Vizionari
still not giving up
However, his shock quickly turned into an outrage of anger.
"How," the emperor's voice quivering with rage, "is this possible?! I-I watched you fight! I saw you have black hair and my favorite (he emphasized on "favorite") son have white hair??!! No!"
Ramashu simply laughed. "Dear father, what you have failed to see and notice was a simple task of trickery; a mere switcharoo."
Ramashu walked over to the fallen and brutally beaten lifeless form of his brother, and bent down near his head. He brushed part of his brother's bangs, and a white chalky dust quickly dispersed from his head. Ramashu stood up and his fingers were covered with the same white substance.
The white-haired son rubbed his fingers steadily. "See, it is only chalk dust. Chalk dust. Chalk dust that fooled you into believing my brother was me. We agreed to switch positions; I gave him chalk dust to cover his head up and he found me a wig to disguise me. We both planned this before our big fight."
The emperor was dumbfounded. He sat down on his throne, his lips tightly pursed with anger, betrayal, and strangely, a feeling he had never felt before, sorrow.
"But why," the emperor began, "would you do this? To me? To your brother? He was always better than you, being the best to represent the noble family, but he treated you with kindness!" He was up again now, and he slammed his fist onto the armrest of the throne with rage.
Ramashu narrowed his eyes at his father, and he gave a frown. "I did not kill him to spite you. I did not kill him because of my brother's character. I did it to fulfill his wishes."
The emperor once again fell back on his seat. "No, he would not wish to die. He did not deserve such a brutal death! I-"
"But you would for me," Ramashu interrupted. "You would want me to die a cruel and painful death. But I did no such of a thing to my brother, as you'll see."
The emperor now was extremely perplexed, and he did not like feeling angry and confused at the same time. So he was forced to listen to Ramashu talk.
"As you know, you clearly favor my brother. Oh, it's true, he has luscious black hair and he has a fantastic build-up that attracts even the most beautiful of women," Ramashu began. "And you certainly made it very clear for the rest of the empire to know. But my brother did not wish for people to come up to his door and continuously bug him about seeing princesses of faraway lands, and talk of how he is this great noble prince everyone admires of."
The emperor wanted to argue, to silence his son, but he was strangely indulged in Ramashu's talk and thoughts.
"My brother did not wish for such attention; he only wished to be treated with normal respect, not with high praise that made him feel awkward and undeserving," Ramashu continued.
"I never took his kindred kindness and appreciation towards me for granted; he knew that you disliked me. My brother couldn't stand being the 'better' brother," Ramashu explained. "And we both knew of our own father's evil ways. We knew you tortured the citizens who couldn't pay their taxes on time because they didn't have enough money to fund your new personal hot spring. We knew you tossed the letters that tried to suggest new projects to make the kingdom a more civil place into the fire."
The emperor blinked, his body hunched in a solemn position on his throne. The expression on his face was hard to tell: was he sad or was he confused?
Ramashu went on. "He was miserable. One day, he confided in me: he wanted to be gone. He didn't wish to live in this world anymore. He didn't want fake fame and glory, he didn't want me to be filled with misery from dislike from my father if he was still around. I protested at first, suggesting that we run away from the kingdom instead; he wouldn't have to be gone. But, he shook his head, I remember he said, 'Dear brother, all this time you've been left in the dark, no one has talked of you at all. You deserve much more glory than I do for putting up with all the hatred from Father and being excluded.'"
"And so we formulated a plan. I gathered chalk dust from the market and my brother gathered hairs to create a wig just like his hair. We disguised ourselves as each other in order to fool you. It may have looked like I gave my brother a brutal and painful death, but alas, I would never do that."
Ramashu bent down again at his brother's body, and turned him over to his front. Blood was bleeding down from his chest.
"I shot my sword into his chest during the beginning of the fight to quickly kill him. Afterwards, I merely grabbed the collar of his shirt and flung him around to make it look as if he were still alive and fighting. I then proceeded to beat him up as you saw."
Ramashu got up again, gazing directly at his father. "Father, I know you hate me. You hate me for entering this world in the first place. You hate me for stealing the name that you would have named my brother. I almost hated myself for it. I wanted him to run away with me. But you see, this is what you have caused my brother. It was all my brother's choice; he did it for me. But he wanted to do this. He did it to stop you from causing anymore grief. He wanted you stop being so cruel."
The emperor looked at Ramashu with a saddened gaze. His heart was heavy with grief and regret. "I certainly regret it now." The emperor wiped eyes.
The emperor stood up and walked down the throne. "We will hold a funeral for your brother. As for you," he began, "I will treat you to a lavish dinner tonight. I promise that you won't be kept to your room for much longer. I will not do the same that caused him to be gone. After all, you've always been my Ramashu."
"How," the emperor's voice quivering with rage, "is this possible?! I-I watched you fight! I saw you have black hair and my favorite (he emphasized on "favorite") son have white hair??!! No!"
Ramashu simply laughed. "Dear father, what you have failed to see and notice was a simple task of trickery; a mere switcharoo."
Ramashu walked over to the fallen and brutally beaten lifeless form of his brother, and bent down near his head. He brushed part of his brother's bangs, and a white chalky dust quickly dispersed from his head. Ramashu stood up and his fingers were covered with the same white substance.
The white-haired son rubbed his fingers steadily. "See, it is only chalk dust. Chalk dust. Chalk dust that fooled you into believing my brother was me. We agreed to switch positions; I gave him chalk dust to cover his head up and he found me a wig to disguise me. We both planned this before our big fight."
The emperor was dumbfounded. He sat down on his throne, his lips tightly pursed with anger, betrayal, and strangely, a feeling he had never felt before, sorrow.
"But why," the emperor began, "would you do this? To me? To your brother? He was always better than you, being the best to represent the noble family, but he treated you with kindness!" He was up again now, and he slammed his fist onto the armrest of the throne with rage.
Ramashu narrowed his eyes at his father, and he gave a frown. "I did not kill him to spite you. I did not kill him because of my brother's character. I did it to fulfill his wishes."
The emperor once again fell back on his seat. "No, he would not wish to die. He did not deserve such a brutal death! I-"
"But you would for me," Ramashu interrupted. "You would want me to die a cruel and painful death. But I did no such of a thing to my brother, as you'll see."
The emperor now was extremely perplexed, and he did not like feeling angry and confused at the same time. So he was forced to listen to Ramashu talk.
"As you know, you clearly favor my brother. Oh, it's true, he has luscious black hair and he has a fantastic build-up that attracts even the most beautiful of women," Ramashu began. "And you certainly made it very clear for the rest of the empire to know. But my brother did not wish for people to come up to his door and continuously bug him about seeing princesses of faraway lands, and talk of how he is this great noble prince everyone admires of."
The emperor wanted to argue, to silence his son, but he was strangely indulged in Ramashu's talk and thoughts.
"My brother did not wish for such attention; he only wished to be treated with normal respect, not with high praise that made him feel awkward and undeserving," Ramashu continued.
"I never took his kindred kindness and appreciation towards me for granted; he knew that you disliked me. My brother couldn't stand being the 'better' brother," Ramashu explained. "And we both knew of our own father's evil ways. We knew you tortured the citizens who couldn't pay their taxes on time because they didn't have enough money to fund your new personal hot spring. We knew you tossed the letters that tried to suggest new projects to make the kingdom a more civil place into the fire."
The emperor blinked, his body hunched in a solemn position on his throne. The expression on his face was hard to tell: was he sad or was he confused?
Ramashu went on. "He was miserable. One day, he confided in me: he wanted to be gone. He didn't wish to live in this world anymore. He didn't want fake fame and glory, he didn't want me to be filled with misery from dislike from my father if he was still around. I protested at first, suggesting that we run away from the kingdom instead; he wouldn't have to be gone. But, he shook his head, I remember he said, 'Dear brother, all this time you've been left in the dark, no one has talked of you at all. You deserve much more glory than I do for putting up with all the hatred from Father and being excluded.'"
"And so we formulated a plan. I gathered chalk dust from the market and my brother gathered hairs to create a wig just like his hair. We disguised ourselves as each other in order to fool you. It may have looked like I gave my brother a brutal and painful death, but alas, I would never do that."
Ramashu bent down again at his brother's body, and turned him over to his front. Blood was bleeding down from his chest.
"I shot my sword into his chest during the beginning of the fight to quickly kill him. Afterwards, I merely grabbed the collar of his shirt and flung him around to make it look as if he were still alive and fighting. I then proceeded to beat him up as you saw."
Ramashu got up again, gazing directly at his father. "Father, I know you hate me. You hate me for entering this world in the first place. You hate me for stealing the name that you would have named my brother. I almost hated myself for it. I wanted him to run away with me. But you see, this is what you have caused my brother. It was all my brother's choice; he did it for me. But he wanted to do this. He did it to stop you from causing anymore grief. He wanted you stop being so cruel."
The emperor looked at Ramashu with a saddened gaze. His heart was heavy with grief and regret. "I certainly regret it now." The emperor wiped eyes.
The emperor stood up and walked down the throne. "We will hold a funeral for your brother. As for you," he began, "I will treat you to a lavish dinner tonight. I promise that you won't be kept to your room for much longer. I will not do the same that caused him to be gone. After all, you've always been my Ramashu."
