4: Farewell

Burning a Chrysanthemum

Awaiting for a sun that will never arise, a boy pale as a porcelain doll and dressed in all black lies sunken in the tall swaying grass. His expression is impossible to understand, for his face almost appears to be blurred as if a higher presence is blocking it from view.

Like a corpse undead, the boy rises from the place in which he rests. He scans the endless scenery around him, it's devoid of anything but the suffocating darkness of the pitch black sky and the endless plains of shadowy masses of grass. 'Am I alone here?..' the boy mutters to himself, knowing there will be no answer.

He counts his fingers out loud, making sure he's not in a dream. Before he arrives at the number four, he stops counting. Right, four is an unlucky number. He's as unlucky as it gets already, he doesn't want to ruin anything any further.

'I am Yi' he suddenly states. That must be how he keeps himself sane, by repeating and remembering his name whenever he feels it slipping away. Yi can't remember anything anymore, he feels as if his memories are drifting away like the ripped out pages of a book flowing down a river. No one calls his name, no scents to trigger any memories either.

There are a few shadowy figures here and there, but none of them could even be considered to be a presence. A gentle but foreboding gust of wind passes by, lightly shifting his black hair out of place and brushing the soft grass against his exposed skin. Yi studied the quiet vastness, gazing at the waves of tall swaying grass rolling away till they were no longer in view.

He closes his eyes for a second, imagining a bright light appearing in front of him. It's warm and welcoming, Yi almost thinks of it as someone taking care of him when he was young. The image is so convincing he almost believes it, he's left feeling a slight disappointment when he opens his eyes to the cold and dull darkness. Though there is more than he thought, for one, there's a bigger formation of darkness towering above him.

Yi tilts his head slightly while processing this situation, almost like he is trying to solve a math equation he doesn't quite understand yet. 'Who are you?' he whispers faintly, to which the void appears to shake its head. Yi allows there to be an off putting silence for a while before beginning his next question, the question he should've asked first. 'What are you?' though there is still a lack of response, the mass of shadows outstretches a hand for the boy to take.

Yi imagined a frown on his face, even in his current state he knew that he shouldn't just take the hand of a menacing entity. The being's form seemed to shrink slightly at the boy's response, even though Yi was certain his facial expressions weren't visible anymore.

It then extends two other shadowy arms to the dark haired boy's view. One arm carries three sticks of incense, the next carries a single white chrysanthemum. One stick of incense had already been lit, he holds it in front of him and takes in the homely smell of what he thinks is sandalwood.

A gust of wind blows past him, almost as if encouraging him to continue walking. As Yi hesitantly takes a step, the soft grass on the cold, hard, and dark ground moves aside to make a small path only for him. He follows this path, leisurely taking each step as the incense continues to burn.

After walking for what only feels like from school to home, his first stick burns out. Yi can feel the sensation of coldness running up from his fingers to his upper body and heart. He twinges at this feeling but dreads when he feels no more. His body goes numb, but it continues to move forward without a goal or destination. His finished stick of incense disappears into ashes, his second one ignites with a small spark.

Continuing with the vague smell of sandalwood, Yi notices the low whistles of wind cruising through the swaying grass which obeys its order. He glances down at the incense, its tip glowing dimly. His eyes follow the lazily drifting trail of smoke as his legs continue to bring him further down the path. What sounds like a cry finds its way to Yi's ears, he shuts his eyes instinctively as if hearing an adult cry when he was a young child.

When his eyes are pried open again, his breathing changes pace. His second stick of incense had stopped burning, his sense of smell departing along with the ashes of the stick. The vague scent of sandalwood slowly diffuses into the wind.

He only has one stick left. A small flame is placed on this last stick, it begins eating away at the incense. With one stick of incense in his left hand and a singular white chrysanthemum in his right, the boy involuntarily collapses to the ground. Left lying on his back, Yi's hand carrying the flower rests over his chest, the hand holding incense discarded somewhere else.

He couldn't see whether or not it was finished, but Yi was sure his last stick had ceased to burn. Identical to the light he pictured before, a warm and welcoming light appears in front of him. He feels a wave of relaxation, knowing he won't have to wander the endless expanse of dark grassy plains any longer. The comforting light envelops him till there is no more, and then all fades to a darkness even emptier than before. However, Yi did not fear, he understood that this time it would be different and restful.

The blurring of his face begins to dissolve, the picture is clearer now. Even though his features are more defined, as expected there's still no visible emotion on his face. However, there were plenty of details that stood out. Sharp and intelligent looking eyes that could pierce through your resolve at any chance they get. A mole under his left eye, making his eyes seem to sparkle with a quiet wonder. His dark and slightly overgrown bangs brushed against his eyes and cheeks as if the wind were caressing his face.

The scent of sandalwood could be smelled throughout the area. Three sticks of incense and a pleasant looking white chrysanthemum were placed beside his picture. A woman dressed in all black continues to pay her respects as she wipes away her tears attempting to clear her vision. Alone, a grieving mother weeps silently as her vision continues to fog.