Chapter 5 - Chapter 5

The next morning, Kuro woke up just before dawn; a rare occurrence for him. He put on his glasses and looked out the window at the rising sun. Suddenly, all the emotions from that night came rushing back: his excitement of being the clan leader, the bliss of acceptance...and Django’s and Nagasaki’s worries.
As he continued to stare out the window, he began to wonder the same thing. What had happened to him? What he’d done to Siam...He gave himself a mental shake; he was being stupid. He would have to be tougher to be the clan leader. He dressed and left the inn, Django was still snoring in his bed, but as Nagasaki got out of bed, she looked out the window, watched as Kuro passed by the inn, and so many worries for him that she could not fathom in her mind; why was he acting like this? What has become of him? Was this Kuro? Both she and Django knew that their best friend had changed. Deciding not to dwell on the subject, she went back to bed and had quickly fell asleep.
Kuro decided to take a walk to the hut that Butchie had mentioned. As he passed people in the streets, many of them gave him a thumbs-up; he shooed them away and told them to keep quiet. All the while, he cycled through many different things for the clan; symbols, outfits, and other things.
What Butchie called a hut, Kuro called a manor; it was larger than any house he’d ever seen before. The exterior was a simple gray with a flat roof. When Kuro stepped inside, it was far from ordinary; there were rooms lining the wall’s edges, while the center was reminiscent of a theater, complete with a large wooden stage at the far end. As Kuro walked through it, he had to climb over dusty, overturned chairs and boxes to reach the stage itself. The room felt dark and desolate, as if something wonderful and horrible had happened here.
When Kuro did reach the stage, he stood upon it and stared across the room. From this spot, he could see all of the room and most of the side rooms.
“This is perfect,” he said to himself. “The perfect place to...” But, then he stopped. Yes, he’d become the clan leader; but why?
You still want revenge, he thought. He tried to shake that out of his head; how would being a clan leader give him revenge, he argued with himself.
Maybe, the voice whispered, you’re just trying to hide from your pain. Maybe, you think that power will get you what you want. You think power will bring your mother back.
“NO!” he heard himself shout. He fell to the stage and started banging on it with his fist. “No, that’s not right, I’m not hiding.” Anger filled him again as he continued to beat the stage, furious with himself. He didn’t stop until he heard a slow creaking noise. He stopped and looked up to see who’d opened the door.
It was Django, wearing the same strange clothing he’d bought yesterday, and Nagasaki right beside him. They had no idea what they’d just walked in upon, but Django merely nodded and closed the door, and Nagasaki was worried about Kuro.
“Kuro?” Nagasaki asked as she got near him.
“Mm?” He questioned as he shift his gaze to her.
“Can I speak to you for a minute?”
He sighed, “Alright.”
“What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?”
She sighed, “Do you remember when you hit Siam yesterday?”
“Yes.” He answered in confusion and irritation.
“I saw you got so upset, that you weren’t even you anymore. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t have fought back, but you have to understand; for the people who love you, watching you being that much rage is really intimidating. You’re a whole different person, and I’m scared for you, Kuro.”
“Humph, he deserved what he’d gotten.” Suddenly, he grabbed her neck as he banged her head on the stage, leaving Django to look at the fight. “If you ever defy me again, Nagasaki... I’ll kill you! And, even though you’re my best friend, I’ll fell no pity for your doomed fate. I’ll take more than a thousand lives and you’ll be nothing but one more!” he said coldly as his grip got stronger. Django knew Kuro gotten too far, but he didn’t know how to help Nagasaki. Kuro continued, “Consider that your warning.” He let go of her neck and she went back to the inn, full of rage, sadness, and scarce of what Kuro had become.
“Butchie wasn’t lying; this would be a great place,” Django awed, as he past the subject aside. He moved closer to get a better look, an expression of great amazement on his face. “So...any ideas for the clan?”
Kuro grinned. “A few,” he said.
That evening, Kuro and Django stood outside the building, slightly worn out; they had spent most of that day cleaning the inside of the building. Django was carrying a large box that was tightly sealed.
Soon, they heard the soft stamping of feet as the crowd from the previous night, led by Siam and Butchie appeared. Kuro attempted to count how many people had shown up, but gave in as the crowd drew closer.
“We’re all here and ready to serve you, leader,” someone in the crowd said. A raucous cheer followed this.
“Silence!” Kuro shouted over them; the crowd instantly stopped cheering; a few people cowered. “You can’t simply shout as if no one would care to hear.” He motioned for Django to come forward. “You are my minions, yes, but can you be trusted?”
With one fell swoop, he pulled a knife from the sleeve of his sock and sliced open the box. Inside was a mess of black masks. “So,” he continued, “you must wear these at every meeting.” He and Django began tossing them to everyone, who swiftly placed them over their heads; the masks covered all but their mouths. “You will not know the identity of anyone else in this clan.”
Kuro turned to the doors and pulled them open. A small burst of light fell on them all as they stepped inside and, noticing the chairs, took seats.
“Siam, Butchie,” Kuro said to the two as they passed, “go to the side of the stage. I have something I need to discuss with you.” They nodded and made their way along the wall to the side of the wooden stage. Django and Nagasaki waited as Kuro slammed the doors shut and the two made their way to the stage.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Django asked nervously.
“I’m sure,” Kuro said, pushing up his glasses. “My plan can’t fail.”
They’d reached the stage; Kuro stepped onto it and moved to the center, where everyone could see him.
“My followers, so begins the clan of the Black Cat!” he said triumphantly. The crowd cheered again while some chanted his name. “You must all be made permanent members, however. So, let the initiation begin! Report to the last two rooms at the end of this chamber to be inducted into the clan.” The crowd’s cheering grew louder as people rushed to the rooms. Kuro stepped off the stage in Butchie and Siam’s direction. Kuro instructed them on how to install the members.
“Each of them must lift their mask, speak their name, and cover their face again,” Kuro said sharply. Butchie and Siam nodded and wandered off to the room on the left. Django was already making his way to the room on the right; Kuro had told him this beforehand. Kuro also started in that direction and placed a mask over his own face; this mask only covered the upper half of his face to allow him to wear his glasses.
“Now, then,” Kuro said as he entered the room, “let’s begin.”
It was tedious work for both the members and the inductors, who were beginning to grow sleepy. It passed without much thought, until about half an hour into the induction...
“Lift your mask and speak your name,” Django said in monotone, preparing to scribble down the name. The person lifted the mask and a great deal of chestnut brown hair fell down her back. She looked up with sea-blue eyes at Kuro and Django. She stopped for a moment as she saw Kuro. She felt her heart skip a few beats before turning back to Django.
“Amelia,” she said, and lowered her mask. Django pointed her out of the room; Kuro, however, had frozen and stared at the girl as she left. He’d...he’d never before seen someone so beautiful.
The next afternoon, Kuro and Django were lounging on the grass on the top of the seaside cliff. They were idly watching clouds pass by and listening to the sea. Django had fallen asleep and was snoring; Kuro, however, still had his thoughts on that girl from last night.
It had only been a few seconds, but he’d never felt so odd. It was a new emotion for him. Every time he pictured her face, he was overcome with such a pleasure that he thought he could simply drown in it. She was so beautiful...and she’d looked at him. He took a quick glance at Django, who was still asleep; a mushroom was starting to grow on his chin. Kuro laughed inwardly and returned his gaze to the sky.
Kuro turned his thoughts to other matters; sure, he had a clan, but what were they going to do? He scanned the clouds, as if they could give him some answer. He jumped slightly as he heard a yowl from behind him. He rolled over and sat up to see the black cat.
“How did you get here?” he asked the cat; the cat yowled again and ran off. Kuro stood up and chased after the cat, which was making its way toward the town. The cat weaved in and out of buildings, many of which Kuro couldn’t get around; he waited for the cat to reappear when it did that and resumed following it. He chased it for a while before running into a mob of people; Kuro stumbled and skidded on the dirt.
Kuro watched the mob run away and noticed that they were being chased by another mob; they must be two other clans, he said to himself. He got up and brushed himself off; the cat had disappeared.
“What did that cat want me to see?” Kuro asked himself. He thought about it, occasionally pushing up his glasses, until a thought occurred to him.
“The clans fight for a reason,” he said to himself. “But they always fail; if our clan succeeds...”
“Start a clan war?”
Kuro had raced back to where Django was sleeping; he proceeded to tell Django about his new plan.
“Yes, a clan war,” Kuro said. “If we attack the other clans, we could easily annihilate the smaller ones and recruit their members as warriors. Then we-”
“You’re insane!” Django shouted, interrupting Kuro. “We can’t start a clan war! This whole town will be destroyed!”
Kuro shook his head. “Not if we plan the attacks correctly. If we send spies, we can mark the other clans’ locations and strike when they’re most vulnerable.”
Django shook his head in disbelief. “Whatever you say, Kuro,” he muttered. “I’ve got my dancing class in ten minutes. You do what you think is best.” Django hurried off; he still hadn’t noticed the very small mushroom growing on his face.
That night, the clan gathered again, prepared to hear whatever their leader had to say. Butchie and Siam were now sitting in the seats closest to the stage; Django was sitting on the steps leading up to the stage. As Kuro passed him, he shook his head again; Kuro ignored this.
“We are a small clan, but we are far more powerful than any other clan,” Kuro began. The crowd shifted slightly, though they cheered harder than ever.
“Therefore,” Kuro continued, “we must take control of the other clans.” A long silence followed this. “You will train in stealth and battle in secrecy. You all will learn the element of surprise as we take this island by storm!” Fresh cheers erupted as Kuro stepped down from the stage.
Kuro was true to his word. For the next six months, the clan met every night and trained, learning the different ways to spy on enemy clans, how to plot maps, and how to fight with lightweight knives and swords. Every meeting increased Kuro’s passion as his minions grew stronger.
But soon, Kuro began to pick out his favorites from the heap and trained them more extensively in espionage; the others were restricted to battle. They became the scouts; while the others trained, they were sent to mark the other locations of clans and to note when they seemed most likely to fall to an attack. One of these few people was the girl that Kuro had seen the first night; she blushed deeply whenever he passed, as did he whenever she returned from a mission.
The members were not the only ones training; Siam and Butchie had crafted gloves with iron needles at the end and occasionally practiced against Kuro, who used two knives in each hand. They were no match for him; he easily outstripped them in speed. Django began using chakram as his personal weapon choice and used wooden blocks as target practice. Kuro’s happiest moment of training came only two months into training.
“Kuro?” Django called from the entrance of Kuro’s personal room.
“What is it, Django?” Kuro called back.
“Siam and Butchie are requesting to see you,” Django said. “They say they have something for you.”
Kuro paused before answering. “Let them in.” Butchie and Siam sidled into the room, carrying a long box.
“Your greatness, we have brought you something,” Siam said feebly. “We thought that it would only be fitting for the mighty leader of the Black Cats.” He pulled off the cover to reveal a matching pair of furry black gloves; what was truly extraordinary was that each finger of the gloves was tipped with a very long, sharp blade.
Kuro’s eyes widened as he pulled the gloves delicately out of the box and slid them on. They were so light, so easy to move; within a fraction of a second, he’d sliced open one of the wooden boxes with one hand.
“They’re...” Kuro was completely lost for words. He wanted to say that they were amazing; that they were perfect. “Siam, Butchie, I hereby issue you the status of clan guards.”
This was too much for Siam and Butchie; they fell to the ground and broke down. This was far better than they had expected. Kuro even surprised himself. Still, these two had given him a most valuable gift.
“You are now the Meowban Brothers,” Kuro declared. Siam and Butchie groveled at his feet and backed out of the room as Kuro continued to admire the gloves.
The training continued, this time even stronger than before. Kuro practiced almost obsessively with the gloves and developed his own techniques, blessing the striped shoes he’d received from Django that made his steps almost completely silent. After some time, he bought a pitch-black shirt and pants that truly gave him the look of a black cat.
The clan grew more ecstatic as the time of the first raid drew near; so did Kuro, Nagasaki, and Django. The mushroom on Django’s chin had continued to grow, until about two weeks before the first raid, in which Django bit off the cap of the mushroom out of hunger; however, the mushroom was horribly flavored. He swallowed it anyway and sported a striped stalk on his chin the next time he appeared at the meeting, though no one seemed to notice. It did, however, reignite his dreams of hypnotism and gave him a new use for the chakram, as he learned that the chakram could be used to hypnotize people.
The clan was fit to burst at the end of the six-month training as they prepared to leave for the first raid...
“Remember, you must be silent,” Kuro said to the clan moments before they prepared to set off. “When I give the signal, you attack.” No one made a single sound as the troupe of members, fourteen in all, left the headquarters along with Kuro.
“Django, keep the place under control while we’re gone,” Kuro whispered to Django as he passed.
“I’ll do that,” Django whispered in response. Butchie, Siam, and Nagasaki were also going on this raid; Django was in a room of complete anonymities.
Kuro moved silently to the front of the group, where Siam and Butchie were leading. They made no noise, only nodded to indicate he was there. It was only a short walk to the first place; inside they could hear laughter from a bunch of people.
What happened next was a blur of blades and screams; there were less people in the room than expected; nonetheless, three of Kuro’s men led the captured people back to the hideout; the rest lay in pools of blood.
In all, they ransacked eight clans that night, taking about forty people prisoner and killing nearly fifty, mostly by Kuro’s claws. Still, nearly four hours later, only Kuro and one of his own members who hadn’t volunteered to capture prisoners, walked back to the clan’s hideout.
“That was amazing,” the member said joyfully.
“Yes, it was,” Kuro agreed. “Our number has more than doubled; we’ll be far more prepared to take on the larger clans.”
“I can’t wait,” the member said. “I’ve had faith in you ever since I saw you.” It took a moment for Kuro to register that it was a woman speaking from under the mask. “You seemed so powerful, so confident, that first night. And, you still are.”
Kuro remained silent. He may have just been guessing, but he was almost sure that this was the girl he’d seen that night.
“You’re so fast, though, that no one could even see you,” she continued. “And, your plans are so well-thought-out that nothing could ruin them.”
Kuro blushed slightly. There was a slight tension between them as they walked in silence. When they reached the building, they stopped and looked at each other, still silent.
“What’s your name?” the girl asked. This caught Kuro by surprise, but only for a moment.
“Kuro,” he said after a moment.
“I’m Amelia,” the girl said and shook his hand; a difficult feat, as she had to avoid the claws on his hand. Her sea-blue eyes smiled at him as they walked into the hideout and came face-to-face with a wild party.
“Let’s hear it for Kuro!” someone shouted and the noise grew louder. Kuro could see Django slowly making his way through the tangle of people toward Kuro.
“I’ll see you some other time,” Amelia said as she moved away while Django pushed the last few people out of his way.
“Incredible, Kuro!” Django laughed. “You’ve taken so many people prisoner! The clan’s now seventy strong!” He moon-walked away in someone else’s direction, leaving Kuro standing by the doorway.
‘He doesn’t know I killed some of those people,’ Kuro thought. He stared at his gloves and at the blades; they were completely clean. Not one drop of blood had seemed to touch them. Kuro stepped back out of the building and stared up at the crescent moon that was slowly sliding down the horizon, thinking about Amelia and what she’d said.
For the next month, the raids continued under Kuro’s carefully-designed plans. Hundreds of people were captured and forced to work, while the best became spare fighters.
But even more were killed.
Kuro’s speed seemed to increase with each night as more and more people fell by his claws. But, his thoughts of this success were punctured by another, stronger feeling.
He couldn’t stop thinking about Amelia.
True, he’d made her one of his top soldiers and they often fought back-to-back, he with his claws, she with her knives. She was also fast and able to slide her way through a large amount of people very quickly.
But, after the battles, they’d walk together and talk about many different things as they drew closer to each other, almost to the point where they each felt they were falling in love...
“So, where do you come from, Amelia?” Kuro asked. It had been the eleventh raid in two months; now that word had gotten around about the acts of the Black Cats, the clans were beginning to arm themselves against attack, so more casualties were suffered during battle. Still, nothing seemed to come close to Kuro’s claws.
“I used to live on an island a long way from here,” she said, looking up at the stars. “My parents were always fighting about something. It drove my sister and me crazy.”
“Where’s your sister?” Kuro asked, turning his own gaze to the stars.
“Still on the island, I suppose,” she said. “I left right after...after my parents killed each other.” She stopped and looked at the ground, tears starting to fall down her face. Kuro stopped, too, and looked at her. He wanted to ask why, but she continued anyway.
“My father was into gambling,” she continued. “He’d always disappear for days at a time then come home, asking for money. Finally, my mother got sick of it and refused to give him the money he needed. They pulled a gun on each other...” She looked up and wiped the tears from her eyes. “I knew I had to leave, but my sister was bedridden; she promised to stay and keep our home safe.”
They started walking again. Kuro sighed and looked at the sky again.
“What about you?” Amelia asked. “How did you end up here?”
“I sailed here with Django and Nagasaki almost two years ago,” Kuro said. “I didn’t have a family anymore.” He hoped she wouldn’t inquire further; she didn’t and merely moved closer to him.
“I guess we’re both lost in this world,” she said, returning her gaze to the sky. “But, I suppose we have each other.”
Kuro looked at her and smiled, though it was invisible in the darkness. She was right; they had each other.
“Alright, warriors, tonight is the night!” Django shouted from the stage; Kuro had decided not to give this particular speech. “We are going to attack the second-largest clan on this island, so you all must be ready!” Nearly a thousand cheers echoed across the room.
“You must be warned; every member of that clan is...a pirate!” Django proclaimed; amidst the wild cheers, he didn’t see Kuro shake slightly on the steps of the stage.
Kuro had planned long and hard for this; the clan they were about to face was composed entirely of pirates. They had been steadily taking in the smaller clans through bribery and blackmail, but there were a few clans that were excited to see the Black Cats fall from grace as the greatest and largest clan on the island.
“Only the best of you will get to follow your great leader into battle against these sea dogs into triumph!” Django yelled over the crowd. “Let’s go!” About eight hundred members started to march out of the building, leaving only a hundred or so waiting in their midst.
“Are you ready, Kuro?” Django asked. Kuro smiled up at him evilly and pushed up his glasses.
“Of course,” Kuro said. Django still didn’t know about Kuro’s hatred of pirates, nor did he know about all the deaths Kuro had caused. “Let’s bring those pirates to their knees.”
It was a short march to the newly-built warehouse where the pirate clan was waiting. When Kuro’s men did get inside, all hell and mayhem broke loose. All around, the clang of steel erupted beneath the iron bars that covered the ceiling.
Somehow, Kuro and Amelia found themselves back-to-back again, hacking away at the oncoming pirates.
“Doing okay, Kuro?” Amelia yelled over the ruckus.
“Never felt better,” Kuro replied loudly. He sped away from her into a dark corner where the madness had not yet made its presence.
“Okay,” Kuro said to himself as he pushed up his glasses. “Time to try out this new technique.” He signaled for his men to move out of the way as he slouched and began to sway. The pirates and even some of Kuro’s own men had stopped to watch this, laughing wildly.
‘Heh...you won’t be laughing soon,’ Kuro said to himself. “Out-Of-The-Bag!”
The next few moments were pure horror. Kuro moved at lightning speed around the room, unable to see who or what he was slashing. He heard the screams of the men as they fell in bloody heaps all over the room. A huge, dark smile filled his face as he slashed everything around him to ribbons; but, amidst the carnage he was causing, he didn’t see one of the pirates set off the bomb that was hidden behind one of the steel supports.
A loud blast and the whole place began to tumble. Kuro stopped abruptly and started scanning the room; almost all of the people, including his own men, lay dead on the floor in a horrible, bloody carnage. He noticed Django running to safety; Kuro didn’t care. All he wanted to do was find Amelia.
‘There!’ he screamed in his mind and rushed forward to her, trying to snatch her out of the way of the falling wreckage.
He saw everything in slow-motion; the horror of the huge iron bar that toppled down and landed on Amelia, crushing her flat.
The building completely collapsed around him and he stood there in the dark at the mess of metal and wood. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe...
“AMELIA!” he cried, finally gaining his voice, and rushed over to her. The bar had fallen completely on top of her, crushing her torso and leg. She had died on impact.
Kuro fell to his knees, ripped off his gloves, and grabbed her hand; it was stone-cold. He held her hand for what seemed like an eternity, crying silently at the loss of his only love, the only girl that had ever loved him, the only girl he’d ever loved.
“It’s not fair,” he said to himself. “She shouldn’t have died.”
Life isn’t supposed to be fair, the voice in the back of his head said. She was going to die, anyway.
He tried to get the thought out of his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘She shouldn’t have died; it wasn’t her fault.’
That’s right, the voice said. It was the pirates’ fault. They set off the bomb that made the building collapse.
The voice hit Kuro full force as if he’d been punched in the gut. It was true; it was all true. He’d had enough; the pirates had taken everything from him. And, he knew there was only one way to take his revenge...even if he had to give up all he’d dreamed of.
He let go of the girl’s hand and picked up the gloves; this time, the blades were stained with blood, both that of the pirates and of his own clan members. He put them back on and made his way over the rubble to where Django was standing. He wouldn’t be able to hide this from Django; he’d have to tell him.
“Kuro, what happened?” Django asked, worried. “What was it?” He noticed as Kuro passed that Kuro’s gloves were covered in blood and gasped softly.
“You...you killed all those people,” Django whispered. Kuro stopped and looked back at him.
“I did,” Kuro said coldly. “They were worthless.”
“Worthless!?” Django sputtered in disbelief. “Kuro, you massacred every person in that building!”
“I did,” Kuro repeated with no remorse in his voice. “And, I’ve had it with this clan.”
“What?” Django said. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” Kuro said. “I never told you...my parents died because of the pirates. I want those pirates to feel as much pain as I did.”
Django and Nagasaki just stared at Kuro as if they’d never met him before; they didn’t seem to hear Kuro properly. “H-how are you g-going to do that?”
Kuro grinned evilly. “I’m going to become a pirate. It’s the only way I’ll get close enough to kill them.” He started to walk away.
“You’re insane!” Django screeched. “You can’t blame this on the pirates!” Kuro stopped again and looked back at him. “You can’t blame what happened to those nobodies on pirates!”
Django felt a blade poke into the side of his neck; Kuro had suddenly appeared behind him, one of the gloves pointed at Django’s neck.
“Are you defying me, Django?” Kuro hissed. “If you don’t follow me, I’ll kill you with my own hands.” He pushed the point of the claw farther into Django’s neck and drew blood. Django shivered horribly, but didn’t dare move away.
“Alright, I’ll follow you,” Django said nervously and felt the blade move away.
“Good,” Kuro said. “Get rid of those clothes and gather up whoever is remaining at the hideout; bring them all to the ship docked closest to the cliff wall.” He pointed the blades of his left glove at Django. “Those who refuse...kill them.”
“O-okay,” Django stuttered and ran off, dropping the jacket and hat behind him. Kuro pushed up his glasses with his hand and started his walk to the ship. When he arrived there, Django was waiting with close to thirty people.
“The clan is hereby disbanded,” Kuro barked. “You are hereby the Black Cat Pirates.” No applause followed this; people merely shook with fear as he pointed them onto the boat. Django, however, stayed behind.
“You have something to say?” Kuro asked. Django shook his head.
“You’ll be my first mate and Nagasaki will be my second,” Kuro said.
“Nagasaki can’t come.”
“Are you defying me!?”
“No, I mean, she really can’t come; she still ill. If she comes on this voyage, she’ll just be a liability and slow us down.”
Kuro looked back at the little house that Nagasaki rented and stayed, looked back at Django, and he said, “Fine, she’ll be stayed behind. Now, get on the ship.”
“Okay, Kuro,” Django sputtered. He took a step and felt a blade point into his back.
“It’s Captain Kuro,” Kuro hissed and pushed him forward. Kuro stepped onto the ship after Django resigned himself to the captain’s quarters to think over what had happened while the others set sail, and Nagasaki stayed behind. The black cat stood at the edge of the beach and yowled as the ship disappeared in the darkness.

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