Chapter 121
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Justin stumbled away from the scene, shaking. He felt like the insides of his mouth was made of cotton. This couldn't be. This couldn't be true, right? The adults were lying to him. Justin ran – he ran, tripping over his own two feet, feeling like how he had felt in the early days when Master took him in. Clumsy, inexperienced, and utterly useless.
Deep inside him, there was an overwhelming urge to just break down and cry. He wanted to deny everything, but somewhere within him, another part whispered that it had to be true. Would the adults really lie to him?
There was a deep, deep ache that Justin couldn't shake. He had already lost his mother. Now, his father too? But why?
Subconsciously, his feet slowed down as he saw the crowd that surrounded something in the distance. Shuddering, the boy stopped by the side of the road, clutching his mouth. His stomach was churning uneasily, and his eyes stung. His nose felt sour, but he tried hard to resist the urge to cry. It couldn't be true, right?
It couldn't be.
Justin choked back down the bile that wanted to leave his mouth, dry heaving. His lungs were not working properly, but, how could they? With the news he received, would they ever work the way he wanted them to again?
His father couldn't be dead! He just couldn't be! His father was almost as strong as Master, and that was saying something.
Again, the voice whispered to him, saying, if it was Master that killed father, he would be able to do it.
The shock was just too much for him, causing Justin to double over, clutching his stomach. He vomited, but only bile and tears left him. There was nothing left in his stomach for him to expel out.
Why? Why, why, why, why, why?
Without realizing it, Justin had been making a keening noise at the back of his throat. Hastily, he stopped it immediately, recalling Master's words about emotional compartmentalization, before shoving away the thought. This was not the time for that – could he even – could he even trust his Master if he killed his father?
Staggering, the boy made his way over to the crowd. He had to see. Even if he shattered into tiny little pieces, never to be put together again, he had to see it with his own eyes. If he ran away now, he would never have the peace of mind to sleep at night.
The sympathetic crowd parted for him once they saw who it was. Some tried to reach out to hold him back, but Justin only absentmindedly brushed them away, walking forward with steadier steps. Maybe… maybe it wasn't really his father? It could be anyone. Anyone else! Any other time than now, Justin would have been ashamed of his selfish thoughts, wishing death upon anyone else, but he was too far gone now.
The body in the middle of the crowd had been badly mutilated, but the cause of death was a single, clean stroke in the middle of the neck. Immediately, tears pricked his eyes without his permission. No. That was his Master's signature assassination move. Though it wasn't entirely uncommon within the Assassin's circles, his father had been rather powerful even by normal standards, and not just anyone could have killed him so quickly and silently.
The only thing left to recognize of his father was the necklace that he carried on his neck. It was a necklace that his father never once took off, even when he bathed or showered. It was the only thing they had left of his mother's, so his father had never been able to bear taking it off.
Legs giving out, Justin collapsed to his knees powerlessly. The tears that had stopped earlier came out afresh. His entire thought process blanked out, leaving him to wallow in his tears. Blindly, he reached out for the necklace hanging on his fa- the body's neck.
The young Wererabbit clutched it to his chest, dry heaving sobs breaking out from him. He tried to muffle it with his hand, but he only felt worse because of it. He couldn't breathe, but his father would never breathe again.
Justin didn't even startle when he felt cold, steady hands draw them into someone's arms, only burying his face in the person's neck, letting his tears flow freely. Even if he didn't know who it was, from the familiar feeling, he already knew.
It was Psyber, his aunt. His father's sister. The thought just made him cry harder as the sense of loss hit him harder than ever. The ache was more pronounced and hollower, as if something had been ripped out from his chest, never to be filled again.
"Aunt," Justin sobbed out, his voice hoarse and almost a whisper.
Psyber rocked her nephew in her arms as she tried to stay strong for him. She held back the tears that would have blurred her vision, that would have caused her nephew more distress. She could scarcely believe that he was gone. Her strong, wilful brother, who had caused her no end of grief from how casually he threw himself into harm's way, was gone.
Slowly, her grief turned into anger as she thought about who did it. It had to be Matthew. There was no one else that was strong enough, that knew her brother well enough, to do this. Her brother would have let down his guard had he seen a friendly face, allowing for this to happen.
Picking up her nephew, she ran a soothing hand down his back, walking out of the crowd with steady steps. The crowd was silent, knowing the family. Though they ached for them, they also knew when to hold back their consoling words. The grief was much too fresh for such words, the wound still open and raw, so the crowd kept their sympathy to themselves, never once blocking the two's way.
Halfway back to Psyber's house, Justin struggled, tugging on his aunt's shirt. She put him down gently, almost feeling like if she put him down too hard, her nephew would have shattered into a million pieces, never to be the same again.
"Aunt," Justin said. "I want to find Master."
Psyber hardened herself, her eyes growing hard as she stared at her vulnerable nephew. "No," she said shortly. "Look what he did to your father! Can you say that he won't do the same to you? We left you in his hands knowing that he cared for you and us, but would that man really do something like this? How could he have killed your father?"
Justin's eyes shook at her words before they hardened. "I don't think it was Master who did it. Maybe I did earlier, despite my knowledge, but I still trust him. I don't believe it! It's not him! It can't be!"
Psyber took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She struggled to look at his objectively, without her emotions in the way. She felt lost, as if a boat was lost and stranded out at sea after its anchor was obliterated.
"I don't want to believe that it was him either, but who else could it be?" Psyber said, her question as if spoken for herself instead of her nephew.
"Let's go, aunt," Justin said, surprisingly mature. "Master always left me a trail to follow him by should I ever need it, and if it really isn't him, he can tell us himself, right?"
Psyber agreed with her nephew but was inwardly feeling quite different. If it wasn't Matthew, who else could it be? However, she didn't want to break her nephew's already fragile and cracking heart without leaving him a lifeline.
It would be for the best if it really wasn't him, but if it was… Psyber would put her life on the line to end his. A life for a life. That was fair trade.
Justin shivered as he wiped the tears that were on his face. He scrubbed harder, slapping both cheeks. Now wasn't the time to break down. He could see that his aunt didn't believe him at all, but he still held faith in his Master. The man that he had known for almost all of his life wasn't this kind of person.
It was a trust that was born out of years of faith, but he held true to himself, because he didn't know what he would do if he didn't. He wasn't brave at all. He was terrified, shaking, but what scared him even more was the fact that if he believed it was really Master. If he believed it was Master that killed his father, what would Justin do?
The young boy could see himself going into hiding, honing his skills and losing his softer emotions in the process. He could see himself living for revenge, the dark emotion consuming him entirely before leaving him without even bones. He could see himself killing his Master, only to stand over his cold, lifeless body as he realized that it really hadn't been him in the first place.
Just the possibility of that happening made him shudder. Unless he heard from the man himself that he had killed his father, he would never believe otherwise.
Quickly, the two made their way out of the Hopcaper tribe as Justin tracked down the faint trails left behind.
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Justin stumbled away from the scene, shaking. He felt like the insides of his mouth was made of cotton. This couldn't be. This couldn't be true, right? The adults were lying to him. Justin ran – he ran, tripping over his own two feet, feeling like how he had felt in the early days when Master took him in. Clumsy, inexperienced, and utterly useless.
Deep inside him, there was an overwhelming urge to just break down and cry. He wanted to deny everything, but somewhere within him, another part whispered that it had to be true. Would the adults really lie to him?
There was a deep, deep ache that Justin couldn't shake. He had already lost his mother. Now, his father too? But why?
Subconsciously, his feet slowed down as he saw the crowd that surrounded something in the distance. Shuddering, the boy stopped by the side of the road, clutching his mouth. His stomach was churning uneasily, and his eyes stung. His nose felt sour, but he tried hard to resist the urge to cry. It couldn't be true, right?
It couldn't be.
Justin choked back down the bile that wanted to leave his mouth, dry heaving. His lungs were not working properly, but, how could they? With the news he received, would they ever work the way he wanted them to again?
His father couldn't be dead! He just couldn't be! His father was almost as strong as Master, and that was saying something.
Again, the voice whispered to him, saying, if it was Master that killed father, he would be able to do it.
The shock was just too much for him, causing Justin to double over, clutching his stomach. He vomited, but only bile and tears left him. There was nothing left in his stomach for him to expel out.
Why? Why, why, why, why, why?
Without realizing it, Justin had been making a keening noise at the back of his throat. Hastily, he stopped it immediately, recalling Master's words about emotional compartmentalization, before shoving away the thought. This was not the time for that – could he even – could he even trust his Master if he killed his father?
Staggering, the boy made his way over to the crowd. He had to see. Even if he shattered into tiny little pieces, never to be put together again, he had to see it with his own eyes. If he ran away now, he would never have the peace of mind to sleep at night.
The sympathetic crowd parted for him once they saw who it was. Some tried to reach out to hold him back, but Justin only absentmindedly brushed them away, walking forward with steadier steps. Maybe… maybe it wasn't really his father? It could be anyone. Anyone else! Any other time than now, Justin would have been ashamed of his selfish thoughts, wishing death upon anyone else, but he was too far gone now.
The body in the middle of the crowd had been badly mutilated, but the cause of death was a single, clean stroke in the middle of the neck. Immediately, tears pricked his eyes without his permission. No. That was his Master's signature assassination move. Though it wasn't entirely uncommon within the Assassin's circles, his father had been rather powerful even by normal standards, and not just anyone could have killed him so quickly and silently.
The only thing left to recognize of his father was the necklace that he carried on his neck. It was a necklace that his father never once took off, even when he bathed or showered. It was the only thing they had left of his mother's, so his father had never been able to bear taking it off.
Legs giving out, Justin collapsed to his knees powerlessly. The tears that had stopped earlier came out afresh. His entire thought process blanked out, leaving him to wallow in his tears. Blindly, he reached out for the necklace hanging on his fa- the body's neck.
The young Wererabbit clutched it to his chest, dry heaving sobs breaking out from him. He tried to muffle it with his hand, but he only felt worse because of it. He couldn't breathe, but his father would never breathe again.
Justin didn't even startle when he felt cold, steady hands draw them into someone's arms, only burying his face in the person's neck, letting his tears flow freely. Even if he didn't know who it was, from the familiar feeling, he already knew.
It was Psyber, his aunt. His father's sister. The thought just made him cry harder as the sense of loss hit him harder than ever. The ache was more pronounced and hollower, as if something had been ripped out from his chest, never to be filled again.
"Aunt," Justin sobbed out, his voice hoarse and almost a whisper.
Psyber rocked her nephew in her arms as she tried to stay strong for him. She held back the tears that would have blurred her vision, that would have caused her nephew more distress. She could scarcely believe that he was gone. Her strong, wilful brother, who had caused her no end of grief from how casually he threw himself into harm's way, was gone.
Slowly, her grief turned into anger as she thought about who did it. It had to be Matthew. There was no one else that was strong enough, that knew her brother well enough, to do this. Her brother would have let down his guard had he seen a friendly face, allowing for this to happen.
Picking up her nephew, she ran a soothing hand down his back, walking out of the crowd with steady steps. The crowd was silent, knowing the family. Though they ached for them, they also knew when to hold back their consoling words. The grief was much too fresh for such words, the wound still open and raw, so the crowd kept their sympathy to themselves, never once blocking the two's way.
Halfway back to Psyber's house, Justin struggled, tugging on his aunt's shirt. She put him down gently, almost feeling like if she put him down too hard, her nephew would have shattered into a million pieces, never to be the same again.
"Aunt," Justin said. "I want to find Master."
Psyber hardened herself, her eyes growing hard as she stared at her vulnerable nephew. "No," she said shortly. "Look what he did to your father! Can you say that he won't do the same to you? We left you in his hands knowing that he cared for you and us, but would that man really do something like this? How could he have killed your father?"
Justin's eyes shook at her words before they hardened. "I don't think it was Master who did it. Maybe I did earlier, despite my knowledge, but I still trust him. I don't believe it! It's not him! It can't be!"
Psyber took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She struggled to look at his objectively, without her emotions in the way. She felt lost, as if a boat was lost and stranded out at sea after its anchor was obliterated.
"I don't want to believe that it was him either, but who else could it be?" Psyber said, her question as if spoken for herself instead of her nephew.
"Let's go, aunt," Justin said, surprisingly mature. "Master always left me a trail to follow him by should I ever need it, and if it really isn't him, he can tell us himself, right?"
Psyber agreed with her nephew but was inwardly feeling quite different. If it wasn't Matthew, who else could it be? However, she didn't want to break her nephew's already fragile and cracking heart without leaving him a lifeline.
It would be for the best if it really wasn't him, but if it was… Psyber would put her life on the line to end his. A life for a life. That was fair trade.
Justin shivered as he wiped the tears that were on his face. He scrubbed harder, slapping both cheeks. Now wasn't the time to break down. He could see that his aunt didn't believe him at all, but he still held faith in his Master. The man that he had known for almost all of his life wasn't this kind of person.
It was a trust that was born out of years of faith, but he held true to himself, because he didn't know what he would do if he didn't. He wasn't brave at all. He was terrified, shaking, but what scared him even more was the fact that if he believed it was really Master. If he believed it was Master that killed his father, what would Justin do?
The young boy could see himself going into hiding, honing his skills and losing his softer emotions in the process. He could see himself living for revenge, the dark emotion consuming him entirely before leaving him without even bones. He could see himself killing his Master, only to stand over his cold, lifeless body as he realized that it really hadn't been him in the first place.
Just the possibility of that happening made him shudder. Unless he heard from the man himself that he had killed his father, he would never believe otherwise.
Quickly, the two made their way out of the Hopcaper tribe as Justin tracked down the faint trails left behind.
Justin stumbled away from the scene, shaking. He felt like the insides of his mouth was made of cotton. This couldn't be. This couldn't be true, right? The adults were lying to him. Justin ran he ran, tripping over his own two feet, feeling like how he had felt in the early days when Master took him in. Clumsy, inexperienced, and utterly useless.Deep inside him, there was an overwhelming urge to just break down and cry. He wanted to deny everything, but somewhere within him, another part whispered that it had to be true. Would the adults really lie to him?There was a deep, deep ache that Justin couldn't shake. He had already lost his mother. Now, his father too? But why?Subconsciously, his feet slowed down as he saw the crowd that surrounded something in the distance. Shuddering, the boy stopped by the side of the road, clutching his mouth. His stomach was churning uneasily, and his eyes stung. His nose felt sour, but he tried hard to resist the urge to cry. It couldn't be true, right?It couldn't be.Justin choked back down the bile that wanted to leave his mouth, dry heaving. His lungs were not working properly, but, how could they? With the news he received, would they ever work the way he wanted them to again?His father couldn't be dead! He just couldn't be! His father was almost as strong as Master, and that was saying something.Again, the voice whispered to him, saying, if it was Master that killed father, he would be able to do it.The shock was just too much for him, causing Justin to double over, clutching his stomach. He vomited, but only bile and tears left him. There was nothing left in his stomach for him to expel out.Why? Why, why, why, why, why?Without realizing it, Justin had been making a keening noise at the back of his throat. Hastily, he stopped it immediately, recalling Master's words about emotional compartmentalization, before shoving away the thought. This was not the time for that could he even could he even trust his Master if he killed his father?Staggering, the boy made his way over to the crowd. He had to see. Even if he shattered into tiny little pieces, never to be put together again, he had to see it with his own eyes. If he ran away now, he would never have the peace of mind to sleep at night.The sympathetic crowd parted for him once they saw who it was. Some tried to reach out to hold him back, but Justin only absentmindedly brushed them away, walking forward with steadier steps. Maybe maybe it wasn't really his father? It could be anyone. Anyone else! Any other time than now, Justin would have been ashamed of his selfish thoughts, wishing death upon anyone else, but he was too far gone now.The body in the middle of the crowd had been badly mutilated, but the cause of death was a single, clean stroke in the middle of the neck. Immediately, tears pricked his eyes without his permission. No. That was his Master's signature assassination move. Though it wasn't entirely uncommon within the Assassin's circles, his father had been rather powerful even by normal standards, and not just anyone could have killed him so quickly and silently.The only thing left to recognize of his father was the necklace that he carried on his neck. It was a necklace that his father never once took off, even when he bathed or showered. It was the only thing they had left of his mother's, so his father had never been able to bear taking it off.Legs giving out, Justin collapsed to his knees powerlessly. The tears that had stopped earlier came out afresh. His entire thought process blanked out, leaving him to wallow in his tears. Blindly, he reached out for the necklace hanging on his fa- the body's neck.The young Wererabbit clutched it to his chest, dry heaving sobs breaking out from him. He tried to muffle it with his hand, but he only felt worse because of it. He couldn't breathe, but his father would never breathe again.Justin didn't even startle when he felt cold, steady hands draw them into someone's arms, only burying his face in the person's neck, letting his tears flow freely. Even if he didn't know who it was, from the familiar feeling, he already knew.It was Psyber, his aunt. His father's sister. The thought just made him cry harder as the sense of loss hit him harder than ever. The ache was more pronounced and hollower, as if something had been ripped out from his chest, never to be filled again."Aunt," Justin sobbed out, his voice hoarse and almost a whisper.Psyber rocked her nephew in her arms as she tried to stay strong for him. She held back the tears that would have blurred her vision, that would have caused her nephew more distress. She could scarcely believe that he was gone. Her strong, wilful brother, who had caused her no end of grief from how casually he threw himself into harm's way, was gone.Slowly, her grief turned into anger as she thought about who did it. It had to be Matthew. There was no one else that was strong enough, that knew her brother well enough, to do this. Her brother would have let down his guard had he seen a friendly face, allowing for this to happen.Picking up her nephew, she ran a soothing hand down his back, walking out of the crowd with steady steps. The crowd was silent, knowing the family. Though they ached for them, they also knew when to hold back their consoling words. The grief was much too fresh for such words, the wound still open and raw, so the crowd kept their sympathy to themselves, never once blocking the two's way.Halfway back to Psyber's house, Justin struggled, tugging on his aunt's shirt. She put him down gently, almost feeling like if she put him down too hard, her nephew would have shattered into a million pieces, never to be the same again."Aunt," Justin said. "I want to find Master."Psyber hardened herself, her eyes growing hard as she stared at her vulnerable nephew. "No," she said shortly. "Look what he did to your father! Can you say that he won't do the same to you? We left you in his hands knowing that he cared for you and us, but would that man really do something like this? How could he have killed your father?"Justin's eyes shook at her words before they hardened. "I don't think it was Master who did it. Maybe I did earlier, despite my knowledge, but I still trust him. I don't believe it! It's not him! It can't be!"Psyber took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She struggled to look at his objectively, without her emotions in the way. She felt lost, as if a boat was lost and stranded out at sea after its anchor was obliterated."I don't want to believe that it was him either, but who else could it be?" Psyber said, her question as if spoken for herself instead of her nephew."Let's go, aunt," Justin said, surprisingly mature. "Master always left me a trail to follow him by should I ever need it, and if it really isn't him, he can tell us himself, right?"Psyber agreed with her nephew but was inwardly feeling quite different. If it wasn't Matthew, who else could it be? However, she didn't want to break her nephew's already fragile and cracking heart without leaving him a lifeline.It would be for the best if it really wasn't him, but if it was Psyber would put her life on the line to end his. A life for a life. That was fair trade.Justin shivered as he wiped the tears that were on his face. He scrubbed harder, slapping both cheeks. Now wasn't the time to break down. He could see that his aunt didn't believe him at all, but he still held faith in his Master. The man that he had known for almost all of his life wasn't this kind of person.It was a trust that was born out of years of faith, but he held true to himself, because he didn't know what he would do if he didn't. He wasn't brave at all. He was terrified, shaking, but what scared him even more was the fact that if he believed it was really Master. If he believed it was Master that killed his father, what would Justin do?The young boy could see himself going into hiding, honing his skills and losing his softer emotions in the process. He could see himself living for revenge, the dark emotion consuming him entirely before leaving him without even bones. He could see himself killing his Master, only to stand over his cold, lifeless body as he realized that it really hadn't been him in the first place.Just the possibility of that happening made him shudder. Unless he heard from the man himself that he had killed his father, he would never believe otherwise.Quickly, the two made their way out of the Hopcaper tribe as Justin tracked down the faint trails left behind.
