Firstly, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed my other fic. It gives you a great feeling to hear people say nice things about you.
Anyway, this is just something I threw together fairly briefly. Been thinking of writing something about the latest deaths in the manga for a little while now, and decided this was the best scene for it I could think of. I also have this image of this one scene, where the survivors return to various people waiting for them, but I couldn't get it to work.
So yeah. My second fic, much the same style as my first. I seem to prefer this style... I'm not sure I could get much else to work. Certainly, I don't seem to get inspiration for much else. Enjoy. Any feedback is appreciated.
Makhazol
Disclaimer: Naruto does not belong to me.
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Lesser Known
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On one day, two funerals were being held.
The first funeral was a big event. Nearly everyone notable, and many non-notables, were there. It was conducted in a public place, the same place all important funerals were held in the village. But despite the numbers, despite how many people turned out to pay their respects, few people seemed to be significantly sad. Perhaps the unhappiest man there was the boy's uncle, who mourned the loss of such potential and what their clan could have been.
Most people there were unaware there was another funeral.
On a hill overlooking the village, in front of a small stone sculpture, the second funeral took place. Unlike the first boy, this boy was not well-known, but those who did know him loved him with a far greater love than the first boy had probably ever experienced. Only a couple of people attended this funeral.
In the front row, a blond-haired girl sobbed uncontrollably. She rested her head on the shoulder of boy next to her, who stood with a comforting arm around her, but his head was bowed and tears dripped from his eyes.
Behind these two stood three fathers. The two on either side stood mutely, their heads bowed respectfully, one with a hand on the shoulder of the third. He himself stood, tears freely running down his face, but looking forward at the monument as his son's name was carved into it.
Apart from this party a sole man stood; the boy's teacher. He stood without his trademark cigarette, hands behind his back, not wanting to intrude on the families. As he watched, he pondered how pertinent that old saying was; you really don't know what you have until it's gone. He had taken the boy for granted, bribed him in order to get him to do what needed to be done, and neglected to treat him with the full respect he now knew his pupil had deserved. And then, when he wasn't looking, the boy had gone and sacrificed his life in the name of duty. Oh, sure, he knew that a shinobi could die at any time, on any mission, but the knowledge was one thing. It was something completely different to have someone who he'd worked with, formed a bond with, brutally torn from life when you least expect it.
The masons left, their job done. The people standing there remained for some time, observing the monument and what it represented. People came and went; the other boy's name was carved into the monument but only his teammates and teacher came to see it, and the original six people there did not move. For months to come, they would visit it regularly, watching the single name for hours.
Lest they forget.
-AKIMICHI CHOUJI-
Anyway, this is just something I threw together fairly briefly. Been thinking of writing something about the latest deaths in the manga for a little while now, and decided this was the best scene for it I could think of. I also have this image of this one scene, where the survivors return to various people waiting for them, but I couldn't get it to work.
So yeah. My second fic, much the same style as my first. I seem to prefer this style... I'm not sure I could get much else to work. Certainly, I don't seem to get inspiration for much else. Enjoy. Any feedback is appreciated.
Makhazol
Disclaimer: Naruto does not belong to me.
-
Lesser Known
-
On one day, two funerals were being held.
The first funeral was a big event. Nearly everyone notable, and many non-notables, were there. It was conducted in a public place, the same place all important funerals were held in the village. But despite the numbers, despite how many people turned out to pay their respects, few people seemed to be significantly sad. Perhaps the unhappiest man there was the boy's uncle, who mourned the loss of such potential and what their clan could have been.
Most people there were unaware there was another funeral.
On a hill overlooking the village, in front of a small stone sculpture, the second funeral took place. Unlike the first boy, this boy was not well-known, but those who did know him loved him with a far greater love than the first boy had probably ever experienced. Only a couple of people attended this funeral.
In the front row, a blond-haired girl sobbed uncontrollably. She rested her head on the shoulder of boy next to her, who stood with a comforting arm around her, but his head was bowed and tears dripped from his eyes.
Behind these two stood three fathers. The two on either side stood mutely, their heads bowed respectfully, one with a hand on the shoulder of the third. He himself stood, tears freely running down his face, but looking forward at the monument as his son's name was carved into it.
Apart from this party a sole man stood; the boy's teacher. He stood without his trademark cigarette, hands behind his back, not wanting to intrude on the families. As he watched, he pondered how pertinent that old saying was; you really don't know what you have until it's gone. He had taken the boy for granted, bribed him in order to get him to do what needed to be done, and neglected to treat him with the full respect he now knew his pupil had deserved. And then, when he wasn't looking, the boy had gone and sacrificed his life in the name of duty. Oh, sure, he knew that a shinobi could die at any time, on any mission, but the knowledge was one thing. It was something completely different to have someone who he'd worked with, formed a bond with, brutally torn from life when you least expect it.
The masons left, their job done. The people standing there remained for some time, observing the monument and what it represented. People came and went; the other boy's name was carved into the monument but only his teammates and teacher came to see it, and the original six people there did not move. For months to come, they would visit it regularly, watching the single name for hours.
Lest they forget.
-AKIMICHI CHOUJI-