Because You Can

The person in front of Socco—no, the child—stared at him, eyes devoid of emotion. Blood soaked his green and blue cardigan, dripping off the tip of his knife onto the porcelain floor of Socco’s kitchen.

“Are you the last one left?” he asked, cocking his head.

Like he was asking about the weather.

“You?” Socco felt his arm go limp, the sword in his hand suddenly feeling every pound of its weight. “All this was… you?” The boy simply blinked back at him, uncomprehending. “A child… slaughtered the entire village?”

The boy’s lips twitched into a smile.

“You guys aren’t exactly fighters,” he said, almost kindly.

Socco blanched, his shoulders trembling. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead.

He’d been expecting someone else—anyone else. Could he really kill a child? This couldn’t possibly have been his plan.

Does it matter? a voice in his head whispered.

Socco didn’t know anymore.

“Why?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Who put you up to this?”

“Nobody,” the boy said.

“Nobody,” Socco repeated, his fists clenched. “So my brother was killed for nothing? My friends? My entire village?” The boy just observed him. “Tell me, or die. Why would you do this?”

The child’s eyebrows raised.

“To see if I could,” he said, as if it were obvious.

“Who are you?” Socco breathed out. “What are you? Who sent you?”

The child smiled again, a broken, repulsive thing. A chill wracked itself down Socco’s spine at the sight of it. “I suppose you’ll have to kill me to find out, mister.”

Socco clenched his weapon tighter.

For his brother.

For his friends.

For his world.

With a bellow of a cry, Socco ran forward, sword glinting in the low light.

The child, knife raised, met his eyes, and then his clash, and grinned.

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