the shaman way

It was a beautiful day in April. The flowers were blooming, painting the fields with the vibrant colors of spring. Cyrus lay on a flower field, his wooden sword resting beside him. In just a month, he would be celebrating his eleventh birthday, but he didn't care much about it. He preferred to lose himself in the peace of the moment—gazing at the sky, watching the clouds drift lazily by. Being one with nature always brought him the greatest sense of tranquility.

Cyrus liked that no one was around to disturb him. At school, he was a solitary boy, keeping to himself. How could he befriend others when all they seemed to care about were shallow, superficial things? The last time he had tried to share his knowledge about spirits and shamanism, he was ridiculed. It didn't help that his family, known for their centuries-old tradition of shamanism, owned a mansion that made them the subject of rumors and mockery. While the Miravine family was renowned among historians, their reputation didn't bring them popularity—just misunderstanding.

The bullying Cyrus endured only deepened his sense of isolation. How could he relate to others when he could see spirits, and they couldn't? This was why he rarely spoke to anyone outside his family. They were the only ones who understood him.

It was also probably why he had decided to skip school that day—just like he always did.

He sighed, then sat up and continued to gaze at the sky with lazy eyes as he heard a noise behind him.

"Cyrus, you damn brat! How many times do I have to tell you to stop skipping school?"

An old, short man came running toward him at full speed. He veered to the side of the road, then stepped into the flower field. With a swift motion, he swung a wooden staff at Cyrus' head, but Cyrus, still seated on the ground, effortlessly dodged.

The old man, now catching his breath, muttered, "You damn brat!"

He continued swinging his staff left and right, but Cyrus easily dodged every strike without so much as blinking. As the old man paused to catch his breath, he said in a fatigued voice, "You're fast, I'll give you that, brat…"

Cyrus got up, picked up his wooden sword from the ground, and placed it casually over his shoulder. He sighed and said, "What do you think you're doing, Grandpa Sol?"

The old man pointed his staff at Cyrus' nose and replied, "What am I doing? What are you doing? It's been at least a year since you became a shaman, and you're still so irresponsible. How do you expect to go to high school if you can't even pass middle school?"

Cyrus lingered for a moment, then spoke in a nonchalant tone.

"Our family is extremely wealthy, so I don't have to worry about money. In fact, when you die, pass me your inheritance."

The response made Grandpa Sol tremble with anger. He swung his wooden staff again, his voice seething, "You goddamn brat!"

Cyrus effortlessly parried the strike with his wooden sword, which caused Grandpa Sol's eyes to widen in surprise.

"Tsk… still carrying that wooden sword around, huh? I don't know why your mother thought you were worthy enough to wield such a sacred relic of our family when you're still just a brat!"

The two were in a stalemate, each locked in a clash of their respective weapons. But it was clear that Cyrus was so strong, he could afford to hold back against his grandfather. With the same indifferent tone, he said, "Relic? It's just a musty old wooden sword."

Grandpa Sol screamed in rage, stumbling back before charging at full speed toward him.

"Skipping school is one thing, but disrespecting a divine relic that has been in our family for hundreds of years is something I can't allow!"

He swung his staff, but Cyrus quickly dodged by lowering himself. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared from Grandpa Sol's sight, moving so fast he appeared as little more than a blur. Suddenly, he was behind him. Cyrus tightened his grip on his sword and said, "Even you are starting to annoy me, Grandpa."

With that, he swung his wooden sword behind his grandfather, stopping just a couple of meters from hitting him. A rush of air blew against Grandpa Sol's face, causing him to tremble as the sword hovered inches away from striking him.

Cyrus sighed, placing the wooden sword over his shoulder as he turned and said, "I'll be back for dinner."

With that, he walked out of the flower field, heading toward the side of the road, disappearing toward an unknown destination.

***

It didn't take him long, but soon he was sitting on the side of a mountain. This mountain was famous and iconic in the city because it offered a view of the entire cityscape. The sight would have been beautiful to anyone else, but for Cyrus, it felt more sad than anything. He sat on a part of the mountain that was off-limits to the public, having veered off the designated path. He didn't care, though—his wooden sword rested on the ground beside him. He sighed and muttered to himself, "When will they learn...?"

Then, he heard the sound of someone walking behind him. He sighed and said, "You know, you really need to stop following me everywhere, Grandpa Sol."

Without warning, the old man punched Cyrus on the head. Cyrus didn't flinch or show any hint of pain as he responded, "It's normal for a grandpa to worry about his grandchildren, moron!"

Grandpa Sol lowered himself and sat next to Cyrus on the mountainside. He sighed and spoke in a gentle tone, "Why don't you want to go to school?"

Cyrus, still gazing at the entire city below, responded in a relaxed tone, "All of it is pointless anyway. I can teach myself at home... but I just hate being around ignorant people."

Grandpa Sol let out a small giggle before replying, "'Ignorant people,' huh? You can judge others just because they don't have the same gifts as us, Cyrus..."

the wind was blowing gently which made Cyrus brown hair flow in the wind as he continue with:

"It's not just that they can't see spirits, Grandpa Sol… It's that no matter where I look, humans will always be ignorant. They're like an uncontrollable wildfire…"

Cyrus ran a hand through his hair, staring at the city below to see it more clearly.

"They exploit and burn everything to the ground. It doesn't matter if it's animals, resources, or land—they'll take everything until only ash remains. They're making the planet warmer every year, and when knowledgeable people warn the public, only a minority take the threat seriously. The rest just ignore it, trapped in their blissful ignorance. And the people with power and money—those who could actually do something—either do nothing or manipulate the masses into thinking they're doing something out of the kindness of their hearts, when all they really want is to increase their wealth, wealth greater than that of entire countries. It's insanity. People would rather worry about getting the newest high-tech phone than whether the planet will still be habitable and healthy in the next twenty years."

Grandpa Sol's eyes stared into the city landscape with a hint of melancholy, then he sighed and said, "So that's what it's about, huh? But that doesn't explain why you're not going to school, Cyrus."

Cyrus closed his eyes.

"It's the same thing, Grandpa. They're all ignorant. It doesn't matter where you go. Shamans are the ones who 'know,' yet even though we hold the most valuable knowledge in this damn world, we're still viewed as insane, primitive people—people who only call themselves shamans to smoke drugs. I've been a shaman for an entire year, Grandpa, and I've come to realize something... Humanity will destroy itself because of its own greed. They can't see that by destroying the natural cycle they're also destroying themselves slowly. Just the fact that humans view themselves as a different organism from other animals is proof of how foolish they are. How am I supposed to want to protect people like that? How am I supposed to want to be around people like that? Every year, we can all feel it, Grandpa—the spirits are growing angrier and angrier with each passing day as their habitats are disrespected, devalued, and exploited—not to feed people or clothe them, but for human amusement. That's probably why I get so sick when I look at the city. The city will probably expand itself to who knows how many habitats. The world runs on money—on a human-made concept. And us shamans, who are supposed to teach those who can't see souls, because we're a bridge between the physical and spiritual planes, we're viewed as something from the past…"

Grandpa Sol sighed and said, "Everything you've said is true, unfortunately. When I look at the city from above, I realize that humans will spread everywhere, and us shamans have no power over a world run by money. But still, that doesn't mean we should stop doing what we do. We can still teach others around us how to be free from suffering. We can still put spirits' hearts at ease. We can still do our best to teach as many people as possible about our knowledge and wisdom. I've been a shaman for my entire life, and trust me, when the world itself feels like it's going too fast because the twenty-first century is coming, humans had to advance their technology, even though they discarded everything else aside..."

A flock of birds flew overhead as Grandpa Sol looked up at the sky. He raised both his left and right hands, staring at them intently.

"Humans... they're an interesting bunch. In the country to the left, children can starve to death, even though in the country to the right, they can produce and receive hundreds of millions of tons of food. And in the country on the left, children suffer sicknesses from pollution that the industries of the country on the right have caused. The parents of the starving children in the left are forced into labor, only to receive a salary worth less than a dollar in America at the end of a torturous day. Cyrus, you have good reason to hate the human race, but..."

Grandpa Sol then placed his hand on his chest.

"That's what the burden and pride of a shaman are all about."

Cyrus sighed, looking at his grandpa with a lazy eye.

"Mom also said that when she gave me the sword..."

Grandpa Sol nodded.

"We carry a heavy burden as shamans, but we also have a pride that's worth trying for, and believing in the human race. It's true, we're capable of great sin, but we're also capable of great virtue. That burden and pride, which my own grandfather taught me, is why I still follow in his footsteps to this day. That burden and pride are what have kept me going as a shaman in a world where shamans are considered a thing of the past."

He then got up and looked at the city landscape one last time before patting Cyrus on the head. He turned and walked back toward the limited route of the mountain.

"Cyrus, you only focus on the burden of being a shaman, but... also believe in the pride. Believe, and be proud of the pride that us shamans carry on our shoulders every day."

His footsteps grew quieter and quieter until he was no longer seen or heard.

Cyrus remained sitting on the mountainside, staring at his hands, and muttered in a low voice,

"Believing in the pride..."

chapter forty-three end

{after chapter poem}

The world is turning too fast for me, "who knows" to follow,

As the white moon and radiant sun descend and rise to the boundless heavens above us,

Tiny, destructive, ignorant ants in search of true happiness,

I only realize one thing: that I am powerless.

If the wheel keeps us trapped in our ignorance and suffering, then there is nothing we can do.

If it's possible... if it's possible,

I wish for an unstoppable blade, firing an unstoppable slash,

That will not only sever the wheel but also the ignorance and the wickedness within our own hearts.

An unstoppable slash that severs the wheel,

That stops us from reaching true understanding and true happiness.