For how long did Yin Long lay there, clutching onto robes now stained by his tears? He couldn’t tell, time became a blur as he begged, the solitary light within his quagmire quivering as the dark waves beneath it tossed and roiled. He felt like he occasionally saw some sparse sprinkles of light wash over his face, but his mind wasn’t present enough to register where they came from.
Did he fall asleep at some point? He couldn’t tell that either, all he knew was that there were moments in the darkness where his grasp seemed to be weaker than it should be. The hoarse voice that kept croaking out from his throat also seemed to change between his moments of lucidity, at times being softer and closer to his normal voice, less strained. Was he getting rest or was it just a flash of his past, a gleam of the man he used to be peeking through the muddy waves? This too, he couldn’t tell. There were a lot of things he couldn’t tell right now, both about himself and his surroundings.
And then, as if out of nowhere, the crying just stopped. The tears that had already seeped deep into Lan Yun’s robe stopped flowing, giving the fabric a chance to finally dry. The hoarse voice that previously echoed throughout the room and adjacent hallway was cut off with a dry gurgle, like the final rattle of a dying man.
It wasn’t that Yin Long had steeled his mind or hardened his resolve, there was simply nothing more to give. He wanted to keep crying, but nothing came up from within. There was just pain and emptiness, both his own and the one he had gathered. When he opened his mouth, no sound wanted to come out, no begging or strong words, his throat was connected to his empty body so there was nothing that could slip out from it.
When his parents died, he felt hollow, as if a part of his stomach had been gouged out. But now there was nothing left, just a gaping void that had eaten away at what remained of his body. He felt broken, fractured and continuously falling apart. Only that small light, fighting against the dark waves, remained as part of him, only that light testified to his existence. And that small light did what it always did, it reached out a hand and stroked his head.
"Good morning, Young Master. It was dark, wasn’t it? But just look, the sun still rises, the light of dawn still banishes the night."
She tilted his head as she spoke, directing his gaze towards the small circular window that let them catch a small glimpse of the world around them. A reddish-orange hue dyed the sky just beyond the window, the clouds reminiscent of fire that danced across the heavens. Dawn had arrived and the night had been forced into a swift retreat. That familiar warmth continued to spread out from the small light within his quagmire, the hand gently brushing his hair, which was slightly damp since he buried his head in her wet robes.
"No matter the darkness, the sun still rises and blesses the land. No matter how empty the sky or the lands are, the sun still rises and graces them with their light. And thus, in time, both the sky and the earth become full."
The bright colours that danced across the sky like fire slowly moved along as Lan Yun spoke, the fiery clouds turning white as the reddish-orange sky returned to its normal blue hue. And there it rose, the incandescent gold that blotted out everything else, the blinding light that forced Yin Long to squint his eyes. The light should be warm, he knew that, it was the sun after all. But as the light seeped into his hollow body, it just felt cold to him, unwelcoming. But that small light that testified his life couldn’t know what he felt as the sun reached him, so it continued to brush his hair.
"I’ve always said it, haven’t I, Young Master. You are the sun, brighter than all, higher than all. So rise, my sweet Young Master. Rise, my kind Young Master. Rise, my lovely sun."
Her words, like a sickly sweet whisper, crept into his ears. They dropped out from the solitary light and sank into the murky quagmire that roiled like a furious ocean. Like stones they rushed through the darkness and pierced through the bottom, finally settling within the gaping void like motes of charcoal, kindling just waiting for a spark to alight them.
But the light of the sun, that should have set them ablaze to light up the void, simply felt cold. The coal was darker than the light and colder than the warmth so it sucked it all up without leaving even a drop for the void. And thus, Yin Long remained empty and fractured, another casualty of the world.
"Ah… So this is what it means to be a nail…"
His murky eyes swam slightly as they looked at that cold and distant light, a quiet mutter vanishing into that empty void. He understood it now, just what a nail that scraped the world should be. If only he’d understood it earlier, perhaps he could have changed things, perhaps he could have prevented the tragedy that struck, perhaps those he cared for wouldn’t have died for him. But there was no going back, the past couldn’t be changed just because you wished for it, so that vain hope was smothered before it could even sprout.
He placed a hand against Lan Yun’s thigh and used it as support to lift himself up. His legs felt weak as he placed them on the floor again, there was a numb pain coming from his heels and the back of his knees, a dull droning as his muscles and nerves woke up one by one.
"Yes, I knew that you had it in you, my dear Young Master. Rise, just like the morning sun, and banish the darkness."
Lan Yun smiled as she watched Yin Long stand up. Or at least, she tried to smile, a pale mockery of one floating up on her face. Her smile was already lost, turned to green ash that scattered with the wind. Wasn’t that the reason he smiled and carried pain that wasn’t his?
"Coming?"
He stretched his hand out towards the girl that couldn’t smile. He couldn’t feel the warmth of the sun, the blessing of its light. He couldn’t believe in the sun that she spoke of so sweetly. But he was already smiling for a cause he didn’t believe in, for the girl who couldn’t. So why couldn’t he also rise without believing in it, why couldn’t he spread light despite being filled by an empty darkness?
Perhaps there would come a day where he managed to believe in it, a day where those chunks of coal became warmer than the darkness and finally sparked alight. Would he become full again at that time? Would the fractured parts become whole once more? Would he be able to actually smile properly, and believe in his own twisted lips, at that time? He didn’t know right now, perhaps he would never know. But what he did know was that right now he had to rise, he had to at least pretend to be the sun that this lonely light believed him to be.
"Wherever you go, Young Master."
The crumbled smile on Lan Yun’s face was oh-so close to being a proper one as she took his hand and stood up, but the truth of the situation crushed down on her just as hard as it did on Yin Long. Or perhaps the fact that she was part of that truth, the source of it even, made it hit her all that much harder.
Yin Long held onto her hand and left the room, properly walking on his own two feet this time. The makeshift counter was only a handful of quick steps away from them so they obviously reached it in no time, the burly and tanned man still fiddling with his cards. Yin Long reached into his robe to bring out the card he received when they first got here, but the man waved his hand dismissively without even raising his head.
"Keep it. The Ace of Spades is a rare card, it ought to give you some luck."
He never even glanced at Yin Long, he simply kept fiddling with the deck of cards in his grasp, drawing card after card, each one coming up hearts. Yin Long could only slide the card back into his inner pocket, a quiet nod serving as a simple goodbye before he brought Lan Yun and left. The one-eyed man running the make-shift inn was left behind, continuing to draw nothing but hearts from the deck of cards he was fiddling with.
The streets outside were still bustling, if that word was even applicable to a town within the Netherworld. People were moving about to do what they wanted, be that running shops, hunting beasts, hunting people, or just living so that they didn’t die. The two joined the bustle of the town, moving about without a goal in mind. There was plenty to do. As Lan Yun would say it, a sun doesn’t stay in one place, nor does it illuminate just one town. They would have to move around eventually, visit other cities, meet other people. For that matter, it also fit Yin Long’s goal, even an empty man would still want revenge on the man who brought about the death of his friends and family, he also had to see if any of those who died with him ended up down here. But for now, they just walked around without anything in mind, the dark quagmire in his head dragging at Yin Long’s every step.
Clank.
Yin Long’s feet stopped as a familiar sound reached his ears.
Clank.
The sound crashed into his ears like a sledgehammer, echoing throughout the empty void inside him, dancing between the dim lumps of coal awaiting their fire.
Clank.
It was like a siren’s song, drawing his gaze and attention. His feet moved unconsciously, and surprisingly enough, even Lan Yun was looking at him with some confusion.
Clank.
He couldn’t believe in the smile Lan Yun wanted him to show.
Clank.
He couldn’t believe in the warmth of the sun that hung so high above them.
Clank.
He couldn’t believe in the light that banished the darkness so assuredly.
Clank.
But this sound… This sound he could believe in.
Clank.
Metal clashing against metal, sparks scattering like fireflies as they shone for a single beautiful moment. A subdued grinding sound as hammer met blade and slid slightly. Oh how familiar it was, how close to home it was. And thus, his feet moved, despite Lan Yun’s confused gaze, despite the emptiness inside.
Clank.
His feet stopped in front of a shabby building, if it was even worthy of that description. There were only three walls and a ceiling, the entire front part open for all to gawk at. Gusts of warm air rushed out from within the building each time the clanking sound resounded, a whoosh accompanying each hit. An excruciatingly simple furnace was placed within the building, and judging by the small cracks that spilt the heat of the fire, it was probably something hand-made by someone who wasn’t terribly skilled at it. But even so, there was a forge, and there was someone working the forge.
A muscular woman was hunched over the forge, her chest covered only by a strip of cloth that she had tied around herself. Her skin was blackened by ash and dust, leathery and wrinkled thanks to the heat. The sweat practically ran off of her as she hammered the blade she held, beating out the kinks to straighten the battered weapon.
The barren earth around her and the forge was covered in broken weapons, some covered in rust, some in cracks, and others in dents that made them look as if they were used as battering rams. She didn’t seem to be forging weapons but rather repairing them, perhaps she just found it too sad to see that even weapons would end up decaying down here in this hell.
Clank.
The woman glanced at Yin Long since he was standing by the open side of the building, but she didn’t bother initiating any conversation and simply kept hammering the blade. Yin Long’s own gaze was on the weapons scattered about the ground, Lan Yun eventually giving his hand a soft tug.
"Young Master, if you need a weapon, can’t you just create one?"
Her question was perfectly reasonable, Yin Long was someone who was never short of swords if he needed a weapon. All he had to do was stretch out his hand, a perfect weapon would simply form in his grasp, ready to cut down all who would tread in his path. But even so, he couldn’t take his eyes off of those broken weapons. His feet brought him into the steaming house, the still confused Lan Yun dragged in with him.
"This sword… can I take it?"
He picked up a weapon as he spoke, a simple and unadorned sword now resting in his grasp. It was as standard as they came, the only thing setting it apart from other swords being the myriad of cracks that ran down the entire length of the blade. Some dried blood and dirt lingered between some of the cracks, but Yin Long could still see himself reflected in the dirty blade, his reflection as cracked and shattered as the weapon itself. His eyes… Had they always been this murky and dirty? There was barely a single part of him lurking within that shattered reflection, even his eyes barely held a single trace of him.
"Hm? ‘S yours if you want it. But that thing’s too broken, ‘ll shatter with a single good whack, three if we go through the trouble o’ forging it."
The woman gave a light grunt as she raised her head, inspecting the sword Yin Long had picked out. She shook her head, but she didn’t outright reject him so it didn’t seem like it was a weapon that had an owner, perhaps all the weapons here had already lost their owner. Naturally, Yin Long also saw the wretched state of the blade, but the fractured reflection still formed a cracked smile.
"It’s perfect for me."
Lan Yun seemed as if she couldn’t understand what Yin Long was thinking, a first ever since he arrived in the Netherworld. The woman on the other hand simply shrugged her shoulders, this was the Netherworld, people here simply did as they pleased. She then stretched out her hand, temporarily placing aside the weapon she was hammering.
"Aight, suite yourself. Gimme, I’ll hold it steady and you hammer it, least you can do if you want it."
She got up from her seat, a wooden log that was simple screwed into the earth, and allowed Yin Long to take it. She handed him the hammer while she heated up the blade, fishing out some molten metal from a separate section of the forge. It would be an extremely patchwork forging, if it could even be called that, but perhaps that was the best some people could expect in a place like this. And for Yin Long, it was perfect.
In the past, he had access to all the best weapons he could make, he was never lacking an excellent weapon. But still, he failed. Still, he lost. The skills he was so proud of, they were nothing in front of his enemy. The weapons he was so proud of, they were nothing in front of his enemy. He could make as many as he wanted, he would just break that many. All the things he birthed, they were all crushed, all save for those last two he managed to save. It was painful, losing his swords. He treasured them all after all. He didn’t want to lose more weapons, he wanted to become strong enough to not lose anymore, be it friends, family, or weapons.
And so, he picked this broken little sword, this fractured blade that reflected a sight that was no longer him. This pitiful weapon, this broken blade, if he could fight with it, protect it from shattering, could he maybe do the same with his other weapons in the future? Could he maybe do it with himself in the future? In that way, perhaps he would finally be able to wash away some of that blood that now stained his hands.
The woman who seemed to own this place obviously couldn’t read Yin Long’s thoughts, she simply focused on the forging. She poured on some of the molten metal and directed Yin Long in how to hammer the blade. Slowly. Bit by bit. One piece at a time, the cracks were covered up by molten metal. Slowly, the fractured reflection was covered up, obscuring the him that wasn’t him. And slowly, one motion at a time, the blood of friends and family that stained his hands was transferred to, shared with, the broken blade.
