Chapter 1: Family
My father once told me, in my younger days, that if you truly desired something extraordinary to happen, the entire world will conspire you to help attain that goal for you. I know realized, after my father had died, he was right. However much I say I hate my family, however many times I say they are the scourge of this earth, however many times I saw their heinous crimes, deep down inside my heart I loved them. Though creating a conflagration in my soul and mind, they conspired against me to help attain the goal of who I wanted to become.
My father was an admirable leader. He was strong, dependable, sharp-minded, loyal, and was in my eyes a hero. His name was Masanori Edogawa, a high ranked samurai, formally part of the king’s army, and shogun-to-be. He had long, ebony hair that he kept tidy with the traditional samurai hairpin, eyes that were distanced apart to make him look intimidating, strong, leveled cheekbones, and a prominent chin to complete his masculinity. To me, he was the definition of a true hero to me. He caught criminals and outlaws in the country that did trecharious acts and disgraced our country. My father had a dream to rid the world of evil, sadly, he himself succumbbed to its splendour.
I still vividly remember my mother, Minori Edogawa, daughter of Akahiro Satsumioji, who was a daimiyo in his time before retiring and living with us. My maternal grandfather suffered arthiritis and his fingers are bent and severly injured, so bad that he could never wield a sword ever again in his lifetime. He acts so calm and peaceful around us, singing old songs and writing poetry down under the tree in our lavish garden. It is hard to believe that such a person casted bloodshed onto the field in his time.
My mother acts the same as my grandfather, a calm, innocent woman. Sometimes I wonder whether she was born a child and never grew up. It’s hard to believe she got married to such a ruthless husband, but then again, the common saying is opposites attract. She always did boast of having lavish parties and get-together with friends once in a while at our humble estate where most of my friends were at. It’s hard to believe that she was someone who, as much as she loved her children, never gave hope for me and continued to help me out even in the darkest years of my life.
As for my part, my name is Yasuhiro Edogawa, first-born son of Masanori Edogawa, son of Hirohito Edogawa, and so it goes on for centuries of my family. I was born on January 11th, 1838, to my strong-abled father and my graceful mother. I have one brother, Ryota, and one sister, Reiko, both of whom are twins born on March 8th, 1846. I still recall the day the two of them were born. My mother went into labor and after some three hours, she gave birth to Ryota. Father was overjoyed to have another son, but his happiness grew tenfold when mother gave birth three minutes later to Reiko. He was simply overjoyed to have the ideal two sons and one daughter. That was probably one of the only times I saw him as happy as that and ever since then, I guide my brother in sister in the warrior arts so that they could learn to respect me for being their caring older brother.
The chronicles of my suffering caused the perpetual downfall of my looming soul and my family. It turned from a rich, extravagent family and toppled itself into a spiral depression leading from one event into another. My trancending journey may seem insignificant to some, but believe me, if one were to go through with what I have had to go through, they would go mad with fear. My effort to remold my family’s name after its evident downfall was fruitful, but at what cost? The agony of being ostrasized by own loved ones and the ecstasy of starting anew a whole new livestyle by which I could be content with, if I had had my family to bear through the pain with me.
