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[crwr213da-blog]

Sustenance of the Body

Cold. Heavy. Blurry. Head’s killing me. Can’t move. Why can’t I move? Oh. Guy on top of me. Think I recognize him. Dead. Shame. Was a good guy. Gave me his bread to eat, before the fight. Told me it’d keep me strong. Should’ve eaten it himself. Need to push him away somehow. Bloody hell, he’s heavy. Crushing my chest. Can’t breathe. No strength. Think I hear something. Footsteps. Sound of steel clanking.

           “Y’figure this one’s still alive?”            “Henry, the hell you askin’ me for? Just stab ‘im!”

           “And waste precious steel on peasant blood?”

Roaring laughter. Headache. Deafening. Headhunters? Headhunters. Whose side?

           “That one’s young anyway. They pay good money for those. You forget why we came here? Those runts are good future soldiers. They’ll have your head if you kill the merchandise.”

Doesn’t matter. Can’t let them find me. Need to run.

I turn around and run.

Can’t! Guy on top. Forgot. Would’ve seen me. Lucky. Have to squirm out slowly. One arm free. Can lift it, barely. Calm down. Calm down. Slowly. Slowly slide out. Second arm out. Are they looking this way? No. Can still move. Can get out. I’ll be okay. Calm. Silent. Slow. One last push. Don’t make noise. I’m out! Don’t get excited. Don’t get up. Make sure they aren’t looking. Run! Run where? Forest? Where else? Need cover. Crawl backwards. Keep an eye on them. Looking this way. Did he see? Did he see? Did he see? Calm. Breathe. Motionless. Wait. Wait. Not looking! Keep crawling. Almost there. Did he see? I can’t see. Still dark. Almost there. Can’t wait. Can’t calm. Can’t breathe. Running. Running.

Hope they didn’t hear. Did they hear? Doesn’t matter. Run into the forest. Hungry. Wish I had bread. Run. Thirsty.

I run. No strength. How am I moving? Can’t feel anything. Can’t see anything. Pain? Still moving. Moving faster. How am I running? Running. Running? No! Falling! Rolling down.

Rolling. Hit on side. Rolling. Can’t stop. Want to stop. Why is this happening? I just wanted to live. I just wanted to eat. I just wanted to talk. I just wanted to help the village. Pain. Arm broken? Can’t sto—

Stopped. Even darker. Headache worse. Something feels warm. Blood? Whose blood? Can’t stop. Get up. Get up. Get up. Pain. Keep walking.

Building. In forest? Why? Can hear water. Water! Maybe they can help. Is this a temple? Keep walking. People! Are they monks? They can help!

I try to call out. Nothing comes out. Can’t talk! They saw me. Saw me! Coming over! Weapons? Why. Weapons drawn. Getting closer. Don’t want to die. Please help. Help. Why?

           “Lay down your arms, fools! Look at his eyes— that’s but a child! One that has seen too much. All that training and you learned nothing. Shameful! Quit gawking and fetch some food and drink!”

           “It’s alright, boy. I’ll take you in.”

Together with a wave of relief, all strength drains from my body. Pleasantly, I collapse.

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Image sources, in order of appearance:

https://about-history.com/have-you-ever-wondered-how-did-a-medieval-battle-end/

http://newforestcommoner.co.uk/2015/12/13/new-forest-the-bully-boy-conqueror-hunting-and-warfare/ (Modified)

https://www.deviantart.com/fantasystock/art/Rocky-Forest-Cliff-Landscape-27304428 (Modified)

https://lparchive.org/Fatestay-night/Update%20349/

https://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2016/01/05/national/japans-rural-temples-see-the-light-in-luxury-tourism/ (Modified)

[crwr213da-blog]

Sustenance of the Mind

It’s been a few months since I ended up here and Teacher took me in. When I think back to that time, I can’t imagine what would’ve happened if he wasn’t here. I don’t think the students would’ve done me any harm, but they didn’t seem to want me there. I would probably bleed out in the forest somewhere instead of collapsing at the gates here. I know it’s all over now, and my training has begun—yet I can’t rid myself of the anger and frustration I feel. I’m thankful that I ended up here, thankful for the assistance I received, and thankful for the chance to become as kind as Teacher. Yet I can’t seem to rid myself of the pain and horror I felt that night. I knew what it meant to be an orphan. I knew life wasn’t going to be fun. But nothing I could have thought up could compare to the horror I felt on that night, running for my life. It took me two whole weeks, like a babe relearning how to talk, before I could speak sentences again. Here I am now, looking up at the stars, restless.

The others say it takes quite a while before you really understand the words you’re told. I remember being told “the ideas of peace and tranquility you have in your head are biased. It takes time to break free of that.” I thought I understood, but maybe I’m wrong. When I speak to Teacher, he seems… distant, as though untouched by this world. Unconcerned. Yet it’s like he can understand exactly what you’re thinking, just from looking at you.

             “Something keeping you up, boy? Sleeping is part of the deal too, you know.”

Teacher’s voice. Shakily, I respond. “I just… I was reflecting.”

           “Not easy to forget what happened, huh?” he says, pushing a cup of tea into my hands.

           “Not like you need to forget, anyways. You get to choose what to remember. Some pain is worth remembering.”

Following that, he lightens up the mood.

            “They like you here, you know. Think you’re their new student. But once I start wandering again, I bet you’re going to try and tag along, won’t you?”

If anyone was asleep, the boom of his hearty laugh made sure they weren’t. Will I one day be able to laugh like that? Without a care in the world?

Suddenly, his tone turns serious again. “Until then, train your mind a bit. You learn very quickly when it comes to sticks and stones, but you can’t sustain your body if you’re ill of mind.”

He takes a seat next to me, gazing up at the stars.

           “You’re not really looking at the stars, boy. You’re just looking at light. Light that came from the past to make the present beautiful. Isn’t that fun? They travel all the way here to inspire and guide us through the night. You should take their example, too.”

Though we didn’t speak a word after that, the silence made sure I understood. Excusing myself, I left to contemplate. I had to discover how my past could help me do good.

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Image sources, in order of appearance:

http://www.asc-csa.gc.ca/eng/blog/2018/06/29/13-amazing-stargazing-locations-in-canada.asp

[crwr213da-blog]

Sustenance of the Cycle

For many years, I traveled alongside Teach. I stopped being his student after he said he had nothing left to teach me, but by then, we were journeymen. During our travels, I saw many things. Some good, some bad. I was far from the only one to go through hell. The man standing next to me had his fair share of suffering, too.

On his deathbed, he told me there was nothing left to say. With no words remaining, he wished to gaze at the stars. He passed away as untouched by the physical world as ever. His fire never ran out.

Of course, I would want to carry on his legacy, but not so loyally that I would insult his teachings. I can still hear him scolding me loud and clear: “Never be satisfied with what you learn from me. Always seek more! The world doesn’t need two of me!”

I decided to keep traveling alone. Initially, I wanted to start an orphanage, so that no child would suffer the same way I had all those years ago. It’s distant now and the bitterness is gone, but I chose not to forget what happened. Soon enough, I realized what a lofty dream I had as I finally understood why the temple kept itself hidden. No town had space for a traveler’s dream, especially not one so Godless as I. Trying to summon Teacher’s detachment and tranquility, I set to wandering through the streets, deciding to return to the temple. As I walk through the forest, I’m suddenly hit by something. Not something. Someone. A bloodied kid, now unconscious on the ground. It looks like he somehow got into a fight with some wild animal— how else do you get wounds like that? Remembering the night Teach saved me, I rush him back to town. Luckily, an old guard points me to a doctor with rehearsed directions.

 As the boy lies unconscious on a healer’s bed, I take the chance to ask the doctor why he seemed unsurprised when I brought in a bleeding child.

           “Well, the kids an orphan. Doesn’t steal like the others though; always goes foraging and hunting in the forest. These injuries were inevitable.”

           “Bloody surprising he don’t steal, considering his rat of a father!” spits out a stranger.

Seeing my quizzical, concerned look, the doctor explains.

           “Father was executed a while back. Wanted to steal food for the kid, things went wrong, people died.” Seeing my face, he pauses. “You look like you know how it goes.”

Thankful for the doctor’s medical aid, yet frustrated that no one was really helping this boy, I resolve myself to give him another chance at life. Who else but I, having spent most of my years living in the forest? If I take him to the temple, we can teach him to hunt. Teach him to defend himself. Teach him to love himself.

As he awoke, I could finally pass on the words that saved me from the brink of death. I could carry on my teacher’s legacy.

           “It’s alright, boy. I’ll take you in.”

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Image sources, in order of appearance:

https://unsplash.com/photos/0R_JdRQQVqw

https://carwad.net/wallpaper-1018350