In the quiet countryside of our youth, life unfolded in simplicity and joy. My mother, Aya, was my constant companion, filling our days with warmth and love. Though my father had passed away early in my childhood, his memory lived on in the stories my mother shared with me.
One day, as we basked in the tranquility of our home, a question tugged at my young mind. "Mama," I began, my curiosity sparked by the unique silver strands that adorned our heads, "why is our hair different from everyone else's? And why do we keep it hidden?"
Aya's smile faltered briefly, a hint of sorrow flashing in her eyes before she composed herself with a gentle sigh. "Our hair is a family legacy, Sylvan," she explained, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "It's passed down through generations, a cherished gift from our ancestors. Even your grandparents had the same silvery locks."
I listened in awe, but soon, another question surfaced. "Grandparents? Where are they, Mama? And why haven't I ever met them?"
A shadow crossed Aya's features at the mention of her parents, memories flickering behind her eyes. Embracing me tenderly, she spoke with a bittersweet smile, "They reside in the far east, my dear. But fret not, for one day, when you're older, I promise to take you to meet them."
Hope blossomed within me at the thought of meeting my grandparents, and with a beaming smile, I made a solemn vow. "It's a promise, Mama," I declared, reaching out to intertwine my pinky with hers.
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she sealed our pact, her voice a tender whisper, "Yes, my beautiful boy. It's a promise."
---
As the memories of my childhood faded, darkness enveloped my senses. I found myself lying on the cold, hard ground, surrounded by a pool of crimson blood. A figure stood over me, a malicious grin stretching across his face as he brandished a gleaming sword.
My mother, Aya, lay nearby, her voice pleading with the man to spare me from harm. But his laughter echoed in the air, drowning out her desperate pleas.
In a haze of pain and confusion, I felt rage boiling within me. With gritted teeth, I vowed to avenge my mother's suffering, to bring justice to the one who dared to harm us.
As consciousness slipped away, I whispered a promise to myself, a vow forged in the fires of determination. "I'll definitely kill you," I muttered, my resolve echoing in the darkness.