— a woman, there existed a single woman.
The woman was very emotional. The woman was always crying. She was very sensitive to pain and kept crying all the time.
One reason why she grieved and lamented was due to her own inability to forgive.
The woman was surrounded by conflicts, by fights, by scrambles.
No matter how many times she raised her voice, no matter how many people she caught hold of, her sorrow was endless, and her frustration did not meet it’s end. That’s why the woman cursed her destiny.
After cursing, cursing, cursing her destiny, the woman noticed. It is useless to cry, no matter how much you do so.
After noticing that, the next thing the woman wanted was just pure strength.
To have the power to punish anyone and to overwhelm everyone, the woman pushed herself to her limit, gained as much power as she could, and struggled as much as she wished to.
What was needed, was not the power to hurt. A power that takes away power, it is not such a thing either.
She wished for such overwhelming strength that n.o.body could compete with. She believed that that would stop the fighting.
The woman who kept shedding tears, wished for a power that would stop her from crying.
A battle where two sides of power collide, could not be stopped if you remained helpless.
The voice does not reach through. The wish does not come true. Keeping the lamentation aside, despair covers the sky.
Why, are you hurting others. Why, do you think that you should keep living while hurting others. Why, why, why, don’t you think that another way is possible.
“Children are crying. Old people are crying. Men are crying. Women are crying. Everyone is crying. Why—!!”
To stop that, she wanted strength.
She trained herself, withstood any pain and pushed through with her will of steel.
Eventually, the woman will reach through. To her desired power, an overwhelming strength that pretty much n.o.body would be able to keep up with.
The woman, standing on the battlefield, screams loudly to stop the fighting.
Scooping all the power with her force, she crushed all the lamentation with force, beat down every malice that had power, and her tears stopped flowing.
She beats the ones who were holding swords, kicks the ones that relied on using magic, crushed the things that struck with fangs, and crushed everything that was seeking a fight.
However, the more the woman resists, the stronger the ones with the swords, magic, and fangs get.
It is like a spiral, a spiral of conflict.
Other than the powerful competing forces, n.o.body individually knows the answer. So n.o.body knows that there are other ways than fighting and winning.
“How come—!!”
She thinks that she, herself, in the long run, was being violent.
Lowering her blood-wet fist, the woman returned, and while looking at the sky painted in blood, she cried out.
The fights cannot be stopped. All the hard work and effort was in vain, and the tears of ego do not stop flowing.
Finally, desperation enters the chest of the woman, who was running endlessly.
Tears flowed. They overflowed.
These were not the warm tears which continued to flow endlessly, these were the cold tears of helplessness and disappointment.
But at the same time, there was another emotion that springs up.
Her chest gets dyed a darkening black, but rather than that, her field of vision turns red and her mind goes white.
The crying woman does know the ident.i.ty of that feeling.
Knowing just the name of that emotion, the woman now begins to understand the begging of that feeling.
It was not because of sadness that she cried. She was just mad at herself. The name of this feeling, is what people call rage — no, this is what people call “Wrath”.
To those who compel to shed tears, to those who do not stop fighting, to those whose lives surely meet an unexpected end someday.
— Have a taste of my fist.
One day, the woman stood up, pounded the soil with her knee and started running again.
She jumps into the midst of the people, who were still fighting, beats their face, and shouts.
Stop the fight. Look at the sky. Listen to the wind. Smell the flowers. Live with your families and lovers.
With the woman’s voice, for the first time, tremors ran through the battlefield.
Fists that could send a crack through the earth, kicks that could roar through the sky, all of these made the most of the people’s feelings.
The wounds get blocked, the screams become silent, the knees get healed due to warmth, and there was no longer any meaning in left in the battle.
The tears of the people stopped. People wanted to thank the woman. Raising their voice, waving their hands, they laugh. But then, they notice that woman was already gone.
Of course.
The woman still has something she needs to do. She does not have the time to look back, there was no reason for her to stop her feet.
No one is crying, no one is fighting, nothing is robbed away, she sought such a world.
Running, running, continuing her running, the woman continues to shake her fist.
Until all tears are stopped. Until the warm streams of droplets on her cheeks stop.
— “The Witch of Wrath” burned with a sorrowful anger and kept on running.