During my childhood when I was looked after at the nursery, at school there was a man, completely respectable and no matter my age I can only remember his story, the one that I tell several times a month, with more and more details the older I got.
There existed in a faraway land, a desert of the Far West, a man, a killer filled with a monstrous faith, he seemed to have only blood on his mind, whether it was men, women or children, apparently even animals did not escape it, a butcher quite simply.
At the same time, in town a man of unknown origin brought a remarkable serenity into everyone's life, he was not old but not so young, in his fifties, a practicing Christian it seems, going to church whenever necessary.
Even though I couldn't complain, hearing that simple bit of story at first made me shiver, to tell the truth not all children like serial killer stories, despite everything I wasn't against it, every week or a little more, I listened to it.
The rest of the story obviously wants the bloodthirsty man and the wise man to meet, during a long journey of the learned man with some of his long-time comrades, heading towards the tropical forest of the south, where the natives reigned.
From what he said, one could understand that it was just a story and none of it was real, but he insisted that even a fictional story could leave its mark on oneself, deep within us, and that if I grew up, I would understand the story by myself.
So, after a few months of walking, when one was continuing his long massacre, the other was telling stories, scientific theories or talking about religion, the two men, as different as they were, passed through the same path.
It was at this moment that suddenly the man telling me the story stopped, leaving me to my imagination of a young child, the reason was that he wanted to see me grow up a little more, even a few weeks or months would be enough according to his own words.
But when everything seemed to be going wonderfully, where life was at its peak of joy on my side, I immediately brought back to reality, this man, called Litoshi, only about thirty years old, fell ill overnight, with tuberculosis.
9h51
February 29, 2007
Following the news, Nao Minazuki aged 5 arrived at the hospital in Litoshi's room all scared, the doctor and some nurses tried to stop him but in vain, already in Litoshi's room, Nao's parents decided to leave him, so as not to rush him.
Nao: "Litoshi...I don't know what's going on but please say something I'm scared, the unknown is scary, I also need to know for the end of the story..."
Tears flowed from her thin, young face, falling onto the bed, soaking it so slightly that only the temperature of the fabric could decrease, her fragile hands gripped the white blanket, now on her knees, a voice, Litoshi's, resounded.
Litoshi: "It's true that I'm not well, this village is also too far from large and prestigious hospitals than those in the city, despite that I'm not sad and you don't have to be."
Little Nao's sobs gradually stopped, as time went on and silence fell.
Litoshi: "That's good my friend, now, before the story and its conclusion I want you to promise me something, nothing too complicated but important enough to change the rest of your life into a better destiny, a safer path to happiness you understand?"
Litoshi straightened up to sit better and took a kind of notebook on the bedside table placed right next to the bed, once in hand he put it on his legs while looking up catching his breath once again.
Litoshi: "First of all, here is a notebook with a lot of notes but also lessons about life, I didn't think I would leave it or even have someone read it but given the situation I feel obliged to do so, especially to a little guy like you, you deserve it."
He then handed her the notebook and without hesitation Nao took it delicately while smiling, showing her gratitude towards Litoshi, a man almost more important than her parents in her eyes.
Nao: "Thank you very much Litoshi, I will read each page without forgetting a word, no one other than me will be able to touch it, not even my parents, I swear!"
Litoshi smiled back as he listened to little Nao's words.
Litoshi: "But here it is only a small notebook and take it as a gift, I am happy to see you like this, now let me explain about the promise, I do not want to change your life for the worse, so without a doubt if you listen to me well and apply the promise I promise you that life will always be better and remember these words."
That precise moment rekindled the flame of curiosity that burned inside Nao herself.
Litoshi: "It's quite simple, I just want you to be someone free but above all someone reliable and honorable, sometimes life makes us think the opposite but deep inside us, there is this space filled with good things, even if Man is sometimes melancholic so sad and disgusted with himself it is only an illusion and no matter how great it is it is only an illusion after all, always remember that, keep your head up and live honestly."
Finally, after a few minutes of intimacy the door opened, a new guest took part in the discussion and it was Nao's father, a Japanese man a bit like the whole village, some towns or villages are of Chinese origin but have a great attractiveness and attract the Japanese for several reasons including the very familiar landscapes or the local traditions.
So his father is a senior civil servant, general administrator of public finances more precisely, for this reason he often stays in the nearest large city but having a somewhat particular position he sometimes travels, it is a rather lax job in short.
Until then he was still quite available for his son but we could easily see that as time went on the more frequent and long trips took place in his daily life, he regretted this a lot but he was convinced that it was a way for his child to flourish and never lack anything in his life.
This man's name was Daichi.
Daichi: "Hello big guy, how are you?"
Nao simply nodded at his father's question. Daichi looked at him with soft eyes and when he looked up to see Litoshi, his gaze changed slightly, his facial expression seemed to convey acute anger.
Daichi: "May I know who you are? I have never heard of a man speaking to my child with such great confidence, my wife and I are here out of respect for our child but in reality I have no reason to trust you."
Litoshi opened his eyes as a mark of respect, surprised by the aggressiveness but at the same time understanding, at the same time Nao still on the ground approached his father, pulling his shirt slightly to call out to him without annoying him.
Nao: "He's a nice man, when I say having a best friend I mean him, he tells me exciting stories and teaches me a lot of things so please don't be angry with Litoshi, he's really sick and needs rest..."
Litoshi spoke immediately.
Litoshi: "Even so I would like to apologize, even though I never did anything questionable my intentions were not clear, at least not to this child's parents. Thank you Nao you are a good boy, I can't blame you for not introducing me to your parents."
Daichi: "I can't help but think about how bad of a father I am, and seeing a stranger taking care of my little Nao Minazuki makes me angry."
Litoshi: "I am sure that despite our faults we have good inside us, so sir do not be hard on yourself, your child before I knew him already seemed to live a good life thanks to your efforts, so I should not say this but thank you for him."
Daichi had a completely different look from earlier, much happier and also grateful to Litoshi for these undeniable facts.
Daichi: "Thank you uh...Litoshi yes thank you no matter who you are it feels good to see someone so sensible in this world, work has hardened me in a not very pleasant way."
Litoshi nodded simply smiling and coughing a little more.
Daichi meanwhile, put his hand on his chest and bowed ever more gratefully and said goodbye motioning for Nao to continue her conversation with Litoshi.
Litoshi: "Know that I don't blame your father and that what I said applies to anyone in my opinion, and even if you become more than anyone then you won't need to forget but on the contrary keep this state of mind."
The words weighed heavily on the scales, the little one's mind, so at the same time he opened the notebook starting to read it but closed it immediately looking at Litoshi as always.
Nao: "So can I hear this story?"
The man laughed on his hospital bed and coughed as well.
Litoshi: "Yes, yes of course I bother you with all this but you are only 5 years old I am sure that even without my words you will do good around you."
10h13
The rest of the story is that at night at an intersection, when the carriage turned, the man, the bloodthirsty killer rather took two of the men from behind to stab them with his favorite dagger, the blood spurting on the wood and the killer's face.
At that precise moment the scream resounded and whether it was the fifty-year-old or the other man, they heard perfectly the chilling gasp of the killer, when the companion of the wise man signaled him to wait, for a moment, the wise man saw Hell.
The throat torn open leaving blood to deposit on the carriage but crossing through to flow on the ground. The eyes of the wise man were frozen looking at those of the killer, for love we say to have love at first sight but here there is no such thing.
The killer seemed hypnotized by this moment, dropping his dagger, letting it fall a few times on the ground, a doe and a humanized wolf, a wise one and a bloodthirsty one, the good and the bad, it was a parallel of life, so unreal, I believe that nothing real is beautiful compared to this scene.
So even though a pool of blood was pouring out behind them, neither of them moved until the wise man spoke to calm and reason with the bloodthirsty killer.
It seems that after that the wise man managed to make the bloodthirsty killer a good person by doing good things like helping a lady with her shopping, carrying some goods for the merchant, financially helping those in need and others.
The moral behind it all according to Litoshi was that no matter what path we take, we can always change for the better, without even having to be a wise man or a bloodthirsty killer, so most of the time I just have to be me and only me, an authentic being.
Moreover, the first page of his notebook was filled with incomprehensible drawings, at least that's what I told myself when I was 5 years old, now the dozens of pages hold no secrets for me, he was right, with time I will understand his words better.