Rapture

“Probably,” replied the second voice, laughing. “You hardly ever see him and when you do, he’s wearing that stupid sweatshirt with the hood always pulled up. It’s always the same one, too. Doesn’t he have any others?”

The others laughed. Sam felt something shrink inside. He didn’t really care what he looked like, but clearly it was important to these boys and so maybe he should take more notice. It was things like this — other than his heritage — that made him different. Maybe if he wasn’t so unusual, these boys would be friends with him.

There was something about their tone too that was starting to upset him. They were laughing at him and he didn’t like it.

“Yeah,” said the third voice, “and why doesn’t he go to school? He must be retarded. Maybe he goes to a special school for retards.”

All three laughed again, and a tight core of anger began to unfold its wings in Sam’s stomach.

“So what makes you think this is his?” asked the first voice.

“Who else?” said the second. “It’s either his or that Japanese guy’s. No-one else in town plays around with this sort of stuff.”

“We’d better get back,” said the first voice. “I told Mom we’d be back before dark. We’re gonna be late.”

“Wait,” said the third voice. “Let’s leave him a surprise.”

“What do you mean?” asked the first voice.

“Let’s knock over some of his poles.”

Sam surged to his feet at this suggestion, his knuckles turning white around the shaft of the shinai. Anger coursed through him, burst into flight, anger that yearned to be satisfied with violence. His whole body trembled with it. Something whispered inside him then — a voice he wasn’t entirely sure was his own but one he claimed regardless. Whose voice could it be but his own? The voice would only be satisfied with bloodshed — with the blood of these boys.

Kill them. Kill them now. No-one will know. No-one need ever know. Kill them out here amongst the rocks and the cold and the snow and the darkness and their bodies will never be found. Not ever. You won’t get caught. You can do it. You want to do it. DO IT!

Sam felt his body begin to move towards the boys, eager to satisfy the voice inside his head. He watched the arm clutching the shinai raise up of its own volition. He felt violence start to boil in his veins, all too keen to be unleashed.

A rock under the heel of one sneaker shifted. The scraping noise was easily heard in the still night air of the gully. In that one moment, it was like a spell had broken. The incredible rage he felt suddenly drained away like water as if it hadn’t existed, to be replaced with a kind of numbness.

He shook his head to clear it, confused. Sure, it was like him to get angry, but not to the extent of really wanting to kill others. And he had felt like killing them. Really wanted to. He could still almost taste that desire. It was like someone else or even an unknown part of him had for one moment been in control of his mind and body. Strange.

He cursed silently. He had let his anger triumph once again — something that both he and Hikari had been working hard to suppress. It was too late though; the damage had been done and he swore again, aloud this time.

There was silence in the gully. Then: “What was that?” asked the third voice.

“I don’t know,” confessed the second voice, and Sam’s keen hearing detected uneasiness in it. The boy was scared.

“Let’s go,” said the first voice again. “We’re gonna be in enough trouble as it is.”

The other two made grumbling noises but Sam could tell that they’d lost the urge for vandalism. He heard them move towards him. He edged his body back even further into the darkness so that he became just another patch of darker shadow. They passed by him, so close that if he wished, he could have reached out and touched them. He didn’t though. His temper was still not under control and he didn’t trust himself.

They moved out of the gully, following the path that Sam took into it. Probably more by good luck than any great outdoor skill. Sam followed them, taking care not to make any noise, treating it as an exercise set by Hikari. His rage subsided as he watched them clumsily navigate the rocks along the path.

He recognized them now, of course. Three boys he had seen around Jacob’s Ladder. Not spoken to though.

That would never do, he thought bitterly. They might discover what he was and then, of course, all hell would break loose. In the darkness, his mouth quirked into a smile at his own joke.

Eventually, they made it back to the main path. Sam, to his surprise, was slightly relieved. If the boys had got lost, he would’ve felt compelled to help them. And in his current state of mind, helping them was the last thing he felt like doing.

He shadowed them all the way back to Jacob’s Ladder, listening to their easy banter with faint stirrings of jealousy. Part of him wanted to join in with the conversation, despite what the boys had said earlier. Aimi was his friend but Sam realized that what he really wanted — what he would love to have — was some male friends.

He made sure they got home safely, smiling when he heard the sounds of adult voices chastising the late arrivals. He never had that problem. Then again, they had friends to commiserate with. Perhaps one day, he might have some friends of his own.

Dream on, he told himself.

Wrapping the darkness around him like a cloak, he headed for home.

The fire was lit when he got home. A welcome blast of warm air washed over him as he entered through the back door. Aimi was setting the table for dinner. She looked up when she heard the door open and favoured him with a smile. Some of the misery drained from him and he smiled back, dropping his shinai into the brass stand by the door.

No words were exchanged, but she knew his moods by now. He was not much given to talking at the best of times and tonight certainly hadn’t been one of those. Even at the age of six, Aimi possessed far more wisdom and poise than girls twice her age. He watched as she fussed around the table, setting out chopsticks and napkins. Hikari was no-where to be seen, so Sam took himself off to the bathroom to clean up before supper.

Drying his hands, he heard the sounds of two adult male voices talking in the hall. One was Hikari. The other sounded familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. In the bathroom mirror, he quickly adjusted his cap. This was a special occasion. They rarely had guests. He was torn between nervousness and curiosity.

When he walked back into the dining room, he found their guest seated at the table. Sam stopped and just stared, still several yards from the table, uncertain what to do. Socialising was not something he was practised in or comfortable with.

The man was large and dressed in a black suit with a white collar. A priest. Sam had seen him around the town before but had never spoken to him. The priest had even been on their porch, talking with Hikari. Feeling like a criminal, Sam had watched and listened to them many times but had never been invited to join their conversations. This was the first time the man had ever set foot in the house.

Something wasn’t right.

Hikari was helping Aimi in the adjoining kitchen. Both entered carrying bowls of steaming miso soup. Hikari set the soup down and gently touched Sam’s arm. It was a gesture that Hikari had used many times with both him and Aimi. It said ‘Welcome home. I’ve missed you. There is nothing to fear here.’

Immediately, Sam relaxed slightly, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. If Hikari said this man was safe, then safe he was. Hikari steered him towards the table. Sam was almost as tall as his master and he knew he was much stronger, but the hand on his arm propelled him forward with irresistible power.

The priest rose as the introductions were made.

“Father Rainey, this is my ward, Sam.” Hikari was all smiles. Clearly, he thought this an auspicious occasion. Father Rainey, on the other hand, did not look so enthusiastic.

Sam watched him carefully. Beneath the beard, Father Rainey wore a smile, but it was forced. One of Sam’s favourite pastimes was watching people on the street below from his upstairs bedroom window. It was a way to interact with others when all other interaction was denied. He had seen some people cross the street to avoid those who they clearly did not want to encounter. When they had to, when the encounter was inevitable, they smiled the smile of someone who was suffering inside — the same smile Father Rainey was offering Sam now.

The priest extended his hand, but Sam could tell he did not want to. He was doing it merely to be polite so as