It came with a flash; a thunder lit the sky above me shadowed only by the dark clouds in the infinite above. Rain was coming down, drowning any and all who were too close to the ground. And a man, a single man in a black cloak with pale attributes and hair to resemble it in an orderly fashion, was walking as if nothing were to matter. The sky, raging with the intensity of a god, looked down upon us, upon me and the single man who dared walk through that atmosphere at night. We were unique, and I tell you this with outmost confidence, for we were the only ones there; a terrible misfortune. At the time, I could not hope for a worse account, but it would happen, oh mark my words, with such measure he had come to that place that exact night. And as I said before, reminiscent of the rain, it came with a flash, and we were gone.
I did not feel pain or fear at the moment of my wake, for the place in which I was now encountered was dry and dreamlike. In its dryness, I found cold, miserable cold that froze my heart. I felt lonely before I was ever fully awake, in an infinite room where I was now rooted. There were no chains to bind me, no ropes to burn me, no spikes to hurt me, I could move freely, and I did. Little did I know the man was behind me, the only tainted spot in the endless white. I could not see the floor, but I could feel it beneath my shoes, I could not see a ceiling, but I knew, somehow that it was there, it had to be there, the man had taken me to a dungeon of sorts, painted white to confuse and to kill my mind before he were to even hurt me.
My next action gave me the first hint of my location. I turned to the man, whose presence was hidden like the infinity of the room; he was dressed entirely in black. As it is expected of a young shinobi, I did as I had learned, and once instructed to do in this kind of situations. Quickly I had learned the laws of the world, of this world of war that I so daringly inhabit, I was to either paint the white room red with his blood, or he would do so with mine. And so I began, I wanted to unleash hell upon him, to blow up that cursed place where I was being kept. I made the handsigns, readying my fireball, and drew my hand like a ring to my mouth, I blew and I blew, as hard as I could – but nothing came out, nothing but a cold breath.
Curse that man, I cursed him with the fate of hell. What had he done to me, where had my chakra gone, why couldn’t I feel it? Well… that – I undoubtedly found out, or else I wouldn’t be the one alive, would I?
The man didn’t move an inch, and as I fixated my eyes upon his face, cursing his very soul - it was then that I noticed. How could I have not notice before? It was a thing, a monstrous thing hidden past my memory. He was the beast that children dreamt of, crawling beneath their beds, climbing wherever they hid. Oh my cursed fate, had I been somewhere else instead of beneath the rain. The man had not a face, and it was not a mask, just a rorschach stain in the form of the devil’s grin. It was then, aided by his nightmarish appearance, that I succeeded in deciphering the second hint.
It was not over though, and it would not be over anytime soon, for I tried and tried for what seemed to be days, weeks, a month; I tried to kill him in any way known to man. I felt no hunger, no thirst, no pain, no fear, just the endless agony of not knowing. The mental pain of my situation couldn’t have been worse, I was running as fast as I could away from the figure, but just as I ran, he appeared next to me the instance I turned away to look back. Finally, after a while of trying and not succeeding, when I learned that the man would never move, I leaned down and with tears in my eyes I accepted my fate. Tears - and I feel no remorse of wasting so much. I tell you, and I do not ask you to believe my story up until now, but it was not a dream deriving from lack of sleep, it was real. This, I learned with my third and final hint.
The room appeared to become smaller in a square-like fashion, it became more compact, and the man in the black robes was getting closer to me. I could not take it anymore, the room was decreasing in size slower than before, but I knew – somehow – I knew that it was meant to be endless. It was then that my eyes finally woke up. I looked at the man, aiming at him, at his wretched face, with my vulture eyes – and I spoke, even though my voice was not heard, I spoke, and I said as I was once told, confirming my position: “Reality is but an opinion, is it not?.”
I marked my words like those in a tombstone for his soul alone, and it was over. His wretched figure started burning to ashes, he did not squeal, he did not emit a single sound, as I was hoping, but he was dying, and this – alone – I knew. I threw away my fear and replaced it with something else, something far more dangerous for the unprepared. It was a gift from my god, and with it – I could manifest my fears into others. I watched him burn to the ashes he deserved, gray yet cold like the nightmare he had put me through.
A second later, I woke up one more time, this time, in my previous dwellings. The rain yet had not ceased, but the man was no longer there, instead, at my side was a pile of grey ash.
I smiled.
I did not feel pain or fear at the moment of my wake, for the place in which I was now encountered was dry and dreamlike. In its dryness, I found cold, miserable cold that froze my heart. I felt lonely before I was ever fully awake, in an infinite room where I was now rooted. There were no chains to bind me, no ropes to burn me, no spikes to hurt me, I could move freely, and I did. Little did I know the man was behind me, the only tainted spot in the endless white. I could not see the floor, but I could feel it beneath my shoes, I could not see a ceiling, but I knew, somehow that it was there, it had to be there, the man had taken me to a dungeon of sorts, painted white to confuse and to kill my mind before he were to even hurt me.
My next action gave me the first hint of my location. I turned to the man, whose presence was hidden like the infinity of the room; he was dressed entirely in black. As it is expected of a young shinobi, I did as I had learned, and once instructed to do in this kind of situations. Quickly I had learned the laws of the world, of this world of war that I so daringly inhabit, I was to either paint the white room red with his blood, or he would do so with mine. And so I began, I wanted to unleash hell upon him, to blow up that cursed place where I was being kept. I made the handsigns, readying my fireball, and drew my hand like a ring to my mouth, I blew and I blew, as hard as I could – but nothing came out, nothing but a cold breath.
Curse that man, I cursed him with the fate of hell. What had he done to me, where had my chakra gone, why couldn’t I feel it? Well… that – I undoubtedly found out, or else I wouldn’t be the one alive, would I?
The man didn’t move an inch, and as I fixated my eyes upon his face, cursing his very soul - it was then that I noticed. How could I have not notice before? It was a thing, a monstrous thing hidden past my memory. He was the beast that children dreamt of, crawling beneath their beds, climbing wherever they hid. Oh my cursed fate, had I been somewhere else instead of beneath the rain. The man had not a face, and it was not a mask, just a rorschach stain in the form of the devil’s grin. It was then, aided by his nightmarish appearance, that I succeeded in deciphering the second hint.
It was not over though, and it would not be over anytime soon, for I tried and tried for what seemed to be days, weeks, a month; I tried to kill him in any way known to man. I felt no hunger, no thirst, no pain, no fear, just the endless agony of not knowing. The mental pain of my situation couldn’t have been worse, I was running as fast as I could away from the figure, but just as I ran, he appeared next to me the instance I turned away to look back. Finally, after a while of trying and not succeeding, when I learned that the man would never move, I leaned down and with tears in my eyes I accepted my fate. Tears - and I feel no remorse of wasting so much. I tell you, and I do not ask you to believe my story up until now, but it was not a dream deriving from lack of sleep, it was real. This, I learned with my third and final hint.
The room appeared to become smaller in a square-like fashion, it became more compact, and the man in the black robes was getting closer to me. I could not take it anymore, the room was decreasing in size slower than before, but I knew – somehow – I knew that it was meant to be endless. It was then that my eyes finally woke up. I looked at the man, aiming at him, at his wretched face, with my vulture eyes – and I spoke, even though my voice was not heard, I spoke, and I said as I was once told, confirming my position: “Reality is but an opinion, is it not?.”
I marked my words like those in a tombstone for his soul alone, and it was over. His wretched figure started burning to ashes, he did not squeal, he did not emit a single sound, as I was hoping, but he was dying, and this – alone – I knew. I threw away my fear and replaced it with something else, something far more dangerous for the unprepared. It was a gift from my god, and with it – I could manifest my fears into others. I watched him burn to the ashes he deserved, gray yet cold like the nightmare he had put me through.
A second later, I woke up one more time, this time, in my previous dwellings. The rain yet had not ceased, but the man was no longer there, instead, at my side was a pile of grey ash.
I smiled.