As the Shadows Fade
Chapter 2
Alone.
Not a soul was in sight as he walked through the forest that surrounded the small village he would be calling home from now on. The sun filtering through the thick tops of the tall sycamores warmed his skin and succeeded in temporarily relieving him of the hollowness that had now taken over his soul. Everything was gone. His people, his village that had been his birthright and sanctuary. Gone. Gone up in flames. All gone because he and his father had not been able to run back in time to save the people that he lived for. His mother? She was gone too. Turned into some fighting machine that he, in the end, had to kill. Just at the thought of her face and the momentary peace that had been in her eyes when he had succeeded in rescuing her just that once rended his heart in half and again.
The path that lay before his mechanically moving feet was littered with leaves that had been late in falling off the trees. It was mid December now, but the snow still had not come. A few years ago when it had been like this, many in his village had counted their blessings that their crops had flourished so well and had even now continued to grow, but the sages of the mountains had warned of a cruel but late winter. They had often told him to advise his villagers to store three times the usual amount of food in their homes and to preserve as much fish and meat as was needed to last them for at least six months. Many had done according to his advice, but many took the extra precaution and had already begun preserving and storing enough for them and their neighbors. He remembered with a slight smile crossing his lips that he had been one of them.
Hours had been spent gathering the food, and he had remembered with fondness that they had made somewhat of a festival out of it. Men, women, and children traveled in small groups of five or six and carried baskets on their arms, picking whatever they could manage to preserve from the fields. What had already ripened was to be taken in and prepared as a feast for the entire village afterward, and all the children were to make desserts and decorate them.
But now as he stared up at the rays of sunlight that had now begun to flood the moss-crowded forest floor, he felt a long-forgotten stinging sensation well up behind his dark, brown eyes. The sharp lines of the dark sycamores quickly blended in and blurred in his vision with the bright, yellow dandelions that grew around them. He sat down on a nearby stump and tried his best to ignore this feeling.
He was a man. A man who had come from ten generations of legendary warriors who fought in the shadows in their endeavors to protect Hagakure and uphold its values. He had endured many tests and had triumphed over them all. From physical torture to psychological torture, he had emerged victorious and had proven himself worthy of his place as the leader of Hagakure.
Yet, as he shut his eyes tightly against this stinging sensation, pictures of his village flashed before his eyes, and the guilt washed over him, relentlessly pounding at his sense of honor and pride.
He had passed every test, every trial, and had overcome every obstacle that had been placed in his path, but he could not save the very village and people that he loved. They had counted him as their savior and guardian, and he had failed them!
He buried his face in his hands as this final realization tore away at the last bricks of the walls that he had put up around his heart. The wounds and scars now opened themselves, letting billows of painful memories and bittersweet dreams cascade down his smooth, tan cheeks. As the sobs shook his solid frame, wells of pent-up emotion and pain freed themselves of his icy grip. His father had taught him long ago that for a man to cry openly was a shame.
Kage-Maru was to stand strong, rooted and grounded in his honor and strength. He was to face even the most cruel and harsh storm with a face of stone. Anything short of this would be a disgrace.
As the tears continued falling, the wounds and scars seemed to grow deeper and more painful with every breath. It was as if the very act of letting these emotions run free and uninhibited only added more salt to them. For years, he had pushed these feelings aside, and he had been successful for a time. But now, as the forest embraced him warmly in its blanket of bird song and chirping crickets, the numbness of keeping to the traditions of the honor code lifted as tears now flowed freely.