Tales of a Ninja Magician: Of Games of Body and Soul

Past Reflections

Mere minutes after the nightmare ended and a friendly rustling of the nature inside and around the village took over the eerie silence the villagers began gathering to find out just what sort of tragedy befell the district of the Ninja Academy. The more the fleshy taint drew back to its source and liquefied, the bolder their approach. Preceding them was a squad of chuunin and four more jounin making it a momentous occasion – all eight of the active jounin were present in one place.

"What a horrible tragedy..." Someone in the crowd of the crying and grieving villagers cried out. There were plenty voices seconding that notion amongst the people.

"These were no weakling children. They were ninja-in-training, being taught to be ready to sacrifice their lives for their village." Kusagoro replied with a hint of coldness towards the villager but his expression was full of sadness as well. It was just one of his own signature style of sadness. Much more preserved. If this man ever shed tears, he did so in silence and in extreme moderation.

Mana glared at Kiyomi's direction. While the rest of the jounin and chuunin were managing the zone of the event, the magician slowly approached the seemingly unconscious friend of hers. She looked so tranquil. Now that the contamination that had taken her over ceased, Mana had no reservations about feeling her comrade's chakra and it was still slowly rustling in her chest.

She did not fail her friend completely. Regardless, the last words Mana said on the matter and the difficult call she made continued to boil in the magician's chest. It was at times like this that the girl felt glad that her friend was sleeping peacefully since she'd be too ashamed to look Kiyomi in the eyes if she was awake.

Back where the wall of ninja held the civilians at bay, the injured were getting treatment, and Shibari's body was being concealed and being looked at by Shinigami and Sin-Eaters to remove any unforeseen traps or complications after her unusual cause of death, Kusagoro approached Dorimi and pressed his hand against his shoulder.

"I feel bad for your loss." Kusagoro sighed. There was none of the anger and superiority or the aggression that the Jugo showed his punier colleague before or even a hint of the bully-victim relationship these two displayed earlier. Loss seemed to unite people like nothing else.

Dorimi just sighed. The platform of dirt he had created before using his unique battlefield morphing abilities and techniques crumbled to dry dirt. The man sat down on a piece of rubble, unzipped his flak jacket and rubbed the back of his neck with nervousness reeking from his movements.

"Were you two... You know?" The Jugo wondered.

"No, we were just close friends. Every achievement we have reached we have done together. We were each other's link with who we were. No challenge seemed too great because at any time we could look at each other and see someone just like the other walking with them right by their side." Dorimi replied. He smiled as his eyes closed and his memory wandered back to the times before.

"I lost my closest friends pretty recently too... Unlike your case, it was sort of my fault."

"Oh, that's not a very healthy thing to..."

"Can it. They left with me because of my wish to entertain myself. To look back before there were so many leashes and chains. They died out there while they were with me." Kusagoro interrupted his grieving colleague.

"I still think you really shouldn't blame yourself for that. That kind of thing just isn't healthy, Kusagoro." Dorimi shrugged while he rubbed his tired and beaten face with his hands. His hands were still shaking as an aftereffect of the horrors he had seen and felt inside that dreaded building.

"I've gone far past just blaming myself. I decided that all I could do was to carry on and do right by those memories. I feel bad for the loss of your friend, I really do, but one thing I won't let you do is just sit still and keep facing back while every obstacle ahead is bumping into your exposed back. You hear me?" The man spoke with a certain calm that felt both ominous and assuring at the same time.