Soul of a Samurai

Kyojin opened his eyes.

The sky above him was a dull gray, and snowflakes drifted gently from the heavens.

The world was silent.

The corpses of his parents were still there.

His father, kneeling in eternal stillness.

His mother, lying peacefully in the snow.

The memories of warmth, of home, of family— gone.

But there were no more tears left in him.

No more screams.

No more sorrow.

Just emptiness.

His breath was slow, almost lifeless. The fire that had always burned within him had died.

For a long time, he just lay there.

He did not move.

He did not think.

But then—

A cold breeze brushed against his skin.

He finally stirred.

Slowly, with no sense of urgency, he pushed himself up. His muscles ached, his joints stiff from the cold.

But it didn't matter.

Nothing did.

Kyojin looked around one last time.

At the place he once called home.

At the blood-soaked snow.

At the memories that had turned to ashes.

He reached down, picking up his wooden sword— the last thing his father ever gave him.

And then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

—

The village faded behind him, buried under the endless snowfall.

Kyojin did not look back.

There was no reason to.

He had nothing left.

No family.

No purpose.

No destination.

He just walked.

The cold bit into his skin, his thin kimono barely offering any protection. His sandals crunched against the snow, leaving shallow footprints that were quickly swallowed by the wind.

It didn't matter where he went.

There was nowhere to return to.

Nowhere to belong.

And so, he simply moved forward.

—

Days passed.

Nights came and went.

The sun would rise, and the sun would fall, and Kyojin kept walking.

He did not train.

He did not explore.

He did not count the passing days.

He hunted only when necessary, eating enough to keep his body moving, but never more than that.

He rested when exhaustion made him collapse, but his sleep was light, filled with nightmares of blood and loss.

Every time he woke up, he kept walking.

It became routine.

Step.

Step.

Step.

The only sound was the crunch of snow beneath his sandals.

The only company was the empty sky above him.

His mind was blank.

Not because he had mastered his emotions, but because he felt nothing.

Nothing but the cold.

And the hollow, endless silence that stretched in every direction.

—

A month passed.

The snow began to thin.

The biting cold softened into a cool breeze.

Kyojin barely noticed when the white landscape began to shift.

The trees grew taller, thicker. Their bare, lifeless branches began to bloom with leaves.

The white of the snow faded into patches of brown dirt.

Then green grass.

The air became warmer.

Birds chirped in the distance.

Insects hummed.

The world around him became vibrant, full of life.

Yet Kyojin felt none of it.

He simply kept walking.

He had left the frozen wasteland behind.

Left behind the place of his birth.

Left behind everything he had once known.

But no matter how far he walked—

No matter how many landscapes he passed—

No matter how much the world around him changed—

The emptiness in his heart remained the same.