Sign

It had been only an hour since he had been found. Dutifully, he was trailing his Master’s elegant footsteps with his own clumsier ones, his bare feet pressing into the perfectly shaped prints in the sand. The suns were drifting along the horizon, casting elongated shadows past the things that their light touched. The sky above was a soft, tender pink with splotches of orange and yellow, and near the suns, long, deep streaks of vivid crimson.

In truth, even though he had been told what he had to do, he didn’t know his purpose. Yes, he finally had a name—‘Legato Bluesummers,’ a beautiful one at that—but it did not give him a purpose, a reason to live. My Master, he thought disbelievingly, watching the tall, blond-haired man’s refined strides. My Master. Mine. I belong to him, now. I am his through devotion and service. Through long, long strands of blue hair, he continued to gaze. The being ahead of him was so complex. He is of few words. He is the pensive type; he likes to be alone and to think… but he is also one of action and one of great power. I… I can feel it.

“Legato.” Knives suddenly stopped and pivoted on his heel to face him. “Come here.”

The golden-eyed youth rushed to him, his feet breaking the faultless molds of footprints that his Master had set. When he approached, he slowed, and soon came to a halt. Glancing up into his harsh, blue eyes, he answered with expectance, “Yes, Master?”

Knives tilted his head, a thoughtful frown turning his lips. “Your hair,” he said with the causal wave of a hand. “It’s too long.”

Legato grabbed a fistful. “Too long,” he said. Master doesn’t like it? He pulled. Then I’ll make it shorter. Lengthy strands of blue followed his hand as it drew away from his head. It hurt, but if it would please his Master, he would do it. Before he could pull again, he felt something roughly strike him in the face.

“Imbecile. What are you doing?” Knives looked at him with what seemed to be light amusement lurking in his eyes. “You’ll get nothing but a sore skull and no hair at all that way. I said shorter, not bald.” The youth gazed at him blankly, his fist still raised in mid-air as if he were going to yank more of his hair out. Knives sighed, kneading his forehead with his fingers. “Stupid, stupid… Here, on your knees.”

Legato did not move. Did I do something wrong? he wondered. I was only trying to please you. Was I not supposed to do that? His brows knit in thought; he couldn’t seem to understand why his Master had just commanded him to get onto his knees. Was he going to punish him?

A hand then clasped onto the back of his head and shoved him downward with a powerful force. “I said on your knees, boy.” He was soon sitting in the sand, arms stretched and hands buried beneath the countless grains to prevent himself from being pushed into it face first. He felt the hand slowly release, leaving him to sit there without a clue as to what was going on. “I must warn you: I have no use for those who don’t listen. I won’t hesitate to quickly dispose of those who don’t.” Legato heard the sickening sound of flesh changing. His skin prickled with goose bumps. “Now, you’d best keep perfectly still. Wouldn’t want me to cut that thin neck of yours on accident.” A sharp, white blade crept up beside him, and the thought of what had happened not more than an hour ago entered his mind.

The razor edge was pressed against his throat, not quite hard enough to sever his head from his body, but with just enough might to draw blood. His body was tense and his heartbeat was erratic; at any moment, the blond-haired man in front of him could end his very life. Surprised sapphire eyes bore holes through him, and Legato could nearly see the deliberation playing across the man’s thin face. He felt the trickle of his own life slide down his neck. He had already pled to be permitted to be by Knives’s side. Now, it was all up to the blade as to whether he would live or die.

Please, let me leave here. Let me come with you. Let me be by your side. Let me live. I want to live. I promise to do anything. For you, I’ll do anything.

Without warning, it was suddenly removed. Legato let out a relieved, shuddering breath. The superior being in front of him glared menacingly. “Human, what is your name?”

“I… I have none,” he managed to whisper into the passing winds that stirred his long, unkempt hair.

“Then… I’ll give you one.”

More pallid flesh blades began to hover around him, and he felt his hair carefully being lifted by its ends. The boy’s body froze, for he was eager to obey his Master, but it was also for the fear of being beheaded.

Snip. Snip, snip, snip.

A lump of blue was tossed near him. Legato understood, now: Knives was cutting his hair. He was about to turn to look at his Master with a questioning expression, but a hand once again firmly grasped his head and kept him staring straight toward the scarlet horizon. “I said keep still, Legato. Once more, and you will no longer have a head for hair to grow on.”

Snip, snip. Snip, snip, snip.

More piles of blue were scattered about his knees as the blond-haired being continued his work; some were large clumps, some mere patches. His back was no longer tickled or itched by the long strands, and with every snip, Legato felt very odd, for no one that he could remember had cut his hair before—not even himself. Perhaps his family had at one point? Nothing but hazy blurs were left in place of memories. He couldn’t recall. All he could see in his mind was blood and pain.

Snip, snip, snip. Snip.

“There,” said Knives. “All right, you may rise.”

Legato complied without hesitance. It felt strange at first, standing straight without any hair tumbling down his spine, but he decided that he liked it. It was different. Shaggy ultramarine locks still hung in front of his eyes and draped over his ears, but it was much, much shorter than what it had been. He ran a curious hand through his hair. It was still grimy and greasy from lack of hygiene, but at least there weren’t any more dead ends. A fresh start for a new life.

“You will keep it at that general length. One sign of service. The other will come later, when you’re ready.”

“Yes, Master.” Legato turned, catching the end of the alteration of Knives’s arm as it changed back to its normal, humanlike state. “But… if I may ask, what is the other sign?”

Knives smirked. It was a cruel, twisted smirk that nearly made him quiver. The pure malevolence in his eyes was simply breathtaking. “You’ll just have to wait and see,” he said in a cryptic tone. “It’s something special, I guarantee you.” The youth was confused, but he figured that it would be better not to press any further questions. Knives spun on his heel and began to resume his graceful strides. “Come. We have a lot of ground to cover before we return home. Hurry up and don’t fall behind.”

Not even bothering to look back, Legato went rushing after him. His bare feet sifted through sand and dirt and perfect footprints as he followed. With every pace, he was one step further away from hell and one closer to paradise. Soft zephyrs swept through his shorter hair, brushing the oily blue strands into his face. A sign of servitude, he thought, watching Knives, who ran a hand through his own short, pale blond hair. Then I am his, now. I belong to him. Only one more sign until I am truly recognized. He slowed his speed as he approached his Master’s back; the glow of the setting suns gleamed beautifully on the material of his bodysuit. I will serve, and I promise that I won’t defy you. I will earn myself a purpose. I will do anything. For you, I’ll do anything.