Jōki:The Forsaken Gift

The town was always full of voices, full of things he didn't understand,laughter, shouting, whispers that never included him. But the forest didn't ask anything of him.

It simply existed.

And so did he.

As he wandered deeper, something small and broken caught his eye.

A rabbit.

It lay motionless on its side, its fur matted with dirt and blood. One of its legs was twisted at an unnatural angle, its breaths coming in slow, uneven gasps.

Luka knelt beside it, tilting his head slightly as he studied the wounded creature.

It didn't cry.

Did it feel pain the way humans did? Did it feel fear?

He placed a hand on the ground beside it, his voice a quiet murmur.

"Does it hurt?"

The rabbit flinched at his movement, its weak body trembling.

Luka's fingers hovered just above its fur. "Are you happy?"

Of course, the rabbit didn't answer.

His gaze drifted past the injured creature to a small bundle of fur hidden in the grass,tiny baby rabbits, barely old enough to open their eyes.

He looked back at the mother rabbit. "I see. You're protecting them."

But she couldn't anymore.

Not like this.

Luka glanced at her broken leg, at the way her breath shuddered in and out. He thought of the way Sasha cried when she scraped her knee, of how Mama's voice shook when she was sad.

But the rabbit made no sound.

It just lay there.

"You're useless now."

His words weren't cruel,just a simple statement. A fact.

He reached for a smooth, heavy rock, gripping it with both hands.

"Let me ease your pain."

Raising the stone above his head, he stared down at the rabbit, unblinking.

"You won't feel pain or sadness anymore."

Then, just as he was about to drop it—

"Luka!"

His father's voice rang through the trees, firm and commanding.

Luka froze.

The rock remained poised in his hands as he turned his head, watching as Demid stepped through the undergrowth, his expression sharp and unreadable.

"Put that down," his father said, his voice calm but firm.

Luka hesitated, his fingers tightening around the stone.

"But... it's suffering," he said, his tone quiet, as if he were simply stating an observation.

Demid walked closer, crouching down beside him. His gaze flicked to the rabbit, then back to his son.

He let out a slow breath.

"Luka, do you think ending something's life is the only way to stop its suffering?"

Luka thought about that.

He glanced at the mother rabbit, then at its babies, huddled together in the grass.

"She can't protect them anymore," he said simply. "She's weak now. That makes them vulnerable."

Demid's jaw tightened, but there was no anger in his gaze,only understanding.

Luka wasn't being cruel.

He was being logical.

Too logical.

Demid ran a rough hand through his hair and sighed. "Come here."

Luka watched as his father pulled a strip of cloth from his belt. Carefully, Demid reached out, moving slow so he wouldn't startle the rabbit, and wrapped the fabric around her broken leg. His hands were steady, practiced a hunter's hands, but also a father's.

Luka frowned slightly. "That won't make her stronger."

"No," Demid agreed. "But it'll give her a chance."

Luka stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

Demid finished tying the makeshift bandage, then sat back on his heels, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"You think pain is useless," he said finally.

Luka nodded.

"Then why does pain exist?" his father asked, tilting his head slightly.

Luka blinked.

He had never thought of that before.

Demid gestured toward the rabbit. "Pain tells her she's still alive, Luka. It tells her she has something to fight for. Just like us."

Luka glanced at the injured animal. Still breathing. Still fighting.

Demid leaned forward, resting a hand on Luka's shoulder. "Not everything weak has to be thrown away, son. Sometimes, the weak just need a little help."

Luka's fingers uncurled.

The rock slipped from his grip, landing softly in the grass.

Thud !

Luka listened quietly as his father spoke, his dark eyes thoughtful.But something didn't make sense.

His mind turned over the words again and again.

"Not everything weak has to be thrown away. Sometimes, the weak just need a little help."

He didn't understand.

If that were true, then... why do we hunt?

Demid noticed the way Luka's brows furrowed in quiet contemplation.

His son was thinking too deeply again,turning simple lessons into something bigger than most kids would even consider.

Demid sighed, rubbing his chin. He had to guide him through this.

"Come on, Luka," he said, ruffling the boy's hair. "Let's go fishing."

Luka blinked up at him, momentarily distracted. "Fishing?"

Demid nodded. "It's a different kind of lesson. You'll see."

The two of them made their way toward the shore, passing over a rocky hill where the wind whistled between the stones.

Eventually, they reached the pier, where the old wooden planks creaked under their weight.

The sea stretched endlessly before them, dark and endless, the afternoon sky painted with streaks of gold and soft blue. Waves lapped gently against the posts, the rhythm soothing.

Demid took a seat at the edge of the pier and patted the spot beside him. "Sit, son."

Luka obeyed, swinging his legs over the water.

For a while, they just sat in companionable silence, listening to the wind, the waves, the distant calls of seagulls.

Then, Demid pulled a small metal case from his belt and flipped it open, revealing a few wriggling red worms. He plucked one out, holding it between his fingers.

"See this?" he said, showing Luka. "This little guy is going to help us catch our dinner."

Luka tilted his head, watching as the worm twisted in his father's grasp. "But it's alive."

"Yes," Demid said simply. "And soon, it won't be."

Luka was quiet for a moment. Then, his gaze lifted.

"Papa... why do we hunt animals?"

Demid's fingers stilled over the fishing line.

Luka didn't ask questions often. But when he did, they were always sharp questions that cut straight through the surface of things.

Luka's voice remained calm, unbothered.

"You didn't let me kill that rabbit. But we eat fish. We eat meat. So... what's the difference?"

Demid exhaled through his nose, a small chuckle escaping. This kid. He always asked questions that most adults didn't even think about.

He finished baiting the hook and cast the line into the water.

"You remember what I told you before?" he asked. "About weak things?"

Luka nodded. "You said sometimes, the weak need a little help."

Demid smiled. "That's right. But you see, son, there's a difference between taking life for survival... and taking life just because you can."

Luka remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

Demid leaned back slightly, his gaze fixed on the endless waves. "The rabbit had babies to protect. She was still fighting, even with her broken leg. If I had let you end her life, what would have happened to them?"

"They would have died," Luka answered immediately.

"Exactly."

Luka frowned slightly. "So you saved her."

Demid nodded. "I gave her a chance. I didn't know if she'd make it, but it wasn't my place to decide that for her."

Luka looked down at the rippling water, deep in thought.

"But the fish..." He watched as his father's fishing line twitched slightly. "They don't get a choice."

Demid sighed, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. "No, they don't."

He reeled in the line a little, adjusting his grip. "But that's the way the world works, son. Some things live so others can survive. The fish don't get a choice, just like the deer we hunt don't get a choice. But when we take, we do it with respect. We don't kill for fun. We don't waste what we take."

Luka sat with this thought for a while, the sea wind ruffling his hair.

"So... life isn't fair."

Demid let out a deep, rumbling chuckle. "No, kid. It isn't."

Luka was quiet again, his small fingers gripping the edge of the pier.

Then, after a long pause, he asked something his father hadn't expected.

"Are we fish?"

Demid blinked. "What?"

Luka turned to him, his expression unreadable. "You said the fish don't get a choice. That some things live, and some things die. So... are we fish?"

For the first time, Demid had no immediate answer.

The wind carried the silence between them, stretching it out like the tide.

Then, finally, he sighed and reached over, ruffling Luka's hair.

"Not yet," he said quietly. "But one day, we might be."

.

.

.

After they finished fishing, Demid looked at the bucket filled with fish and smiled with satisfaction.

Even Luka had managed to catch a fish, although it wasn't the biggest one in the bucket. But to Luka, it felt like a small victory nonetheless.

Luka held the fish carefully, its scales glistening under the sun. He couldn't help but feel proud of himself, his first time fishing being a success. He was eager to show his mom and Sasha, knowing they would be equally impressed.

The walk home was quiet.

The sun was setting now, streaking the sky with deep oranges and purples. Luka walked beside his father, barefoot and thoughtful.

After a long silence, he finally spoke.

"Papa... have you ever felt weak?"

Demid let out a chuckle, ruffling Luka's hair. "Every day, kid."

Luka looked up at him. "But you're strong."

Demid smiled, his gaze turning toward the horizon.

"I had help."