Disclaimer: I do not own Harvest Moon or any of the characters. I wish I
did. Mazrim is C to me however. Do not take credit for him if you wish to
live. No furry woodland mammals were harmed during the making of this
Fanfic. At times, flashy curse words may cause little children to go
insane. Because of this, this fanfic is rated R. Anyone under 17 must
stop reading under the penalty of death. This fanfic may cause seizures.
Please consult your doctor before reading this fanfic. This fanfic
contains .3245 grams of sodium. And for the love of God. It's just make
believe.
Chapter 3: Old Wounds
******
I had laid in bed for nearly thirty minutes now, listening to the damned chickens crowing from the other farm. Groaning, I took a look at my watch that was on the table. 6:00am.
Son of a.
Finally fed up, I rolled out of bed and stretched. I knew this was going to be a long day. Leno jumped up onto the bed as he wagged his tail, happy to see me awake. Suddenly, I became aware that the ground felt squishy. Looking down, I saw the source of the problem. I looked back up at Leno. He simply wagged his tail.
After letting Leno outside and washing my foot off with the hose out back, I decided to go wash up. Looking around, I realized that I had another problem.
There was no freaking bathroom.
Hell no. How did my grandpa get through day to day?
Muttering a string of profanity that would make a sailor blush, I went to grab a bucket and a bar of soup I had bought from the store. Looking around, I made sure no one was looking, stripped down, and dumped a bucket of cold water over my head. Gasping, I then proceeded to scrub the dirt off my body, as I froze my ass off. It was early spring.
How the hell did grandpa live so long?
After I was done, I decided to go inside and see what kind of tools I had to work with. Seeing an old chest labeled tools, I opened it up and inspected them.
They were rusty. Very rusty. Shaking my head, I noticed a backpack hanging above the chest. Smiling, I picked it up grabbed a scythe, a hammer, and an axe, and went outside to the "field". To the left, there was a box labeled Shipping. The area next to it had only weeds. I decided that it would be best to clear the area by that first.
Pulling out the scythe, I held it awkwardly as I sized up my opponent. The wind blew gently through my hair. In a sudden movement, I launched into attack with a battle cry.
An hour later, I had only managed to clear out one small patch. I was already exausted. This stuff was thick. It was like trying to chop down a tree with a toothpick.
How the hell did he live this long indeed.
Okay. Let's try something else.
Taking out the hammer, I went to the nearest boulder. It was huge, to say the least.
This sonofabitch was going to be toast.
With another war cry, I unleashed the all furry of a soldier-turned-farmer- without-a-bathroom. The impact shot through my arm. The sound was deafening.
And there was not even a single scratch on the rock.
I lost all my composure and went into a series of fitful pounding. A half hour and an unscathed boulder later, I was gasping for breath. My side was throbbing. Something distant in the back of my head told me to be concerned about it, but fury had reared it's ugly head again.
Shoving the hammer back into the backpack, I yanked the axe out and glared at the pile of wood that used to be a fence. In a blinding rage, I attacked it for all I was worth.
Apparently, I wasn't worth much.
Deciding to call it a draw, I headed back into the shack to rest for a bit. The television caught my attention. It was old. It was ugly. It was black and white.
It was also about the only thing that still worked around here.
Turning it on, I immediately discovered it had only four channels. Channel 1 was the local news. Probably going to be useful once I got the farm running. Channel 2 was a weather station. I could easily see this channel being the most useful channel I'll ever watch. Flipping the dial again, channel 3 was some sort of home shopping network. It had some potential, but I would have to make more money, first. I was running low on funds. The last channel seemed to be some sort of kid's channel. Useless.
Turning the set off, I decided to take a look at the village. As I stood up, I felt a sharp pain in my side again. Ignoring it, I grabbed my coat and left the farm, traveling up the path. The first building I came across was the blacksmith. I still had my tools inside my backpack. Maybe they were just too rusty to be useful. Shrugging, I decided to go inside.
"No! Wrong! You've got it all wrong, boy! Damnit! How many times do I gotta tell you, strike the metal like this!"
It appeared that I had come in at the wrong time. An old man with crazy white hair was practically breathing down some other guy's neck, as he tried desperately to shape the metal with his hammer. The poor guy looked like he was struggling. He wore a baseball cap and a tan jacket, though it was hotter than hell in here. Abruptly, the old man turned around to regard me.
"Hello there young man. What can I do for you?" I stared at him, and then glanced at the other guy. He coughed, and went on. "You must be Mazrim. My name Sabria, and this incompetent fool over here is my grandson and apprentice, Gray."
So that's what was going on. I've seen teachers like him before. The put you down and treat you like crap so that you try harder just in spite of them.
"Is there something I can help you with?"
Taking the tools out of my pack, I showed them to Sabria.
"I had a very hard time trying to use these this morning. I think they are too rusty to be effective. Do you got any way of improving them?"
Mumbling, Sabria turned the scythe over, inspecting it.
"Damn right they're ineffective. Tell you what. We'll temper your tools with bronze, and sharpen them. They still won't be too strong, but they will get the job done much easier."
Bronze?
"Why can't you use something stronger than bronze?"
The old man looked at me. "Because, stronger metals make the tool heavier, and they are more dangerous to use. Seeing that you have no idea how to even swing those tools of yours. Oh yes, I did see you swinging them this morning. I've seen toddlers do better. If I gave you a tool made of mythril, you would cut your own damn leg off."
I could only gape at him.
"So that's why you will only get bronze. When you learn to use your tools properly, I'll upgrade them for you. Now, that comes to 100 gold pieces per tool."
Deciding now was not the time to argue, I paid the 300 gold pieces and left the blacksmith's. The building next to it appeared to be a winery of some sort, but the door was locked and no one was answering. I winced as I knocked on the door. My side was still throbbing. Maybe I had pulled a muscle from earlier. I shrugged it off.
Continuing down the street, I came to a small library. Maybe they had books in here about farming. Walking inside, I saw a cute girl with glasses concentrating on something. Curiosity got the better of me.
Looking over her shoulder, I noticed a piece of paper with writing on it. Upon further inspection, I realized she was writing some sort of story.
"What are you writing?"
I swear, she must have jumped at least ten feet into the air, knocking me flat on my back in the process. Once she landed on the ground, she realized she had knocked me down and went to help me up.
"I am so very sorry. I didn't even hear you come in. you startled me!"
Why the heck does everyone have to be so crazy around here?
Mumbling, I shook my head and accepted the apology. I felt something warm at my side. Looking down at my shirt, I realized a red spot was forming. Immediately, I knew what had happened.
During the war, I had received my own fair share of scars. Being a swordsman, it came with the territory. I had one on my face, just below the left eye. I also had various smaller ones from minor cuts.
There was one in particular, however, on the left side of my waist. I had gotten it in a battle with a commander in one of the worst confrontations of the war. The man was by no way an amature. He knew damn well the best way how to use a sword. When I had encountered him, he had been weakened from a couple of wounds inflicted by one of my friends who had not been lucky enough to survive. I had attacked him with everything I had, and he had defended himself fiercely. In the end, however, he had stumbled due to the loss of blood from his wounds. That had been just enough time for my to run my sword straight through his chest. Before I was able to pull back, however, he had gotten one last clean slash with a knife he had hidden up his sleeve. Later, I found that it had been poisoned. The doctors had worked for three hours straight to purge my body of the toxin and bind the wound. While I had survived, the wound never healed properly, and would break open from time to time. After that battle, Rett had told me that I had fought like a demon out there. It was that battle that had earned me my nickname.
Demonblade Mazrim.
The burning ache from my side brought my attention back to the present. This was serious. I needed to see the doctor right away. The girl next to me seemed to realize it too, because her face was white as a ghost.
"Maria, what's going on inside here?" Came a voice from the entrance. "I heard someone scream and." abruptly, Karen stopped in her tracks, mouth wide as she saw me.
"Shit."
It was the last thing I remember saying before the darkness enveloped my vision.
************
Maria was freaking out to say the least. Not that I could blame her. Seeing Mazrim lying in a pool of his own blood had terrified me as well. Panic had set in initially, but was gone now as I rushed to the doctor. If I panicked now, Mazrim could die. Finally at the hospital, I kicked the door open and rushed to the reception desk. Elli was there, and stood up the moment I came in.
"What's wrong, Karen?" She said in a calm voice. Of every one of us girls in the village, she was the most level-headed. I couldn't blame her. you had to be, if you wanted to work in this profession. Only taking a second to catch my breath, I told her about Mazrim.
"I heard someone screaming when I was walking past the library. When I came in, Mazrim was clutching his side and collapsed on the floor! He's bleeding pretty bad! Maria is with him right now, trying to slow the bleeding!"
A moment later, I was back at the library with Elli and the doctor. The two of them moved in immediately. They told us to go outside and wash up, and then went immideatly to work.
As we washed up, Maria was shaking. I decided to ask what happened.
"I was concentrating on writing my novel. I never even heard him come in. He asked me what I was doing. It startled me, and I jumped up, knocking him down. oh, God. Karen, I was so shocked. is this my fault?" She was now in tears.
"Of course it isn't. Somehow, he must have hurt himself earlier. Don't worry, Elli and the doctor will take good care of him." I knew they would. They were the best at what they did.
I had to admit. I kind of liked Mazrim. He was cute, in a rugged sort of way. I could tell he was full of pain, though. His eyes looked tired, as if they had seen every kind of horror known to man and lived to tell about it. And he had lost his grandfather. But deep down, under all that hurt, I had a feeling that there was someone down there just waiting to see a glimmer of hope. He had to live. He just had to.
"He'll be just fine"
"I hope so." Said Maria as she wiped the tears out of her eyes.
So do I.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I dried my hands.
*******
Chapter 3: Old Wounds
******
I had laid in bed for nearly thirty minutes now, listening to the damned chickens crowing from the other farm. Groaning, I took a look at my watch that was on the table. 6:00am.
Son of a.
Finally fed up, I rolled out of bed and stretched. I knew this was going to be a long day. Leno jumped up onto the bed as he wagged his tail, happy to see me awake. Suddenly, I became aware that the ground felt squishy. Looking down, I saw the source of the problem. I looked back up at Leno. He simply wagged his tail.
After letting Leno outside and washing my foot off with the hose out back, I decided to go wash up. Looking around, I realized that I had another problem.
There was no freaking bathroom.
Hell no. How did my grandpa get through day to day?
Muttering a string of profanity that would make a sailor blush, I went to grab a bucket and a bar of soup I had bought from the store. Looking around, I made sure no one was looking, stripped down, and dumped a bucket of cold water over my head. Gasping, I then proceeded to scrub the dirt off my body, as I froze my ass off. It was early spring.
How the hell did grandpa live so long?
After I was done, I decided to go inside and see what kind of tools I had to work with. Seeing an old chest labeled tools, I opened it up and inspected them.
They were rusty. Very rusty. Shaking my head, I noticed a backpack hanging above the chest. Smiling, I picked it up grabbed a scythe, a hammer, and an axe, and went outside to the "field". To the left, there was a box labeled Shipping. The area next to it had only weeds. I decided that it would be best to clear the area by that first.
Pulling out the scythe, I held it awkwardly as I sized up my opponent. The wind blew gently through my hair. In a sudden movement, I launched into attack with a battle cry.
An hour later, I had only managed to clear out one small patch. I was already exausted. This stuff was thick. It was like trying to chop down a tree with a toothpick.
How the hell did he live this long indeed.
Okay. Let's try something else.
Taking out the hammer, I went to the nearest boulder. It was huge, to say the least.
This sonofabitch was going to be toast.
With another war cry, I unleashed the all furry of a soldier-turned-farmer- without-a-bathroom. The impact shot through my arm. The sound was deafening.
And there was not even a single scratch on the rock.
I lost all my composure and went into a series of fitful pounding. A half hour and an unscathed boulder later, I was gasping for breath. My side was throbbing. Something distant in the back of my head told me to be concerned about it, but fury had reared it's ugly head again.
Shoving the hammer back into the backpack, I yanked the axe out and glared at the pile of wood that used to be a fence. In a blinding rage, I attacked it for all I was worth.
Apparently, I wasn't worth much.
Deciding to call it a draw, I headed back into the shack to rest for a bit. The television caught my attention. It was old. It was ugly. It was black and white.
It was also about the only thing that still worked around here.
Turning it on, I immediately discovered it had only four channels. Channel 1 was the local news. Probably going to be useful once I got the farm running. Channel 2 was a weather station. I could easily see this channel being the most useful channel I'll ever watch. Flipping the dial again, channel 3 was some sort of home shopping network. It had some potential, but I would have to make more money, first. I was running low on funds. The last channel seemed to be some sort of kid's channel. Useless.
Turning the set off, I decided to take a look at the village. As I stood up, I felt a sharp pain in my side again. Ignoring it, I grabbed my coat and left the farm, traveling up the path. The first building I came across was the blacksmith. I still had my tools inside my backpack. Maybe they were just too rusty to be useful. Shrugging, I decided to go inside.
"No! Wrong! You've got it all wrong, boy! Damnit! How many times do I gotta tell you, strike the metal like this!"
It appeared that I had come in at the wrong time. An old man with crazy white hair was practically breathing down some other guy's neck, as he tried desperately to shape the metal with his hammer. The poor guy looked like he was struggling. He wore a baseball cap and a tan jacket, though it was hotter than hell in here. Abruptly, the old man turned around to regard me.
"Hello there young man. What can I do for you?" I stared at him, and then glanced at the other guy. He coughed, and went on. "You must be Mazrim. My name Sabria, and this incompetent fool over here is my grandson and apprentice, Gray."
So that's what was going on. I've seen teachers like him before. The put you down and treat you like crap so that you try harder just in spite of them.
"Is there something I can help you with?"
Taking the tools out of my pack, I showed them to Sabria.
"I had a very hard time trying to use these this morning. I think they are too rusty to be effective. Do you got any way of improving them?"
Mumbling, Sabria turned the scythe over, inspecting it.
"Damn right they're ineffective. Tell you what. We'll temper your tools with bronze, and sharpen them. They still won't be too strong, but they will get the job done much easier."
Bronze?
"Why can't you use something stronger than bronze?"
The old man looked at me. "Because, stronger metals make the tool heavier, and they are more dangerous to use. Seeing that you have no idea how to even swing those tools of yours. Oh yes, I did see you swinging them this morning. I've seen toddlers do better. If I gave you a tool made of mythril, you would cut your own damn leg off."
I could only gape at him.
"So that's why you will only get bronze. When you learn to use your tools properly, I'll upgrade them for you. Now, that comes to 100 gold pieces per tool."
Deciding now was not the time to argue, I paid the 300 gold pieces and left the blacksmith's. The building next to it appeared to be a winery of some sort, but the door was locked and no one was answering. I winced as I knocked on the door. My side was still throbbing. Maybe I had pulled a muscle from earlier. I shrugged it off.
Continuing down the street, I came to a small library. Maybe they had books in here about farming. Walking inside, I saw a cute girl with glasses concentrating on something. Curiosity got the better of me.
Looking over her shoulder, I noticed a piece of paper with writing on it. Upon further inspection, I realized she was writing some sort of story.
"What are you writing?"
I swear, she must have jumped at least ten feet into the air, knocking me flat on my back in the process. Once she landed on the ground, she realized she had knocked me down and went to help me up.
"I am so very sorry. I didn't even hear you come in. you startled me!"
Why the heck does everyone have to be so crazy around here?
Mumbling, I shook my head and accepted the apology. I felt something warm at my side. Looking down at my shirt, I realized a red spot was forming. Immediately, I knew what had happened.
During the war, I had received my own fair share of scars. Being a swordsman, it came with the territory. I had one on my face, just below the left eye. I also had various smaller ones from minor cuts.
There was one in particular, however, on the left side of my waist. I had gotten it in a battle with a commander in one of the worst confrontations of the war. The man was by no way an amature. He knew damn well the best way how to use a sword. When I had encountered him, he had been weakened from a couple of wounds inflicted by one of my friends who had not been lucky enough to survive. I had attacked him with everything I had, and he had defended himself fiercely. In the end, however, he had stumbled due to the loss of blood from his wounds. That had been just enough time for my to run my sword straight through his chest. Before I was able to pull back, however, he had gotten one last clean slash with a knife he had hidden up his sleeve. Later, I found that it had been poisoned. The doctors had worked for three hours straight to purge my body of the toxin and bind the wound. While I had survived, the wound never healed properly, and would break open from time to time. After that battle, Rett had told me that I had fought like a demon out there. It was that battle that had earned me my nickname.
Demonblade Mazrim.
The burning ache from my side brought my attention back to the present. This was serious. I needed to see the doctor right away. The girl next to me seemed to realize it too, because her face was white as a ghost.
"Maria, what's going on inside here?" Came a voice from the entrance. "I heard someone scream and." abruptly, Karen stopped in her tracks, mouth wide as she saw me.
"Shit."
It was the last thing I remember saying before the darkness enveloped my vision.
************
Maria was freaking out to say the least. Not that I could blame her. Seeing Mazrim lying in a pool of his own blood had terrified me as well. Panic had set in initially, but was gone now as I rushed to the doctor. If I panicked now, Mazrim could die. Finally at the hospital, I kicked the door open and rushed to the reception desk. Elli was there, and stood up the moment I came in.
"What's wrong, Karen?" She said in a calm voice. Of every one of us girls in the village, she was the most level-headed. I couldn't blame her. you had to be, if you wanted to work in this profession. Only taking a second to catch my breath, I told her about Mazrim.
"I heard someone screaming when I was walking past the library. When I came in, Mazrim was clutching his side and collapsed on the floor! He's bleeding pretty bad! Maria is with him right now, trying to slow the bleeding!"
A moment later, I was back at the library with Elli and the doctor. The two of them moved in immediately. They told us to go outside and wash up, and then went immideatly to work.
As we washed up, Maria was shaking. I decided to ask what happened.
"I was concentrating on writing my novel. I never even heard him come in. He asked me what I was doing. It startled me, and I jumped up, knocking him down. oh, God. Karen, I was so shocked. is this my fault?" She was now in tears.
"Of course it isn't. Somehow, he must have hurt himself earlier. Don't worry, Elli and the doctor will take good care of him." I knew they would. They were the best at what they did.
I had to admit. I kind of liked Mazrim. He was cute, in a rugged sort of way. I could tell he was full of pain, though. His eyes looked tired, as if they had seen every kind of horror known to man and lived to tell about it. And he had lost his grandfather. But deep down, under all that hurt, I had a feeling that there was someone down there just waiting to see a glimmer of hope. He had to live. He just had to.
"He'll be just fine"
"I hope so." Said Maria as she wiped the tears out of her eyes.
So do I.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek as I dried my hands.
*******