Chapter Text
Yanqing has never felt so weak.
He had been celebrated for being a prodigy, someone unbeatable by those of lower ranks, someone who can only be put to rest by the paw of the Arbiter General upon his forehead and the gentle reverberations of his voice at night. Yanqing is a lieutenant. He is supposed to be strong. He has always been strong.
Now, as he clutches clumps of sand between his fingers, adrenaline just slowing from the match against those far more experienced, he feels weak. An overwhelming kind of disappointment lingers in his mind as he replays each of the sharp blows by the swordsman and the shadow of the High Elder. If only he had twisted his wrist just so, blocked a blow here to aim at a weak spot, froze the two perpetrators to the ground, maybe he would have won.
However, "maybe"s were dangerous. Yanqing had no experience with such deep levels of depression, but his general certainly did.
"An 'if' becomes tangled vines of loathing for either self or another. Mind your 'maybe's, Yanqing, lest you dip into that despair."
Thus, he had pushed down his anxiety, flung it into each thrust of his sword against a training partner, let it melt into his shadow as he laughed with his companions. He was only 14, but the world required his maturity, and this was what needed to be done.
Yanqing watched the sand slip from his fingertips and meld into the vast beach below. Lazy waves lapped at his boots where he crouched by the shore. Salt permeated the air. The water tumbled and surged over itself. He shut his eyes to focus on shutting out the thoughts he was so eager to suppress.
It had certainly not been long when he felt the moisture on the rims of his eyes. The young boy attempted ignored it and instead let the crashing of waves occupy his mind, but this small chance to release his emotions was not lost on his body, and he began to shut down.
His quiet sobs drifted through the air like the sorrowful cries of a whale who has long been drowning.