Tsureteitte
Tsubasa: RESIVoir CHRoNiCLE
By Unfinished Song
Part 2: Last Strength
As he took yet another countless step onto his left foot his leg gave way yet again, sending him crashing into the muddy ground for the umpteenth time. Just as he had done so many times before he attempted to catch himself on his left hand, doing his best to keep his throbbing right eye covered, but this time unlike the others his landing was wrong. The wrist twisted in a painful angle, spraining the tendons and sending him flopping gracelessly on his side. A crash of thunder peeled out loudly above him as though in laughter at his plight. A choked sob caused by both pain and misery escaped from his tightly closed throat as he tried to get back to his feet, ignoring the throbbing of his left wrist as it complained bitterly. Biting his lower lip to help himself keep from crying, he pushed his right foot under him and rose yet again to keep walking down the seemingly endless road.
He had only taken a couple of steps when his left leg refused him yet again. As before he attempted to catch himself, but his wrist, already hurt from the last fall, gave a twist again, the tendons too strained to support what he wanted it to do. There was a pop as something inside that wasn't bone snapped loose. He fell upon his side, his face twisted with the effort to hold his tears in, making his right eye hurt with a new kind of pain. Again he bit his lip to keep the shivering sobs inside. He unknowingly bit so hard that it bled. The metallic taste blended unnoticed with the one that was already dancing though his mouth. He had long since grown used to the taste of the blood that ran from his eye down his face, its trail brushing the corner of his mouth.
How far does this road go? Where am I trying to get to?
Seeing that his left hand would be of no more use for balance, he tried to push himself up onto his elbows, just enough to get his knees under him so he could get up. That's all he needed and he could keep going… where? Why was he trying so hard to keep traveling down this endless muddy road? It took him a moment to remember his reason, why he had chosen to focus his determination on putting one foot in front of the other.
Oh yeah. If I stop, I'll get too cold to move.
He tried again to get to his feet. He wiggled his elbow under his upper body and lifted, raising his chest that was coated in a mix of blood and mud up off the path. He pulled his legs under him, raising himself onto his knees, and for a time he stay balanced that way, resting his weight on his elbow and his hurting knees. Taking a deep breath to brace himself, he threw his weight onto his left knee, attempting to push himself up with his right. His knee scorched with agony along his by now raw nerves and gave out, refusing to hold his weight. He fell, exhausted onto his side in the mud of the road.
It hurts. It hurts so bad…! I feel like I could die…
He tried once more what he decided would be his one final time to get up, but the effort was no more than a bare lift off the ground before his strength gave out completely. The cold bit deep into him all the way to the core of his bones. He was so cold he didn't think he'd ever be warm ever again. The cold had been so persistent and solid that after a time of walking the pain that burned along his various hurts had become an almost welcome fire. It was the only thing that was keeping his freezing nerves from going completely numb. But now even the pain wasn't enough to make him able to keep moving.
It wasn't just the rain that was making everything slightly hazy anymore. His vision kept phasing in and out in time with his heart and his body shook violently from cold and blood loss. The cold was everywhere, and no matter what he tried he couldn't make the pain stop even for a moment. He closed his eyes, letting his cramping right hand finally fall away. He could feel the blood flow anew from under his closed eyelid like crimson tears, but he was so tired he didn't even twitch his right hand in attempt to lift it and stave the bleeding.
Maybe if he rested just for a little bit he could get up again. To rest for just a little while in the bliss of dark unconsciousness would be a welcome reprieve from the agony of the cold and the pain and the mental hurt brought on by his blank-thought confusion. There was so much that was clouding his thoughts, yet there was nothing there to cloud them, and that was what was making things so hard to understand. His mind, his memory, his feelings, all of it felt as though it had never existed until the moment that felt like it was now days ago; the moment he had awakened beaten, bloody, and alone on the endless dirt road.
Yes. I'll rest… just for a little while.
In truth he didn't honestly expect to ever wake up again.