meant turning to a lifestyle that would get him looked down upon. He would prove his father—he would prove Damek wrong.

He pulled his cloak tighter about his shoulders and the hood over his head. As of today, he was officially a rogue.