Dead Man's Dragon.
Feb 15, 2013 23:02:45 GMT -8
Post by luneth on Feb 15, 2013 23:02:45 GMT -8
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..”