CHAPTER 1 - The Forsaken Heir (1)

"Ichiro, what are you doing out here? Go back to your room," his uncle Hiroshi's cold voice sliced through the night air. Ichiro's shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the moonlit garden. He had often sought solace in its serene beauty, a fleeting escape from the suffocating atmosphere of the main house.

"My gosh, what should we do?"

"Just leave him be," the head maid said and ordered the servants back to their respective works.

Ichiro's heart sank as he heard their dismissive words. He was used to being ignored, to being treated as an inconvenience. Since the illness had befallen his grandparents and his uncle had seized control, his life had turned into a nightmare. He was no longer the cherished child, the promising heir; he was an unwanted burden.

A bitter wind ruffled his hair as Ichiro clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. The voices of his family members echoed in his mind, the venomous words that had seeped into his soul like poison.

"Ichiro, you should know your place," his aunt Ayumi had spat at him during a family gathering, her disdainful eyes narrowing on him.

"You're such a curse, our family has fallen because of you," his cousin Kenta had sneered, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.

"My poor sister died because of you," his uncle Hiroshi had shouted in a fit of rage, the pain of Akane's mysterious death still raw after all these years.

"A son of a bastard," the phrase had been whispered by servants, their pity barely concealed behind their hushed tones.

Ichiro's gaze drifted to the sky, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He was the living embodiment of his mother's secret, the hidden truth that had shattered the family's façade of unity and power. The legacy of his mother's love had become a curse he could never escape.

Tears welled up in Ichiro's eyes as he fought to suppress his anger and sadness. He had endured years of mistreatment, of being stripped of his dignity and self-worth. But despite the darkness that enveloped him, a spark of determination ignited within his heart. He refused to let his family's prejudice define his worth.

As Ichiro stood there, in the moonlit garden that had witnessed his pain, he made a silent vow to himself. He would rise above the cruelty and reclaim his place in the Takahashi family. He would prove that he was not a curse, but a testament to the love his mother had once shared with someone, somewhere. With each tear that fell, he shed the weight of their hurtful words, his spirit growing stronger in the face of adversity.

Little did they know, Ichiro Takahashi was not a cursed child; he was a survivor, a symbol of resilience, and a testament to the power of love in the face of prejudice.

But who would have thought, that the beloved daughter of the Takahashi family would one day return from the battlefield pregnant. Lady Akane Takahashi, known for her extraordinary talents and ethereal beauty, had been a beacon of hope and inspiration to all. Her powers had been revered, her elegance admired, and her heart's desires were thought to be far from the harshness of the battlefield.

When news of her pregnancy reached the family, it was met with shock and confusion. Lady Akane had never spoken of a suitor or a lover, and the child she carried was a testament to a love shrouded in secrecy. She bore the weight of her choices with grace, refusing to divulge the identity of the child's father. Instead, she held onto her conviction that the child was the embodiment of a love too pure to be constrained by societal expectations.

As the months passed and her pregnancy became more apparent, the whispers grew louder. The once-respected Lady Akane was now subjected to sidelong glances and hushed conversations. Some questioned her virtue, while others speculated on the lineage of the child. Yet, through it all, Lady Akane stood tall, her gaze unwavering, her love unshaken.

When the day of Ichiro's birth arrived, it was as though fate itself held its breath. The Takahashi family was both captivated and apprehensive, unsure of what the future held for this child who carried the weight of his mother's choices. The child's arrival was met with a mixture of awe and unease, a delicate balance between acceptance and uncertainty.

As Ichiro grew, his mother's absence became a shadow that loomed over him. The Takahashi family, once united in power, found itself divided by whispers and judgments. Lady Akane's untimely death only fueled the speculation surrounding Ichiro's birth, leaving him vulnerable to the prejudice of those who sought to diminish his worth.

Since Akane's parents love her so much, both elders loved the child despite not knowing who the father is. He was treated like a prince but that was only for a few years until his grandfather became ill and had to leave the main house with his grandmother into a secluded area to recover and rest.

It was from that day that Ichiro's life took a somber turn. The departure of his grandparents left a void that was swiftly filled by his uncle Hiroshi's oppressive rule. The once cheerful halls of the Takahashi mansion grew colder as Hiroshi's thirst for power intensified. With his grandparents' absence, Ichiro's protection crumbled, and he found himself at the mercy of his uncle's wrath.

The years that followed were marked by a darkness that seemed impenetrable. Ichiro's privileged status as a child of the Takahashi family crumbled into dust, replaced by a relentless cycle of abuse and mistreatment. He was stripped of his dignity, reduced to a mere pawn in Hiroshi's quest for control.

Ichiro's days became a painful blur of servitude and suffering. He was subjected to grueling tasks and demeaning chores, his spirit crushed under the weight of his uncle's cruelty. The bruises from the physical beatings were matched only by the scars left by the cutting words that Hiroshi hurled at him like daggers.

"You, Ichiro, where's my money?" a cold voice sneered from behind him. Ichiro's heart sank as he recognized the voice of Kaito, a student who had a reputation for his connections and bullying tendencies.

Ichiro turned to find Kaito flanked by his companions, Ryu and Sora. They were like vultures, always ready to swoop down on their prey. His breath caught in his throat as the trio confronted him in a dimly lit hallway.

"What do you expect from a bastard son?" Ryu chimed in, a cruel smile tugging at his lips. The words were like a punch to the gut, each one a reminder of the whispers and judgments he had endured his entire life.

Ichiro's eyes flickered with a mixture of fear and defiance. He knew he had no chance against the trio's influence, but something within him refused to bow down. He took a deep breath, willing himself to remain strong.

"Leave me alone," he managed to reply, his voice steady despite the tremor in his heart.

Sora rolled her eyes, her impatience clear. "Can you guys hurry it up? We'll be late if we keep messing around."

Then, unexpectedly, a voice cut through the tense air. "You lot, hurry up to your class." It was Mr. Yamaguchi, a teacher who had witnessed the bullying unfold before his eyes. Ichiro's hope flickered as he looked at the teacher, his heart pounding with a mixture of relief and anticipation.

But to his dismay, Mr. Yamaguchi's intervention was not what he had hoped for. The teacher's words were sharp and demanding, but they were directed at Ichiro. "You, hurry up to your class," he shouted, his gaze not even acknowledging the bullies. With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Ichiro standing there, feeling both unseen and dismissed.

As the bullies retreated, Ichiro's grip on his belongings tightened. He took a deep breath, his pride warring with his desire to avoid further confrontation. Slowly, he picked up his fallen things, his fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and frustration. The teacher's dismissal stung deeply, a betrayal of the trust Ichiro had hoped to find within the school's walls.

His footsteps echoed in the hallway as he hurried to his class. But as he stepped into the room, the atmosphere shifted. The eyes of his classmates were on him, their judgment evident in their smirks and mocking whispers. Ichiro's cheeks flushed as he made his way to his seat, feeling like a spotlight was trained on him.

The teacher's voice broke through the uncomfortable silence. "Ichiro, you're late again," he said, his tone a mix of annoyance and indifference. The weight of the room's attention bore down on Ichiro as he mumbled an apology and tried to sink into his seat, wishing he could disappear.

The teacher's gaze lingered on him for a moment, but any hope of intervention or understanding was quickly shattered. "Let's not waste any more time. Go to your seat so we can start the class," he said curtly, his words brushing aside the turmoil Ichiro felt inside.

Throughout the class, Ichiro's mind was a whirlwind of emotions. The sense of isolation, the humiliation of being mocked, and the bitter disappointment in his teacher's indifference gnawed at him. He couldn't help but feel like an outsider in a world that was meant to be his sanctuary.