The Armadillo with No Heart

Chapter 10: The Locket

From the hill he was on, Kuro could already see Northport in the distance. The day's first rays of sunlight were already reflecting over the ocean's surface, which looked fairly still from this far away, and tinting the town and its surroundings in the lazy, dim colors of early morning. Some people loved mornings like this, the feeling that a whole new day lay ahead, a fresh start. Kuro was different. He had long since come to associate this time of day with sleepiness and discomfort; before nine o'clock, his head always felt as if it was spinning and his body ached as if he had fallen down a flight of stairs.

Today, he felt even more tired than usual, mostly because the handcuffs had forced him to sleep near Morty – before they had all gone to sleep, he had used them to bind Kuro's wrist to his own, so he could not get away in the middle of the night. Morty's snoring was almost as loud as a jackhammer, and after an hour, give or take, Kuro was forced to cover his ears to prevent the sound from driving him insane. He eventually managed to get a few hours' sleep, though how that happened was anyone's guess.

All three Spinehogs were still asleep, but Kuro paid no attention to them, watching the town below instead. The streets and rooftops were growing brighter with every minute. Kuro estimated that it was nearly six o'clock, which meant the residents were, by now, probably waking up to the sluggish start of a day like thousands of others. That sort of normal, everyday life was something Kuro had been denied by fate, but he was not sure whether he should envy these people or feel sorry for them.

With his free hand, Kuro touched the locket resting on his chest, right over his mark. He had been wearing it around his neck since his first meeting with the Spinehogs; the fact that he had come so close to losing it had made him vow never to take it off again. Kuro stroked it distractedly for a moment or two, as if it were a small, delicate animal. Then he paused, thinking. He had not opened it a single time since setting out on his trip. Now was as good a time as any, wasn't it?

Kuro held up the locket. He had not polished it in some time. The silver casing was opaque and somewhat blackened. He carefully pulled it open. Unlike the outside, the photograph was well-preserved; its colors had not yet begun to fade, nor had the memories that it represented.

Kuro did not smile as he looked at the photograph, nor did he cry; he was too tired for that, both physically and emotionally. The first recognizable feeling to take hold of him was not sadness, but regret. Why had he, of all people, taken those happy days for granted?

He closed his eyes and let his mind wander off, away from that hill, away from Northport and the Spinehogs, into a past that felt much more distant than it really was.

From what he knew, his parents had both been esteemed citizens of Greentown in their youth. His father, Theodore Trivol, was a member of the town guard, which he had joined at the age of seventeen, and was renowned among his comrades for his chivalry and dedication. Theodore's humble and honest nature won the heart of the lovely Sylvia Gilen, daughter of Bertrand Gilen, one of the most respected nobles in town.

Theodore and Sylvia married one year after the day they met. Hanging on one of the walls in Kuro's house was a picture of them on their wedding day. They looked happier in that picture than Kuro had ever seen them in his life. Both were smiling – not forced smiles, but genuine ones. They surely believed that a bright future awaited them.

Until the day their only son was born.

Kuro could not imagine how they had felt on that day, but he was sure of one thing: his birth had been the end of their hopes and dreams. Giving birth to the Dillo with no Heart was the worst disgrace that could possibly befall any Dillo. Theodore and Sylvia became estranged from their families and friends after Kuro was born, and, as the years went by, their isolation only grew.