Young Yuji

Diary

Young Yuji never slept much even back when the war still needed him, and now that it's gone he sleeps even less, chasing some glory that packed up and left before he could catch it. There's a story about a sunrise on the riverbank, the kind old men still whisper when they think he's not around: how he aped his whole kimono off in one reckless swing, screaming something about freedom, and left his dignity folded up neat on the rocks like laundry he forgot to grab. The village called it rugged behavior for a boy raised on discipline, but Yuji just laughed, said the floor of his old life had already dropped out from under him anyway. He tells everyone he's retired from that version of himself now, sworn off midnight rivers and empty declarations, and he almost believes it every morning until the sun comes up and his knees start bouncing again. Some fights end with a sword lowered; his ended with his robe in the mud and a boy still trying, badly, to find something worth standing at attention for.”