The Generation Series: REBIRTH

The marble-lined halls of the mansion were eerily silent. Sakura lingered at the entrance to the infirmary, nerves knotting her stomach. Would her friends be angry at her for leaving them on the beach? With a deep sigh, she pushed herself to step inside. She had to know whether or not they were alright.

The corridor stretched ahead, its length feeling endless as she braced herself for what she might find. Suddenly, Michelle emerged from a doorway, her face lighting up with a warm smile at the sight of Sakura.

"Sakura, it's good to see you again," Michelle greeted.

Sakura returned the smile faintly and asked, "How are the boys?"

Michelle's expression grew more serious. "I'm sure you were told it's alright to check in, but Michael can't move yet while he recovers. Athen is under heavy sedation, and the twins have unfortunately developed infections from scratching their wounds."

"Can I see them?" Sakura asked.

Michelle shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry, not right now. After the meeting is over, they should be ready for visitors."

Sakura nodded reluctantly. "Alright. Please... take care of them, will ya?"

"Don't worry," Michelle assured her with a soft smile. "Go to the meeting. We'll make sure they're ready for discharge by the end of the day."

With a heavy heart, Sakura gave a slight nod and turned away, her footsteps echoing as she left the infirmary. She pushed her worries aside—it was time to focus on the meeting awaiting her.

She returned to the grand hall, where six elders, one from each village, began shuffling into the building, their hushed conversations filling the air. The werewolves, each bearing coats of varying hues, exchanged concerns in aggressive whispers. Sakura stood silently, observing the procession from above as they filed into the meeting room just to the right of the entrance. Despite her piercing gaze, none of them seemed to notice her presence.

After the others entered, Sakura joined them. She noticed the opulent chamber harboring a glossy, deep-brown table surrounded by grand leather chairs. Seated around this table were the respected elders of Paradise Island, their faces marked by the scars of fire. Shrouded in bandages, they concealed the remains of their burn wounds.

Taking her place at the central end of the table, Sakura was momentarily rendered speechless. Her thoughts were in chaos, and she was grappling with the starting point for their dialogue.

An African American elder, his head wrapped in bandages, his eyes striking white, rose from his seat—the Alpha among them, his authority unmistakable.

Savoring a sip of his coffee, the Alpha Lieutenant addressed her. "You must be Lily's daughter."

With her best American accent, Sakura replied, "My name is Sakura, and I am the Alpha Leader of Paradise. I assume you be the six Alpha Lieutenants who command the islands of Paradise. I'm not quite sure all the names of em', but someday I will."

A tinge of reproach laced his response. "You would have known had you chosen to remain on the island."

"Yoshikazu's decrees were as clear as the Irish skies. As his offspring, you are tethered to honor his decisions, crafted to shield the island," Sakura asserted.

The elders exchanged glances, a silent dialogue passing between them as they sought to fathom how Sakura knew the African American elder and his father's identities. Cautiously, he lowered himself into his seat. The room remained submerged in silence.

Taking the initiative, he spoke harshly. "Among the islands within Paradise, we have six. I am known as Kazuyo the Timber Wolf, the son of Yoshikazu. My lineage has protected Nishinoshima Island—the very island we stand upon—for countless generations. The instant you disappeared off the island, you deserted us."

Sakura smirked. She responded, "I'll be taking that as a bit of flattery, implying ye reckon I emerged from my ma's womb as a clever young adult pup; I will. It's a bit of a stretch to say I paddled across the ocean on me wee paws, all by meself."

The Alpha Lieutenant from Chibu Island, where the twins were born, caught Sakura's attention. She wondered if he could be a relative of theirs. With a sienna complexion, curly dark brown hair, and striking orange eyes, he exuded a quiet authority but seemed unimpressed by Sakura. Laced with subtle scorn, his glances swept up and down her figure before he scoffed dismissively.

Kazuyo gestured kindly toward the man seated to his left. "This is Goto, our Honshu Wolf Alpha Lieutenant from Chibu Island," he said. "The island holds the power to influence the weather surrounding Paradise, should it choose to."

Kazuyo then shifted his attention to the man seated on his right. This Alpha Lieutenant bore a cinnamon skin tone, likely from countless hours under the sun. His red, wavy hair seemed to blaze like fire, complementing his piercing blue eyes. Like Goto, he showed no signs of debilitating injuries.

"That is Yaku, the Red Wolf of Nakanoshima Island," Kazuyo introduced. "The island that bridges the realms of the living and the dead."

Beside Yaku sat another figure of intrigue—a man with an almond complexion, purple eyes, and curly white hair. His face and body bore small, healed scars. He sat in brooding silence, arms crossed, his frown etched deep. Unlike the others, he avoided eye contact with Sakura, his gaze fixed stubbornly ahead. Despite his striking appearance, Sakura instinctively knew he bore no connection to Michael.

Kazuyo continued his introductions calmly. "Here, we have our finest healer on the island, trained under Lina's aunt. This is Daichi, the White Wolf of Ama Island. He wields the healing elements drawn from Japan's most powerful hot springs—a sacred place visited only by priests, Mikko, and our werewolves."

Seated next to Goto, Daichi had warm ivory skin, striking pink eyes, and straight brown hair neatly combed back. His right arm had been replaced with a robotic crutch that could alternate between a functional hand and a wolf paw, though it was worn and rusted with age. He seemed the eldest among the Alpha Lieutenants; retirement was far from his mind. His gaze was sharp, scrutinizing Sakura's every anxious movement. She felt his eyes on her and wrestled with rising nerves; her medication from the previous day had worn off, and she'd forgotten to retake it after returning from the city. Her palms grew sweaty, but a determined fire remained in her to uphold her family's honor.

Kazuyo gestured with respect toward the man. "This is Ebizu, the eldest of our Alpha Lieutenant pack. He is the Honshu Wolf from Matsushima, a region known for its serene beaches and peaceful villagers. During the last war, Ebizu was taken hostage and barely escaped with his life."

Finally, Kazuyo turned to the figure nearest Sakura on her right. This man's face was a map of scars, with his right ear missing entirely. His pale skin and almost fully shaved dark brown hair contrasted sharply with his piercing blue eyes. Despite his youth, he showed true strength with those scars.

"And here we have Sora, the Hokkaido Wolf from Okinoshima," Kazuyo said. "This island is unique, as it experiences all the seasons at once, thanks to the presence of the Yokai who call it home."

Lina entered the chamber, cradling a brown binder in her arms. Aligning with Sakura's view, she interjected, "I couldn't agree more, Sakura. You had help to leave the island." With a delicate grace, she placed the binder before Sakura, the stark black inscription of a singular name etched onto it using a Sharpie. The name resonated—Kenjiro, an Alpha Protector, Sakura's paternal figure who had ventured beyond the island's borders. His absence remained after his departure to Ireland, leaving unanswered questions.

In shock, Sakura said, "Me biological father..."

Lina's response was uncertain. "We do not know where he ran off to."

An abrupt interruption from Kazuyo, his voice resonating with authority, "But we know."

Kazuyo forcefully placed the photographs onto the table, unveiling an image that seized immediate attention—a black werewolf, Kenjiro, brutal and relentless, clenching a lifeless wolf in its jaws. The victim: a young werewolf Beta, their potential suffocated prematurely. The werewolf bore the scars of countless battles, a handful of prosthetics decorating its limbs and skull, a metal piece dominating half its face, and a piercing metallic eye gleaming. Its teeth possessed an advantage like miniature blades, while its tail had transformed into a knife befitting a samurai. Lina reached for one photograph among the onlookers, her gaze knits with bewilderment.

"You cannot assume, my aunt had anything to do with this," Lina interjected. "She would never resort to creating a demon out of us."

Kazuyo replied, "It was not Michelle who orchestrated the transformation. He willingly aligned himself with the humans, pleading with them to mold him into a weapon. The traitor renounced our kind to stand alongside humanity."

Sakura's confusion remained, "Aye, but why now? Why would he betray Paradise Island?"

"He holds you accountable for the demise of your mother."

"Okay, but why target the City of Lights?"

"Because of Atlas Moore, the scientist who perished years ago."

Lina's face managed a fierce rage, her emotions igniting into a blaze that even directed blame at Kazuyo. Her voice crackled with resentment as she challenged, "And what role does my uncle play in this elaborate scheme?"

"Ask your mother. Our focus shifts now to hastening the preparations for the funeral. We shall rendezvous with you in the city," Kazuyo responded.

"Let it be clear," Sakura interjected uncompromisingly, "None shall leave this island except for The Generations and me loyal Alpha Protectors. Take it as a clear and direct order. It is."

The six elders reluctantly fled the room in a cloud of low growls, their collaborative mood soured by the exchange. Meanwhile, Sakura's gaze remained fixated upon the photographs depicting her father. Confusion swirled within her, a torrent of conflicting emotions, as she realized her lineage was intertwined with a man whose malice was now unveiled as a monster. Her mind became an echo chamber of questions, pondering the mystery of how grief could compel someone towards self-destructive choices.