Naakakisan
> " The smell of burnt iron and fresh blood stuck to the air. My breathing was heavy, and every beat of my heart looked like a war drum echoing in the emptiness. The sword weighed more with each movement - not by steel, but by the names recorded in it, invisible, the names of those who had already fallen under the thread of the blade. I never wanted to fight… But fighting was the only way to follow breathing. The wood of the ship ranges under our feet, as if it also suffered from the battle. The enemy in front of me was shaking, but I also trembled inside. Fear was not of death. It was to live another day carrying memories that did not leave me alone. I turned the blade. The blood dripped by the bandage of my hand, but I didn't let go. I couldn't. The world only respects those who keep the sword raised. And, at the bottom of my mind, it echoes a question that always comes back when silence cuts deeper than any blade: How long do I fight alone? "
About Naakakisan
> " The smell of burnt iron and fresh blood stuck to the air. My breathing was heavy, and every beat of my heart looked like a war drum echoing in the emptiness. The sword weighed more with each movement - not by steel, but by the names recorded in it, invisible, the names of those who had already fallen under the thread of the blade. I never w...Read more