When The Dead Arise

Chapter 19

I walked down the halls soundlessly. With several years of training I could now walk without making a sound, not even trying either. Of course, no one stirred inside their rooms. The usual guards were watching me, no doubt from the ceilings or the walls. I didn't mind them.

Pretty soon they'd realize why I was out and leave me alone. They always give me space during this time. If only they knew. It's what everyone does. Whenever I'm in a "sad" sort of mood they'll step aside and give me space. I know they mean me no harm in doing so, but they don't realize that it hurts more.

While most people like space and air, I like comfort. I like having physical contact from someone, a friend or a master. Someone to be beside me and comfort me when I'm down like this. A gentle pat on the back or an embrace.

Of course, no one knows this. I don't bother to say anything. Us ninjas aren't that touchy. Even if I did open my mouth and say something they won't change their actions. It hurts a little, and it hurts more when I remember why.

We were kids, but the bond felt real. Even at such a young age I felt this connection with him. He was that one strange ninja out of all of us. That one sore thumb among us. He didn't know how to act like a proper ninja. Sure, he could fight, and sneak, and remain quiet when told to. But once let free he would laugh, play, and simply hug.

It's not that we couldn't have fun as kids. No, they made everything seem like a game when training. A game of hide and seek or a game of silent capture the flag. However, when we were set loose we simply continued to train, thinking that it was fun. He was different.

He would run into the trees and play with dirt and mud, returning home the color of dung. His favorite was to go to the springs and jump in as loudly as he could, and the messiest he possibly could too. Before his powerful lungs opened and released a long shout into the air.

I was special too. Special enough to talk to him that is. I don't remember what had caused it in all honesty. Maybe it was curiosity, or simply stupidity. Yet, I talked to him. And being the only person who willingly talked to that strange boy with dimples I became his friend. Or, "The best person in the world" as he liked to say it.

Walking down these halls at midnight felt light a dream. With that silver moonlight shifting inside I felt as if a new side of me had been ignited. That one side that I keep hidden. That one side he had tortured and lured of out me to show him. I showed it to him and only him.

I gazed at the moon once again and barely felt the tear slide down my face. It was just like this. The moon looked this way that same night. When so much had happened all at once. That one day where everything went downhill. I was so small, so simple minded.

That night that he threw a fit. Still, after so many years, no one knows why. He had broken out of his room and stomped down the halls as he ran. I remember opening my door and looking out, just in time for his fist to meet my face. I touched my cheek as I relived the memory.

"Come back here!" The master yelled down the hall at him.

"No!" He wailed over his shoulder, "I won't go!" He turned his head back around, lifting his sleeve to his eyes. I felt the punch hit my face with ease, a swiftness that cannot be defined. I crumpled to the wooden floor and grabbed my face.

It stung, and my jaw felt out of place yet I knew it was fine. I felt my short cut hair tickle my eyebrows and I gazed out to him. I saw him right before he rounded a corner, out of my sight.

The master crouched before me, "That little runt! You, get her to the medical. You! Come with me!" The master had been before me for less than ten seconds before jumping up to his feet and being followed by a number of soldiers.