Smell of Poison berries

(Part 3 of Southern Samurai)

A teenager lies on the edge of a training field.

Halfway underneath a bush full of poison berries.

Sweaty, tired, bruised, and sore.

 

One of those days.

Despite learning so much, still feels he knows so little.

Despite testing his strength many times, still feels he is inferior.

.

Bruised fingers and knuckles from practice matches. The smell of blood dripping out of his nose. Smell of mud and wooden swords scraping across his nose. The words of his teacher echoing through the day. “Power is not being able to command someone who respects you”. …Retaliate, annihilate, repeat…Retaliate, annihilate, defeat. Chants being echoed past the raindrops of storms and wind. “One must learn to admire barbaric beauty.” The sting of wasps from swatting away insects. “You must be fluid so you may flow with battle, a smooth movement is a swift movement.”The sting of splinters from practicing with wooden sticks. Smell of grass on sunny, cloudless day. “True power is being able to command someone who hates you.”

 

The teenager hears chants echoing from the other side of the field.

Voices ready for a war that has not been declared.

Stuck on the grass with the aroma of poison berries in his nose.

-Originally written in 2012