Tatsuki took in a sharp breath as he supported his body against the thin, decrepit wooden shed, his muscles completely destroyed from his rampant searching.
Damn that old senile man, how come he gave me the most vague directions! thought Tatsuki, letting his real emotions out now that he was completely alone in the solitary forest.
Normally, Tatsuki would try to think positively about people in their presence, as if the person were perceptive enough, they might be able to tell how someone felt just by reading their expressions and thoughts.
So the best conmen would fake their own thoughts to avoid slipping up—and Tatsuki had taken great caution to do the same around Master Sachio.
Tatsuki could feel how powerful and astute that man was—after all, he had killed the demon who wiped out Tatsuki's encampment in mere moments.
Though even still, he couldn't be too harsh on Master Sachio, as the man had given him a chance—a chance no one else had ever given him.
And Tatsuki had been truly grateful to the old man for giving him the opportunity to be someone of importance.
As a kid, Tatsuki had heard legends of samurai from days long past, and he wanted so desperately to be someone of renown.
Someone who could be immortalized—and since death came for everyone, the only way to be eternal is to be remembered in story's and thought.
That was why Tatsuki had accepted the man's offer of possible death and brutal training—because maybe, just maybe, the lonely wretched boy whose parents had left him to die… could become something.
Tatsuki, in anger, smashed his hand into the decrepit shed, causing it to creak slightly.
I'll show them. I'll reach beyond their comprehension.
Whether it be on the shoulders of others or on their rotting corpses, I will obtain greater heights.
Tatsuki looked up at the setting sun, the dusk of night engulfing the boy—each shadow telling its own story.
Tatsuki limped his way inside the small shelter, its interior as minimalistic as its exterior.
The cold stone floor had a small irori centered in the middle of its foundation, a small iron pot sat atop it.
A pity… seems that the last person who stayed here used all the firewood, Tatsuki thought, dipping his hand into the ash of the pit.
Well, I still have another forty minutes before nightfall. That should be enough time to collect firewood.
With that, Tatsuki went out in search of firewood, staying within a half-mile radius of his shelter while also staying vigilant for any water streams at the bottom of the mountain.
It took him about twenty minutes before he found suitable, light, and dry wood.
As he walked back from his trip, Tatsuki tried to recall any watering holes he'd seen while running down the mountain earlier that day.
Though, he couldn't recall anything within reasonable distance of his encampment.
After some time of trying to recall his journey, Tatsuki finally made it back to the shed and spent the early part of his night creating a fire.
Honestly, I have lived in much worse conditions than this… a roof over my head and a fire— not too bad.
Tatsuki thought to himself as he warmed up next to the irori, the bitter wind of the night was consumed by the fire.
And slowly, after some deliberation of what he was going to do for food and water over the coming week, Tatsuki fell into a slumber.
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The days passed monotonously as Tatsuki settled into a pattern. He would wake at first dawn to collect water before boiling it over the irori.
Then, he spent the rest of his day hunting wildlife, which was rather difficult. He built small box traps for game animals, but success was inconsistent.
Depending on his haul for the day—whether it was plentiful or barren—he would decide whether he had enough energy to train.
He would performed fast-paced sprints and basic bodyweight movements, to trying and regain his former muscular frame.
As the days wore on, Tatsuki could feel his pale skin begin to tan again under the ever-constant beating sun.
This continued without change, day after day. Some days, Tatsuki didn't even hear the sound of his own voice.
But on the sixth night of Tatsuki's stay, a fear that had lurked in the back of his mind finally came to fruition.
The evening had followed the same routine as always. Tatsuki was skinning and roasting a small rabbit he had caught earlier, the light aroma of the meat filling the small shelter with sweet, earthy undertones.
But just as Tatsuki was taking in the pleasant smell of his soon-to-be meal, a horrid stench invaded his nose.
It rushed into the room like a typhoon, causing Tatsuki to tense in confusion.
And then it hit him—an odor of rotting flesh and sprouting worms.
Before he could react, a wide, fleshy hand came crashing through the decayed wooden wall of the shed.
Tatsuki, in a desperate reflex, dove out of the way—his body landing directly onto the irori's fire, a raw scream ripping from his throat.
"Ahh, damn it!" Tatsuki cursed instinctively, his voice hoarse from days of silence.
In a panic, he scrambled upright, staggering toward the now-exposed entrance of the shed.
"Where are you going?" a lumbering, fat demon asked. Its movements were clumsy and uncoordinated, like a toddler learning to walk—as it tripped and collapsed fully through the thin wall of the shed.
Tatsuki, acting on instinct and fear, snatched a large stone from the crushed shed's foundation and viciously slammed it down onto the immobilized demon's head.
A sudden burst of blood and worms exploded from the crushed skull.
Still, the demon's short, drooping arms continued to twitch and swipe at him—futilely trying to reach him, even as its body flailed helplessly, unable to rise, as it found itself perfectly stuck in the wreckage.
"Why do you demons keep getting in my way!? Why won't you leave me alone when I finally have something good going on!" Tatsuki shouted, ranting childishly, his voice trembling with rage.
He kept smashing the stone into the demon's head every time it began to regenerate.
Over and over.
This went on for hours.
Each time Tatsuki caved the creature's skull in, its regeneration grew slower—until it took ten minutes just to start healing again.
But strangely, Tatsuki felt great. No—he felt amazing.
The feeling of making one of these things—these monsters who had shattered his life, who had left him hospitalized and broken—helpless beneath him…
It brought him utter joy, something he hadn't felt in ages.
But as the adrenaline wore off and the demon's regeneration slowed to a crawl, Tatsuki's body began to fail him.
He slumped forward, and finally—completely drained—passed out from exhaustion and stress.
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Tatsuki awoke hours later. A beautiful, fair-skinned girl with a tight blonde bun stood directly over him, her hand set, ready on her sword.
"I'm assuming this is your doing?" the girl asked, a rather blunt and neutral expression on her face.
Tatsuki, after a few seconds of recollection, simply nodded in response before trying in vain to rise to his feet.
After a moment of pause and contemplation, the girl simply walked away, telling Tatsuki to follow.
As Tatsuki eventually rose to his feet, he looked back at the shed, which was decimated. The ashes of the demon flew through the wind as the dawn rose over the horizon.
"Pathetic creature, may you burn in hell," Tatsuki muttered to himself before dusting off his grey haori and following the girl he presumed to be Haruko.
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"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."
John 3:16
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