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CLINT KINO

A year after Odetta left, I began to cough up blood. It happened occasionally at first, maybe once or twice a month. But the older I grew, the worse that condition became. It got so bad that there was a span of time where I had gotten so pale just by coughing alone.

By the next year, it happened so often that it was something my family got used to. We all thought it was a nuisance.

One day, a traveller asking for refuge stumbled upon our village. After a long interrogation with the chief, he was let in on the condition that he agreed to a contract that prohibited him from harming anyone.

Our house was the only one in the village that had a vacant room, so the traveller stayed with us. He settled into Odetta's room quite well and helped around the house as much as he could.

The traveller and Father got along quickly. They sat outside after dark drinking ale and telling stories.

The traveller had nothing except the clothes he wore and a small bag filled with ammunition for his pistol, an empty waterskin, and hardened bread. It was apparent that his clothes used to be a bright and vivid brown but were tarnished by the sun to match the desert. A wide-brimmed hat sat on his head that kept his face from burning.

He didn't say how long he was staying, just that he needed somewhere to lay low until the heat he was in cooled down.

On his first night here, I approached him with a message. "This is my big sister's room. Please take care of it."

"I see..."

He patiently waited for me to write. "She left to go adventuring."

"So she's an adventurer? I thought it was a different thing. You look up to her?"

I nodded.

"Have you ever thought about becoming an adventurer and going after her?"

I shook my head.

Mother passed by. "Clint, let our guest rest. He must be tired."

"It's okay, Ma'am.." He set his hat on the desk. "He's not bothering me."

"Either way, both of you get some rest," she said as she went to finish her chores.

"Yes, Ma'am." The traveller urged me to sit on the bed. "Clint, huh? You're a pretty quiet kid."

"I can't hear. I use this book to talk."

"That makes much more sense. I thought you were just shy. You read lips pretty well."

I nodded. "What's your name and why do you want to lay low here?"

"I'm Axel Rose. Your village has a concealment and repelling stone so it's the perfect place to hide in."

"..."

"Relax, Kid. I'm not a bad guy—the opposite really. I'm a bounty hunter. It's just that my recent bounty's gotten me into some hot water."

"What's a bounty?"

He took a sip of beer. "It's like a reward. The government puts a bounty on someone. A bounty hunter's job is to bring in the someone, dead or alive."

"You kill people for money?"

"Certain people and the badder they are the bigger the bounty. This job is the definition of the greater the risk, the greater the reward."

"Wad ar yoo haiding from?" I asked with my voice.

"Who am I hiding from?" Axel corrected. "There was a woman with a high bounty. I figured out that she had gained the trust of a noble and had become his closest advisor. A bounty is still a bounty and this woman was wanted for setting an orphanage on fire. Once I confirmed her identity, I killed her on the spot and exchanged her body for money."

"Wad habbend?"

"The noble didn't take it too kindly that I killed his most trusted advisor. He hired a group called the Night Dancers to take me out. I crossed the desert with the expedition but hopped out halfway to lose them. That last part happened a few days ago."

During the next couple of weeks, Axel adapted to the village's lifestyle quite well. If another traveller dropped by, they would write him off as another one of us.

One of the conditions the chief set was that Axel needed to contribute to the village in some way. He ended up joining loggers who we dubbed the treemen.

Since there were no trees that grew in the desert, we got our wood by hunting down treants and using their bodies. Other than the fact they were sentient trees, their wood was all the same.

The treemen had a specific way of working. For one week, all they did was track, hunt, and bring treants back to the village. For the week after, they'd spend the entire time processing treants and sorting them according to size and type of wood. If the wood was useless for building, it'd be used as a fuel source.

Whenever Axel and the treemen processed the treants, I stuck close by and watched them. Once I was noticed, they 'hired' me as their helper. If they needed an extra hand, I was the first one to offer. I'd go around with a bucket and cup, offering water to whoever needed a drink. They found me especially helpful if their hands were too big to perform certain tasks.

No one except Axel really talked to me, but I didn't mind at all. My presence was appreciated and they didn't need to be explicit about it.

One day during dinner, I pushed myself to make a request.

"Can I pleez go wid tha trimen dis week?"

"Absolutely not, Clint," Mother said. "It's dangerous even for a normal kid. You can't hear where danger is coming from. You begin to cough blood if your heart beats fast and monsters are attracted to blood."

Axel had been eating dinner with us, so he jumped in. "I can look after him if that's what you're scared of."

"It's not that."

"The area we go to is not at all too dangerous. I mean, how many incidents have there been where a treant has harmed someone? Besides, my job is usually to blast out the treants' legs from afar. Even if Clint sticks by my side, we'll be positioned as far as possible."

"Clint's always been a fragile boy. I'm just worried about him."

"If you want what's best for your boy, stop worrying and let him live. He'll get hurt and fall over, but that's not the end of the world. He'll get up, brush it off, and trek forwards."

Mother bent to my eye level. "Okay, but only one day and you have to stay with Mr Axel, okay?"

I nodded.

The treemen scouted an area just two kilometres from the village. They found this area a couple of years ago, but the treants were still too young to harvest. It would've been as pointless as slaughtering a calf for its meat.

The treemen focused on the biggest treant first.

Ba-dum!

About a dozen rushed at the herd, lassoing the crooked branches of the elder tree monster. It roared the others awake as it engaged in a losing tug of war with the treemen. Axel and a few others aimed their pistols, blasting off the elder treant's biggest leg.

Ba-dum! Ba-dum!

The treant tipped to the sand and was dragged to our group. It let out desperate shrieks as the treemen hacked through its throat and limbs.

Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum!

The rest of the treants charged, wailing for their elder. The men at the vanguard lit torches to keep them back.

As they chopped the elder tree, my lungs gasped for air. I knelt with my palms on the ground to stabilize myself.

The first series of coughs produced blood. "Axl—"

"Gunslinger!" one of the men called out. "Something's happening to the kid."

Axel abandoned post to come by my side. "I see, Kid. I finally understand."

Mother was hysterical when Axel burst into the house with me in his arms. My mouth and throat were caked with dried blood so it looked like I had been in some sort of accident. It took Mother a few minutes to calm herself.

I coughed about three cup's worth of blood—the most I had ever done.

"When did this start happening?" Axel asked.

"Couple years ago. We've never figured out what caused this."

"I have. It's a mana-type disease called Zogern—more commonly referred to as Insecureness Syndrome. It only manifests in areas with a high concentration of mana and Clint does live in a labyrinth. If a person feels insecure about a part of their body, Zogern will attach itself to it. The more insecure they feel, the worse the effects of Zogern is."

"Is it curable?"

"No, the only way to get rid of Zogern is to remove the body part it's attached to. If not, it'll begin feeding off its host's mana and spread. If left untreated, the host grows weaker and weaker until their body just gives up." Axel lowered himself to meet my gaze. "I think I know the exact body part you're insecure about. It's your vocal chords. You've already accepted that you can't hear, but you hate how no one listens to you when you talk. So you'd rather keep your voice silent."

Mother came to my side and hugged me tightly, weeping. "I'm sorry, Clint. I'm so, so sorry."

"There is hope for him. A skilled doctor shouldn't have a problem operating on him and I know one in Roa that owes me a favour. He once managed to save a man whose throat was impaled by a spear. Vocal cords shouldn't be a challenge."

"Axel, will you save him?"

"Keep in mind that there's been a hit put out on me. Stepping into established settlements is a risk to my well-being. Will I risk my life to save a kid I just met?" He stared outside. "No, but I've grown fond of Clint. For him, I'll risk my life. But it's up to the Kid. I'll abide by his choice and his choice alone."

Mother put a hand on my shoulder. "Clint? Let Mr Axel help you, okay?"

"But remember, Kid. Once you're cured, you can't speak anymore."

This stupid voice of mine had caused me so much trouble. I was an outcast and, because of my insecurity, was dying because of it. Getting rid of it to save my life was one less thing to worry about.

I wiped my tears and nodded. "Lezduit."

Two days later, Axel and I headed south. To ensure the desert didn't worsen my coughing sprees, we never travelled when the day was at its hottest. We either found or made shade, waiting for the intense heat to pass over.

Before the sun was even close to setting, we kept an eye out for rock formations to set up camp.

A few nights after we started our trek to Roa, Axel Rose confronted me. "Who gave you that pistol in your bag?"

"..."

"Come on, Kid. I'm not your parent. I ain't taking it away."

"Mai sisder. She geyv it wen she levt."

"The adventurer? Your sister must care about you a lot."

"She dozent see me for my dizabilitee. You arr layk her."

"Do you know how to use a pistol?"

I shook my head.

"May I?"

I handed over the pistol alongside the ammunition I stole from Father.

Axel chuckled as he inspected the firearm. "This an expensive model. Do you want to learn the art of gunslinging?"

I nodded.

"It's common for people to be scared of guns. But gunslingers can never be afraid of them and instead must see guns as harmless objects. A gun isn't going to stroll down the street and shoot someone if you leave it on a table. Fundamentally, guns and swords are the same—tools of combat that become dangerous in the hands of the wrong person."

I leaned forward.

Axel spoke slowly. "However, a gun must be handled with more delicacy because it's easier to mistakenly hurt someone with it. Bullets can bounce and ricochet, hit people behind your target, and misfire. This is why five fundamental rules have been developed when carrying a gun."

Rule one: Treat every gun as if it was loaded.

Rule two: Keep the gun pointed in a safe direction.

Rule three: Keep your finger off the trigger until ready to shoot.

Rule four: Know what your target is and what is beyond it.

Rule five: Unload your gun when not in use.

"The last rule is ignored by a majority of gunslingers. Spending a couple seconds to load your gun is the difference between life and death. It's better to be ready for conflict."

"Whad if sumwun getz hurt becuz it waz lowded?"

"A gunslinger must know if their gun is loaded off the top of their head. You must never question yourself. It's either loaded or it isn't—simple enough to remember."

"Whad if yoo loos da gun?"

"Losing your gun is only acceptable in two situations. The first is if you lend it to someone willingly. The second is if you are disarmed in some way. Your gun is your responsibility and if a child shoots their face because they snatched it while you weren't paying attention then it's you who's at fault."

Starting the next day, Axel Rose trained me in the art of gunslinging an hour before sunrise and an hour after sunset. By the end of the first week, I could shoot a coin flipping in the air.

"Shit, Kid. I think you're more of a natural than I was. There's an old wives tale that says when a man goes blind, his hearing becomes heightened to make up for his loss of vision. Since you were born deaf, I bet your sense of sight has been heightened to compensate."

The rare times game appeared in the desert, Axel let me hunt it down for practice. I came close to killing our prey the first few times but kept missing since we kept our distance so as not to scare it off. Axel followed up my misses with a quick draw and kill.

I managed to hit whatever we were hunting the next couple of tries, though the results were mixed. When I hit my target it was a fifty-fifty chance of me finishing it off or Axel stepping in.

"You're getting better."

Next, I was able to kill my target completely, though most times it took more than one bullet. Sometimes it even took the entire chamber. But one thing was for certain—from this point onwards, Axel never had to step in.

Two days before we arrived at Roa, we spotted a desert hare grooming itself fifty metres north. Steadily, I armed myself, focusing my aim on the hare. I took a few seconds to adjust my swaying hand and took one shot.

Axel and I ate roasted hare that night.

Nestled between the Great Sand Sea and a vast dry prairie was Roa—a town made up of weather-beaten wooden structures and boardwalks that creaked with every step.

"Axel Rose," the town doctor greeted when we entered his office. "Haven't seen your face in a while."

"You're shorter than we last met."

"Wider. Not shorter."

One might expect them to give a hug of comradery. Instead, they grasped each other's shoulders and headbutted the other as hard as they could—which they laughed off.

"Here's the thing, Doc. I know we usually drink ourselves to death when I come around. But this time, I come bearing a favour."

"Seeing your face got my hopes up but I suppose we can have fun next time. And I do owe you a favour still."

Axel ruffled my hair. "The kid's got Insecureness Syndrome. He lives in the Great Sand Sea and I think his vocal cords are infected with Zogern."

The doctor ran a dozen tests to make sure Axel's hypothesis was right. Each one of them, no matter how reliable or unreliable, came back positive.

"Your vocal cords will have to be removed. You won't be able to speak." The doctor placed a hand on my shoulder. "Are you sure you want to go through with this, Son?"

I nodded.

"Remove his vocal cords, Doc," Axel pleaded. "That's the favour I wanted to ask."

Operations as complex as this were rarely done here in Roa. The doctor had the skill to remove my vocal cords but likely never had the medicine needed. If he did, they must've expired a long time ago.

He sent his assistant to nearby towns and villages for supplies. My operation was scheduled three days from now.

I was unable to sleep the night before. Maybe I was afraid of losing the method of how normal people communicated. Maybe I was excited to shed one of the reasons people saw me differently. Maybe it was just the uncertainty of the operation. I never knew.

Axel Rose was sitting in the common room when I went down to grab fresh air, almost as if he were expecting me.

"Can't sleep, Kid?"

I shook my head.

He gestured to the seat across from him. "Are you scared?"

I nodded my head in a so-so manner.

"The operation?"

I shook my head.

"What is it?"

I ran upstairs to get my book. "I'm a deaf boy, but everyone focuses on the deaf part. The boy is unimportant to them. If I lose my voice, I'm scared they'll condescend me even more."

"Do you know what the Free Man's World philosophy is, Kid?"

I shook my head.

"Animals live to survive. What makes us human is our ability to choose what to live for—what our life's meaning is." Axel poured himself a cup of whiskey. "When other people start meddling with your life, you'll start to get confused about what your purpose is. Opinions, norms, expectations, traditions, beliefs, religion, your roles—if any of these ideas are forced upon you, they become shackles that muddle your meaning of life. You'll never form your own identity. You'll be so caught up with other people's virtues and making them happy that you disregard your own happiness."

I nodded in understanding.

"You'll be sailing a vast sea of unsatisfaction. But if you take control of your life and forge your own path, you'll find a part of the water that is calm. You'll be enlightened at knowing your true sense of self. And when others try to take you down by tackling you with a suit of armour, you'll break them because your body is made of steel."

"It's me against the world."

Axel shook his head. "No matter how strong someone is, we all need help every now and then. One day, you'll come across friends who'll help you and, in turn, you'll help them back. They won't judge you, they'll be happy accepting who you are. Plain and simple. Remember, you're alone right now. But there's never a person who made it through life on their own."

Friends...

"That sense of knowing your identity while being surrounded by people who accept you—that is the essence of the Free Man's World."