Disclaimer : I, or any of my colleagues claim the right to MapleStory, for it is the property of Nexon, Wizet, Asiasoft etc. The guns used in this story belongs to their rightful companies. Some of the characters in this story are not created by me, but instead by my co-writers and betas, who are mentioned in the next line. I do not claim ownership of these characters. This story is a mere fan tribute, and is not to be recreated for the likes of profit, or without the consent of myself (Glacier123 (MS)), Heiji (MMOTales, Hjiscool (MS), Eien Kaosu (FF.net ), and BloodyHanyou (MS, AngelDevilHanyou (FF.net ).

The Forbidden Weapon

Guns. Illegal weapons in this world; deathly items banned from use. The law forbids these weapons of mass destruction. There were only ten in this world. Only ten, after the most devastating war in history. The other guns were destroyed, but all were meant to. Until one man, a reckless yet brave man, kept ten. He died mysteriously one day, and the ten guns remained hidden. Fifteen years of searching, nobody found them. Everyone believed they were stored in a vault; others thought those tools of devastation perished from the earth. Nobody knew. Due to the lack of knowledge of the placement of the guns, a law was enforced. A law that banned the use of guns, if ever found. Killers and assassins sought for these weapons, and I found one. I didn’t want to. I was forced to see it, to find it, to witness its action. I even used it.

What made me use it? Hunger for power? Reaction without thinking? I keep asking that question to myself. I wanted answers. I needed answers.

My name is Kazuki, and my life was perfect. I had a perfect lifestyle. My friends admired me. My fitness abilities overwhelmed everybody else’s. My grades reached the top in my school. Everybody wanted to be like me: a perfect person. But, everyone was wrong. I was wrong. I wasn’t perfect. My life wasn’t perfect. I noticed I lived in a world of lies. That day, everything changed. That one day…

I commuted to school as always, everyone greeting me on the way. Neighbors, teachers, friends, even strangers greeted me. I walked to my first period classroom, combat class. My favorite class of all, because I excelled in that class and sparring with my classmates gave me excitement and honor. Also, I liked my teacher. She did not show any combat skills at all, nor never fought in front of us before, but her teachings all showed complexity and knowledge of fighting. Her lessons gave us challenge, and I faced any challenges given to me. Yes, I am a Cleric that loves combat. Nothing wrong with it, is there?

That day… changed everyone, especially I. Those five minutes changed my entire life. This is what happened. A girl in my class who carried the name Sarah always hated the combat class teacher, my favorite teacher. She hated her for giving her low grades. Once, my teacher called Sarah a no-talent fighter, and she grew infuriated. Sarah sent hate letters to her on that day, and even death threats. My teacher felt petrified with fear. She did not know who sent all of them. Nobody knew, until that horrifying day. My teacher was clueless of who the perpetrator was, nobody did, not even myself. But on that day, that dark day, it happened. We all found out the perpetrator. Sarah. Gosh, I hated her. I loathed her. The detestation grew in me when I saw the blood all around the room, on Sarah, on my shirt. And worst of all, my teacher. She lied in a pool of blood, her own blood.

She wielded a gun. Yes, a gun. The weapon of mass destruction, forbidden armament by the law. Why did she have one? How did she have one? Confusion cluttered in my brain; my head felt dizzy, and it also hurt. Very badly. I looked down, due to the pain. My eyes widened. Blood on my shirt. My teacher’s blood, everywhere. With horror, I looked around. I didn’t see anyone, except for Sarah and the corpse of my teacher. I focused my attention to Sarah and her weapon. Sarah was laughing maniacally, despicably grinning from ear to ear, filthy with malice, her laughter echoing throughout the sparring area. She was completely crazy, insane. Hot, transparent tears welled up within my eyes, fogging up my vision. Slowly, they rolled down my cheek, one by one, landing on my blood-soaked shirt. Why did she kill my teacher? Why did she need to? I needed to heal my teacher. There was a slim chance she could still survive. But, no. Something dreadful happened. Various emotions controlled me. Hatred, confusion, sadness… The variety of emotions consumed me whole, a grave mistake that became the biggest flaw I’ve made in my life.. I should have controlled it. If I did, this would’ve never happened. But I couldn’t. This feeling of revenge won. I lost to myself, I lost to the emotion. And finally, I did it. I did what people would never imagine. I did what the world did not imagine I can do.

Without thinking, I dashed at Sarah. She recoiled, pondering what was happening. Even I did not know; I was berserk. Rage and the hunger for revenge blinded me. I saw her point the gun at me. I didn’t care. I still charged at her. She shot again, but it missed, because she was shaking. Maybe my facial expression brought her extreme fear. Anyways, I kicked her arm which had the gun, and she dropped it. I quickly grabbed it, and terror struck her. She fell back. I knew what she was thinking. She knew what was going to happen. She was going to die, and I was going to be the murderer.

Sarah was on the floor, and I held the gun. Both of us did not speak. We communicated with our emotions. I pointed the gun at Sarah. I saw her close her eyes. I readied to fire. Suddenly, something told me not to shoot her, to just let this be. Something told me to not kill her, to let her go. I did not listen. Thrive for revenge won. I shot her. Her corpse laid beside my teacher’s, her eyes wide open. I breathed hard and regained sanity. I looked at the two corpses. I fell on my knees.

I held the gun tightly, and looked at my teacher’s corpse. Dreadful. The blood stopped drifting throughout the room, but the view was horrifying. I could not hear her breathe. The bullet struck her heart. She was no longer alive. She was dead. Healing won’t save her now, and when I gained my sanity back, I noticed that. I was too late. I had to grab that gun, get revenge. Why, why, why? My teacher could have been saved if I healed her. I took the wrong path, thus changing my life forever.

I ran from the classroom. I ran, as fast as I can, gun hidden in my blood-stained clothes. I ran and ran and ran, not thinking of where to go. Just go far away, I thought to myself. Just go far away so I won’t get caught.

I stopped at a deserted parking lot, and sat on top of an old, damaged car. A horrifying idea struck me. People know me as Kazuki, and probably most of those wanted posters that I assume will be posted all around the town will have my name on it, so I should also think of a fake name. I looked up at the dark, endless sky. A red moon. Its light reflected off the crimson fluid covering me, the iron scent noxious. A red moon. Red, the color of blood. I tore my vision away from it, disgusted. Then the idea of a name popped into my mind. From the red moon I saw, I decided to name myself Akatsuki.

I heard someone shouting at me. Not the person I really wanted to meet at this moment: a police officer. He probably saw my blood-stained shirt, and is coming over to check what happened. Immediately I got off the car, and retreated. From the action I took, my gun fell out of my pocket by accident. I hurriedly picked up the gun, and darted. The policeman told me to stop, but I continued running. Tears welled up in my eyes, as I sprinted across the endless road in the night.

After several days, everyone found out the truth. Everybody hated me now; I was no longer a perfect man. I became a drifter, still wielding that gun, to evade situations like this ever happening again. People labeled me as a gunslinger or a murderer, and people called me as the “Devil’s Disciple” or “The Cleric Who Favors Death”. I loathed these nicknames. I hated myself. This would have never happened if it was not for this gun. This gun brought me misery, and anger. This weapon should never have been created.

My name is Kazuki, and my life is imperfect.