Dead Man's Dragon.

[Estilo]

-- Enter.



-- Approximately One Week Ago.

It's a relatively warm day in the Land of Rice. The skies are clear and buoyantly blue, and the small farming community known as Karagara is vibrant with the sound of farm animals, the laughter of children, and a soft whistling breeze. Men and women can be seen in the rice fields adjacent to this civilian village, working hard to prepare their crop for this year's bounty. Though the population of this village is fewer than three hundred people, the dirt roads criss-crossing throughout this grassy territory brim with life as the villagers go about their day, completing mundane tasks that would pale in comparison to those of a shinobi.

But, in a way, I envied them for it. Their "normal" lives. I'd been living one for the past year and a half, and I would be lying to myself if I claimed that I wasn't hooked on the idea of settling down. I'd been a rancher, and a corn farmer, and had found myself comfortably kept in that niche... before remembering. Remembering who I really was. What responsibilities I had. What I had to do. In a way, "Esau" was the embodiment of this very village. A farmer at heart, living an honest life, happy. I smiled, chuckling. I found it funny that I was jealous of "Esau", my amnesia-stricken alter-ago. The epitome of "ignorance is bliss".

Watching the village from afar, hidden beside Fusa within the shadow of the southern forest, I patted my dragon's slender white neck with one of my gloved hands. "Do you like rice, Fusa?" I asked, shifting my gaze towards her reptilian countenance. "Or are you a carnivore through and through?"

"Rice is not a preferred meal, Dovahkiin." She informed me casually. "Dragons gain sustenance from flesh."

"Go figure." I sarcastically remarked, dropping my hand, then placing a tracker over my exposed eye. "And here I was, enthusiastic about buying you a super-sized bowl of rice." I activated my device, causing it to issue a small "clicking" sound as its lens zoomed forward, magnifying everything and everyone afar. "Would you care for a cow?" I continued. "I'm sure I could buy one off one of these amiable country-folk."

"Where's the fun in devouring prey that doesn't give chase?" She answered in her raspy reptilian voice. It was only when I edged my head to the side to see her, that I noticed that devilish shark smile.

"Ah, so she does smile." I beamed, turning my attention back to the village's main road afterwards. "But to be honest, it's just a tad... scary." I smirked. Our combined attention would be focused on the main road for the next couple of minutes, waiting and watching for any sign of my target to show. The intel I'd received from my informants was reliable, and recent, so I was nearly certain that I'd see him today. But I was still conflicted with what I was doing. Was it really the right thing to do? The right time, for that matter?

[luneth]

Days spent aimless and adrift have passed as if weeks within this dull, unchanging land – I can no longer willfully reckon their full sum, nor the amount of rice paddy laced, flyspeck settlements that've unknowingly harbored my short-lived, ruminative stays. The particulars of each day here have as well began to blend – following my cursory skirmish with one younger sound-nin, of course – which I find in some disordered part attributable to an equally unclear and preoccupied cognition.

It had been my decision to journey into Ta, however – being that, in my mind's most conflicted, convoluted state, and sequential to my leave from Kumo, perhaps I had sought to quell my unease in a land devoid of such open ambivalence. This country, in all of its simplicity and nothingness, was peaceful, possibly the most serene setting I'd yet to find, and in my current state, tranquil surroundings were as important as even food or water. I found reprieve in my lone swanning about the nigh on lifeless domain of fragrant, tall and boundless verdure, and while the matters of that night still stabbed at me with the acuity of a whetted lance, I had healed considerably.

Reflecting, the voice of my conscious, a swaying ground, and ocean of swaying green are all that consume my most recent memory, and likewise are present even now, as the soles of worn tabi's pad steadily down the foothill leading into yet another community of dewy-eyed simpletons. The buzz of warm chatter and a bustling populace gradually fill my ears in my descent, reminiscent of Kumogakure's streets before the incident, though much lighter in comparison to the Cloud's droves of civilians.

A look of uninterest adorns my features, if not reasoned as altogether vacant of emotion; I began my trek, once again, near yesterday's midnight, and, considering this, want nothing more than to rest my head on one of the hopefully giving pillows within the village's Inn – I'm in no hurry, and thus retiring this early in the day is but a single unargued thought.

My lissome figure weaved slowly through the moving crowd, an occasional, innocent and momentary smile meeting the look of an overly curious citizen. This was one of the better villages among the plethora I'd winded through, evident not only by the decent buildings, but the open happiness of equally the town's youth and its eldest members, contrasting the detestable shacks and gloomy expressions I at times witnessed. It forced a faint grin as I soon reached the place of liberal shelter, throwing the hood of my flowing outer robe on before scantily opening the wooden door and slipping inside. It isn't heavily crowded at this time of the day, though there are nonetheless a decent amount of fellow traveler and civilian alike spread throughout.

“a single room,” I calmly spoke, the words received with a polite nod by the woman behind the wooden counter. I placed the marked amount of ryo at my front before taking a seat amongst one of the half-occupied stools lining the bar, my eyes perusing the menu of food, as opposed to those near me. I made note of what they offered, though I'd rest before eating. I only now awaited the acceptance of my proffered ryo, and a room key.

[Estilo]

I spotted him walking down the main road and, for a moment, I froze. My tracker lens zoomed as it captured a close portrait of his countenance-- the blonde hair, the youthful eyes-- and a smile formed upon being absolutely sure that this was the person I had been looking for, and not some random look-a-like. "Well, Fusa," I spoke suddenly, deactivating my tracker with a single click, before taking it off and placing it away. "I've got an 'appointment' to attend. Wait in the forest for me until nightfall?"

"As you wish." She answered, her sunrise orange wings flexing behind her. "I shall await your return, Dovahkiin." After softly patting her neck, I'd watch her saunter off into the darkness of the southern forest beyond. Surely off to grab a bite.

With my slender white wyrm's departure, I was free to abandon our comfy reconnaissance post in the forest, and casually approach the village's main road. I walked at a fairly brisk pace, looking to close the distance between me and my target as fast and discreetly as possible, as the tails of my long black coat rippled with the breeze. Throwing my wide-brimmed hood on, and shielding a majority of my cardinal red mane from view,  I'd soon merge into the scattered crowd that walked along that main road. The black pieces of armor I wore beneath my cloak didn't exactly aid the long strides I was taking during my careful pursuit. But I managed as best I could.

As long as I kept my eyes locked on him, I wouldn't lose him. And I didn't. Just as I was entering the village itself, I spotted my target entering a local inn, tossing on his hood as I had done before. Casting my gaze about, for any sign of other shinobi or potential threats, I'd follow. And, upon reaching the entrance to the inn, I'd place a gloved hand on the doorknob and enter. The interior of this establishment was warm, and welcoming. Wooden furniture made this place of business feel homey, and the rack of liquor on the other side of the bar was quite an impressive collection.

Admiring said collection, I approached the bar casually, each step causing my black boots to issue a sharp 'tap' on the oak wood floor. I took a seat, the stool two seats to his right, and ordered a single malt scotch. "On the rocks, dear." I added, flashing the bartender a smile beneath the shadow of my hood. As she prepared the drink, I lazily swung my head towards Haru, propping my elbows up on the counter. By the time I received my drink, I spoke.

"You're quite a long way from home, aren't you?"

 

[luneth]

I sat patiently, capturing the dim-lit Inn's hearty ambiance and slew of divergent occupants as other requests were tended to, making no move to indicate urgency. Unconsciously toying with the prominences of my gloved hand below the counter, I'd have my gaze and attention seized by the arrival of a similarly hooded man, his mannerisms faintly recognized for some unknown reason. My head was hurriedly jerked to its original position as his own gave the slightest hint of turning, more than likely centered on the moving bartender, though I was nonetheless precautious.

Yet, not even the utmost of measures taken could've prepared me for what exactly I heard afterward. A voice stifling any prior uncertainty, one that I believed to have been long gone from our realm, was sounded in all of its evocative grandeur, leaving me wide-eyed in dismay, shocked. It couldn't have been him; he'd been proclaimed dead, regardless of how much I, a time ago, at first fought the idea, failing, if not refusing to believe it.

Over time I was forced to simply accept it as fact; I believed it to be the reason Eiichiro's death had struck me the way it did, outside of me seeing his with my own eyes, and the ensuing mental torture that'd resulted from my own shortcomings. I was stuck in place as such ponderings festered, my assumption all but confirmed and unchangeable as the same, wondrously haunting voice spoke, yet this time aimed at myself. Forgoing my attempt at anonymity, I turned once more to the man, gasping slightly at whom I beheld. A ghost, a hallucination, the result of weeks spent under the relentless sun – or the real thing, I couldn't have been sure.

“Fa... A-atlas..?” I whispered involuntarily, shifting in my stool, “How is this... you.. you're dead..!”

[Estilo]

His reaction brought a sterling smile to my face. This happiness stemmed from my own pleasure in seeing him again, and the amusement I got from witnessing his astonished reply. I could only imagine what was going through his mind right now. An influx of doubts, surely. Not to mention the complete and utter disbelief that supported it. Like the rest of the world, I had been nothing more than a phantom of the past to Haru for the last year or so. I had been branded a dead man by my own country, replaced with a former student of mine, and logged into the history books for all the children of Kumogakure no Sato to read. 

I was a dead man, with nothing but his dragon by his side.

And, perhaps, it was that very sense of isolation that compelled me to investigate the matter of Haru's appearance in these lands further. I needed to reach out to someone and, as fate would have it, that someone was none other than my adopted son. I eased the hood off of my head with a single gloved hand, before speaking, "Not quite." I whispered back, leaning forwards to reach eye-level with the boy. The cheer in my smile was only rivaled by the jovial glow in my exposed green eye. I patted the top of his hooded head, scruffing it around like I used to do when he was younger. "Boy, are you a sight for sore eyes!" I continued in a half-whisper.

Leaning back into my originial seated position, I swiped up my glass of scotch from the counter. My porcelain white mask gleamed with a hint of firelight, born from a nearby candle-lit chandelier. Before Haru could say anything else, I would drain the liquor in one fell-swoop. Pounding the emptied glass back on the counter, causing the few ice cubes within it to rattle, I'd issue a satisfied gasp. That familiar cold shiver that ran up my spine forced me to shake my head a few times, strands of crimson red bouncing as I did so, but I recovered fairly quickly. Turning back to Haru, I'd beam. "I can see how you might be... confused, about all this."

Confused, I realized then, probably didn't do it justice. Bewildered would have been slightly better. Regardless, I could understand if he didn't really believe it was me. Not at first. Considering his unique departure from Kumogakure no Sato, he might of been expecting a hunter to come through these parts. How could he be certain that I wasn't one of them in disguise? The fact of the matter was, he couldn't. Not at this moment, at least. Not until I gave him some semblance of undenibable proof. Something I could show him, something I could tell him. "So shoot, ask me anything your heart desires. A father should know his son, after all. And vice-versa."

[luneth]

I feel as if I'm in a dream, viewing once more his unforgettable, half-masked grin, the surreality of it evoking imagery of the past to flutter fondly through my mind. A mere movement, the wrong words, I feel, could end this state and what I was perceiving; thrown back into reality, I'd find myself waking in the shadows of an abandoned barn overtaken by Ta's lush greenery, or another Inn – a dreadful thought, as my snowy eyes peered at the warm expression and equally kind eye of my father's apparition.

It advanced, gradually, and as a hand approached, I half-expected it to reach through me. Alas, remindfully riling me as he'd done time and time before, such prior presumptions were all but dismissed, and being met by such a real, physical sensation, the faintest of smiles couldn't help but form slowly along my face, even amidst my confusion – made visible by the tilt of my head backwards, relinquishing the hood from my head. I watched in wonderment his spectacle with the glass, yet my conscious remained protective, mulling over the possibilities should he have been real.

I believe I'd done an adequate job in scouting the area earlier in the day – my own track more specifically – though one could never be too certain, as a camouflaged speck, my killer, could have been overlooked as easily as a pair of wandering ants. While stilled at the moment, I was, of course, ready to act should the need arise. However, not considering it was truthfully him – Atlas Burabiya, my father, in the flesh – may have been foolish; though giving him the benefit of the doubt, I was still racked with the questions of why, and how. Why hadn't he made his existence known before, if he had in fact survived his encounter with the Yonbi, and moreover, how had he done it, as there had surely been eye-witnesses, fellow Kumogakure shinobi, on the scene to attest his death.

Doubt furthered my sense of perplexity, even as I attempted to solve the matter myself. Prodding the uncertainties in different areas only served to produce more questions – while I could make a slew of educated assumptions, that's all they would be, and even amid those it wasn't likely the truth existed. A lesser of what was undetermined, yet a nonetheless frightening prospect, was how exactly he had found me.

I wasn't surprised, more curious than anything – while any of Kumogakure's Anbu force may have had a difficult time tracking my practiced trail, Atlas was a man of not only experience and knowledge beyond my own, and not only had he himself demonstrated at some point a bulk of what I know, but otherwise was an admired, loved shinobi, with his devotees and past acquaintances more than likely playing the role of informant from any single sect of our known world. He had access to a base of eyes and information I couldn't have hoped to escape from. The thought, and my guess that he knew the true reason I was alone here, presented an enormity of reflective contemplation, and the heed of possible repercussions.

His next words were missed in my trance of deep thought and disbelief, half acknowledging near-inaudible utterances, yet my eyes remained locked on his own, and my expression had long since reverted from its faint happiness to its prior confusion and shock. I came slowly to my senses, as if my subconscious had immediately recognized the significance of his final words, his proposition, of which I was able to decipher the majority.

What question lie heavier on my heart than any other? It was a query I finally had an answer to – the most important question, to me atleast, and certaintly the most obvious; all the same, it ate at my conscious akin to the leeching of a parasite. I needed to know, as, more than anything else, I wanted to believe that this was reality, and that he was, in fact, real.

.

.

.

“How..?”

“Atlas Burabiya was pronounced dead over a year ago, yet, you're.. here. H-how is this..? Where.. were you?”

[Estilo]

I examined that astonished look on his face, then I shifted my gaze elsewhere, pondering on where I should begin. His question had been expected. I'd been running it through my mind throughout the entire day. And, yet, I was stumped as to where I would begin, or what I would make sure to mention. It was only when I tried to tell this seemingly impossible story to someone else (of which Haru was the first) that I realized how ludicrous it might seem to someone who hadn't literally lived it. But I settled on trying my best, determined to answer any further questions he might have as I progressed. He had a right to know every little detail.

"As I'm sure you have been informed," I started, fixing my eyes on the liquor collection on the other side of the bar. It helped to have something to focus on. Something that didn't give me a sense of regret for a year and a half's absence. "I participated in the rescue effort of Kusa no Kuni. In fact, I was one of the handful of leaders to face up against the Yonbi. A lot of the countries had gone, you see. But it was me, and a couple of others, that were truly thrown into the heart of the conflict. It was then that the foreigners arrived. Brothers in arms, from the ancient land of Uzu no Kuni. They came bearing magnificent relics, and abilities. And, with our help, they restrained the mighty four-tailed beast." I paused, turning my gaze to Haru momentarily.

"I... I've only now started to remember the events that transpired after that. We were taken, abducted, by these Uzu no Kuni warriors. And they showed us the extent of their power, dividing all that was the Yonbi amongst the few of us who fought until the end. That was when Eiichiro was given the power of the beast-- him, and another. I, however, was given the right over the mind." I held up a single hand, narrowing my eyes in thought, just before it was engulfed by seemingly spontaenous wisps of blue flames. "I never understood what that meant. Nor had I heard from the Yonbi since then. But I seemed to have inherited this." I spoke, nodding towards my semi-enflamed hand. "A chakra-draining ability, similiar to that of the Akadou clan. But I didn't realize until... well, until a week ago."

I slowly closed my gloved hand into a fist, dispelling the light blue flames, before it caught the attention of anyone in the establishment. Dropping the hand to my lap, I'd continue. "You see, after the Uzumaki gave us these powers, I warped... somewhere. A nightmare." I remembered seeing Vera's half-scorched face. The sheer horror of it all. I remembered feeling my very mind and soul, crumbling into pieces. "I lost everything, Haru." I spoke in a near-whisper. "Who I was, what I had done, my very name. Whatever I had gone through that day... it had shattered me. And I was lucky enough to be saved by an old woman who found me in the countryside of Taki no Kuni. She took me in, and I became a part of her family for the past year and a half. Clueless as to what I was leaving behind... until a week ago."

Silence followed that statement, my eyes betraying the deep thought that I was lost in, as they stared at a rack of neatly assorted whiskeys nearby.

[luneth]

The cast of my curious lineaments maintained their lock on Atlas in the meditative lapse pursuing my almost interrogative question, searching the exposed half of his masked visage for any indication as to the tone in which his account was to be expressed. With wholly sobered eyes latched unmoving to some topic of matter in the distance, it was evident that he sat profoundly deep in thought. One could only wonder what exactly plagued his conscious – what lie obscured in front of my question, which had been the assumed cause of his pensive change in mood.

At the current, it was the sole occupant of equally my care and concern, troubling me in a way that wholly consumed my conscious. It was therefore that, as his first uttered syllable probed the air, so too did my mind utterly probe it, analyzing his statements fragment by fragment in a way that could not only allow for comprehension of the abstruse explanation I was certain he intended to present, but as well in a manner that bred empathy.

Attentive, it was no surprise that he'd been chosen as one of the leading shinobi in such an assignment, one that ordered but a select few to take arms against the Four-Tails; I was alarmed, however, to hear that foreigners hailing from the Land of Whirlpools had come, supposedly with unheard of power and items that proved too much for even a Bijū. Recalling my studies in the fields of both our land's history and its geography, I couldn't remember anything consequential pertaining to Uzu no Kuni, outside of perhaps its mere existence entire era's before I'd been even conceived. It was puzzling, though accepted nonetheless as my focus lie on Atlas.

The segment of his talk that followed evoked thoughts of my former liege, Eiichiro, and his own recollections of the events in Kusa. There had been several conversations held on them upon his return, though each time his explanation had been muddled by an almost masterfully obfuscated memory, which, thanks to what had been voiced thus far by Atlas, I could now pin on whoever still inhabited this mystified land of Uzu.

It would seem that the Nidaime too had been stricken by this loss of memory, and with word that he'd only recently regained his, among the display of a leeching flame, his presence here was beginning to make sense – still, unfortunately, much wonder yet remained.

His tale hadn't ended, however, and duly I sustained my conscientious process, hoping his last words could bring to light the curiosities that lingered. They did so no more as I took to the perspective conferred in his conclusion. It was saddening, to envision my own mind barred from its past, forced to live unknowing of my purpose, loved ones, my name. He had lost himself, over a years worth of time, and had been unwittingly deemed dead by those who cherished him the most. Viewing such things, I felt sympathy, yet happiness as well – I knew now that my father was truthfully here, that he hadn't passed, but was instead alive and well.

As he ended, my gaze drifted slowly in my own pondering, gliding from his face and down toward the table, time passing in silence as I sifted several times through his story, contemplating it and as well what his renewed existence meant for myself, for the Hidden Cloud even. The question was the source of a new-found curiosity; Atlas was beginning to remember who he was and his bonds of the past – I only wondered what that meant for us, and as well what his new intentions were, re-emerged from death.

“It's hard to imagine.. but, if this isn't me losing it.. I am happy to have you back.. more than happy,” I spoke calmly, breaking the silence, though my contemplative demeanor betrayed such words.

“What are your plans, now? Will you return.. to Kumogakure?”

My featureless sclera then turned to meet his, the poised glare displaying, had my question not, that I believed him, and that my care was whole-hearted – no matter the intense disarray of emotion that continued to swim through me, provoked as I met again his kind, long-familiar eyes.

[Estilo]

Hearing him speak again, a tone of voice I'd grown all too accustomed to over the years, snapped me out of it. I turned to him, a small smile crossing my features, my attention diverted away from my own thoughts as I listened to his words. He was the wisest kid I knew, but I admired him more for his heart, than anything else. "I'm happy to be back." I spoke, landing a single gloved hand reassuringly on his shoulder. "I'm happy to see you again." My statements were filled with sincerity, my one-eyed gaze brimming with the warmth that came with reuniting with one's own child. 

Though adopted, Haru had always been what I would call the "ideal son". Self-reliant, with a strong sense of morality... he was what I imagined Sam being at this age. But I put that notion aside, for Sam's memory was far too fresh within my mind to bear, a mental wound that had opened that fateful day in Hanasho. Giving his shoulder a firm, assuring, squeeze, I'd let go as he inquired after my next course of action. It was a valid question, one that I struggled to form an answer to. But not through lack of trying. No, my problem was rooted in the fact that there was too much to do, and I didn't know exactly where to start.

"I just might." I answered in a mutter, my expression heavy with indecision. But, despite my doubts and reservations about returning to Kumogakure no Sato, I was glad to see that my son still had such faith in me. There were few people I could confide in during these tumultuous times, and even fewer I could speak to. Choosing to leave behind people so close to me-- such as Yukiko, and Hirihi, and Teru-- had been a decision I had thought I could bear throughout the coming months. But I had been wrong, and I hadn't even lasted the first week without tormenting myself over the fact that I missed them completely.

To have Haru, despite the circumstances of his presence in this foreign land, was uplifting. He was, just like the three aforementioned individuals, a part of the close-knit family I had left in this world. And seeing him was, not surprisingly, therapeutic. Though, I wasn't certain the same could be said for him. After all, did he not mention the possibility that he was "losing it"? Regaining my trademark jovial mien, I'd flag down the bartender for another the drink. "So... what are you doing all the way out here, anyway?" I'd then ask, turning my half-masked countenance towards him. "Visiting a foreign love interest of yours?" I smiled, raising a single, curious, brow.

[luneth]

However pitiful it may have seemed, I was given a sense of reassurance for my own actions in the inconclusive tone of his response. Perhaps if a shinobi as esteemed as Atlas didn't plan on seeking restitution in Kumogakure, neither did I have to contemplate such things. The village's citizens, its shinobi, the creed we risked our lives attempting to uphold – if he was able to leave them behind, then I, at my lesser standing (figuratively), was more than capable of doing so, no matter the difficulty.

Nonetheless, not so surprisingly, the more knowing part of my conscious couldn't help but use these thoughts only to further prove that my place was in Kumogakure, and, gone from the bulk of my depressed and grief-stricken affectations, I no longer had a truly valid reason for keeping away – even now, I only attempted to rationalize my departure.

Beyond what I couldn't see, I guessed the unpredictable reactions of Kumogakure's varied yet majorly stone-willed populace to the return of their deceased former-Kage had played a role in his indecisiveness – a reason that I, of course, couldn't count on. I didn't need to, truthfully, as I doubted my absence had yet been recognized by anyone outside of Eiichiro's replacement, and he only because I'd been so thoughtful as to send a farewell letter. I wondered now if he still believed me, a month later – whether I'd done as I wrote and had indeed travelled away on a mission, or if it was merely a ploy to buy time, and if in fact I was long gone from the Land of Lightning – or, possibly, he believed me dead.

If so, I was in the same boat as the man beside me, albeit without the sorrow and care of the Hidden Cloud's masses, and in which case I wondered if even I'd be allowed once more into its ranks, or shunned and labeled such things as a heathen, outlaw, castaway – coward. The idea could have been enough to garner false hatred in a being of lesser consciousness, though understanding, in this case, what existed as reality, and what served only as an illusion, I couldn't bring myself to such a level.

Even should they hate me, I could only offer my love, and even should an attempt be made on my life, they were innocent, unknowing.

Much was revealed to me in the moments hereafter, pondering very similar, private thoughts, my gaze forward within our dim-lit, sparsely occupied milieu. I felt a formerly escaped sense of peace, a new peace, before my father's trademark guile met my ears in the form of a new question.

I smiled slightly, not at the events of that night, but at the discovery of a new perspective, and at my sudden triumph over a month's spanned depression. The dissatisfaction with my own effort was all that left me at unease – a small trouble, compared to that which had poisoned my psyche in the times prior – and regardless, I was finally free, unburdened, and my thoughts were, at last, clear. It was a remarkable feeling that had forced the faint upward turn of my mouth's corners, half-visible from Atlas' perspective, which forebode words voiced peacefully, yet much more grim.

“Hmph. I wish my reasons were that simple. I wish..” I trailed off, my memories depicting cloudily the night's imagery, the monsters that swarmed that midnight, it was now but a cloud, though vividly I felt my own familiar regret. My expression turned sour, unconsciously, and I turned my head slightly to Atlas, the lucid glint of a tear forming at my eye closest to him. “Eiichiro is dead.. murdered.. I was there and I.. I was...”

“I was too late.”

A single tear dropped, yet my mind found comfort in its prior field of thought, and the formation of another ceased. It was still difficult, mentioning the subject even to the man I was perhaps closest, though I forced myself to continue, an inadvertent half-whisper lulling the utterances from my mouth.

“I.. let him die..”

[Estilo]

Eiichiro is dead.

Dead.

Dead.

The word plummeted down the depths of my mind, like a hauntingly bitter echo cast into the darkness of a seemingly endless well. I heard everything Haru had said after that statement, but I wasn't listening. Eiichiro-- my student, my successor, my comrade-- dead? My mind failed to comprehend the statement at first, then struggled to even believe it. Dark green eyes widened with dead shock, my half-masked countenance mouthing muttered words I couldn't completely process. "N-No... not him."

Surfacing from the initial bewilderment, but not completely, I forced my eyes to blink, casting my stupefied gaze around me erratically. The walls, and all their shadows, seemed to be closing in on me. The laughter of bar mates on the other side of the tavern floor overlapped, and echoed, and surrounded me at all sides, sounding distant and eerie. A sense of vertigo quickly followed, forcing my hand to reach for the side of the bar's counter. "Murdered..."

My erratic stare shifted back towards Haru, looking for answers, hoping this was all just a cruel joke on his part. But the gleam of a single tear that slid down the surface of his cheek hammered the last proverbial nail into the coffin, cementing the fact that what he had said was true. I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen Haru cry. I couldn't remember much of anything now. My thoughts were too preoccupied with this disastrous news. Too muddled to think clearly.

"I'm sorry, Haru, I..." I pushed myself away from the counter, stumbling off of my stool like a drunk who had one too many. Raising a single gloved hand, I pinched the bridge between my nose and brow, eyes closing as I attempted to dispel the sudden sense of claustrophobia I felt. "I... I should have been there... I should have- I..." A few people in the lounge turned their heads, curious to see what was the matter. But by then, I'd had it. I couldn't be in this building right now. So, stumbling past the chairs and tables, I went for the exit. 

Once outside the door, I'd stop. My back turned to the door. A single hand on my hip, while the other continued to pinch the bridge between my nose and brow. I took deep, forced breaths of cold air. I kept my eyes closed. And I tried to get my thoughts together. People close to me had died before. Why was this death any different?

[Etherion]

Estilo- 60
Luneth- 50

[Estilo]

NOTIFICATION

---

In adherence to the "Double EXP Promotion" created in February 2013, I'm putting the contents of this thread forward, and therefore looking to cash in on the benefits. For the staff member who looks over this, below are two links that will answer any inquiries about the specifications of this promotion:

-- Progress!
-- Promotion Sign-Up.

That being said, I require an additional 60 EXP added to my sidebar. Thanks for the assistance!