Once upon a time, there was a young woodcutter.
The young woodcutter loved... to at least a certain extent, peace and normalcy, and believed not standing out and having an ordinary life to be a happiness beyond comparison. Despite his youth, the woodcutter lacked any grand ambition, but then again, the protagonists of all the stories back then were much the same, so there’s no avoiding it.
One day, while he was working, the young woodcutter came across a large lake as he pushed his way through the forest. It was a gorgeous lake, with crystal-clear water; looking into its depths reflected his face on the surface, almost like a mirror. But in fact, the woodcutter was lost in observing its surface because he had dropped a certain thing...
● ● ●
“...This is bad,” muttered a voice in the depths of the thick forest.
Tall trees spread their branches wide into the air, covering the area with countless leaves. The green canopy blocked out the blazing sun, and only a few thin shafts of light reached the ground. The area was neither too bright nor too dark; not too hot or too cold—it would be the perfect place to take a nap if there were somewhere to lie down.
However...
“I can’t believe that happened,” said a young man as he moved restlessly back and forth through the mottled light. For the sake of argument, let’s call him Kyouhei Nanbu (17 years old). Truly just for the sake of argument. The youth, despite the great location, was far from in the mood for a nap.
(So-called) Kyouhei Nanbu was a woodcutter. His clothes were antiquated European wear from the middle ages. He wore a brown tunic lined with animal pelt and sewn trousers called braccae. Even his feet were wrapped in hand-sewn shoes. For some reason, he wore glasses, despite them being an ultra-luxury item in those times, but it’s symbolism or something, so don’t pay it any mind.
Regardless, had he an axe over his shoulder, anyone would have recognized him as a murder—I mean, woodcutter.
...But now, he was empty-handed. The tool of his trade, which should have been to hand at all times, was nowhere to be seen.
“Now what should I do, just go back and sleep?” (so-called) Kyouhei muttered to himself with a frown.
A lake spread out before him, filled with cool water. It was a little over 50 meters in diameter... although, to say it the old European way out, the measure should probably be in yards, but it’s just symbolism so (etc., etc.). The lake was also rather deep-looking, though it was hard to judge by eye.
“I wonder,” he muttered to himself again, “if this would count as... murder?”
● ● ●
Approximately 15 minutes prior, (so-called) Kyouhei had entered the forest with his axe in hand to carry out his work, as always.
The woods were far removed from the hubbub of the streets, so they were relatively quiet. Though, if he strained his ears, he could faintly hear the sounds of the trees swaying in the wind and birds chirping. The peaceful environs went a long way to easing (so-called) Kyouhei’s heart.
“Ahh...” (so-called) Kyouhei sighed happily after taking a deep breath of the forest air.
As a rule, the young woodcutter believed there was nothing better than peace, so he adored throwing himself into his work.
But...
“Man, what’s with this place? There’s no one here!” spoke an unhappy voice from behind (so-called) Kyouhei as he enjoyed the tranquility.
A displeased expression on his face, (so-called) Kyouhei turned around. Before him stood his opposite in all things: the person wore gaudy, eye-catching clothes, and was peering all around.
Let’s call him Mizuhito Hibiki. Just for the sake of the story. Anyway. (So-called) Mizuhito was as flashy as a peacock in mating season.
Firstly, his hair was dyed scarlet, and he had a dragon tattooed on his cheek.
Those features alone would have had him stand out, but his clothing took the cake. His feet were in sandals, and he wore a chiton—a loose set of clothing that left half of his chest on display. Although the one he wore fell to his thighs, so perhaps it would be more accurate to call it a chitoniskos. On top of that, he wore a mantle (cloak) fastened with a pin.
Incidentally, he (for some reason) carried an extravagantly decorated lyre under his arm.
All in all, he looked out of place both spatially and temporally.
“...Let me say one thing, (so-called) Mizuhito,” (so-called) Kyouhei said, giving a harsh look to the youth that looked like he’d just stepped out of ancient Greece.
“What, Kyouhei?” (so-called) Mizuhito asked, strumming at his lyre. The sound was far duller and cheap-sounding than expected considering its appearance. The emotionless notes echoed through the trees.
“Add the ‘(so-called),’ remember the ‘(so-called)!’ More importantly, just in case, do you even realize you’re a woodcutter?” (so-called) Kyouhei groaned, recovering from the onslaught of discomfort just engendered.
“I do,” (so-called) Mizuhito answered.
“Then, what’s with that getup?”
“Getup?”
“That’s not a woodcutter’s outfit. What are you trying to pull with it?! It’s the wrong place and time for it!”
(So-called) Mizuhito blinked, then nodded as he spoke: “Kyouhei, you—”
“I’ve already told you, use the ‘(so-called)!’”
“That doesn’t matter, alright? Following things because ‘that’s how they should be’ is a meaningless affectation that holds back progress.”
“I don’t get what you mean!” (so-called) Kyouhei cried out.
“Anyway, what about your axe?!” (so-called) Mizuhito demanded, pointing to (so-called) Kyouhei’s axe. It almost seemed like a noise should accompany it, like: “That’s right out.”
“What’s out about it?”
“What are you planning to do with it?”
“Chop down trees, obviously.”
“No. Just no, Kyouhei!” (so-called) Mizuhito spoke, putting his palm to his forehead to declare his lament. “Why can you not see that such is the graveyard of possibility?!”
“What should I do then?”
“Something like...” (so-called) Mizuhito began, taking the axe from (so-called) Kyouhei’s hand and swinging it into a nearby tree. The axe thudded horizontally into the tree trunk. “See?” (so-called) Mizuhito asked.
“Don’t you ‘see’ me; that’s just cutting the tree down.”
“Then, if you do this,” (so-called) Mizuhito continued, perching on the tree-bound axe, “you can use the axe as a chair!” Kyouhei had no answer. “It was also an execution tool in the middle ages. It doesn’t just cut wood, it can cleave a person’s neck too! If you wanted to, when your dad’s sleep—”
“Stop right there, just don’t go any further, it’s dangerous,” (so-called) Kyouhei groaned, putting his hand on the haft of the axe to pull it from the tree. It was strangely deeply embedded, so he couldn’t really budge it. “The hell, damn,” (so-called) Kyouhei cursed.
“Actually,” (so-called) Mizuhito said, scratching at his cheek as he watched (so-called) Kyouhei struggle, “woodcutting’s a pretty dull and hidden job—what’s the point?”
“Apologize to the woodcutters of the country. And you can start with me.”
“It’s just: cut the tree, sell the wood. Cut, sell. There’s no motivation; no standing out. And we’re working in a deserted forest... it’s boring.”
“Whether there’s people or not, you—”
“Ah, right!” (so-called) Mizuhito nodded, clearly deciding the conversion was going nowhere. “If there’s no one here, we’ll just have to bring them ourselves. We gotta have a bonfire if we get people together outdoors like this. Right, let’s light the forest and get a campfire going, we’ll get it roaring!”
“You’re going to wreck nature to stand out?!” (so-called) Kyouhei cried out, roundhouse kicking (so-called) Mizuhito in the back.
Tempered from his toils as a woodcutter, the kick was stronger than he anticipated, so (so-called) Mizuhito went flying with a bizarre cry, hitting the floor and rolling.
In his path... possibly through some cruel whimsy of God or fate... was a large lake.
The pseudo-Grecian youth fell towards it.
Then...
Splash!
The formerly peaceful surface of the lake was now rough as a spray of water rose. Several rings of ripples disturbed the pool’s surface, but (so-called) Mizuhito was nowhere to be seen.
(So-called) Kyouhei stared wide-eyed into the depths. “Well, knowing him, he’ll be up in a minute with some crap about being ‘a bloke that looks good soaked as well...’” he told himself.
Time passed.
He didn’t appear.
“Huh...?”
Everything went quiet.
A mere three revolutions of the second hand of the clock had passed (don’t concern yourself with whether commoners would have watches with second hands upon their wrists in this era), and Kyouhei finally realized that Mizuhito had sunk and wasn’t floating up.
● ● ●
Now, back to the point at hand. (So-called) Kyouhei was thinking as he stared into the lake’s depths.