Lyrics: woodkid, Iron
I'm sitting close to the cliffs, another grey ocean crushes against the sea-side just beneath my feet. A few metres behind me there are piles of dirty, poisonous dust, the crumbling remains of Akuma I destroyed. They had tried to disguise as a small family and a young couple. Had tried to engage me in a talk; how predictable. It didn't matter wether it was a human or an Akuma, for me they were all the same when it came down to it. In the end they were the same, an enemy.
I'm standing close to the cliffs' edge, the soil tainted with Akuma blood as well as with the blood of humans. I'm splattered in red and black. The reeking is something I got used to a long time ago.
Deep in the ocean, dead and cast away
Where innocence is burned in flames
A million mile from home, I'm walking ahead
I'm frozen to the bones, I am...
Back then, at the beginning, I had thought that becoming the Bookman's apprentice would make the pain go away. I'd thought me giving up everything that had formed me until then would erase the painful memories and prevent me from getting new ones. And though it did erase the painfulness, it didn't erase the memory at all. I could still picture the incidents I had nightmares about as clear and photographic as before. The emotional connection had been cut by Bookman, by Jiji, seemingly for good. But the pictures stayed in my mind, unwilling to fade in the least. The knowledge of being tainted remained, it was just the kind of being tainted that had changed.
A soldier on my own, I don't know the way
I'm riding up the heights of shame
I'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest
I'm ready for the fight, and fate
A crippled hiss was to be heard behind my back whilst my body still faced the sea's wide; a little too close to the cliff's edge maybe, maybe not.
The moment I thought it and my fingertips touched the end of my weapon, the Innocence reacted and filled my hands. My skin tickled slightly due to the released energy and I didn't even have to utter the invocation aloud to summon my seals and evaporate the level 2 Akuma which had tried to sneak up on me. Sometimes, I was a little surprised as how trusting most people were, how naiv. You always had to expect an attack, be it open or from behind, be it man or woman, adult or child, it didn't matter. And sometimes, I was suprised at how easily I swayed my weapon, how I felt nothing when I killed my enemies. And whoever tried to take my life was my enemy, be it Akuma or human. And by now, it wasn't as if I could just stop thinking this way. It was in my bones, my flesh and muscles, deeply incorporated to distrust without exception and not to hesitate. Nor to feel guilt about the deaths of people. It was just how life, how history went on. And I knew for certain that there would never be an end to it. I just had to look ahead to see the corpses soon to come and pile up once again. The only thing I truly knew and understood.
The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head,
The thunder of the drums dictates
The rhythm of the falls, the number of deaths
The rising of the horns, ahead
From the dawn of time to the end of days
I will have to run, away
I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste
Of the blood on my lips, again
I know that I forgot how her skin felt. I remember that I touched her, touched her bare arms, her back, her neck, her cheeks, her eyes. Her lips. I know and yet I forgot how it actually felt. I forgot if it was a warm, soft feeling, if my heart pounded faster, if hers did, if I felt anything at all in those moments. It's kinda sad since it should be something I would recall easily, for it's something everybody experiences at some point in their life, some sooner, some later. And I know that I did sooner. In retrospective, I was pretty young but at the time it had been only natural, it had just been part of growing up. At least that is what they told me.
The steady burst of snow is burning my hands,
I'm frozen to the bones, I am
A million mile from home, I'm walking away
I can't remind your eyes, your face
I raise my hands and regard them with a little curiosity and at the same time a little disdain. The seawind blows into my face, cold and salty. I wonder how it felt to touch her with these hands that were now blood-stained, scarred and dirty to the bone. I wonder how I felt, if I still had been able to feel anything at the time. I wonder how she felt.
And I clench my hands to fists because I can't remember. The memory is there and yet it's gone. I know about the happenings, the facts, but the personal experience seems to have disappeared into the distance. Seems to have lost all meaning.
I imagine how I twinged; but I don't, of course. It's just the recalling of her twinging at some hurtful memory or sight or word by someone. And even then I can only think about how even words can be weapons. What else could they be.