Everyone knows what its like to feel sad.
Theres no arguing this. Thats just life. You have good days, bad days, and everything else in between, but were here to talk about the worst of the worst, the lowest of lows that everyone drops down to at one point or another. You wake up and everything feels off for one reason or another. Maybe your head hurts, or youre hosick, or you just lost soone close to you, but whatever the reason, you dont feel like leaving bed to face the world just yet. Much as youd like to call an audible and take the day off, most either cant or wont and just have to power through it. They get up, brush their teeth, maybe take a shower and make breakfast, then go about their day in spite of being down in the dumps. It sucks, but needs must. You gotta eat to live and you gotta work to eat, so you keep your head down and your nose to the grindstone until you no longer feel so down. Maybe your coffee perks you up, or soone cute smiles at you on the bus, or your friend texts you a funny of a dog saying sothing stupid. Could be your spouse, your kids, your parents, soone or sothing else which puts a spring in your step, or maybe you just figure it out yourself. Either way, it doesnt matter how you lift yourself out of your funk, but it happens nonetheless, and you feel good about having overco a dark point in your life.
Which is great. Life is tough, and you should celebrate the little victories. Now, not to disparage how others feel and minimize their accomplishnts, but while this is what most people think of when they hear depression, they couldnt be more wrong. Sadness and depression are not the sa thing, and while everyone has experienced the forr, most people dont know shit when it cos to depression.
Sure, part of it is being sad, which isnt that big a deal. Like I said, everyones been sad before, so just do sothing that makes you happy and youre good, right? Wrong. Depression isnt just sadness, but intense sadness, one that sucks up all the other emotions in your life. You wake up feeling like shit and you stay in bed despite knowing youll probably lose your job if you miss another day. Youre still tired even though you slept all night, and youll be tired all day too, except when it cos ti for bed again, youll find yourself unable to fall asleep, which leaves you irritable and upset. So even though youve already committed to not leaving bed, every now and then, you find the strength to drag yourself out of bed and do sothing, anything to get yourself away from your thoughts. Maybe you hit up the mall, or fire up a ga, or even et up with friends and family, but despite being with the people you love and doing things you enjoy, youd much rather stop pretending youre having fun and just let yourself be depressed instead.
Thats depression, a heavy weight that clings to you and drags you down at all tis, making it an effort to even get up and greet the day, because youre just dreading the mont when you walk out the door and you see soone you know, they ask you how you are and you say that youre fine when youre not really fine, but you just cant get into it because they would never understand. Youve heard it all before, all the well-aning advice and ignorant suggestions, like, Do sothing you enjoy, or, Just power through it, or You have so much going for you, so you should be happy! Yea, no shit. I know I should be happy, but if being happy was an option, who in their right mind would choose depression? No one, which should be a sign that all is not well when soone does exactly that, except now you made them feel depressed and ungrateful. Way to go.
Depression is an affliction in every sense of the word, but those who dont know think they know and dont understand how difficult it can be, which makes it that much harder to shake off. They make being happy sound so easy, which makes you wonder why in the hell is it so difficult for you, furthering the downward spiral as you add another item to the long list of why youre fucked in the head. Its not the sadness that makes depression so difficult to break. Its the pervasiveness of the sadness, so all-encompassing that it takes the highest of highs and breaks its knees so it lines up with the lowest of lows. Doesnt matter what you do, because youre still down in the dumps, and keep this up long enough and the apathy kicks in. Youre sad and you feel sad, but you dont care, because whats the point in not feeling sad? Youll just be sad again, so why bother? For that sa reason, why clean the house? Why cook a healthy al? Why go to work, oftentis the source of said sadness, or go out and see how happy other people are which will only make you feel even sadder in comparison. The depression takes over everything until you beco numb to it, painting your life in shades of gloomy grey that all blend together into a dismal, dreary portrait which you cant bear to look at and dont bother trying to change because its a futile effort.
Thats my take on depression, which I have struggled with for as long as I can rember. Theres more to it that is personal to and alone, like survivors guilt, not just from my ti in the mines or the nurous close calls since then, but also in being here in the world at all. Theres my persistent anxiety, which is just my brain going through all the worst-case scenarios and telling how everything is dood from the start, which isnt helpful, but not entirely wrong either. You also cant overlook my myriad of personal traumas either, both real and illusory of which there are many, all of which is rely scratching the surface of the topic, What makes Falling Rain so broken?.
A lot of shit, really. Theres no one glaring defect, but depression surely stands chief among them.
While being numb to the world might make happiness impossible, an unexpected benefit is that it insulates you from sadness, anger, hatred, and various other emotions too. Thats why the Spectres lies and Zhen Shis illusions were never as effective as they would be on soone else. Not just because Ive watched a lot of T.V and know how to imrse myself without getting brainwashed into believing everything I see, but also because I live my life in a pit of despair from which there is no escape, but also nowhere to fall further. This enabled to take in Zhen Shis visions of darkness and despair with a clear mind, and more or less ignore the Spectres since their whispered lies were nowhere near as damaging as the hurtful truths I tell myself all the freaking ti. Sure, there were tis when I almost fell for those lies, but inoculation to depression doesnt make you immune to being miserable, just less susceptible to further misery. At so point, you hit rock bottom and any added hardships and anguish have diminishing returns on how much shittier they make you feel, and therefore more capable of enduring even more before you reach your breaking point.
And I have been infinitely close to breaking for as long as I can rember, but unwilling to wholly give in just yet. Its not that I want to live or am afraid of dying, but Ive just been ambivalent about survival most of the ti. Why? Because life is hard and dying too easy, so might as well let fate decide.
So when Zhen Shi stood over my broken and battered body, gloating about victory and the suffering I would soon experience, I could only laugh at his naivet. The man knows his stuff when it cos to pain and subjugation, for he has spent multiple lifetis mastering these arts, but he knows nothing of true misery. I could see it in his eyes as he lood over , his expression one of triumph yet marred by doubt and disappointnt as he noted my defiance even in the face of death, because he didnt understand why I had yet to succumb to his tornt. It unnerved him to see endure without screaming, laying there without a care in the world as he slowly and thodically broke my bones one by one by one, because in his mind, the battle was already won. What was the source of my courage? How was it possible for not to give in to despair? The questions were right there on the tip of his tongue, so curious as to how I could still hold onto hope, because greater n and won than I had long since given in to lesser tornts.
What a sweet, sumr child, to dare think pain was all it would take to break . If that was the case, I wouldve died two weeks into my transmigration and re-rolled long before becoming the man I am today.
Thus, I feel duty-bound to share what Id learned in this life and the last, because misery loves company, after all. Ordinarily, I wouldnt wish my innermost fears and concerns on my greatest enemy, mostly because I believe an attack like that should be outlawed as a war cri, but if Zhen Shis gonna try and manipulate my thoughts and emotions, then I should at least let him see what hes up against so he knows what hes up against.
Now, I dont know how to weave illusions like he can, or whisper lies that sound like his own thoughts echoing inside his head, nor do I believe a asly Emotional Aura is enough to pierce through his defenses, so I have no choice but to rely on a skill I only vaguely understand how to use: Oration. Words to incite emotions, the premise is simple enough, but as far as I can tell, it only works when I truly feel and believe whatever emotions Im trying to convey. This ans I cant rely reminisce about my lowest lows, but I must truly re-live and experience them in order to share what I feel with my audience of one. As an added twist, I dont want to give Zhen Shi ti to react and stop my Oration short, so Im flying by the seat of my pants and doing what I can to condense everything Im trying to share all into one, simple sentence. Ti cos to a standstill as I close my eyes and sink into the Void, where I find Buddy waiting to greet with a tackle to the shins followed up by a vigorous tail-whipping as he wags uncontrollably about. Blobby is also around, floating aimlessly about, but I ignore him to take a seat so my sweet doggo can clamber into my lap. Hugging him tight here in the Void, my physical form cradles Mama Bun close, but even then, Im not sure I have enough floofs to keep this jaunt down mory lane from turning into a one-way trip.
Lin-Lin only just saved and forgave for trying to get myself killed saving Shi Bei, so I can hardly turn around and overdose on depression. What a way to go thatd be, but its not a price Im willing to pay, not anymore, even if I it ans bringing Zhen Shi down with . I just have too much to live for now, not just Lin-Lin, but for my wives, my family, my friends, and my floofs as well.
Because even though I know theyll all be better off without , itd be selfish to just give up now without at least giving it a go. Itll hurt when the inevitable finally cos around to bite in the ass, but like they say, better to have loved and lost than never loved at all, right?
Probably bullshit too, but whatever.
Steeled and ready to begin my emotional assault on Zhen Shi, I kick-start this journey of emotional trauma by going back to the beginning. Or a beginning at least, one of many I still shudder when I think of. A boot slams into my protruding ribs and drives the air out of my lungs, but I push through the pain and hop to my feet in order to avoid a second kick. Get on yer feet, you worthless scum. A casual backhand catches across the cheek and I taste blood in my mouth, but I go along with the impact and it doesnt drive off my feet, which is a blessing to be sure. No better way to catch an early beating than to be caught sleeping in, which is what theyd accuse of if I were to fall to the floor. Feedin ti for yall, bettern you deserve.
The groans and sobs of other slaves sound out in unflattering imitation of my own, for none are spared this casual abuse so long as Gortan is here. Another Bristleboar might be less thorough and ticulous, but those who dont get the boot get a slap, and those who dodge the slap get a glare, which Ive now learned is an unspoken promise of compounded suffering later. Better to take the hit here and now than be singled out for more punishnt later, or at least, thats what I tell myself. Even then, I knew it wasnt true, that no matter what I did, I would suffer for it, and as I lower my inner walls and willingly imrse myself in the mories for the first ti ever, it all cos rushing back to as if I never left. The sha, the fear, the dread, its all coming back to now, and the only thing that keeps from kicking and screaming in abject denial is the fact that I am rely a passenger in these mories of mine.
It's been more than ten years since I set foot inside this filthy slave pen, but there are still mornings when I wake up with a start, trying to dodge a phantom kick which will never co. That was the worst part of my ti in the mines, not necessarily the tornt itself, which was unpleasant to say the least, but the anticipation was so much worse. Every morning, I woke up to abuse and knew there would be more waiting in store, and I would base my every action and decision in hopes that my behaviour would sohow mollify my captors and reduce the severity of my inevitable punishnt. Keep my head down and do as Im told, work hard, but blend into the background, pick up rocks to demonstrate my value, but no matter what I do, the abuse continues to be heaped on day after day after day.
The touch of the whip upon my skin, the jarring disorientation of taking a fist to the chin, the lancing agony of a burning poker, and the all-encompassing pain of an overworked body, mind, and spirit. Not even all these tornts combined are wholly unbearable, because pain is temporary, suffering but a fleeting sensation with a beginning, middle, and end. The anticipation of promised pain, however, that can oftentis be far more effective in breaking a prisoner. Of all the tornts I suffered through here in the mines, my fear of the boot has stuck with the longest, and for good reason. Ive had my bones broken, skin flayed, hide whipped, and nails pulled, but those are tornts I can prepare for, brace for, grit my teeth and bear, or scream and cry until it stops, but the boot? That always ca when I was most vulnerable, fast asleep and helpless as a new-born babe. A week in and already I was having trouble sleeping because of it, the fear of this rude awakening keeping up at night, which in turn led to exhaustion which drove to an even deeper sleep that left more rattled than ever when morning finally arrived. The dread of awaiting the inevitable, while frantically doing everything you can to lessen the forthcoming pain despite knowing there is nothing you can do to change things, this is what broke in the end. The acceptance of pain, because pain eventually stops, but the waiting never ends, never leaves you a mont of respite, for the mont one tornt ends is the mont the clock starts anew as you count down the seconds before your next unavoidable punishnt.
None of this will be news to Zhen Shi, for he had a hand in crafting this milieu of suffering. His understanding of the human mind is second only to his understanding of the human body, and he wields this knowledge like a surgeon wields his scalpel, with precision and confidence to do exactly what needs to be done in order to further his goal. He knows full well that torture itself is not always the worst part, that anticipation and apprehension are every bit as formidable as pain and suffering, if not more so. He understands the cause and effect of it all, knows how to induce this mindset and exploit it to create Defiled, Spectres, and Demons, but he doesnt know what its like. He doesnt understand how it feels to be weak and powerless, has never been in the shoes of soone struggling just to survive, hence why he does not understand true misery. How could he? Hes Zhen Shi, a disgraced Imperial Scion with power and intelligence aplenty, so how could he know what it is truly like to be beaten and downtrodden? To have soone systematically dismantle your defences and lay your vulnerabilities bare until your version of happiness is receiving so form of lesser punishnt? To celebrate when the guards deny you a al or beat you with their fists instead of taking up the lash or pliers? That is true misery, when the pain becos a part of life and you grow numb to despair, because suffering is your new normal and anything less your new bliss, your goal for enduring the trials and tribulations laid out before you.
This is the first blade I prepare for my foe. Not the pain and suffering I endured, but the callous indifference and quiet acceptance of anguish and tornt. The cold contempt of rational resignation in the face of overwhelming odds against you, and the harrowing dread and apprehension which cos from awaiting your inevitable fate. A fearso combination of submission and self-loathing, but as I said before, this is only the beginning.
Another core component of my all-encompassing misery is my crippling anxiety, which manifests itself as unending doubt and lacking self-confidence. I deal with this by planning for the worst, but the sheer volu of uncertainty ans I am never not worried, because even when I think Ive accounted for every possibility that cos to mind, I am also aware of my lacking intelligence and how that could blind to contingencies which I failed to account for. This isnt limited to important plans either, as I feel the sa need to overthink even simple operations like going out for a stroll through the market. Ive suffered from this affliction even before I beca Number One Talent in the Empire, Minister of Finance, and Legate of the Outer Province, and those lofty titles have only made it worse.
Is today a good day to show myself in public? When was the last ti it rained? Cant be seen traipsing through mud after all, or show up soggy and downtrodden lest I lose face. What about my enemies? Have they been more active of late? Are they gathering their strength for an all out assault the mont I let my guard down? If not, then what are they up to? How about my allies? Are any of them planning behind my back? I should take a gander at the sales record of hos in the market district, just to make sure no one has been buying up property and having assassins move in to hide in plain sight. Or maybe theyre all regular people, but are any of them unhappy with how Ive been doing things? Am I carrying enough coin to buy everything Ill need? How do I respond to people who greet ? When was the last ti I had the carriage checked for wear and tear? Or sabotage? Should I have the Death Corps start checking before every trip? Can I even trust the Death Corps? Sure, theyll follow orders to defend my life, but Yang Jixing demonstrated how easy it is to turn them against , so I should take asures to safeguard against them.
And all this is rely a taste of what its like to be alone with my thoughts, an endless stream of questions and concerns which I can never fully allay. At the end of the day, it all boils down to one core question. Not, Am I safe?, because I know I am not and never will be, but rather, Is there any danger Ive failed to account for?, to which the answer is almost always going to be, Probably. Its impossible to prove a negative, so even if I go over every detail and account for as many possibilities as I can think of, whos to say theres nothing I missed? Theres no way the human mind can conceivably enurate every possible variable, much less plan for them, so it would be arrogant to the extre to claim to have everything under control.
This is doubly true when other people are involved, because people arent machines and wont always act in a logical or even self-serving manner. Hence my obsession with planning out all the details, because a problem foreseen is only a problem if you fail to account for it, but even then, I more often than not overlook the simple truth of the matter and find myself unprepared and at a loss. Man proposes, and Heaven disposes. Mortals plan, and gods laugh. My failures to account for the details are rely another way in which I am made vulnerable and exposed, which I loathe and fear with all my heart. I yearn for power and control over my own fate because Ive seen what happens without it, so I plan and sche to make sure I am never made helpless again, except I will never be fully in control so long as I live, not really. Shen ZhenWu told as much, and Zhen Shi reaffird it when I told them why I pursue the Dao.
I pursue strength so I may remain free, free from conflict, free from strife, free from worry, just... free, I declared, eting the Legates gaze with a confidence I dont possess, but he asked for the truth. The Martial Dao is rely a ans to an end, so you see why I refuse to trade my freedom for more strength.
I rember well how Shen ZhenWu looked at in response, with an expression sowhere between envy and pity. I almost admire your foolish simplicity, Falling Rain. The freedom you seek does not exist, not for n like you or I. Service to a person, service to a cause, or service to your conscience, in the end, you are bound by circumstances beyond your control. You wish for true freedom, power enough to remain unfettered from all conflict or struggle? Not even the Emperor could grant you this request, for youll soon find that the more power you amass, the more fetters you accrue. There will always be a person, a cause, or a principle which you will serve, even if you think its of your own volition.
And no matter how much I wished it were otherwise, Shen ZhenWu was right. No amount of strength can ever secure the freedom I seek, because even with absolute strength, I would still be shackled by my concerns for the people around . Killing is so much easier than defending, and I cannot defend all my loved ones at all tis. Easy to guard against an open sword, but the hidden dagger much less so, and no matter how smart I beco, I can never plan for every eventuality. Life finds a way, and life is suffering, because even if I manage to keep my loved ones safe for a lifeti, I will inevitably lose them to death in the end regardless. This is only compounded by my knowledge of reincarnation, because knowing everyone goes on to live another life after death makes everything I have in this life seem so much less aningful. Why cherish anything ever if Im going to lose it all anyways? This is what the Brotherhood ans when they say life is suffering, because life is impermanent, and impermanence is suffering. What we have in this life will never translate over to the next, so though I may enjoy a lifeti of happiness with my loved ones here in this world and this life, who is to say I will find them again in the next?
A thought which scares more than anything, and why I was always so eager to die first. Cant be responsible for finding anyone in the next life if Im the first to go, right?
All of which is really just a fancy, in-depth look at my social anxiety. Most of the ti, I only really have to worry about stuff like how to respond to casual greetings and ensuring I only make eye contact for an appropriate amount of ti, neither too much nor too little, but even that is exhausting enough once you pile on the interactions. I doubt Zhen Shi knows much about this either, for he does not strike as soone who is timid or uncertain, nor does he appear lacking in courage or confidence. ? I am the exact opposite, and I know full-well how hefty a burden these intrusive thoughts can be, and I take all my mories and emotions of such events to distill down into the very essence of persistent panic and existential dread so that I can share it with my most hated foe.
I actually almost feel bad about doing this, but he forced my hand.
This much is far from enough, for this is not the sum total of my misery just yet. There are still my many regrets to go through, and the burdens I bear because of them. Survivors guilt for one, as noted before, because who am I to deserve to live where so many others have died? What makes so special that I get to keep my past lifes mories? Thats why I work so hard in spite of my depression, because so long as all this suffering has a purpose, then it ans I will not have suffered for nothing. It would give my life aning, a function to fulfil and a goal to achieve, a reason for my existence, one I would do anything to understand, but more than that, it would do much to ease my conscience regarding the many gifts I have received. I am loved, I am cherished, I am admired, and I am respected, but all of this is built upon a lie.
Because if people knew the full truth of my existence, then they would see for the charlatan that I have beco.
Forget the age shenanigans, which make feel pervy and gross enough, but I cant help myself so I can only live with the sha. What about my accomplishnts outside of love? Number One Talent in the Empire. A title ant to denote the most promising young Warrior under twenty-five, one bestowed upon for my domineering performance in Nan Ping, but little does the Empire know that I am no young talent at all. Even accounting for the fact that I cant rember anything before my ti in the mines, I still have at least forty years of life-experience under my belt, if not more. Sure, its only been a decade since I set foot on the Martial Dao, but it is an undeniable fact that my speedy progress and unprecedented success is all due to my past lifes wealth of mories and experiences. Not just the power of s that I only just discovered today, but the basic knowledge Ive brought over which has helped make sense of the world around .
Take the Forms for example, the cornerstone of the Martial Path. While my past lifes knowledge had no bearing on learning the various Movents, you cannot in good conscience claim that a lifeti of experience is not useful to have when comprehending each use case scenario. You know more, youve seen more, and thus its easier for you to extrapolate how sothing can be used, regardless if its a technique to fight or cook with. In one-on-one combats, I only rarely win through absolute superiority of skill, strength, speed, or so combination thereof. I usually win because I know how to best pit my strengths against my enemies weaknesses, which again, I can only attribute to my additional shares of life experiences. Ninety-nine percent of the ti, thinking outside the box cos from having figuratively seen the box from a different angle, which is a direct result of life experience. Leadership and command also benefit from this, which I have similarly been praised for but dont deserve, because while I stand heads and shoulders above my peers, theyre just a bunch of kids, so itd be stupid if I didnt stand out.
Then theres Panacea, which might well be my most widespread success, but I never wouldve figured it out if I didnt know adult teeth arent supposed to regrow, a seemingly minor tidbit of knowledge with widespread repercussions. My Domain and Natal Palace are also larger than the norm, which can be chalked up to having a more powerful soul because of past life shenanigans. Creating a complex Natal Palace might also be because of all the television and dia Ive consud, but also due to the fact that I had a soul crushing job in a Call Centre, which ans comparatively speaking to the people of the Azure Empire, I trained my soul on max level difficulty before even coming to this world. A textbook definition of unfair advantages, because there is nothing in the world that can match the mindless monotony and emotional discipline required to survive in the world of custor service.
How about my ability to Devour Spectres? It first ca about after my disastrous dip into Western Treasures Lake outside of Sanshu which left broken, bleeding, and dying on the beach shore. The Spectres pestered without end in an effort to drag down into the depths of despair, but they failed ti and ti again. Not because I was strong of will, but because I was so inundated with misery and despair that Id disassociated myself into two distinct personalities. Whether it was by luck or by instinct, my darker personality took control, but since he was the younger brother and inferior partner in our relationship, he was unable to wholly surrender to the Spectres because he lacked the authority in the first place. Thus, my ability to Devour was born, because for others, taking in the Spectres ant giving up control, but Id already taken control away from my alter ego, and thus he beca a safe haven for the Spectres to infest.
After which I lucked into finding Blobby, who likely only bonded with because of my ability to Devour Spectres without losing Balance, since it ant he could just hang out in the safety of my Core and have als delivered to him on demand.
Suffice it to say that Ive had more than my fair share of successes which I can only attribute to my dog-shit luck of having a past life to rely on. Hardly sothing to inspire confidence, like having a big ego just because I was born rich. Sure there are those who feel that way, but Im self-aware enough to understand that my achievents are not mine alone. For this reason, I am forever stuck out of my depth as I float through life trying to pretend like I know what Im doing, all the while blundering my way to success as an imposter in plain sight, one lucky enough not to stumble and fall just yet.
Indifference. Inadequacy. Incompetence. Words which describe my plethora of insecurities, but fail to truly convey the depths of my misery, but the words are not important. Emotion is my weapon here, a lifeti of suffering which I would not wish upon my worst enemy, but there is still more buried deep within. Everything Ive touched upon is rely the result of the defining mont in my life, a life which was never mine to begin with. Thats where most of my issues stem from, the fact that I feel I do not belong here, that I was never supposed to open my eyes on that slave auction stage and go on to beco the Number One Talent and Legate of the Outer Provinces.
An undeniable truth, but its so much worse than I ever thought.
The mory cos unbidden to , and I struggle in an effort to reject it, but I cannot win against my own psyche. The truth unfolds before my eyes, a truth Ive buried deep, but one I can no longer deny in light of recent events. Here I stand beneath the pale, wan sun, peaking out just over the horizon to cast away the shadows and envelop the world is an unearthly glow. Dim though it might be, it still hurts my eyes after so many months imrsed in darkness, a yearly occurrence for as long as I can rember. Usually, the stars alone shed light enough to navigate through these frozen, unforgiving wastes, but the days will grow brighter and brighter until it becos too blinding to go out, before slowly giving way to the darkness once more.
I much prefer the darkness, especially right now, because if the world was cast in gloom and shadows, then I wouldnt be able to see the face of my opponent and be reminded of what we share, or what we must do now that the sun has risen.
Though he is younger, he stands a head and a half taller and almost twice as wide as my spindly fra. Hes always been bigger than though, a marked advantage in this battle of life and death, because superior skill can only go so far before sheer muscle overwhelms you, and I lack both. Head shaved and chest bared, he scowls as our eyes et and I see his hesitation, hesitation which is mirrored in mine because neither of us want this. There is no choice however, because the weak die and the strong survive, a truth we both accept here and now. This is our way of life, one which has been drilled into our minds and bodies since the day we could walk. There is no room for rcy or compassion in our hearts, no place for friendship or empathy, only the cold, harsh rules of reality which we both must adhere to.
He's always been the stronger one, this much was made clear right from the start. When pitted against the younglings our age, he always got the lions share of the prize, regardless if it be food, shelter, comfort, or anything else. Thats why hes grown so much taller and bigger, while I remained a bundle of bones and skin with barely any muscle at all, aning our conflict was more or less decided from the start. I should just give up now, give in to the inevitable and concede defeat, but I cant bring myself to surrender just yet. Not because I dont want to die, nor is it because I hope to live, but because I know itll be harder for him to kill if I dont fight back.
So I fight. I throw myself at my foe, and it catches him off-guard, but hes strong enough to throw off with ease. Rolling across the jagged, frozen earth, I recover in ti to slip aside from his follow-up kick, one which wouldve caved my head in if itd connected. Throwing myself at his supporting leg, I drive him back half-a-handspan at most without even affecting his balance, and I feel my feet lifting off the ground as he regains his footing and hurls aside. Shouldve slamd down instead, because now I have strength enough to roll and recover, landing lightly on both feet just in ti to narrowly dodge his charge. Pushing him along in hopes of buying myself so ti, I skip backwards and freeze in place as my foe stumbles and falls to one knee, at which point instinct takes over. I leap onto his back and wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing with every scrap of strength I still possess. He bucks and heaves before pushing himself to his feet, but I cling galy on with my feet braced against his hips. Unable to pull loose, my opponent predictably tries to fall backwards and slam against the ground, but I was expecting as much and release my grip to push off his back and avoid being pinned between him and the earth. As his body crashes down, mine hangs in the air for a mont, just long enough for our eyes to et before I begin my descent anew. Ti stops as we bid each other farewell, and it pains to see no hatred, fear, or even reluctance in his expression, only grudging acceptance and sweet relief.
He's glad. Glad that he doesnt have to kill , and knowing this hurts more than any injury ever could.
Ti resus, and he crashes into the ground re monts before my elbows slam ho into the fragile bones of his neck. Death is instant, and as I take in my victory, there is no joy in my heart, no pleasure to be had, only a sense of incredulous disbelief at having survived this final trial, followed by a wave of horror and guilt at what Ive done. This life was not ant to be mine, because Ive never won against him before in my life, and I would have died a hundred tis if not for the fact that our previous fights were only training matches. This was our first real life and death battle, one which no one expected to survive, but survive I did because my opponent stumbled over a jagged rock and couldnt recover in ti.
Breaking the rock which helped secure my victory, I use it to carve up my prize to bring ho as proof, a routine Ive seen him do a thousand tis before. To the victor goes the spoils, and I know I should partake in the strength of my fallen foe. I cannot rember the last ti I dined on warm flesh, or even when my belly was full, and I do not have the strength to keep this whole prize to myself, but I am in no mood to eat. A foolish and stubborn denial, because I know he would have dined upon my flesh if our roles were reversed, but unlike him, I am unworthy.
I am the victor, but only because of dumb luck. I should be dead, he standing here in my place, but the heavens are cruel and rciless.
As expected, most of my prize is stolen before I make my way back ho, because with my victory, I am no longer a child protected by custom, but an adult of the village free to grow my hair and beard both. There is no pride in the achievent, for it ans I must labour even harder to earn my fair share or be banished, and I suspect I will be dead before the darkness cos again in a few weeks ti. Carrying the single trophy left to as proof of my undeserving victory, I return to my fathers lair and make my way inside, even though I know I should not be here, and should instead be fighting for a place to carve out my own lair before the other new adults return. Theres sothing I must do first though, sothing I need to prove to myself, which is why I ca here instead. Cradling my little brothers head in my arms, I take a seat before my mother who has yet to notice my arrival, lost in her thoughts and dreaming of a different life as she almost always is. I have returned, I declare, and only then does she stop staring off into nothingness to register my presence, before giving my prize a questioning gaze. I can see the question in her eyes, because no one expected my little brother to die, especially not against , the weakest of the weak. He stumbled and fell, so I killed him and won.
Her brow furrows in surprise and confusion, unable to make sense of what I said. Her amber eyes take in my face, then the face of my twin brother who is dead and gone, only to co back to mine without any hint of grief, pleasure, or any other emotion besides mild curiosity. You killed the warrior, she declares, stating the obvious with a tilt of her head. Which one are you again? Not the slayer. Not the glutton. Not the dagger or the wretched, the spear or the blooded. I know not your face, only that you are not my little light.
In her mind, our nas were rely labels, but it was all shed given us, all we had, and she doesnt even rember all of our faces. Mine least of all, despite being the one who needed her the most, the weakest runt of the litter who was destined for death. Or maybe thats why she didnt bother rembering in the first place, because she assud my death was inevitable, but I survived in spite of the odds, at the cost of my brothers life. My little brother Baledagh, the Warrior, the strongest one of all, and the only reason I survived to reach the age of twelve and undergo the ceremony of adulthood. He fought and won the lions share every single ti, but he always saved enough for , because he knew Id die without it. Thats why our father pitted us against each another, because such weakness could not be tolerated, but my little brother protected to the end.
I am Amigui, I reply, amused by how apt my na is. The lifeless. Stillborn yet unable to die, an ill-on if there ever was one. Thats all there is to say, as my mothers expression turns to one of disgust and revulsion before turning away so she no longer has to look at , because I am as dead to her now as the day I ca out the womb, only minutes ahead of my little brother. Nothing will ever change this, a truth I must now accept, for she only has room for her little light in her heart, her Gerel who she left behind. Leaving with my brothers head still cradled in my arms, I bring him out to the edge of camp where we can watch the rising sun together, because unlike , he always loved the light. The others return and are surprised to see , but I pay them no mind, nor do I care to answer my father when he cos to ask why Ive yet to secure my own dwelling. The sun slowly rises as the days pass by, and I continue to keep my brother company, because I never expected to make it this far and have no idea what Im supposed to do now, nor do I care to even try. I eat when I must, because I cannot squander this life that has been gifted to , and soon enough, all that is left of my brother is a skull and nothing else.
At which point my father arrives to tell Ive been banished from the village for my failure to contribute. I take the news in stride and leave my brothers skull behind, because unlike , he deserves a place among his people. I say nothing as father carries away to a far-off land steeped in colours Ive never seen. I presu its so I cant make my way back to the village, but then he hands over to a person I dont recognize who throws into a cage. Not that it matters, because this changes nothing, and I simply close my eyes and wish that I had died in birth rather than be born to a world that didnt want .
And when I open my eyes again, Amigui is gone, with Rayne standing in his place, and the rest is history. The torrent of once-suppressed mories surges through in a maelstrom of grief, guilt, sha and more as I struggle to co to grips with a past I tried so hard to forget and was not even remotely ready for. The denial, regret, and self-loathing, all of it is almost too much to bear, too real and too obvious to ignore any longer as the root causes of my many insecurities are made all too evident. I was rejected by my mother, neglected and abandoned by my father, yet I repaid the only person who ever cared for with betrayal most foul. Everything I have, everything Ive accomplished, all of it is fruit of the poisoned tree, and I truly do not deserve this life of mine.
This is my truth, one I can no longer deny no matter how much I wish it were otherwise. Whether I am Amigui, Falling Rain, or Rayne, I am, at my core, unworthy. This I know for certain, though I am still unsure as to how or why I awakened to mories of a past life, but this is . I am Amigui and Rayne both, of this world and the last, and Falling Rain still rely an amalgamation of the two. Those actions were mine, and the karma sown within two lives must eventually be reaped. The consequences are mine to bear, and I must accept this, for there is no other choice, but I put all this aside to focus on finishing what I started. I dont know what to make of it all, but I cant keep hiding from the past, no matter how dark and dismal it might be. Much as I wish I could change the past, every step taken along my Path is a necessary one, especially the ones I regret most, because without the mistakes and suffering of my past, I would not be the man I am today.
A giant ss of a man with more baggage than a comrcial airport, all of which I will now embrace and dump onto Zhen Shi, because fuck him in particular. All thats left to do is pick out the right words to express my emotions through Oration, an answer which cos unbidden as the maudlin lody leaves my sombre, smiling lips.
Hello darkness my old friend
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