To Slice The Wind

Death

A throbbing pain circulated around Arakan's knee caps. It felt like a rough rope was tightly tied around his skin and rubbed until it burned into his bones. The side of his cheek that was pushed against the soil and mud below him for the past few days was slowly turned over as he groaned in pain. His eyes were still closed. Every ounce of energy was used up from just turning his flailing body over. The warm air that he inhaled and exhaled took many minutes to stabilize. Arakan's eyes gradually opened and the light of day that pierced through the leafy branches of the gargantuan trees that stood around him.

"You sure took your own time to wake up, youngin. Get up. You've been dead for 2 days now, any longer, and you might wake up in hell!"

"W-who's t-there?..."

A deep, ghastly voice traveled into Arakan's ears. As he lifted his neck upwards, he caught an abstract glimpse of a huge man with a dirty, grey kimono, his black hair tied messily at the back of his head sitting cross-legged at the edge of his feet. Before Arakan could focus his gaze on the man for a second longer, his neck gave up on him and his head dropped to the ground again. Despite the drop, he felt no pain on the back of his head as the agony he faced was aggressively chomping down on his legs. The patch of the dried up blood that was probably infected could be felt by Arakan. Thinking back, he had tripped and crashed on the ground in the middle of the forest for such a long time. He needed to recover fast or else his immune system would kill him eventually. The village was burnt to the ground and there was nothing left to save him, and the mysterious figure that sat before him slowly became a beacon of hope.

"Help me... please, I beg you. If I don't get medicine soon, I don't think I can last any longer... Sir, please!"

"Think. Who do you think caused you to be in the position you are in? Was it the troops that ravaged this land? Or was it your weakness to defend your family? You are on the ground, not because you fell. You are here because your weakness had caused you to abandon your village."

The man's words were like a net that was cast onto his mind. Arakan's entire point of view had been redirected. The predicament he was now in was not because of Matsumoto's attack, but because of his own weakness. If he was stronger, he could have stood his ground, killed the soldiers that terrorised his family and retreated with them safely. But no, he took off into the forest with the excuse of his mother's final words to 'flee away'. The truth was, he killed his own mother by running away. He killed his own father by sleeping soundly while his father's head was beheaded. That thought sent a cold shiver down his spine, as though his father's head was rolling towards him on the soil that he was laying on. At that point, he was no longer the Arakan he was before. He had a goal in mind, to be the strongest swordsman under the skies in order to protect those who are precious to him. There was no hesitation in his line of thoughts. Arakan was reborn.

"Come to the gathering dock of Kariyama Village before dusk, at least if you value your life. I don't know how you would face your father if you died such a pathetic death. Escape death, kid, that's the only way for you to grow stronger."

The rugged man stood up and walked away. Arakan, who was too weak to even lift himself up, was only left by the loud footsteps of the man as the sound trails away from him. He was now alone, his soul felt like it was attached to the surrounding nature, and he struggled to even bring up a finger from the soil beneath him. The greater concern, however, was his parched throat that felt like a piece of sandpaper that was stuck to his esophagus. The intense pain burning his knees, together with his dried up throat, tortured the joints in his body. Every movement he took was followed by a loud groan. Hours passed before Arakan was able to lean towards one side of his shoulder against the bark of a Japanese Cypress, his arm clutching around the thick, wooden tree. His vision that was once blurry became clear with his fiery desire to survive. After all, he had to be alive to fulfil his ambition of becoming strong. Above him, the sun was no longer above his head, but had already drifted along the curvature of the planet. He had to reach the border of the village in order to live by the time the sun would rise again. Only a few steps had been taken from the place he laid helplessly a mere, few hours ago. He still had to climb down the rocky hill and trek along the burned ruins of his village to get to the meeting point the mysterious man had promised him.

Every small drag each of Arakan's barefoot took caused the infection to worsen. His whole body was drenched with sweat, and a continuous trail of saliva slipped down his cracked lips. If he was breathing and walking then because of his biological function, he would have collapsed to the ground and died many hours ago, but he is only able to advance forward because of his spirit. The spirit of a rising warrior. The moment his eyes met the downward, narrow slope of the hill, Arakan's body gave up. There are limits to the body's threshold, and he has fully stripped away every layer of capability his body possessed. As his weak body fell down the rough rocks of the hills, the sun too collapsed to the surface of the ocean that faced him.

"You have been assailed by Lady Death thrice now. How does it feel to be so close to her? Your ascension as a warrior will be great. I knew you wouldn't have made it to the border, you are human, after all. Travel to the north and seek strength, boy".

Arakan was awakened by the same voice that shook him awake before. It was the familiar, deep voice. Although the voice was comforting, it felt threatening, as though it spurred Arakan's soul to take action. A couple of drops of sour tasting liquid slipped down his throat. As nasty as it tasted, he savoured it. He almost thought of it as a beverage from paradise, especially after being dehydrated for too many days. The burning sensation in his knee that was murdering his lower body again and again was slowly transitioning into a minty, cold feeling that he enjoyed. By the moment he fully regained his consciousness, the man was gone but, like before, his words were etched in his mind. "Travel to the north and seek strength". Those words were like the wooden wheels to a carriage. It allowed Arakan to move, both physically and mentally, towards his goal. The ointment that the man had applied on Arakan as well as the medicine he dropped down his throat gave him the spurt of energy he needed. Despite that, he lacked the nutrition, he was slowly starving to death. In front of him, amongst the fallen wood, was a horde of corpses. No longer distracted by the pain, the smell of the slowly decomposing bodies begun to shroud into his lungs. He retched. Vomited. Regurgitated all the stomach juices that filled up his empty stomach.

He had no choice. Arakan started to remember the pain he felt leading to this juncture in time. The smell of the rotting bodies were nothing compared to everything he had faced until now. Arakan sinked his teeth into the pieces of flesh that he dug with his fingers. He ate, retched, ate, retched to the point where his mind became accustomed to the disgust his tongue had administered. The stars above him stared at him as he filled himself with his fellow villagers. There was no guilt, only the will to survive. Arakan lay down with the corpses around him together with the flies that hovered above the bodies and the white maggots that squirmed in the potholes of the dead bodies. For the first time in three days, he managed to get proper sleep. Even then, he was awakened by the frequent nightmares that spooked him. The repeated scene of his father's head rolling towards him always sent him awake multiple times throughout the night, combined with the flies buzzing their song near his ears gave him a difficult time to get rest.

Arakan had never set foot outside the borders of the village. The world that he lived in only consisted of the village and the sea. Now, he wished to cross foreign lands to be the strongest swordsmen under the sky. That night was silent, aside from his exhausted, heavy breathing as he slept, only the waves could be heard from the distance.