Resolution - Usuaji



Date: January 2, 2013


None given.

"Resolution - Usuaji"

Unknown location

Sunlight. My old nemesis.

Filtering through the mist and the curtains, it falls across my face and I
groan. My head hurts. It is the dawning of a new year, and as I force
myself to stagger out of bed, neatly evading an obstacle course of
discarded bottles, I reflect on what that means.

Bloodshot eyes meet mine in the bathroom. It is sometimes easy to forget
that alcohol is a poison, at least, until you wake up the next morning and
see the evidence staring back at you. Killing myself by inches, that's
what it really is. Perhaps I should resolve to turn away from the bottle?

But what, then, would I do for breakfast?

I gargle, spit, and make it back to the table where it is waiting for me.
The first slug takes the edge off, and I collapse forwards, eyes closing
as I go. Just to rest for a few moments and let the pain slip away. Ah.
Much better.

I still have no students. Perhaps I should resolve to get some? It would
help give me focus if I had someone else relying on me. But that wouldn't
be fair to them, would it? Some washed up old drunk trying to teach them
when she barely feels confident in herself. No, I'd be hurting the
strength of the village if I squandered our talent on meaningless lessons.

Somehow, I manage to get myself to stand up. Chuunin vest, on. Bokken, on.
Ah. I think back to those stupid children babbling about how I should make
myself stronger. Perhaps that should be my goal for the new year? But, I
have been doing this long enough to be quite certain of my abilities and
my progress. It isn't a resolution to continue doing what you have been
doing, and ensuring I am as strong at the end of the year as I am at the
start seems daunting enough.

With a heavy sigh, I open my front door, and the sunlight stabs me in the
eyes. The cold bites into me like a knife, even the air burns my lungs. I
steel myself, and look out over the village. My home. Ah. One more year.
Seven years ago, I would have placed equal odds that this place would be
destroyed by now. But here it is, strong as ever. Really, I don't know who
I'm kidding. Every year, I make the same, small, promise to myself.

"This year, I will make sure none of us die."

And every year, it is broken. But perhaps, just perhaps, I can try to keep
this promise longer this year than I did the last.

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