Mochiyuki

The snow cascaded down in a silent dance, sneaking past the steam clouds puffing out from her lips. Burying her chin beneath a cable-knit scarf, the steam disappeared. Footsteps patted against the snow, packing it into the corners of the cobblestone.

"Cold?"

"Can you tell?"

"Hands in your pockets, face buried beneath a scarf, slight shivering..." He laughed, "No, I can't tell. Not at all."

"I hate the cold," she started, "but I've always found the snow beautiful."

"Yeah me too."

"How do you say snow?"

"Yuki."

He reaches out to catch a flake, "Though this snow is more like Mochiyuki. Fluffy and soft, like mochi."

The flakes fall onto his fingerless gloves as he leans against the wall next to her. He retrieves a cup from one of the sides of his backpack.

"Here."

"Are you serious?!"

"Yup. Two shots of peppermint in it, too."

Her fingers thaw beneath the cup of cocoa, raising it to embrace the sweet scent of chocolate. 

"Mmm..." she sighs, "you are my hero."

A puff of hot steam comes out as he laughs and takes a sip from his cup, "Well, look out spiderman."

"Yeah, seriously. There's a new hero in town and he is fighting crimes with hot chocolate."

"Yes, it's quite effective," he jokes, "I have been fending off the evil cold for a good couple of minutes now."

"I mean," she starts, "I guess the cold isn't the worst enemy, because at least it gives us mochiyuki."

Destruction of the Crucible

Shrunken by the

darkened mist of

flapping cicada wings;

Swarming with clicking,

ticking drums of doubt,

of regret, of fear, of brokenness.

The darkened mist begins to swell,

boiling hot in the challenger's eyes;

cracking dulled spears,

melting menacing chains,

bending the blades of swords,

exploding those fucking cicadas

and the god awful flapping of their wings,

shattering those clicking, ticking drums.

Crucible stone cracks and crumbles

into dust that is swept away by

winds once repressed by

those stone walls.

That bloodied water, 

now in a silent, clouded

puddle. 

The eyes hold their gaze,

still covered by a bloodied glaze.

A droplet of darkened mist

touches from both sides:

Earth and sky.

The challenger raises their view

to a horizon free from stone,

to an outstretched field

and the puddle shrinks away.

"You are free, my dear. 

Starting today."

The Crucible

Down in the crucible

are spiked clubs,

pointed spears,

strong chains,

and sharp swords

but the fear strikes

when in the distance

I see, in the reflection

of bloodied waters,

my own eyes

staring back at me.