Strength to Let Go

Chapter One-2

The next place I stopped at was a video game arcade. I chose a first-person shooter and emptied my guns into the enemies coming at me for a full hour, seeing their bodies explode as blood stained my vision. It did help a little, taming the violence that was slowly creeping through my soul. I did indeed want someone to pay. I wanted to punch and bite and crush bones. Unfortunately, I had no target, no one I could take it out on to feel avenged. I was angry at Kieran and Kayden for having the heart to leave me, but that was nothing compared to the blind fury directed at myself. I had failed. I hadn’t been enough, I hadn’t managed to become a good mate and husband. I had failed at keeping them interested in me. I’d had the most perfect males in the universe for a little over six months, I had sworn my undying love in front of all worlds, humans, werewolves, fae, the Gods ruling over us. But I hadn’t managed to keep them happy, to give them what they wanted. So they’d stopped wanting me.

With my eyes stinging from being focused on the monitor for too long and my head a mess, I stepped out of the arcade and wandered around a few times until I retraced my way through the maze of side streets and back entrances to reach the maid café I was hunting. Smiling, subdued girls wearing maid costumes greeted me at the entrance, bowing deeply and modulating their sing-song voices to win my favors. One of them recognized me though and mumbled something about bringing down the charm a notch.

“Kirishima-sama, your favorite table is ready for you,” she said, walking in front of me to what was indeed my favorite spot in the café. It was almost always empty because it was so isolated. I chatted with her for a bit, she said they’d missed my patronage and other pleasant nothings. I knew her though, and outside of this job, she was the biggest tomboy I’d ever met. She was also an incredible martial artist who used to go to the same dojo I did when I was in Tokyo. The girl leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “You owe me, senpai. I challenged you to kumite last time you came to the dojo. Or are you afraid a girl can take you down?”

I laughed so hard my belly hurt. I honestly did not think I had it in me to laugh like that, what with everything going to hell around me, but this pretty girl wearing doll-like make-up and a maid uniform telling me I owed her a match on the dojo mat was just too funny to resist. “Fair enough, Makoto-san. I’ll let Sensei know ahead of time if I come to the dojo. Don’t fret, you’ll have a chance to settle your score with me.”

A few minutes later, she was back with my usual. Strong coffee, a bottle of water, and a generous portion of mochi. I only ever came here to indulge in devouring sweet, divine, I-can’t-believe-I-don’t-have-diabetes-yet amounts of mochi. I polished my plate in no time, washing it all down with most of my water, then pulled the coffee closer and sipped it slowly, watching the interactions in the café. The lovely young maids buzzing around the tables, smiling and paying compliments to the customers, almost exclusively men, each one drooling all over the girls. It was fun to watch, especially earlier in the afternoon when high school boys would come in to spend most of their allowance just to ogle the maids.

I had never been the type to go looking for simulated adoration. There were butler cafes, the male versions of the maid cafes, and there were always host clubs with gay hosts, but that was never something I’d gotten into. All my life, I’d had that undeserved and sometimes very fake adoration from members of my tribe. It was genuine for almost all werewolves in Japan, I was the second son of their Alpha and the future general after all. The Chinese clans, on the other hand, those were sweet and cunning and always fake, shouting their praise from the top of the mountains while viciously plotting my family’s demise. All the other countries under our dominion with their respective clans? They couldn’t care less. They only made their occasional demands to get something in return for doing their duty. Dragons of the Fang standard setup.

After a second cup of coffee and more people-watching, I settled my bill and left a very generous tip for my future opponent. I stepped outside again, finding my way to the heart of Akihabara. The glow of all the colorful lights seemed a bit warmer and a small smile curved my lips. I took step after step, looking left and right and making mental notes of all the stuff I would need to get to catch up on my favorite shows and manga series.

I wasn’t really looking where I was going, and I bumped into someone. They got pushed way back, while I moved slightly. It happened to a werewolf, you were used to being pounced on and knew how to hold your own, relying on nothing more than muscle memory. The apologies, very formal, went out of my mouth before I actually saw who it was. When I did, I froze. I didn’t know him, but he was a cosplayer dressed up as Luka Crosszeria, a manga and anime character. A demon who was actually a hero. Tall, dark, menacing, and totally devoted to his lover. Kieran and I had had plenty of conversations about him, mostly me begging for him to try dressing up like him. My dark prince and Luka always seemed to remind me of the other.

Unable to move or say anything else, I watched as he said it was all fine and walked away, smiling at the little incident. I stood there, in the middle of the busy street, with people swarming around me, trapped in memories I did not want to relive. I shook my head and turned on my heel, getting out of the crowds as fast as I could and rushing to get home.

When I got to my apartment, I wasn’t feeling any better. I was restless and hurting and angry as f**k and their mixed scents in my place weren’t doing me any favors. I fumbled with the backpack I had dropped on the floor of my living room, trying to find my phone. I was greeted by a dozen or more messages from Vicks, one of my twin’s mates. Since she had mated my brother she had this weird connection to me too and could feel whenever I was experiencing strong emotions for an extended period. I assumed everything that had happened since yesterday would qualify for that. I sent a quick “I’ll be fine” type of reply to stop her from harassing me and went through my contacts.

Even if I hadn’t called that particular number in a couple of months, it was still at the top of my favorites list. He was my best friend since childhood, so it made sense I’d call him more than anyone else. It just hit me then that I’d been so lost in my own life, I barely had time to catch up with him or my family unless something critical was going on. I pressed the call button and plastered the phone to my ear, pacing around the room as it rang a few times.

“Come on, Blake, f*****g pick up!” I hung up and tried again. I really needed to talk to my best friend right now. It rang twice and went straight to voicemail. Hearing Blake’s voice brought tears to my eyes and something snapped inside of me.

“Blake, I wish you’d have picked up the phone.” I laughed softly, shaking my head. “It’s funny, I think this is the first time I call you and you don’t pick up. Either way... thanks for being my friend, chibi. I... I don’t....” I lowered the hand that was holding my phone and let my head fall back, taking a few deep breaths. “Blakey, tell everyone I love them and... yeah, those who know me, really know me, will understand. Sayonara, chibi-tan.”

I hung up and let the rage take over. I turned around at impossible speed and threw the phone with a loud roar. It hit the wall and shattered into a million pieces. I was crying. I knew because I could feel the heaves and tears, but the crushing pain was battling with the anger taking over my mind. I had lost my soul and my reason to live when I’d lost Kieran and Kayden. What was left of me was nothing more than the warrior inside. A true samurai would not waste away, waiting for death to claim him at the end of a miserable life. He’d die in battle, an honorable death his final legacy.

My twin, Shishou, my co-beta, Ren, my sister, even Blake... they’d get it, they’d explain it properly to my children. They probably won’t understand, just like I hadn’t when my parents had left us. I prayed that unlike their father, they would never get to a point in life where they’d understand this decision of mine. It meant they’d go through a world of pain and that was the last thing I wanted for Ryuu and Kimmie.

I took off everything but my jeans. No point in having anything else on. Werewolf rules were sometimes mind-boggling. You could shift into your wolf and back, and you always kept one item of clothing. The picks were random and you might be left in nothing but your underwear. Or keep a tight top and nothing else to cover your lower body. It was wise to choose your own clothes for the occasion. I then promptly flashed to the weapons room in the Alpha mansion, right in front of the wall display of my father’s katana. I kneeled before it, my legs spread, and then bowed deeply. Getting up, I closed the small distance between me and my objective and removed the katana. I glanced at the wakizashi he always used to wear with his katana. Double sword, traditional samurai sign. I decided I’d use them both, just as he had in his final battle. I unsheathed the two blades and adjusted my grip. With a final bow, I flashed out.

When I took form at my destination, a small shiver coursed through my body. It was pretty cold out here. Well, northern mountains in Mongolia weren’t known for their excessive heat in the middle of autumn.

I had chosen Siberian Killer territory, the fastest way to pick a fight with other werewolves. The one rule they had was any shifter that stepped foot on their territory would be killed. Here I was, standing tall, all focused, muscles bulging under the strain and excitement of an impending battle, taunting whoever was nearby.

While the Siberian Killers had control of most of the former Soviet Union and some Middle Eastern regions, it was the Mongolian wolves that ruled them all. I was pretty much attacking their royalty. Siberian Killers only recognized power. To show off their power, the Mongolians were going to hit me with everything they had, just to prove to their tribe they could rule over them.