“Why does it matter?”
“A son must avenge his father. A tradition of the tribe.” Blade answered. “Back to the story.
The boy followed the army men back to Europe, hiding in their things. He was discovered and
kicked out onto the streets, along with his dagger. Someone found him and named him after the
dagger he was holding.”
“That’s you, isn’t it? That’s why you have a weird name, Blade.”
Blade ignored him and continued. “The people mistook him as an imbecile because he couldn’t
understand a word they were saying. He decided to cope with it and pretend to be one too when
he was sent to live with the other imbeciles. Meanwhile, he learned what he wanted to know. It
was the Europeans who made the guns while it was the Japanese he saw killing. He wanted to kill
them off where his father once lived, even if it was just some
representatives. He got his chance when he was picked to go on a trip to China and the plane
crashed. He managed to kill two of them and bury another two in the sand……”
“Wait…so now…?”
“Yes.” Blade’s dull eyes suddenly gleamed and he wore an evil grin on his face. He took out
the thing that gave him his name and raised it up high…
The next day the team found the Japanese man holding a dagger stuck in his stomach. They
thought he killed himself. “He might have felt insulted for being rescued by some Chinese. The
Japanese are so proud of themselves.” One of them said.
“Yeah. What a fuss on race.” The other one agreed.
