The Scar...

He spent his days in the small, peaceful town by the sea after that incident. He lived alone in a comfortable house, just with enough warmth when winter arrived and had a decent job as an angler, something common among the town folks. His companions are his fishing rod, live baits and a box of lunch he prepared himself when he was out at the pier. He would usually return to town with a sufficient amount of catch and would be paid meagrely after all his effort however, he never complained. For an ex leader of the republican army, this life seems to be humiliating. But, from his eyes, one could tell how peaceful he was now compared to who he used to be then.

He was an orphan. Being the eldest in the orphanage, he often bullied the younger ones. There was one particular boy that he despised. Not because he opposed or challenged him, he just ignored his sarcasm and taunts. This made him irritated and he kept on telling him names and throwing harsh words. The boy could not care less and remained ignorant, treating him as if he was invisible. When he got rough and tempers flared, the matron would come in the nick of time to prevent such violence from occurring.

The two of them had not changed even when they were transferred to a military academy. He had grown up to be a respected leader of his unit while the boy had become a loner. His arrogance and predatory instincts made almost everyone in the academy fear him. While he had many followers, he only had two who he could call his posse, his assistants. They would stand by him whatever the cost, supporting him all the way. The three were named the leaders of the discipline committee who made every students obey their orders. But as usual, the loner would ignore them. He became a skilful combat specialist with exquisite abilities. Perhaps he was the only one who could match the head disciplinary committee in terms of fighting capabilities.

Somehow, the two could not remember anything about their past. Maybe it had happened far too long, but his heart would boil without any particular reason when he stumbled upon the loner. He would then start picking on him and often challenged him to a ‘training match’. Both were stubborn and refused to be branded quitters and indeed, they once had a match. Both swung their swords creating sparks and it was as if the titans had clashed. The loner had the upper hand, being cool despite the heated battle. While he was driven by hatred and frustration, making every swing of his sword seemed easy to be either dodged or parried. In the end, he resorted to cheating by using a blinding flash. He loner was down on his knees, he took the big opportunity to slash him and blood spurted out from the loner’s forehead down to his left cheek. Without much hesitation, he countered his blow with a swift uppercut slash that cut his opponent’s flesh from his right cheek up to his forehead. Both was not severely wounded, but those two slashes left a behind a scar. Both were reprimanded for their foolish actions but they never learnt the lesson.

Years flew by; he became the leader of the republican army while the loner became a mercenary for his academy. The loner’s popularity flourished when he took over the position of the academy’s co-ordinator despite his young age. When war broke out, both were fated to face each other again. This time, it was a battle for life or death. Both raised their swords and once again history repeated itself. Hatred contaminated his heart while he made every slash, every thrust, every strike and every blow. The loner eventually won the battle. Worn out and exhausted, he pleaded him to finish what he had to do. The loner lowered his sword and walked away. To him, his defeat was enough to settle the war. Humiliated, he regarded himself being an ultimate loser. He vanished after the war, so did his posse who had been beside him all these while.

He ended up in a small, peaceful town by the sea, away from the mainland. His two friends stayed in the same town as well. After his defeat, he became sane and repentful. He did not apologise to those who he had hurt, but he accepted all the mockery he received and turned more humane. During weekends, he and his friends would fish together, challenging one another to catch the most fish. At the end, of the day, they would have them for dinner. As he looked at his reflection on the mirror-like water surface, he noticed the scar. It reminded him of his past mistakes and how he wished he could turn back the time. The humiliation would soon be forgotten but the scar would remain carved on his face. It was not the mark that it left behind; it was the one who left the cut. It went the same for the loner; the scar would never be erased from their memories.