The Funeral

Shinno Ishikawa tugged at his mother's hand, squeezing forward through gaps in the crowd.

"Come on, Mom! Big Brother might be in the procession."

His mother stroked his little head. "Slow down. You might fall."

A trace of panic lurked in the woman's eyes—the worry of a mother.

Shinno was five years old, and he had idolized his older brother ever since he was little.

He had no memory of his father. The towering figure in his heart had always been his brother's back.

The three-color dango held out to him, a wooden kunai, mornings spent teaching him how to train.

Scene after scene filled Shinno Ishikawa's every memory.

"Welcome home, heroes..."

As the convoy passed through the Konoha Gate, villagers on both sides of the road erupted into a roar of cheers.

Shinno pulled his mother along, and they managed to squeeze to the front. The little boy raised his hand and joined the welcoming crowd.

The walking shinobi lifted their heads. Even the gravely wounded in the vehicles struggled to sit up.

At the sight of the cheering faces and the adoring, joyful eyes, the shinobi in the convoy were overcome with emotion.

Their pain turned into strength, and a sense of duty took root in their hearts. They felt that this was what it meant to fight.

Some of the more sentimental ones even wept. They had no regrets about their lives as shinobi.

From the moment the convoy entered the village, Shinno's mother had searched the ranks for the face she thought of day and night.

As time passed, her panic grew. Her fingers clutched her collar until they began to turn white.

When her gaze swept over the last person, her heart sank into the abyss.

She opened her mouth, but no air would come.

"Lord Hokage is here."

Wearing his distinctive Hokage robes, Hiruzen Sarutobi appeared in person, standing in the middle of the road to welcome them.

Two advisers followed behind him. The three of them represented Konoha's highest administrative authority.

The convoy stopped in front of Lord Hokage. Every shinobi who could stand bowed in greeting.

"Greetings, Lord Hokage!"

The cheering died away, and everyone's gaze fixed on the Hokage robes.

The space fell abruptly silent.

"You are heroes!"

Lord Hokage's voice was steady, carrying the natural authority of a leader.

Simply standing there, he gave the impression of a mountain, unshakable and profound.

The word "heroes" rang clearly in everyone's ears. The hearts of the shinobi in the convoy gave a sudden thump.

Lord Hokage continued:

"You used your own flesh and blood to hold back the invaders' blades, bringing peace and security to your loved ones behind the lines.

That is why you are heroes!"

The shinobi present clenched their fists even tighter.

He said, "Once again, you put aside your own lives and gave yourselves for the village, bringing it peace.

That is why you are heroes!"

The watching villagers were filled with emotion, their fervent feelings churning in their chests.

"And still, you held great ideals in your hearts, and through your actions passed on the Will of Fire to those who came after you: wherever leaves dance, there too does fire burn on."

He paused.

"Who would dare say you are not heroes!"

After those three statements, the atmosphere stalled for less than half a second. Then the cheers burst through the sky.

"Heroes! Heroes! Heroes!"

The crowd's emotions reached their peak. Faces flushed red as they shouted themselves hoarse.

The shinobi present held back their tears and recited in unison, loud and clear: Wherever leaves dance, there too does fire burn on.

Mo Jingxian stood among the crowd, feeling out of place, as if he didn't belong.

The words the shinobi around him recited sounded different in his ears. He couldn't help thinking of a maxim he'd once heard.

"A raging fire burns my broken body..."

In the corner of his eye, Hayama Shirakumo and Tekuno sat in the vehicle, supporting each other as they waved their arms and shouted.

Judging by their spirits, if someone asked them to get up and chop down a few Sand shinobi right now, they probably wouldn't even furrow their brows.

Impressive.

He had to admit, Lord Hokage was truly impressive.

In just three sentences, he had not only wiped away those alien thoughts but also gained a new generation of inheritors of the Will of Fire.

Mo Jingxian glanced at Ayako Hyuuga. She happened to be looking his way.

Their gazes met, and each understood the other's unease.

Lord Hokage raised a hand, and the roar gradually subsided.

"Today, this old man won't keep you from reuniting with your families. The day after tomorrow, at nine, we'll lay our fallen heroes to rest together—may their spirits live forever!"

"May their spirits live forever!"

The villagers began to disperse. A little boy looked up at his mother and asked, "Mom, why are you crying?"

Mo Jingxian returned to his home.

He opened the door, but a sense of unfamiliarity washed over him.

After a moment, he smiled wryly.

Of course. He had barely lived in this house before leaving for the front lines.

It was only natural that it felt unfamiliar.

After months without anyone living there, a thick layer of dust had settled over the rooms.

An hour later, he had cleaned the whole house. He was sweaty, but felt surprisingly refreshed.

On his first night back in Konoha, he slept soundly.

The next morning, a knock at the door woke him.

Creak. Mo Jingxian opened the door. Ayako Hyuuga stood outside. "You're up early."

"It's not that early." Ayako held up the breakfast she'd brought. "You must be hungry."

He turned and went inside. Ayako followed him in, closing the door behind her.

She set the breakfast out on the table. By the time Mo Jingxian came back from washing up, it was ready.

"I didn't know you had a domestic side."

As he spoke, he sat down at the table and began devouring the food.

Ayako didn't react to his nonsense. She quietly watched him finish.

"Let's go." Mo Jingxian wiped his mouth and stood. The two of them left together.

Neither said where they were going. They walked in silence.

In one of Konoha's residential districts, a few children played shinobi games by the roadside.

At the entrance to a house on the eastern side of the district, Mo Jingxian raised his hand and gently knocked twice.

They waited a while.

The door opened.

"Who are you looking for?" A little boy held the door handle and looked up at them, wary.

"You're Shinno Ishikawa, right?"

"How do you know my name?"

Mo Jingxian instinctively ruffled the little boy's hair. "I also know that you have an older brother named Shinju Ishikawa."

The boy's eyes widened. "You two are...?"

"We're your brother's friends. Aren't you going to invite us in?"

"Of course I am." The boy's eyes lit up. Then he raced back into the house like a gust of wind. "Mom! Mom! Big Brother's friends are here!"

The faint smile vanished. Mo Jingxian suddenly felt afraid.

"Let's go in," Ayako said softly.

He let out a long breath and stepped over the threshold.

The house was a little old, and the courtyard was cramped, with only a single cherry tree planted in it.

A wind chime hanging at the corner of the house tinkled now and then.

When the two entered, Shinju's mother had already been waiting for them.

Her hair was neatly combed, and though her kimono was an old style from ten years ago, it had been kept in good condition.

She knelt on the tatami, with a low table in front of her. The tea on it had already been poured.

"Sorry for the trouble. Our home is humble, but please, have some tea first."

Shinju's mother was a typical housewife. She didn't seem very familiar with these formalities, but she was doing her best to maintain her last shred of dignity.

Her eyelids were swollen, her lips dry, and her gaze held a heart-wrenching sorrow.

Mo Jingxian sighed silently to himself.

"Ma'am..." The two sat down across from her.

He faltered, not knowing how to begin.

"Please have some tea first." Shinju's mother pushed the teacups toward them, then turned to look at Shinno's younger brother. "Shinno, go outside and play for a little while."

"Okay." The little boy went out reluctantly.

Mo Jingxian lifted his cup and took a sip. The glaze had worn away around the rim, leaving a white ring.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Shinju's mother apologized quietly.

Mo Jingxian sighed to himself. This family's finances weren't good, either.

"Please accept my condolences." He set down his cup and took a bundle from Ayako.

He held it out to the woman. "These are the things Shinju left behind. Please keep them safe."

Inside the bundle were the only things Shinju Ishikawa had left: his Forehead Protector and the compensation for his death provided by Konoha.

Of course, Mo Jingxian and Ayako Hyuuga had also put together some money of their own, hoping it might help the family.

Shinju's mother accepted the bundle with trembling hands.

As she touched her son's Forehead Protector, she could almost feel the warmth he had left behind.

The child who had come from her womb and called her Mom for ten years.

The mother could no longer hold back.

Heartbroken wails filled the room. "My son!"

Ayako Hyuuga sobbed, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, but they wouldn't stop.

Mo Jingxian tilted his head toward the ceiling, holding back the tears welling in his eyes.

This kind of piercing pain, this guilt of facing a mother who had lost her child—he truly didn't want to experience it a second time.

A full half hour passed before Shinju's mother managed to compose herself a little.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." The woman bowed deeply.

She was a remarkable mother. Even now, she was still trying to maintain her dignity for Shinju Ishikawa.

Mo Jingxian's chest felt so tight he could barely breathe.

He didn't even know how he made it out of that house. All he could think of was Shinju's mother, eyes red, trembling as she bent her back in a bow.

Damn this wretched world.

The two of them fled as if escaping, but a sense of responsibility had silently settled on their shoulders.

Mo Jingxian was in no mood for anything. He shut himself in his room and spent the day and night in silence.

The sun rose, and Konoha welcomed another new day in the morning light.

Dressed all in black, Mo Jingxian attended Konoha's collective funeral for the shinobi who had fallen.

He stayed by Shinju's mother's side. Shinno Ishikawa's tears fell like beads from a broken string, splashing onto the bluestone ground and leaving tiny marks.

At just five years old, the little boy had experienced a final separation by death.

Lord Hokage stood before the crowd, with the council of elders behind him.

The Konoha clans stood in the second rank, including Ayako Hyuuga.

These families each had their own renown: the Hyuuga, the Uchiha, the Sarutobi, the Nara...

Only after them came the families of the shinobi who had left their lives on the battlefield.

"Konoha belongs to everyone. We will remember those who made great sacrifices for it..."

The words of remembrance flowed through the solemn atmosphere.

Grief showed on every face, whether sincere or feigned.

Mo Jingxian suddenly felt as if he couldn't breathe. He was afraid that one day he might become just like them: finish reciting the words of remembrance, then casually start planning the next struggle over interests.

Everyone observed three minutes of silence.

In the stillness, a girl's sudden question rang out: "Lord Hokage, could you tell us once more about the 'Will of Fire'?"