𓍊𓍊 ~ Interlude Six — Candles ~ 𓍊𓍊
Who is it that repeats the Sage's Name?
Who is this dragging corpse about?
What is this?
What is it?
What was the original face before my father and mother were born?
Who am I?
A dark tent, black curtains blocked the golden rays, leaving the duty of light to candle's flame. Everywhere, the candles were, a dim illumination was the boy's salvation as he sat cross-legged on the floor. In the midst of war, everything was ironically tranquil.
The boy wasn't home. There would be nobody to watch him.
A four-year-old had no place on his own; in that same vein, he had equally little place on the battlefield.
"Are you understanding your Koans?" father asked him, amber eyes shimmering like the candles surrounding him.
"A bit…" the boy admitted, looking at the cryptic questions laid out in front of him. He could see surprisingly well in the dim room; it was probably because of how used to it he was. "No, not really."
Father laughed, his hands cradling his face. Amber eyes reflected off each other like mirrors of infinite love. Father's hands were warm and soft like the candle's flame. "That's alright, Ryu. Understanding Koans is something that you'll have to grow into, my son."
"Oh… then why are you showing me now?" asked little Ryu.
Father smiled, curling like the tip of the burning wick that the candles burned. "The deeper the roots take hold, the higher the tree can grow."
"...What? You're not making any sense, father," little Ryu pouted.
Father smiled before embracing him tightly. "It will… in time."
it never made sense, he never understood, the roots never took hold
—
How can we escape the cold and heat?
Why not go where there is no cold and heat?
Is there such a place?
That day, mother never came home. Worry withered Father's smile away like the ash of the candle's wicks. Some of them were going out. The room was getting colder. Little Ryu didn't like it. Fear was the shadow that pulled father's lips down into a frown. It looked like it hurt. It looked like it hurt like nothing ever did before.
"I'll be back soon," Father assured before exiting the tent. Wind blowing from the shut entrance blew out more candles and a chill made little Ryu shudder.
He was alone.
He didn't like being alone.
With a thin breath, little Ryu stumbled through the pile of scrolls that his parents kept. The… Koan scrolls. He picked one out and opened it. Reading wasn't hard, but understanding was. Nothing about this made sense.
But when he was with the scrolls, when he was… trying to understand the Koan, it felt like his parents were there. It felt like he wasn't alone. It felt like mother was rubbing his back while father was lecturing about Koan.
Little Ryu let out a smile, looking over the scroll over and over again. One day, he was going to understand. There was little else he looked forward to more than that day.
a day that never came.
—
If you call this a short staff, you oppose its reality.
If you do not call it a short staff, you choose to ignore that fact.
Now, what do you call it?
Little Ryu made a mess of the Koan scrolls, as well as his mind. He didn't understand a thing. Candles kept going out, the wicks not enough to support the fires any longer. Everything was getting colder.
Father didn't come home either.
Mother and Father were both gone.
Not even the scrolls made Little Ryu feel any better.
His heartbeat felt like an earthquake in his chest. Shivering from the fear and the force of blood in his veins, he looked toward the exit of the tent. His fists clenched. Before he could think another thought, he bolted out. Little Ryu barely noticed the candles that went out.
The sun was blinding when he was in the dark for so long. Little Ryu couldn't help but shield his eyes and stumble. Blades of grass as high as trees surrounded him like giant green locusts. Once his eyes adjusted, they darted, looking for any signs of his parents.
There was nothing—he heard a snap.
It was to his right.
Little Ryu sprinted as fast as he could. The wind blew back against him, the giant grasses creaked and bent opposite the way he was running. Trying to fight the wind felt like pushing against a brick wall, but Little Ryu did it, anyway. He needed to see if his parents were okay.
They weren't.
Little Ryu's eyes were cursed by a sea of corpses. All of them wore Konoha's headband. A wave of the most potent sickness washed over him. Hands of nausea grabbed him, shook him. All of the strength left Little Ryu's body as he collapsed to his hands and knees. Tears blocked out his vision. Bile rose in his throat, the stomach acid burned the inside of his mouth. He tried to hold in the vomit—it poured from his nose instead.
Little Ryu cried out from the searing agony of his own body betraying him. Weak wobbles accompanied him as he stood. Everybody in the camp was dead—maybe his parents weren't one of them. They were strong, that's what they always told him. It had to be true.
One shaky step forward, then another. One trembling stumble, then another. Little Ryu crawled over the sea of death, just like the roaches, just like the ants, just like the maggots. Each limb sprawled over another body until Little Ryu finally found two familiar faces.
A gasp and a soar of hope allowed him to sprint for a short five seconds. That was all Little Ryu needed to meet the corpses of his parents. "Father! Mother!" he called, tears dropping from his eyes, vomit staining half of his face.
They didn't answer.
They couldn't answer. Father and Mother… looked like they usually did. The only difference were the identical wounds in their heads. Even the four-year-old could tell it was the stab of a kunai knife. Right to the head. They didn't have any time to fight back.
"No…" Little Ryu's voice cracked.
He collapsed again.
Mother wasn't breathing; Father wasn't breathing.
Little Ryu tried to check for a heart-beat but there was nothing there.
It was… just like the Koans. Little Ryu saw everything, understood what it said, but not what it meant?
Why?
So many questions that he was never going to find answers for.
Little Ryu threw up again. Crying hurt his chest. His eyes were sore from being rubbed so much.
A flicker and a woman appeared beside him. Little Ryu's short breaths barely let him look up at her. There wasn't an ounce of emotion on her face. Her headband had clouds on it. She grabbed a kunai from the pouch on her side.
Little Ryu cried harder.
There was nothing he could do but wait for it to happen.
It didn't.
"Why are you stopping me?" the woman asked.
Someone else, a man, sucked his teeth. "It's just a kid! Just leave him be!"
"It's better to put him out of his misery," the woman snapped back.
The man glared. "Just let him go! Look at him!"
"He's pathetic."
"He deserves to live! He's just a boy, dragged into all of this like the rest of us! There's no point in killing him!"
The woman sighed, throwing the kunai into a corpse as she glared back. "You're just as pathetic as this brat."
"And yet, you're listening to me."
The woman met his eyes dangerously… then she let out a tired breath. "I don't feel like arguing with you today." With that, she flickered into nothing.
The man was left alone with Little Ryu. He looked… hurt. "Sorry, kid. You don't deserve this."
A flicker and he was gone too.
Just like the candles, flickering out of existence.
Everything… was like a candle.
Little Ryu understood that much.
Warm, pretty… but gone like it was nothing in the first place.
He wasn't there to know all of the candles in the tent went out.
they were never going to be lit again
đ“ŤŠđ“ŤŠ ~ Interlude End ~ đ“ŤŠđ“ŤŠ