Soul of a Samurai

The cold was numbing.

Fresh snow fell from the sky, covering the bloodstained ground in an eerie white blanket.

Kyojin stirred, his body aching, but the pain had dulled. He had been resting for a while, long enough for his body to recover enough to move.

His fingers twitched, his breath coming out in slow, heavy clouds of mist.

He opened his eyes.

The sky above was a deep, endless gray, as if mourning alongside him.

Slowly, Kyojin gritted his teeth and pushed himself up.

His wooden sword, still in his grasp, felt heavier than ever.

His legs wobbled as he forced himself to stand, his breath uneven.

The world around him was quiet.

Too quiet.

There was no sound of birds.

No distant voices of villagers.

No warmth of home.

Just the cold embrace of winter and the weight of something terribly, terribly wrong.

—

He needed to find his father.

Kyojin's boots crunched against the snow as he walked forward, his steps slow and unsteady. His body was still sore, his energy not fully recovered from his reckless outburst of chakra.

But he didn't care.

He needed to find him.

His heart pounded, his mind racing with the possibilities.

Maybe his father had gone looking for help.

Maybe he was tending to the wounded.

Maybe—

His footsteps stopped.

A few feet ahead of him, a figure was kneeling in the snow.

Kyojin's breath caught in his throat.

It was his father.

His white armor was dull under the morning light, stained with dried blood. His long white hair barely moved in the wind.

Kyojin took a step closer.

His lips parted to call out to him, but—

Then he saw it.

The sword.

A katana was buried deep into his father's stomach, piercing straight through his body.

The hilt barely peeked out from the thick layers of armor.

His hands rested loosely at his sides, his head bowed slightly forward.

Kyojin's breath hitched.

His eyes drifted downward—

And that was when he saw her.

His mother's body lay beside him, untouched from where she had fallen.

Her face was peaceful.

Just as he had left her.

Just as she had died.

And his father…

He had knelt beside her.

Had taken his blade.

Had driven it through himself.

And had stayed like that.

For who knows how long.

Waiting.

Dying.

Joining her.

—

Kyojin's knees buckled.

The strength he had forced himself to muster shattered in an instant.

His sword fell from his grasp, sinking into the snow beside him.

His fingers trembled, his body frozen in place.

His lips quivered, but no words came out.

His chest felt tight.

Too tight.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't think.

His entire world—

Everything he had known.

Everything he had loved.

Was gone.

Tears blurred his vision.

The pain was unbearable.

He had already lost his mother—

And now, his father had left him too.

Alone.

He was alone.

No one left to train him.

No one left to scold him.

No one left to sit with him during dinner.

No one left to say his name.

No one left to tell him "Well done."

No one left to love him.

The dam broke.

A sob tore through Kyojin's throat.

His fingers dug into the snow, his nails scraping against ice as his body shook violently.

And then, with every ounce of grief, anger, and despair in his soul—

He screamed.

A scream that shattered the silence of the snow-covered ruins.

A scream so raw, so filled with agony, that it reached the very heavens above.

His cries were relentless, his sobs unrestrained.

Tears streamed down his face, his shoulders heaving as he let everything out.

All the rage.

All the sorrow.

All the loneliness.

He clutched his chest, his fingers grasping at his kimono as if trying to hold himself together—

But it was too late.

Everything had already fallen apart.

The boy who had once trained every day to become strong, to become a warrior—

Now had nothing left to fight for.

He screamed until his voice gave out.

He sobbed until his throat burned.

He cried until his body refused to move.

Until his tears ran dry.

Until the sun hung high in the sky.

Until everything felt empty.

—

At some point, he collapsed.

His body curled against the snow.

His breath came out in weak, uneven shudders.

His red eyes, once burning with determination, now stared blankly at the sky.

The fresh snow continued to fall, covering the world in a soft, white layer.

A world that had taken everything from him.

A world that had left him alone.

A world that no longer mattered.

Kyojin closed his eyes.

And for the first time—

He wished he never woke up.