5. The Hardest Fall

Life is suffering, he was told. And for a long time, Daichi had believed it. But now his mentor was gone, had never come back from a trip to his hut, and a bunch of robbers had taken everything of value at their little shrine. The only reason why Daichi had survived this was because he had hidden like a coward.

This shrine was the only place he had ever called home, but now it was all over.

Or it could be. There was a decision to be made.

What Daichi was meant to do was lined out before him clear as day. His duty was to stay; to take someone in; to teach him; to be kind and welcoming and helpful; to make the world a little better for everyone in it, as best he could.

But Daichi felt like he had nothing to give. How could he tell a student the stuff he had been taught when he thought all of it was a lie? How could he tell him to meditate when he couldn't get his mind to a restful state himself anymore? How could he give something to a world that he felt had taken everything from him and was continuing to take more until he was nothing more than a husk?

He stared at the dagger in his shaking hand. His other option. It wasn't a question. Not really. He had thought of this before but there had always been a task, something he had to do, the kind words of his mentor picking him up from the darkness he had sunken into. But the words were silenced and Daichi was all alone.

Life could get stuffed and so could suffering. A clatter outside stopped him short of plunging the blade into his chest. 'Sensei? Sensei!' he shouted, his voice breaking. Suddenly he felt his heartbeat, his life coursing through his body. Daichi got to his feet, the dagger falling from his fingers, and he burst outside.

But it wasn't his mentor. A stranger had made it to the shrine – barely. He was lying in a heap on the ground, blood pooling under him. Daichi wondered if he should just kill first the stranger and then himself – or if he should, one last time, make an effort. For both of them.

He moved before he'd made a conscious choice and sank to his knees. 'Hey, you there. Can you hear me?' The answer was an inarticulate gurgle that made Daichi shudder. He turned the man on his back and stared at the carnage. 'Oh no. I'll … I'm sorry. I'll put you out of your misery.' Of course the stranger hadn't answered properly. Too much of his face was missing for him to talk and his chest was a bloody mess. But the man shook his head. Daichi still felt as if he was hovering between two worlds – one was reached by the dagger, the other by this man. 'No?' he asked, needing to be sure. 'You may take hours to die, and I can't save you!' Another shake of a bleeding head. 'You can save yourself?' A shrug. 'Or rather … ah … I'll cart you down to the village? They have a doctor I hear good things about. Maybe he can patch you up enough?' This time, the stranger nodded with more vigour than someone so broken should manage. 'Very well.' Daichi thought about his willingness to take his own life and compared it to this guy. Maybe this stranger had it figured out. Maybe Daichi was a coward. He thought once more of the dagger. 'Not quite yet,' he said quietly.

Ϡ

The village doctor stared at the barely conscious figure in Daichi's cart. 'You can't possibly think I could help him. I can give him something for the pain, but …'

'Nothing that takes his mind. I need him alert. Hey, can you write?' His charge nodded, then shook his head. 'You can, but not very well?' A forceful nod. Daichi sighed and looked at the doctor. 'This is how we've communicated on the way here. What can you do for him?'

The man steeled himself visibly. 'We're really doing this? Very well. My name is Junpei. You're one of the monks back at the shrine, aren't you?'

'Yes. Daichi. Him … no idea.'

'I have some herbs that replenish blood and I can cauterise the …'

'No offence, Junpei-sama, but I don't need to hear it first. Just … do it. He seems to want to live, no matter how. We can talk while you work.'

A slow smile tugged at Junpei's face. 'You are right, we're wasting his time. Follow me. I'll need you to assist me.'

The next hours, well into the night, passed in a haze. Between cajoling Junpei into cooperating with the mad scheme their patient had come up with and trying to hold what was left of him together, preparing him for what else he wanted Daichi to do, he didn't even feel his own exhaustion until finally, finally, Junpei sat back on his haunches, covering his face in bloodied hands.

'Never. Never, ever again,' the doctor ground out. 'I never want to see either of you again. You're mad! Both of you. We're killing this man by slow torture rather than letting him go with the least pain necessary! I want you both gone as soon as possible just so I can forget you even exist.'

Daichi sighed. 'I understand that. But … ah.'

'I know.' Junpei glared at him between his trembling fingers. 'I know he still needs me, all right? But this is so wrong. What he wants you to do is wrong. And you know it. People die. One day, we all will. You, me, and him. And I have no idea why you of all people let yourself be hauled into such madness.'

Daichi opened his mouth to answer and closed it again. He swallowed. 'I'm letting it happen so I won't push a knife into my heart, Junpei-sama,' he said eventually.

The frustration left Junpei's face. 'What happened?'

Daichi shook his head. 'Too much. Or too little. But I need …' He leaned forwards, eyes burning into Junpei's. He reached out, wrapping his fingers around his arm. He felt the tension in the doctor and saw a flicker of fear in him that made him angry enough to give the man a light shake. 'I need something to do,' he hissed at him. 'Maybe this is mad. Maybe he'll die or go crazy with the pain he'll have to suffer through to get what he wants. But the fact of the matter is, I'm also doing this for me. Because I don't want to die. But I don't want to live the way I did, either. So he needs to live. And he needs to be stable and recovered enough for me to do my part after. Do you hear me?'

Junpei swallowed hard. Somewhere during Daichi's speech the fear had given way to sadness and the doctor covered his hand gently. 'I hear you. I'll do the best I can for both of you.'