pray for them

[Daishi Akane]

Her pale eyes wondered over the many names on the grave so many fallen ninja. The wind danced with the leaves of the lush trees above. Blond strands waved in front of her face, taunting the young pre-teen to put them back in their place only to annoy her again when the wind would blow hard again. So she let the pieces of hair whip her face. She just didn’t feel like doing anything. It was one of those peaceful times the Genin had without her medication when no one is around, so she could have her arbitrary thoughts to herself. Training with either her team to be more compatible with one another, or with Kisho to make, or repair a weapon. It was a lucky day not to have anything to do, but look at the names of those who have fallen, who have been killed in action.

Akane’s grip on her covered knees tightens before rocking back on to her heels. People have told her that she looks like a troublemaker, a punk, but she knew she wasn’t. Deep inside of her, the odd child was a monster. A horrible monster that wants, that adores, that thrives on the pain of others. Would could anyone call her punk if they knew what she thought about killing? The short child was ashamed of what she believed deep down in her soul. It was just sick that she thought that way.

She grabbed a hold on the longest stand of golden hair before tilting her head to her left shoulder. Her thoughts whipped to another thought that she had not thought of for a long
time. Akane still can not understand why people morn for those who have lost their lives. It is a depressing thing to lose a loved one, but you really love them, and lived out your love with one another, how can one be depress about it? The old saying goes, ’It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all’… or something like that. If the pre-teen could remember anything about her family, Akane believed that her family loved her very much. In all reality, her family was looking for her right now, and here she was; staring at a bunch of names that mean nothing to her because she doesn’t know anyone.

With some caution, Akane stretched out her gloved towards the marble monument. The stone was cool and smooth to her touch as she thought it would. Slowly, the recently graduated Genin traced over the visible names. The names were sandpaper under her callused finger, rough and uncomfortable to feel, but it was what she would expect. The names where suppose to last forever, just like the memory of the person whose name is inscribed in the stone before her. A sigh escaped her thin lips before shaking her gold hair out of her vision. Akane didn’t pity the dead. No, she was envious of the dead for they are more loved by their families lifeless than they are alive.

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