Memorial Service * bliss

Two Scales, Kudan Moku, passed away in April.

It was a Sunday afternoon, after a battle. The ground was a mess, and even the wind had stopped.

The meaning of life is a subject of much debate.

Some say it should be judged by the living, some believe it can be judged by faith, some say it should be measured by love, and others say life is inherently meaningless.

As for me?

I believe you can use people related to you as a benchmark for yourself.

And I can tell you clearly that by any standard, Kudanmu's last days on earth... were more exciting than most people's lifetimes.

I know that at the moment he passed away, his eyes closed, but his heart remained open.①

On the day of the Memorial Service, the Konoha Special Administrative Region held a memorial service at the Dueling Arena at 10:00 AM.

Daimyo Yuan Yusheng and his wife, Wakako, dressed in formal black attire, arrived at the event accompanied by Envoys from Four Nations.

Hokage Hashirama Senju Madara Uchiha, Tobirama Senju, and important figures from various villages and clans all attended the event dressed in dark-colored robes.

White Banners hung low on both sides of the altar in the Dueling Arena, and plain silk was laid on the ground. The portraits and wooden plaques of the sixteen victims hung silently on them.

The audience was packed with Konoha and Delegations from various countries; even the seriously injured were helped to the scene. The entire hall was silent.

The Memorial Service began with all attendees observing three minutes of silence to mourn all the soldiers who sacrificed their lives in the battle against Isshiki.

During the memorial service, all meetings, activities, and reconstruction projects in Konoha were suspended.

After a moment of silence, Hashirama Senju rose and walked toward the altar.

He stood before the altar, his gaze sweeping over the people below, some with solemn expressions, others with bandages wrapped around their necks.

Hashirama took a deep breath and spoke.

"Though we are all born into this world, we will all one day return to the heavens. But this is the first time I have stood here as Hokage to deliver a eulogy for these sixteen warriors and express my deepest sorrow."

His gaze slowly swept across every face in the audience, landing on Kasuga's parents, on Asari's cousin, and on the Akimichi Clan woman holding her child.

"These sixteen warriors come from various clans in our Konoha."

"During their lifetimes, they made tremendous contributions to the development of Konoha, and they also displayed extraordinary bravery in their battle against Isshiki."

"Faced with an enemy that even Ban and I could barely hold off, they did not retreat. Instead, they charged forward, using their own bodies to buy time for their comrades and using their last bit of strength to create an opportunity for us to win."

"They are the pioneers of this era. Like everyone standing here, they believe Konoha can become better, and that Ninjas can no longer be mere weapons of war. For this, they are willing to give everything, including their own lives."

Hashirama paused slightly at this point.

"Madara Uchiha, Tobirama Senju, and I fought Isshiki from beginning to end. No one knows better than us how terrifying Isshiki is."

"But even facing such a monster, these sixteen warriors were willing to sacrifice themselves to buy even a second more time. Their will and spirit deeply moved me. It was because of them that we had the chance to turn the tide and win this seemingly impossible battle."

Yuan Yusheng stood at the very front of the viewing area. Listening to Hashirama's words, and seeing someone who didn't even understand what Memorial Service was just a few days ago now standing before the altar with red eyes, speaking these heartfelt words, he felt a pang of sadness.

He couldn't help but think that it wasn't that they didn't understand, but rather that no one had ever told them why they were doing this. Even though Hashirama Senju's speech was a memorized script, the fact that he could say it in such a tearful tone proved his feelings.

They, the Ninjas... seemed to have never imagined that they had been waiting for such an opportunity to mourn their family and friends.

He glanced at Wakako beside him. Wakako's eyes were also slightly red, but she stood very straight, her hands clasped together in front of her, her knuckles tightly interlocked.

Hashirama slightly raised his head, his gaze passing over the crowd below the stage and looking towards the clear blue sky above the Dueling Arena.

"But at this very moment when a new era is just beginning, they have so suddenly passed away, gone to the Yomi. It is truly... heartbreaking."

At this point, an overwhelming grief welled up in his throat, causing him to pause for a moment.

At that moment, someone in the audience burst into tears, only to be quickly swallowed up by the silence of the rest of the audience.

Hashirama a deep breath, looked back at the audience, and continued speaking.

"As Hokage, I, Hashirama Senju, pay my respects to these sixteen warriors. I pray for their peace and a safe journey to the Yomi."

He put down his manuscript and bowed deeply towards the altar.

Everyone in the audience lowered their heads at the same time.

After the Hashirama were straightened up, the family members of the sixteen victims walked to the altar in order, lit incense sticks in front of their loved ones' portraits, inserted them into the incense burner, and clasped their hands in prayer.

Hyuga Takayuki helped his wife, his hands trembling as he placed the incense sticks into the incense burner, but his expression remained calm.

After offering incense, Senju Asari's cousin stood silently for a long time.

The Akimichi Clan woman held the child, whose little hands clumsily imitated her mother's gesture of clasping together. She was too young to understand what she was doing, but seeing her mother's tears, she quietly lowered her eyes as well.

Hashirama looked at them, remaining silent.

Tobirama stood beside him, his eyes reflecting the wisps of smoke rising from the altar.

Madara stood on the other side of the Hashirama, silently watching all of this.

A segment for family members to speak was arranged during the memorial service, following the offering of flowers.

Rokuhiko had communicated with each of them beforehand, saying that there was no need for lengthy speeches; they could say what they wanted to say, or not say what they didn't want to say.

But none of the families of the sixteen victims refused; they all expressed their willingness to go on stage.

They probably felt this was the last chance they could do something for their family and friends; if they gave up even this opportunity, they would truly have nothing left.

But when it came time to take the stage, most of them didn't know what to say.

An elderly woman from a Yamanaka Clan, helped by her daughter-in-law, walked onto the stage. Standing before the altar, she hesitated for a long time, only managing to utter, "He was a good child. Thank you all for remembering him."

Then she couldn't say anything more. She stood on the stage for a moment, bowed, and was helped off by her daughter-in-law.

A middle-aged man from the Shimura Clan stepped forward; he was the father of the youngest of the victims.

He gripped the edge of the altar, his knuckles white, opened his mouth several times, and finally said, "My son is very brave," his voice hoarse like sandpaper scraping against stone, before hurriedly stepping off the platform.

The young wife of the Akimichi Clan carried her child onto the stage. The child squirmed restlessly in her arms. She gently patted the child's back and said to the altar, "I will raise him, don't worry." After saying this, she cried.

She covered her mouth and quickly walked off the stage. The child was affected by her emotions and burst into tears. The sound of her crying echoed in the quiet Dueling Arena for a long time.

The scene was deserted.

The people below the stage stood silently; no one urged them on, and no one showed any impatience.

They simply waited quietly, waiting for each person who went on stage to finish saying what they could and swallow back what they couldn't say.

The Ninjas were incredibly restrained in their emotions; the Warring States Period taught them how to Jonin pain and fear on the battlefield.

It also taught them how to Jonin their tears at a funeral.

No one would speak their mind in a place like this, not because they don't want to, but because they simply can't express it.

Izuna stood below the stage, watching this scene with a slight frown.

He turned to Tobirama beside him and said in a low voice, "Could we move the closing ceremony forward? In this atmosphere, if we let them go up one after another and not be able to speak, it will only make the wound hurt more."

Tobirama was silent for two seconds, then nodded and turned to give Rokuhiko a few instructions.

Rokuhiko quickly walked to the side of the altar and quietly explained to the family members who were still waiting in line.

The family members had no objections; they simply returned to the queue silently.

They thought the Memorial Service was about to end.

Some people have been standing below the stage for almost an hour since the moment of silence began, and their legs are starting to ache.

Some people are thinking that while commemorating the dead is important, why does it have to take so long?

It wasn't that they disrespected the dead; it was just that the Warring States Period taught them to bury the dead quickly.

The ashes were collected, and the mission continued. The living did not have the luxury of spending an entire morning standing in silence.

Just then, Izuna went on stage.

Instead of wearing his usual dark blue Clan Attire, he changed into a plain-colored long robe with wider sleeves and a hem that was slightly gathered at his ankles.

He nodded to the band below the stage.

(Music: bliss)

Senju Hideki gently tapped the drumhead three times.

Then... the melodious tune of the Shakuhachi joined in.

The long, clear, and cool tone was like the first ray of light to appear in a valley, instantly captivating everyone's ears.

Then the Biwa's tremolo followed, the Shamisen's bass line laid the groundwork, and the taiko gently lifted the strings at the end of each measure, steadily setting up the entire piece.

The audience listened quietly during the intro, but the silence changed when Izuna sang the first line.

[The name I will protect]

[That gentle voice calling my name]

[So that you won't close your eyes alone in loneliness]

[I gently pull you into my arms]

It felt as if something was gently pressing against their chests, and everyone involuntarily held their breath.

Music is a wonderful thing. It travels farther than race and language, is more expansive than the grandeur of nature, and lasts longer than the scale of time.

We can't see all the snow in a person's lifetime, but music can.

It can express emotions that cannot be spoken, those feelings of sadness, hope, reluctance, and blessing—feelings that only music can convey.

Hashirama stood below the platform, watching Izuna slowly raise his arm before the altar and brandish the sword in his hand.

Those hands were so soft.

Let us hold hands so that we may never forget.

The chorus arrives after a light drumbeat.

Izuna's voice and dance rose in tandem, and a suffocating feeling, like inhaling the cold air of a high mountain, filled everyone's chest along with the lyrics.

[As dawn breaks, the flowers will bloom--]

But Izuna knew that the Accompaniment in the chorus of this song was still too weak.

No matter how hard the Shamisen and Biwa tried, they couldn't support the Yamato that the entire symphony orchestra in his mind could create.

His fears were about to come true: at the climax of the chorus, the Accompaniment would collapse, and his solo would be like a bird that had lost its updraft, unable to fly to the height it should reach no matter how hard it flapped its wings.

At that very moment, as he waved his arm, a golden light emanated from his body.

It wasn't the kind of light that's glaring and makes you want to raise your hand to shield your eyes; it was the warm, golden light of the first rays of sunlight in the morning filtering through the window paper.

It carried warmth, but also a slight chill.

Wherever the golden light touched, the air seemed to soften.

Then people heard sounds they had never heard before.

The piano keys were pressed in a practice room that didn't exist in this time and space, the cello's deep resonance came from the ground, the tuba started playing, and the sound of an entire orchestra poured out from the golden light, overlapping with the few shabby instruments on the stage, lifting the chorus of the song to the height it should have reached.

I think I will come back to you.

[Break through the waves, dispel the darkness--]

[The dream was as clear and bright as when we first met.]

[Continuing on that endless, azure road--]

The turbulent background music, combined with Izuna's restrained yet firm vocals, directly struck the softest part of everyone's heart.

The Ninjas below the stage no longer suppressed their emotions; they lowered their heads, their shoulders trembled, and their hands clenched and unclenched in their sleeves.

The Foreign Ninjas standing in the Delegation area remained silent. Some pressed their hands to their chests, while others looked up at the sky, as if they had seen a familiar face in the golden light.

The mother stood there in the Kasuga, tears streaming silently down her face, leaving a small, dark stain on her clothes.

Takayuki supported her, tears streaming down his face.

The sky was quietly tinged with golden light, and the surrounding bouquets swayed gently.

Tobirama suddenly noticed this change.

The golden light was like the rainbow light that emanated from that battlefield, but gentler and more silent.

What does Izuna want to do?