Part VI

Oblivion.

That's what life was. He didn't believe in much. Just the ground underneath his feet and the four walls enclosing him at night. Other than that, he couldn't bring himself to believe in memories or the faint taste of ice cream.

He had stopped speaking a long time ago. He fixed himself breakfast, went to school, came back, then tried to stay away from his family. He was still little, still hopelessly little, but he no longer thought like a little kid. Not that it mattered. His father still beat his wife, his mother still beat her son, and somewhere far away, his best friend lay in a cold, cold grave.

He was making plans. Terrible, extreme plans that replaced his dreams of sunsets and sunshine. It hurt. But the little boy didn't believe in pain.

He kept the white strip of paper with him at all times, though. He didn't know why. It didn't make sense. Then again, very few things in the little boy's life made sense. For one, his parents had stopped. They had stopped beating him, insulting him, spitting at him. His mother gave him food while his father tried to talk to him more. The little boy didn't know what was going on, but he wanted to run. Run far away and bury himself in a hiding place.

They were killing him.

Months went by and the two unfamiliar monsters in his house slowly became human. They no longer stumbled into the house, reeking of alcohol and blood. They asked him about his grades and frowned far less. The wreckage of the little boy's past slowly faded with each pat on the back from his father and each twinkle of laughter from his mother.

On one cold day, the little boy and his father bundled up in their thickest clothes then got into the family car. During the car ride, his father cracked jokes and talked about memories, something that the little boy had stopped believing in. Eventually, a silence persisted until the father spoke with a light-hearted voice.

"Your mother and I.. We're better." His father turned towards his son and said firmly again. "We're better. We're going to be a family."

The little boy kept his gaze fixed on the windshield and the snowflakes sticking to the car. His father chuckled, ruffled his son's hair, then continued driving.

The child turned his head and spoke for the first time since his best friend had died.

"Where are we going?"

A pause. "We're going to put out a fire, son."

And the little boy stared and stared until his father looked away.

xx

Fire everywhere. Ashes choking his throat.

The little boy loosened his grip on the water hose and saw nothing except the flames. His father, in his firefighter suit, grunted and yelled for support, but the little boy only stepped back and let go of the hose. He watched as his father and five other firefighters slowly quelled the fire, a small and harmless fire that had only consumed a small barn.

It was cold, despite the smoldering aftermath of the fire, but the little boy didn't feel it. It wasn't long before his father wrapped a blanket around him and someone else handed him a cup of hot chocolate which he immediately drank.

Soon, though, the firefighters had to go and tackle a bigger section of the fire. His father put a hand on the boy's shoulder and faced him, eye to eye.

"Stay here. I don't want you hurt."

When there was no response, his father cleared his throat and uneasily ruffled his son's hair. They left and for several minutes, the little boy stared at the remnants of the fire and the spiral of smoke that flew away.

Then he stood up and walked.

He saw trees and dirt roads before a building stopped him from walking anymore.

Completely deserted, like the inhabitants had left in a hurry. There was also something different about this building, something that the little boy had never seen before. It didn't belong here. The plain white color served as a backdrop to the stain glass windows, arches, and spires.

A monument engraved with the words.

New Dawn Church

With a frown, the little boy stepped through the big oak doors and the doors creaked behind him. The place was too big, too open. It felt like something could be hiding between the pews and the stages. And the smell.

It smelled like blood and alcohol.

Darkness enclosing all around him, the little boy continued walking. He ignored the flowers that were placed decoratively in the hall and his eyes narrowed at the stained windows that shined in the light. As he walked further into the abandoned building, he heard nothing but his footsteps and a gurgling sound beneath the ground.

All traces of blood were gone except for the stench. But there was something else that the little boy had to see with his own eyes.

He walked to the front of the building and grabbed something off the podium.

A big, black book.

With a clenched jaw, he opened the book and watched as the dust played around the old pages. There was only one more thing to do.

Gently, with more care than anything he had ever done in his life, the little boy took out the worn-down slip of paper from his pocket. Then he began to read.

In that empty, lonely place, he cried for the last time in his life.

Xx

AN: Please don't kill me. I know this side story is short and super confusing, but at least the chapter titles make it easy to go back and read again, eh, eh? As to who this little boy is.. A handful of you have guessed correctly. Just a handful! And you handful don't even know you've got it right! I'm an evil, evil writer.

Next chapter will be about KYUUBI ISLAND! I'm so psyched to write it. :] Read and review, thanks!