There comes a time in all our lives when we have to make a choice: personal honor or duty and loyalty. The choice comes as suddenly as a summer storm, as violently as well, tearing apart any previous convictions, leaving you to cower like a frightened child. It is not kind, this choice, it is far from patient. It is cruel and demanding, pushing you to the brink of madness, just to receive an answer. It courts you with sleepless nights, bleak days, empty dreams. We want to hope it'll give us times, that when we next open our eyes it is gone, that it is giving us the space we desperately crave. How wrong we are.
I have met this choice, I have met it and I have bested it. I have conquered and come forth victorious. But sometimes I can't help but wonder if the cost was worth it.
My life was different from other children, other teenage girls to be exact. I grew up on a shrine, raised from birth on my grandfather's stories about mikos and demons, and my mother's calm patience that encourage me to enjoy life. And I did. I grew up surrounded by friends, someone who was never at a loss for something to do. For my younger self, there was nothing better; life was complete. It was also, I was about to realize, soon to be ripped apart at the seams.
On my 15th birthday, I fell into an ancient well that was housed on my family's shrine. I was pulled through by a power-hungry centipede demon that sounds to take my life and the power hidden within me, but it was not to be. Instead of ending my life, the creature jumpstarted what could only be called the craziest adventure in history.
Some might call it fate or destiny, but I hesitate to name it as such. I like thinking that I have some semblance of control over my life.
For two years I traveled between my era and one 500 hundred years passed via the well. It was in the past that I had my first crush and heartbreak, my first serious injury, and the first time I saw death. Small wonder I no longer considered make-up as important. I had to grow strong quickly; it was either that or die. I, for one, didn't particularly care for the latter option.
I met many people while I was in the feudal era, five of them became as close to me as my own blood family. They were the ones who taught me how to be strong, and it was for them that I drew my bow and killed demons. In this world, you were either enemy or friend; there were no in betweens.
I grew, in this strange fashion, until I turned seventeen, and the battle that had haunted us for two long years finally decided to manifest. We sent out a call to our allies, and when we entered the territory of our hated enemy we were backed by the West, the South, and other ragtag groups of people who owed no allegiance to any country.
I will not lie, the battle was fierce and bloody, and many of those who went in, howling with battle rage, were soon silenced forever. But even as the sun set, even as crimson flowers of gore began to adorn our clothes and bodies, we never gave up. It sounds so cheesy that even now, I laugh at the thought of it, but it is true. We all had our reasons to be there, and each and every one of us refused to give up, even if it meant dying.
It ended, however, in a blink of an eye that seemed like centuries. I can see the final blow, etched forever in my memory. My arrow, shining with my miko powers twining around the blasts from the brothers who had finally learned how to work together, slamming into our foe's chest; a blinding display of overwhelming power that destroyed every last molecule in its path save one: the Jewel.
It was such a tiny thing, so dark a black to be almost purplish-blue, so delicate a figure that it seemed almost impossible that it could have been the cause of all our sufferings and tribulations. And yet, as I picked it up, as I saw gentle pink chase away gloomy black, as I heard my friends' cries of joy, the only thoughts I had were filled with overwhelming sadness. This crystal controlled everything, even if we refused to believe it. This meager piece of rock guided our lives, playing us like a puppeteer moves his marionettes. We were nothing more than blinded fools, striving against an impossible path. And so, because of that, I made my choice. I wished upon the sacred jewel.
I changed that day. Gazing into the jewel, I realized that I was no longer the naïve young girl I once was. Instead, I was a mere bystander in the crossroad of history. I was someone who's only purpose was to tilt the scales of balance and change what fate had ordained. I was to go against the indomitable will of fate, the same fate that I had so adamantly denied, and I was supposed to win. So I chose.
These days, time and fate are irrelevant to me. I rest for all eternity locked away from the grasping claws of demons and the fleeting memories of humankind. I have chose my place as bystander and now I watch the lives of the immortals that roam the lands and skies as they seek power and homes, and I gaze fondly on the mortals that eke out a living on the moist earth that bore them. People say that the jewel is gone, and it is, all but lost in the crumbling archives of memory and time, but I still remain, and as I sit here, a small crystal bauble, just perfect for a child, I smile and close my eyes, allowing my soothing rest to surround me, embrace me, for all eternity.
Quite honestly, I was not expecting to write this. I had been going through my old notebooks and I found the first paragraph, and I started thinking how cool that sounded. And so I expanded. It was really fun, once I got into this, because I have never written a piece quite like this. I have never written without using names or specific titles, and while it was challenging, it was like taking a deep breath of air after waking up. It was refreshing and new, and exactly what I needed to have. I hope you enjoyed this piece, and like always, all reviews and comments are welcome. Thanks for reading!