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Chapter Sixty Six: Rooftop of Broken Dreams

  The room was dark, the air thick with the smell of liquor and smoke. Kengerriagama, the legendary singer of the Sound Class, towered over her children. Her voice, once the music of revolutions, now cracked with rage.

  


  


  Her hand came down again, sharp across Kenji's face.

  "You think words will feed you, boy?" she snarled. "You think scribbles and books matter? Worthless!"

  She turned, striking Derrias and Perrias next, her nails clawing their skin.

  "You think sound is freedom? That's MY art. Not yours!"

  Finally, her fist slammed into little Braxill's stomach, knocking the air from his eight-year-old lungs. He collapsed, coughing.

  Tears welled in his eyes, but he didn't cry out. Crying only made her angrier.

  "You're cursed," Kengerriagama spat, her voice trembling with fury. "You are the children of a man who abandoned me. That makes you weak. And weakness will burn in this house!"

  Behind her, unseen to any of them, a Black Angel lingered. Its crooked halo gleamed faintly, its hollow eyes watching with satisfaction. Each strike she gave her children seemed to echo with its approval.

  


  


  Kengerriagama raised her hand again, but then... silence. Her rage was spent, and like every night, she left them broken, whispering,

  "This is Joy's will."

  The children sat in shadows, battered but together.

  Later that night, they gathered on the rooftop. The city stretched endless beneath them, stars faint in the polluted sky.

  Braxill, only eight, hugged his knees, shivering in the cold.

  Derrias clenched his fists. "When I'm older... I'm gonna play guitar. I don't care what she says. I'll play it loud, so the whole world hears."

  


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  Kenji adjusted his cracked glasses, his voice soft but steady. "I want to write. Books, stories, truths no one can burn. Words that will outlast even her voice."

  


  


  Perrias twin brother of Derrias scoffed, his jaw tense. "Foolish dreamsbig bro. Look around you. Look at us. What fate do we have but the path laid before us? Ninjas. That's all we are. That's all we can be."

  


  


  Kenji looked at him sharply. "Perrias, no. We don't have to become what they call us. We can be anything we choose."

  Perrias's eyes burned with anger, but behind it was pain. "You don't get it. We're cursed. Our own mother tortures us. The Afro people... always cursed. The way of the Ninja is inevitable. Even if we hate it. Even if we want more. Hip-hop, rhythm, violence, it's the only salvation left to us."

  Kantos the oldest of all the brothers "I agree we have to embrace our heritage, being a ninja is the only thing that will bring us power and control. With that power we can bend people at our will, women, children, animals maybe one day even control an entire island.

  


  


  Kenji "That's a bit cruel don't you think?"

  


  


  Kantos "That's life little bro"

  Braxill, silent until now, lifted his face toward the stars. His small voice trembled.

  "Do you think there's a god?"

  Kenji hesitated. "...Yeah. Joy."

  Braxill shook his head violently, tears welling up. "Not that god. I hate him. He's mother's god. I mean... a god that's loving. Caring. A god who doesn't abandon people." His voice cracked, breaking into sobs. "Every time I try to draw, she tears the page. Every time I imagine, I hear her voice calling me stupid. No matter how much we dream, she keeps breaking us. Breaking me."

  


  


  Kenji's lips parted. The oldest, but still just a child himself, he had no words to give. Only silence.

  Perrias spoke, his tone cold. "That's why I said... the Ninja way is the only path. We can pretend, we can dream, but look at us. Look at her. Our fates are already written."

  Braxill's tears dripped onto his hands. He whispered, almost to himself:

  "...Then I'll rewrite mine."

  The sun sank behind the skyline, bathing them in blood-red light. Shadows stretched long. The brothers sat in silence, battered children with broken dreams, yet each holding onto a fragile spark, uncertain whether it would survive or burn out.

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