Fisherman Cultivation

Amris couldn't seem to get rid of the cold. And the dampness. It cut thought the layers of his clothing and stabbed at his heart.

He shivered. The ever present wetness didn't help matters.

He sneezed and then sighed. Falling sick was the least on his list if things to do but that seemed to be the one he had done first.

He looked around. He was alone.

He looked at his rod. It lay flat against the side of his boat, the line he had woven hung limply from the tip.

He looked over the side of the boat. The clear water reflected his face.

He was starting to think that it was a mission in futility. He had been sitting here for hours and not a single thing had happened. If not that he was falling behind on his quota he would not have been out there.

"Amris, you can't be impatient when fishing. To do it right, you not only have to cultivate your tool, you must cultivate your mind as well." Da's words echoed in his mind and Amris hissed.

"Always with the words of wisdom aren't you, Da?" he asked no one in particular. "The only thing I regret about putting you down is that now I have to do this. You deserved everything that came to you."

He shivered again and sneezed. He shook his head, rubbed his nose and went back to waiting.

Time was fast going. Only the third sun remained in the sky. He had to catch his quota before the night. He wasn't sure if he could handle a night on the seas.

His stomach growled, informing him to take care of himself. He made his way to the front of the wooden boat to get his food box. He couldn't wait to savour the lunch Kemi had made for him. Yet in his rush for food he knocked things over and as he righted them, something caught his eye.

It was a book.

A thin book.

A faded book.

But a book nonetheless.

He sat down with his lunch and the book. As he examined it, he couldn't help but wonder as to the name of the book. The cover was faded, however, Amris was sure he could make something out of it.

"The... Night... Fall... Tool... Manual." He called out each word he identified. Then he said them all together. "The Nightfall Tool Manual."

He turned the book around and examined it. "Intriguing."

He cracked open the book and began reading. "Fishing is more than just placing your line in water and waiting for the fish to bite. Such a method is old and primitive. The spirits of even the smallest fishes can overwhelm a man alone. But there is still hope."

"Man has derived a means to catch these creatures of spirituality utilizing, in ingenious ways, his own. These methods are numerous but at the core are all the same. Coagulating the soul enough to be split into 3; the Fisherman, the guide(boat) and the rod. Each one needs to be well developed to be useful in fishing. Each one a companion through out the life of the other."

"Although this is a tool manual, for the utilisation of the guide and the rod in unique ways, some may have come across this book without ever first stepping on the path of cultivation. If indeed truly you wish to learn my Nightfall Tool utilisation technique, you must first step on the long road of cultivation. Written below is the Fisherman's Oath, detailing how you can begin your journey."

Amris glanced through the Fisherman's Oath and realized that it wasn't too hard to begin practice. The third sun had passed its zenith and was rushing towards the horizon.

He didn't have enough time. If he was doing this then he had to be quick.

"To begin, one only has to speak the Fisherman's Oath with conviction. Your conviction is the basis on which the power of the Oath can work. Without being convicted, saying the Fisherman's Oath would make no difference."

Amris examined it again. It wasn't too long. It would take nothing from him to say, yet he stood to gain a lot.

"Well," he said to himself, "What have I got to lose?" Then he began.

"I will make my home in the sea," the instant he began he stopped because there was something wrong.

He was no longer at sea. Instead he was back at home. He stared at the familiar room that was his parlour and shook his head.

"Unkempt as usual, Kemi can't seem to be able to keep this place clea..."

While he was speaking, something caught his eye.

"I can't believe he left Da's old jacket."

He walked over and placed his hand on the faded blue fabric of the long trench coat.

It was a good jacket, Amris had to admit. He would have loved to take it for himself but it reminded his Ma too much of him and so he got rid of it. Amris could still remember burning the coat and all his father's belongings. The heat was still so fresh on his face.

It was at that moment that Amris realized there was something very wrong. He had watched it turn to ashes so how had it come back. He felt a sinking feeling in the depths of his gut.

The feeling only intensified when he heard the pounding coming from what had once been his parent's shared room. Thud after thud after thud resounded. Amris knew it could only be one thing. His father partaking in his favourite past time; deforming the most important woman in Amris's life until she didn't remember that anything existed.

His mother had long since gone past the point of screaming. That had been only when he was young. Before Kemi came along. Now she didn't respond. To anyone or anything. Day had kept her alive with fish spirituality.

Amris looked down at his hands and saw the blade he held. It glinted devilishly in the light. And it should. It was covered in the deadliest poison Amris could find on the market.

Then it dawned on him. He was back here. Back to that faithful day when he held fate in his hands and changed it forever.

Amris knew what he had to do. He walked straight to the door and knocked. It was a scenario he had played in his mind almost everyday for the last 5 years. He had already perfected how to do it by the third year.

The only thing he would have done differently, if had had the chance to, was to not kill him in front of her.

And the chance had come. The thus stopped and silence filled the house. He was waiting to see if it had all been in his mind. Amris knocked again. Time passed once more before the door finally opened. Amris hid the knife behind his back.

Da opened the door a bit. He towered over Amris and looked at him with one eye, the other was obscured by the door. His face was as kind as ever. "Ah, Amris it's you!" he exclaimed softly, "What happened?"

" Well I was hoping to talk to you. Outside."

He thought about it for a while before he replied. "Maybe later. I'm sort of in the middle of something." He began closing the door.

"But it's important." Amris is explained.

"So is what I am doing." Da replied. The door continued closing.

"Da wait," he had to do this. He couldn't afford to wait or waste anymore time trying to get him outside.

"What?" He stopped and looked down at Amris.

"I love you."

Da's eyes softened and his grip on the door relaxed. Amris seized the opportunity. He lunged at the man, knife first, plunging the knife into the depths of his stomach.

The two of them stumbled into the room and fell to the floor. Yet as Amris rose, he father remained. The poison was fast acting and he was already dead.

Amris remembered the first time he did this. He had vomited and fallen sick for days before he could recover. But now was different.

He looked up at his mother and saw the fear in her eyes. The fear he was all too familiar with. He tried to approach her and she tried and failed to scurry away. He closed his eyes in pain.

He had known this would happen. He wouldn't however take back what he did because of it. He had done it for those he cared about and he would do it again if it meant they didn't have to suffer.

Even as he thought that, the illusion began to break down. But he wasn't leaving the illusory world. Instead it was being replaced by another one.

This time he stood on a boat in a black void. In his hand he held a fishing rod. It was a plain wooden one and the grip fit nicely into his hands.

Yet in his mind he was not with a boat and a fishing pole. He was with 2 life long companions. Companions who would gladly give up their lives for him and for whom he would gladly do the same.

They had always been with him, he just had to open his eyes and see them. And he did. He saw them now.

The vision passed away and Amris was left, once again, in the boat with his lunch and the book. It seemed like no time had passed. He placed the things in his hands on the floor of the boat and went to pick up the fishing rod hanging off the side of the boat.

He stood up and his mind's eye visualiser that place he had been in. The darkness. The void.

What he half in his hands wasn't just any rod but the rod in that place.

What he stood on wasn't just any boat but the boat from that place.

They weren't just tools, they were friends.

And in that moment it was so. Amris felt the energy flowing out from his person and into the rod and the boat. He could feel them coming alive and he was filled with joy. The joy of reuniting with old friends.

By the time he was done, the boat and the rod weren't the same. Amris himself wasn't the same. He placed the rod down again, this time with care, then went back to his food and book. He had no idea what that was but he knew he still had to fulfill his quota. Though he had a feeling it would be much easier now.