Shinda worked alone at the low stone table, the Bonehall quiet except for the soft scrape of tools and the slow crackle of the oil lamps which lined the inner walls. Laid out before him lay twenty-three finger bones, each cleaned and etched with the proper funerary marks. They were small things on their own, easily seen as simply pale, almost fragile things. To his eyes however and the doctrine of the Kyouketsu; they felt heavy with meaning. This task was given to him specifically because of his part in the funeral ritual of the bodies to whom these bones were harvested from. This was his personal undertaking, his time to rationalize what it all had meant and would mean.
He washed his hands first, then touched each bone in order, whispering the name attached to it which was inscribed to memory. Not prayers, just acknowledgment of the twenty three lives laid out before him. Twenty three endings from the same battle, twenty three lives...gone. His fingers trembled as he drilled the smallest channels through each knuckle joint. He took his time ensuring to steady his grasp before making any movement, rushing was disrespect and patience was reverence. When one bone slipped, he stopped entirely until his breathing steadied again, his inner thoughts causing a single small tear to form alone his eyelid. Shigure’s voice echoed in his memory as his gaze looked over the row of bones again: "If your hands shake, your heart is speaking. Listen before you continue."
Four tears had fallen upon the table, each bearing a name..
Thread by thread, he wove chakra-treated thread through the bones after having completed the task of boring small holes through each center. His fingers worked to ensure spacing between each bone was evenly positioned so none overshadowed another. No bone was placed above the rest as there were no differences. In death, they were equal...they were remembered, they were mourned. As the bracelet began to take shape, Shinda felt something shift inside him as the hours passed. The weight he’d been carrying since the ritual didn’t vanish after all, it had settled and tried to take root. The bones clicked softly together when he lifted the finished piece, a quiet sound like wind through stone.
Seventeen tears found themselves free of his eyes, each bearing a face
He fastened the bracelet around his wrist. It was cool against his skin, it's form solid. A reminder of how many lives could be lost in a single day, and how carefully he would have to live to make sure their deaths were never wasted.The twenty three finger bones clicking softly when he moved, the sound followed him constant, impossible to ignore. He turned his arm slowly, watching the lamplight slide across the polished bone as each piece felt different now that it was bound together. Not separate remains strewn neatly upon a table, not simple tools. Shinda exhaled and lowered his arm as from that moment on, the bracelet was no longer a craft or a lesson to learn from. It was a vow bound around his wrist that became a promise that the dead would not fade quietly, and that he would carry their memory forward.
Twenty three tears lay in the shadows of a step, droplets hitting the floor, each bore a purpose
[WC: 553]
Mission without a Moderator
He washed his hands first, then touched each bone in order, whispering the name attached to it which was inscribed to memory. Not prayers, just acknowledgment of the twenty three lives laid out before him. Twenty three endings from the same battle, twenty three lives...gone. His fingers trembled as he drilled the smallest channels through each knuckle joint. He took his time ensuring to steady his grasp before making any movement, rushing was disrespect and patience was reverence. When one bone slipped, he stopped entirely until his breathing steadied again, his inner thoughts causing a single small tear to form alone his eyelid. Shigure’s voice echoed in his memory as his gaze looked over the row of bones again: "If your hands shake, your heart is speaking. Listen before you continue."
Four tears had fallen upon the table, each bearing a name..
Thread by thread, he wove chakra-treated thread through the bones after having completed the task of boring small holes through each center. His fingers worked to ensure spacing between each bone was evenly positioned so none overshadowed another. No bone was placed above the rest as there were no differences. In death, they were equal...they were remembered, they were mourned. As the bracelet began to take shape, Shinda felt something shift inside him as the hours passed. The weight he’d been carrying since the ritual didn’t vanish after all, it had settled and tried to take root. The bones clicked softly together when he lifted the finished piece, a quiet sound like wind through stone.
Seventeen tears found themselves free of his eyes, each bearing a face
He fastened the bracelet around his wrist. It was cool against his skin, it's form solid. A reminder of how many lives could be lost in a single day, and how carefully he would have to live to make sure their deaths were never wasted.The twenty three finger bones clicking softly when he moved, the sound followed him constant, impossible to ignore. He turned his arm slowly, watching the lamplight slide across the polished bone as each piece felt different now that it was bound together. Not separate remains strewn neatly upon a table, not simple tools. Shinda exhaled and lowered his arm as from that moment on, the bracelet was no longer a craft or a lesson to learn from. It was a vow bound around his wrist that became a promise that the dead would not fade quietly, and that he would carry their memory forward.
Twenty three tears lay in the shadows of a step, droplets hitting the floor, each bore a purpose
[WC: 553]
Mission without a Moderator
- E-Rank: 5000 Yen
- E-Rank: 250 Words