A Man in Ruin

The dull clunk and clack of wood yielding before metal filled the otherwise silent fall air. In the land of snow the seasons were short and quick, well, except for winter. Winter was long brutal and downright dangerous without proper preparation. However, even as he brought the ax above his head and back down into a particularly stubborn round of wood, Iesada Saito's thoughts were not about the coming winter. No, his body may have been working in the present, but his mind-as it always seemed to be of late-was firmly rooted in the past.

Ca-Crack!

The round finally broke apart underneath Iesada's strength. Leaning the ax against the sizable pile of wood to his left the man took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow and take a swig from his nearly empty canteen. Swishing the cool spring water around in his mouth he cast his gaze across what anyone would label as unspoiled nature.

For Iesada it was a living hell.

Where one might see a tall evergreen tree by a crystal clear lake Iesada saw where his wife and daughter used to play in the rare summer heat. Where one saw a sturdy cabin built from surrounding timber Iesada saw an empty home. And where one saw a field of colorful alpine flowers Iesada saw a graveyard where his beloved Yui and his precious Nemu lay. Even to that day he found his heart skipping a few beats upon seeing something in his peripheral vision on the off chance the past year had been a dream.

Alas, there was no waking up from reality for Iesada. He had no one left; no village; no friends; no family; nothing all because of the callousness of humans. Perhaps it was better he had not seen a soul for the past six months. His rage had cooled into a tempered hate and general disdain for humanity in all its facets. The loving family man his lost Yui and Nemu once knew had been buried the day he found Yukigakure in ruins with his family slain.

With a grunt and no small amount of huffing Iesada moved the next round of wood onto the chopping block. Work kept him centered and from falling off the deep end. No longer having work as a diplomat, Iesada poured his time and effort into improving his home. At one point in the past he had declared to Yui, his wife, that it was already the perfect house, but now every time he looked at it there was something off; a shingle astray or a brick mislaid. Nothing seemed right.

Another swing and the head of ax sunk deep into the wood. Gripping the oaken handle and leaning back Iesada attempted to free the ax from the wood only to find it would not budge. Relaxing a bit he tried once more to no avail. Getting red in the face he tried one more time. This time the ax flew free and brought Iesada with it.

Landing hard on the ground pain shot up his lower back like an icy shock whiting out his vision. For what felt like an eternity Iesada lay there on his back as the light spots in his eyes began to fade. Then all he saw was blue mingled with wisps of what had to clouds and for the first time in six months tears welled up in his eyes. Bringing himself up to a sitting position did not help the situation and in a matter of seconds the tears were rolling down his face in two hot mournful rivers.

"Oh, Yui, if you could see me now," He said to no one but himself as he wiped the tears from his face.

Pulling himself up he retrieved the ax from a small patch of heather and slung it over his shoulder. His back still stung with each step he made towards his humble cabin; what a silly thing to get hurt by. Pulling open the door Iesada found the faint smell of cedar that wafted towards him almost calming, almost. There was still work to be done; there was always work to be done. There HAD to be work to do.

Arranging a nice tepee of wood in the hearth he lit the fire sending a weak column of smoke up through the chimney. Over the course of the next hour or so the sky darkened, but Iesada's fire grew. Soon it was dark and the wind had picked up. Warm in the confines of his cabin Iesada sipped on a cup of piping hot tea.

Nights were hard. He had plenty of food, but entertainment was severely lacking. He had already read all the books he had at least three times over and one could only play shogi against oneself so many times. So, the young man occupied his nights with tea and fire watching. Watching the dancing flames slowly smolder into embers had become Iesada's existence, but today it felt different.

His back still ached from the fall he took earlier and his mind was still full of echoes from the past. No, the fire was not helping, nor was the tea. It all felt wrong. Something had to change. However, as his mind extolled change his body remained firmly planted in front of the fire. It was an odd paradox. Perhaps that was the best way to describe Iesada, a paradox.

Sometime in the night Iesada drifted from reality into the calming embrace of Morpheus. He, Yui and Nemu all danced about in a meadow of heather. Yui was laughing; Nemu was singing; it was beautiful, they were beautiful. It must have been the spring festival. The heather was flowering and both Yui and Nemu wore flowers in their shiny black hair. Yui opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a howl like a banshee and the dream seemed to burn like paper until it was ash leaving Iesada alone in blackness.

All at once he was back in his chair in front of the fire. The wind howled outside and buffeted his home heralding the arrival of an early winter. The embers still winked in and out of existence in the hearth; he had not been asleep for too long. He was warm, well fed and healthy, but he was back in the cabin. Yui and Nemu were gone.

He was back in the cabin.

He was alone.

Something had to change.

[1,081 words, +5 Strength, Exit.]