Chapter 150: Love of Family!
Captain Hato sat in the dim light of his study, the silence of the night pressing heavily upon him. The flickering flame of a single candle cast long, wavering shadows across the room, but it did little to dispel the darkness that had settled over his heart.
His hands trembled as they clenched around the letter he had received earlier that day, the wax seal of the nobility still intact at the bottom, a stark reminder of the weight he bore every day.
The nobles had once again demanded something from him, something that went against every fiber of his being.
He had been tasked with protecting them, upholding their laws, but time and again, he had witnessed their cruelty, their disregard for the lives of the common people.
They treated him like a tool, a weapon to be wielded at their command, and he was powerless to refuse. The frustration gnawed at him, day by day, an ever-present shadow that darkened his soul.
He thought of his family—his wife and children—who knew nothing of the burdens he carried. They saw him as a hero, a protector who fought valiantly against the forces of darkness, but they didn't see the chains that bound him.
The chains of duty, of loyalty to a system that cared nothing for justice. His love for his family was the only thing that kept him going, the only light in the ever-encroaching darkness.
But even that light was beginning to dim, overshadowed by the relentless demands of the nobility.
Each day, Hato would return home, his heart heavy with the knowledge of the things he had done, the orders he had followed without question.
He would put on a brave face, smile for his children, laugh with his wife, but the weight never left him.
It pressed down on his soul, turning his love into something bitter and cold.
He hated the nobility, hated the power they held over him, hated how they could strip him of his honor and integrity with a single command. Yet, he was helpless to resist.
The frustration built within him, day by day, until it felt as if he might explode from the pressure.
He began to withdraw from his family, the one source of joy in his life, fearing that his darkness would taint them.
His wife noticed the change, the way he grew quieter, more distant, but she didn't press him.
She knew better than to ask questions he couldn't answer, to seek explanations for things that he himself couldn't understand.
One evening, after a particularly brutal mission, Hato returned home late, his clothes stained with blood, his hands still trembling from the violence he had wrought.
His wife, always perceptive, noticed the tension in his shoulders, the haunted look in his eyes.
She said nothing, simply took his hands in hers and led him to the small sitting room where their children were playing.
"Come," she whispered softly, her voice a balm to his tortured soul. "There's something I want you to see."
Hato followed her silently, too exhausted to protest.
When they entered the room, he saw his children engaged in an elaborate game, their laughter filling the space with a warmth that momentarily eased the tightness in his chest.
His daughter, with her wide, innocent eyes, was pretending to be a demon, while his son, a wooden sword clutched in his tiny hands, was playing the role of a brave catcher.
"Fear not, citizens!" the boy declared, his voice high-pitched with excitement. "I am the great Captain Hato, and I will defeat this evil demon!"
Hato's heart clenched painfully in his chest as he watched his son swing the sword at his sister, who let out a dramatic cry before collapsing to the floor in a fit of giggles.
The boy stood tall, his chest puffed out with pride as he looked down at his defeated foe.
"All in a day's work," he said, mimicking the gruff voice Hato often used when recounting his missions to the children.
The sight was almost too much for Hato to bear.
He turned away, his eyes burning with unshed tears, but his wife gently placed a hand on his arm, guiding him back to the scene before him.
"Look at them," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "They love you so much, Hato. They look up to you, see you as a hero. They don't know about the darkness you face, the burdens you carry. To them, you are their protector, their champion."
Hato's vision blurred as he watched his children continue their game, their laughter ringing in his ears.
They were so innocent, so full of life and joy, completely unaware of the horrors that their father faced every day.
He had always known that his children loved him, but seeing them play out their admiration so openly, so innocently, broke something inside him.
He sank to his knees, the weight of his emotions finally too much to bear.
Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he didn't bother to wipe them away.
His wife knelt beside him, wrapping her arms around him as he sobbed, her presence a lifeline in the storm of his despair.
"I'm so sorry," Hato choked out, his voice trembling with guilt and shame. "I've failed you… I've failed them…"
"No," his wife said firmly, her voice filled with the strength he no longer felt. "You haven't failed anyone, Hato. You've done your best to protect us, to keep us safe. That's all anyone can ask of you."
"But the things I've done…" Hato trailed off, his voice breaking. "The things I've had to do…"
"You're not responsible for the actions of others," she said, her voice soft but unyielding. "You do what you must to survive, to protect your family."
"That doesn't make you a monster, Hato. That makes you human."
Hato clung to her words, letting them wash over him like a balm to his wounded soul. He had spent so long hating himself, hating the world that forced him into these impossible situations, that he had forgotten what truly mattered.
It wasn't the approval of the nobility, the praise of those who saw him as a tool to be used. It was the love of his family, the joy in his children's laughter, the warmth in his wife's embrace.
He pulled his wife closer, burying his face in her shoulder as he let the tears flow freely. She held him tight, her own tears mingling with his as they sat together, their hearts aching with the weight of their shared pain.
After what felt like an eternity, Hato finally pulled back, wiping at his tear-streaked face with a trembling hand. He looked down at his wife, her eyes red and puffy from crying, and felt a deep, overwhelming love for her, for the strength she had shown him when he had none left for himself.
"What does it matter, all this nobility, this superiority?" Hato whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "As long as I have you, as long as I have them, I can endure anything. I can survive this."
His wife smiled up at him, her eyes shining with love and pride. "We'll get through this together," she said softly. "As long as we have each other, nothing else matters."
Hato nodded, his resolve hardening like steel. He would endure, for them. He would survive, for them. The darkness that threatened to consume him would not win, not as long as he had the light of his family to guide him.
As Ruchir watched this heart-wrenching scene unfold before him, he felt a deep sense of sorrow and confusion.
Hato's love for his family was so strong, so pure, and yet something had happened to twist that love into the darkness he knew Hato would one day embrace.
What could have driven such a man, so full of love and devotion, to become the leader of a disturbing cult?
Ruchir's heart ached with the questions that plagued him, but for now, he had no answers.
All he could do was watch, and hope that somewhere in this past, he would find the key to understanding the tragic transformation of Captain Hato.
Captain Hato had grown accustomed to the mockery of the nobles, their superior attitudes, and the way they looked down on him as if he were nothing more than a tool to be used at their convenience.
They would snicker behind his back, make snide remarks about his low birth and the way he clung to his "ridiculous" notions of justice.
But Hato had learned to endure it all, for he knew that at the end of the day, he would return to the warmth and love of his family. His home had become his sanctuary, a place where the cruelty of the world couldn't reach him.
Every time he crossed the threshold of his home, the weight of the day's burdens would lift, replaced by the joy in his children's laughter and the comfort of his wife's embrace. Their love was his shield, his strength.
No matter how dark the world outside became, the light of his family would guide him through it. And for a while, this was enough.
Ruchir, as a silent observer of these moments, couldn't help but feel a sense of happiness for Hato, seeing how his love for his family gave him the resilience to face the world's harshness.
But then, one day, everything changed.