I adore storms. Even though it takes my power temporarily, it always gives me inner strength. A strange contrast. While it weakens me, it also fills me up with energy.

I like being outside these times – that’s what makes the experience whole. That was what happened on that strange day, too. I was taking a stroll alone on the streets, like always, men were afraid to venture out into the rampaging nature. My nose got a whiff of the soaking soil’s unique scent as I walked along the formerly dusty but now muddy road. Visibility decreased more and more, and while I had been able see the border or the village before, I could only make out four houses at the most. This already seemed rather ominous.*

The rain created an almost massive veil of water as I slowly advanced in the middle, bare-headed. I purposely didn’t ensconce myself under the cover of the eaves. The rain cascaded orderly and vertically, meaning there wasn’t any air movement at all. If there had been, I wouldn’t have felt it a bit. I was suffocating so much because of the suddenly augmenting vapor.

I’m not afraid of a small summer shower. However, this heavenly play tried even my nerves, as a flash of lightning slammed in my immediate area – at least that’s how it felt. I didn’t even have time to begin counting, I already heard the thunderclap. And to top it all, how loud that had been!

Even so, I had to resort to the protection of the eaves for a moment when I leant against the wet wall of a wooden shed, to soothe my violent heartbeat and panting. Another lightning strike, another fright, but then the scare finally abated. Lightning moved all around me; for the most time I didn’t even get the chance to reach two when I tried to determine how far they had struck.

Adoration or not, I set off again eventually; I saw it better if I leave the village behind as soon as possible and look for a shelter in the forest. Of course, it wasn’t the most clever decision to flee under the woods in a stormy weather with thunderbolts like this. However, the thought of the cave where travelers usually had hidden dry firewood sounded too much of a temptation for me. I battled with the wind that had just risen and shoved the sharp raindrops and my untamable dark hair into my eyes. In contrast to its earlier behavior, the rain fell horizontally now.

I had a hard time determining whether the advance was so painful due to the wind’s added force or whether ice was streaming out of the grim clouds. When a dark blur slammed to the ground unexpectedly before me and turned out to be a stunned bird, I’d already known that I could attribute the latter for this. Stepping around the tiny body, I quickened my pace; right then, I wanted to reach the forest’s shelter as soon as possible.

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Notes:

4 is an unlucky number in Japan, they avoid it if they can. It’s because one of its readings sounds the same as the pronunciation of ‘death’.