The Armadillo with No Heart

Chapter 1: The Clock

Kuro was sitting in bed, looking out his bedroom window. The trees outside rustled in the wind, and only a few clouds hung in the blue sky. To some, the arrival of a new day was a sign of hope, the herald of a new chance. To him, however, the pleasantly warm morning brought no comfort at all. In fact, it only reminded him that he would only get to see the sun rise and set a few more times, and that he would no longer be here when winter, his favorite season, came again and covered the hills of Greentown in a blanket of white snow.

When he was a child, his sixteenth birthday had always seemed so distant that he never gave it much thought. As strange as this may seem, knowing that he would die before even reaching adulthood had not been of much concern to him at first. In the past few years, however, his thoughts and feelings began to change, so slowly and gradually that it took a long time for him to notice... his fear of death was more real now than it had ever been, and he could no longer hide from it. Most creatures had the good fortune of not knowing that they were mortal. Others knew, but were still lucky enough to not know when or how they were going to die. He, Kuro Trivol, was not so lucky. He had always known. The date of his death had been set from the moment he came into this world.

Two months. He only had two months left to live. If only he could have a second chance... a chance to go back in time and do the things he had not done, the things he would never do. It seemed like only yesterday that he had six months left. Back then, he was still able to smile and cry. He was still able to sleep without dreaming of his impending execution...

The sun came out from behind a cloud, causing Kuro to close his eyes as his face was bathed in sunlight. He tried to calm his heavy and erratic breathing, but to no avail. The rustling of the trees had quieted down, allowing him to hear the most terrifying sound in the world – the ticking of the clock on the wall.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The sound, steady and persistent, appeared to mock him over his mortality. The clock kept ticking away, incessantly, unhurriedly. Nothing could stop it or slow it, nothing could turn it back... nothing in the universe was more powerful or cruel than time. Like an unseen, indestructible parasite, time patiently chipped away at all living things without them noticing, slowly wearing them down, until they gave. And they always gave.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

His final hour drew closer with each second. It was frightening to think that his heart would stop long before that clock did. He would have destroyed the clock long ago, were it not a memento of his mother, the only person in the world who had loved him in spite of his disgraceful existence.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Kuro brought his hand to the mark over his heart, the Mark of Sin. He was the Dillo with No Heart, the harbinger of pain and suffering. He deserved to die. What right did he have to blame the prophecy for his fate? The only one to blame was himself.

Even knowing this, he could not stop himself from clenching his fists in anger. Out of thousands of Dillos, over hundreds of years, he thought, why did it have to be me?

-----

In those two months, Kuro never went down to Greentown, not even once. He could no longer look other Dillos in the eye. He feared that if he did so, they would notice how scared he was, and lock him in prison until the Day of Sacrifice, so he could not run away. He often spent whole nights awake, not daring to sleep. Even the slightest noise outside would make his heart leap, sending him into a state of utmost terror... a chill would run down his spine, as if the cold grip of death were upon him already. He thought they had come for him at last.

Time passed quickly, as it always does when one wants it to slow down, and, soon enough, it was the afternoon three days before his sacrifice. He had spent most of the day pacing back and forth, unable to calm himself. The anticipation was slowly consuming him.

Death will put an end to this, he told himself. Death will liberate me from this suffering... I won't have to feel afraid anymore.

Nor would he feel anything else, ever again...

It has to happen. It has to, and it will. I accepted that a long time ago, didn't I?

His mind was taken by visions of the town square becoming stained with his blood...

It won't hurt that much. They won't want to make me suffer any more than necessary... will they?

When night fell over the valley, he had reached a decision.

Kuro went upstairs and pushed open his bedroom door. He tried not to think about the gravity of what he was about to do. He had to do it before he changed his mind.

Kuro opened the wardrobe and took out his backpack, then began to search the drawers on his nightstand, taking everything he thought he might need. He began to feel nervous; his breathing was fast, his hands trembled uncontrollably. His locket, his most important belonging, was in the top drawer. He made sure it was safe in the backpack before proceeding. He would not leave without it.

He searched his parents' old bedroom thoroughly for his father's old possessions – his knife, canteen, and a few other things that could prove useful. Once Kuro found them all, he went back downstairs as quietly as possible. He took all the food he could carry from the pantry; then, in the kitchen, he filled the canteen to the brim. It should be enough water for a few days, at least. Finally, he made for the door.

Kuro took one last look at the parlor. He had lived in this house for sixteen years, but right now... it felt strangely unfamiliar to him.

As he put his hand on the doorknob, for a brief moment, he hesitated, remembering the words his father had said to him years before.

No matter what you do, don't run away from your fate. There is no salvation for those who refuse to play their parts.

Within a few seconds, survival instincts overcame all reason.

I have to live, he thought.

Kuro went outside and took a deep breath. The evening air was cool and calming. There was no wind, and the only sound to be heard was the chirping of the crickets. No longer hesitating, he began to walk toward the Nymphwoods.