He straightened out his kimono, and looked at his bloodied fist oddly, struggling to comprehend why he had acted so violently. But then he remembered the brief relief he'd felt, as he made the decision to cease caring, and throw a punch toward the branch. Somehow, he felt the urge to do it some more.
'Stop doing such stupid things. If anyone else saw that, you'd have a great deal of trouble explaining it.'
He advised himself. He stepped amongst the branches, only allowing the most brief surges of irritation as the brambles opened wounds upon the skin of his shin. They tore at his kimono too, making it appear more fibrous that it otherwise would. There was not a straightforward path through this section of the forest, and he found himself having to bear with it.
The birds engaged in song, though they did so rapidly, as though they were having an argument with one another.
