AUTHOR'S NOTE: Chapter Two coming at ya! By the way, if you are a fan of the band Gorillaz, well… they have some great songs, no?
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Tales of Symphonia? … do you say it like "symphony" or "synonym"?
Kuchinawa wrapped a piece of cloth around his bleeding hand. "Damn it, Kuchinawa! Keep hurting yourself like this and you'll get an infection!" he shouted to himself, but not so loud that it echoes. He jumped from the tree to the ground and looked back over the cliff to take one more look at Mizuho.
After a few hours of wandering through the fields of Tethe'alla, he reached his destination of Ozette. He walked past a small abandoned house where there was a grave marked with an axe. Neglecting the burial ground, in terms of speculation, he wandered up a tree branch to the upper part of town, where he could see the remnants of the destruction, where Yggdrasil is to blame.
"Now, where is that inn?" he asked to no one, walking through the pile of debris, still clutching his hand.
Noticing a conspicuous broken board sticking up from the ground, Kuchinawa confirmed its prophetic outcome for landing like that must have been for him to kick it. Rearing back, he ran forward, at full speed, and slammed his instep into the wood. It rocketed out from the ground, carrying some dirt up with it. It was a very flat piece, so it did not travel far, but, its landing was signaled with a ding. Yes, ding.
"Huh?" Kuchinawa ran up the small hill in the middle of the small broken town, to find the … former inn, a bell, still on its pole, swinging, from when the board hit it.
"Bingo." Kuchinawa scavenged through the destroyed desk to try to find a first aid kit, and food, if he was lucky. He found a much mangled dresser, with a drawer hanging haphazardly. He pulled the drawer out, and then the dresser fell apart, finally able to rest in pieces. Kuchinawa swept a hand through to find a bandage and gauze.
He cast the drawer away, as there were no more medicinal supplies or appliances left in it, and sat down, and pulled his blood-drenched glove off. He pulled small plant from his pockets; he picked up from his venturing from Mizuho to here, and cracked the stem, where syrup slowly leaked out. He squeezed it all out, as little of it, into his healthy hand.
He held it at the ready; he clinched up his face, and slapped the syrup into his wound. He screamed, but quickly muffled it. The medicine stung unmercifully, but subsided a second later. He dropped the stem and placed the bandage over his knuckles as a white substance covered his hand. He then fastened the gauze over his knuckles and palm, like boxers do with hand wraps. Standing up, he noticed a small pool of water, hopefully clean. Regardless, he washed his glove in it, scrubbing the blood stains out with his fingers.
Once clean, he slid it back over his hand, carefully. It was still hurting.
Now, that that ordeal was over, Kuchinawa set his sights north, for Flanoir …but he needed a boat.
He decided to head, then, south, for Meltokio.