IV – Another World
He's watching the rain outside the window, his hand holding up his chin, his reflection staring back at him wetly, coldly. The look he wears is forlorn. Distant. Sometimes I wonder if he's from another world. One that is always basking in sunlight. He's always like this when the rain comes—like he'll never see the light of day again. I make a noise from behind him but I'm ignored in favor of the rain, which patters and drips and falls so steadily, looking fast and looking slow and looking like it will never end.
"Hey," I try. Anything to get him to stop looking so damn sad. "Want anything?"
He shakes his head in the tiniest of responses. At least he's still connected to this world, still answering me. I'd worry if I didn't even get that. Frowning, I turn away from him.
"Do you think the rain comes from another world?"
I turn to look at him again. He hasn't changed positions, he's still moping by the window, but I know it was his voice and no one else's. "What do you mean?" I asked, a little disturbed at how close the question had been to my previous thoughts. This time, I saw his mouth move as he spoke but his voice sounded like the rain: empty, hollow, stretching on for forever.
"The rain. It comes from the sky. From clouds and water vapor, but that's just the scientific theory, right?" he turns to me but only slightly; his eyes still watch the rain outside. "Where do you think it comes from?"
"I don't have to think of where it comes from," I frown, puzzled by this strange talking. "I know where it comes from, and so do you as you've just proven, so what's with the odd question?"
"Where do you think it comes from?" he asked again. "Does it fall down from the sky or up from the ground?"
"I once heard someone say that it was the gods peeing on us," I said. I didn't mean to be funny—I really had heard someone say that—but I could tell he was not amused by the slight tick of the muscle in his jaw. I stayed quiet and waited.
"Someone once told me," he spoke so softly I almost couldn't hear him over the noise of the rain, "that it came from heaven, from all the angels that watched over us and cried in pity at our sad fates," he grimaced. "As shinobi."
I stood behind him, feeling as if he were waiting for me to say something. What could I say after that, though? I made an impatient noise in my throat. "Who told you that?" I asked—I could think of nothing else.
"Don't remember," he shrugged, still watching. "I just always think whenever it rains, 'how fitting'. Don't you think so?"
My frown deepened: "How so?"
He paused noticeably. "Blood," he finally answered. "The tears of the angels fall and clean the blood-stained paths of the ninja, blessing them."
"We don't need blessings," I said bluntly.
"But don't you think it's fitting?" he mumbled, returning his full attention to the rain again (which was definitely slowing this time). "Angels…" his voice continued to lower as he trailed off. "Their blessing…"
I took a deep breath. I sighed. I walked over to him and the window and placed my hand on his shoulder, tugging him away gently. He refused to come. I used my other hand to knock his from his chin and turned his face towards mine. The beginnings of a frown creased his brow and I knelt in front of him, holding his face in both of my hands so that I wouldn't lose him to the rain again.
"We're shinobi," I said. "We walk ankle-deep in a path of over-spilled blood. That is the way it always has been and that is the way it will always stay."
"Why so much blood…?" his eyes drifted toward the window. I clamped my hands down, kept him anchored there, with me.
"Because it's out of our hands and over our heads," I waved it away with a toss of my head. "Angels do not come here and they certainly do not watch." He nearly pouted. I plunged ahead, not knowing what I was thinking anymore but feeling that there was some sort of point: "Ninja kill to live. We accept missions that either directly or indirectly affect the lives of others. We were taught that from the beginning and it just can't be helped because that is the way of all living things." I sighed again. "No, angels aren't here, but I'm here, and we're here together, so, isn't that enough for now? For ever?" He blinked, and I distantly realized that the rain had finally stopped sometime between before and now.
He looked at me. He smiled suddenly. I thought he was beautiful in that instant.
"Yeah," he kissed my lips tenderly. "It's enough."