A Forgotten Hero

Until I was thirteen years old I heard nothing of vampires or demons. Until I was thirteen I was happy, I suppose. I didn't know it at the time, but my problems were small. School, friends, clothes, that sort of thing. How I envy my thirteen-year-old self.

Sure, I was the class geek and didn't have an easy time of it, but that was the worst of my troubles.

Then everything changed. It was a few days before my fourteenth birthday that it happened. Of course, I didn't know at first. I mean, how often do you test the limits of your strength? But in the end it was hard to miss.

I used to do karate. Not anymore, of course. My strength would stand out too much. Well, I went into my class thinking everything was normal. Laughed with my friends, tried to learn the Japanese I should've learnt a week ago, and generally made a fool of myself. That day is burnt into my memory forever. Every detail is sharp; I couldn't forget if I wanted to. It was my last normal day.

I hit the girl I was fighting. It was an accident! I swear I didn't mean it, I just didn't know how strong I was. I didn't mean to hurt her. I…Oh God, that wasn't even my full strength. I pulled the kick back just as I made contact. Poor little thing, I knocked her half way across the room. My instructors were quite rightfully furious. We're not supposed to try to kill each other. Not in class. I was set fifty press-ups, and told to consider the possible out comes of my carelessness. I did them with ease. It was then that I knew something had changed.

It was then that I knew I was a slayer. Of course, I didn't know the word, but from then on I began to create a definition of my own.

To me it meant power, and responsibility. Fear, confusion. Danger. Adventure. A chance to change the world.

I was both right and wrong, I suppose.