Funeral

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

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

His mother patted his small head. "Slow down, don't trip."

A flicker of panic was hidden in the depths of the woman's eyes—the worry of a mother.

Shinno was five years old this year, and he had idolized his brother since he was small.

There was no figure of a father in his memories; the tall image in his heart had always been the back of his brother.

The three-colored dango handed to him, a wooden kunai, the mornings spent guiding his training.

Scene after scene filled the entirety of Shinno Ishikawa's memories.

"Welcome home, heroes..."

As the convoy entered the gates of Konoha, the villagers on both sides of the road immediately erupted into cheers like a tidal wave.

Shinno tugged his mother along, managing to squeeze to the front, and the little boy raised his hand to join the welcoming crowd.

The walking ninjas raised their heads, and even the severely wounded on the carts struggled to sit up.

Looking at the cheering faces and the eyes filled with adoration and joy, the ninjas in the convoy were deeply moved.

Their pain transformed into strength, and a sense of responsibility sprouted in their hearts, making them feel that this was the meaning of their struggle.

The more emotional ones shed tears, feeling their ninja careers had been without regret.

From the moment the convoy entered the city, Shinno's mother's gaze had been searching the ranks for the face she worried about day and night.

As time passed, she grew increasingly panicked, her fingers gripping her lapels turning white.

When her gaze swept over the very last person, her heart plummeted into an abyss.

She opened her mouth, but the air refused to enter.

"The Hokage is here."

Wearing his exclusive Hokage haori, Hiruzen Sarutobi stood in the middle of the road, appearing in person to welcome them.

Behind him followed two advisors; the three represented the highest administrative core of Konoha.

The convoy stopped before the Hokage, and every ninja capable of standing bowed in salute.

"Greetings, Lord Hokage!"

The cheers receded, and everyone's gaze focused on that Hokage robe.

The space suddenly fell silent.

"You are heroes!"

The Hokage's voice was steady, naturally carrying the majesty of one in a high position.

Just standing there, he gave off a sense of being as immovable as a mountain and as deep as an abyss.

The word "heroes" reached the ears of everyone present clearly, and the hearts of the ninjas in the ranks gave a fierce thud.

The Hokage continued:

"You used your flesh and blood to block the invaders' blades, bringing a stable life to your loved ones in the rear. Therefore, you are heroes!"

The ninjas on the scene clenched their fists even tighter.

He said, "It is you again, disregarding your own lives, sacrificing yourselves for righteousness to bring peace to the village. Therefore, you are heroes!"

The watching villagers were filled with excitement, their burning emotions churning in their chests.

"And it is you, holding great ideals, using your actions to practice the Will of Fire for the younger generation: where the leaves dance, the fire also burns on."

He paused for a moment.

"Who dares to say you are not heroes!"

After these three sentences, the atmosphere stalled for less than half a second, and then—the cheers pierced the heavens.

"Heroes! Heroes! Heroes!"

The crowd's emotions were pushed to the peak, their faces flushed red as they shouted until their voices were hoarse.

Meanwhile, the ninjas on the scene, holding back tears, recited in unison: Where the leaves dance, the fire also burns on.

Mo Jingxian mingled in the ranks, feeling a sense of disconnect, as if he didn't quite belong.

The lines recited by the ninjas around him seemed to take on a different flavor in his ears, subconsciously reminding him of maxims he had heard before.

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

In his peripheral vision, Hayama Shirakumo and Tekuno sat on a cart, supporting each other as they waved their arms and shouted.

Judging by their spirit, if they were asked to get up and cut down a few Suna ninjas right now, they probably wouldn't even frown.

Impressive.

He had to admit, the Hokage was truly impressive.

In three sentences, he had not only wiped away all dissenting thoughts but had also, in the blink of an eye, harvested a new batch of successors to the Will of Fire.

Mo Jingxian stole a glance at Ayako Hyuuga, and she happened to be looking at him as well.

Their gazes collided in the air, and both read the trepidation in the other's heart.

The Hokage waved his hand, and the waves of sound gradually subsided.

"Today, this old man will not delay your reunions with your families. The day after tomorrow at nine, we will hold a unified burial for our fallen heroes—may their spirits live forever!"

"May their spirits live forever!"

As the gathered villagers dispersed, a little boy looked up and asked his mother, "Mom, why are you crying?"

Mo Jingxian returned to his own home.

Opening the door, a sense of unfamiliarity welled up in his heart.

After a moment of reflection, he smiled helplessly.

It made sense; he hadn't lived in this house for more than a few days before he was sent to the front lines.

It was only natural to feel like a stranger.

Having been devoid of life for several months, the room was covered in a thick layer of dust.

An hour later, he had finished cleaning the house, and the sweat he worked up actually made him feel a sense of relief.

The first night back in Konoha, he slept very soundly.

The next morning, he was awakened by a knock at the door.

"Creak." Mo Jingxian pulled the door open to find Ayako Hyuuga standing outside. "So early."

"It's not early." Ayako Hyuuga held up the breakfast she had brought. "Hungry?"

He turned to enter the house, and Ayako followed, closing the door behind her.

She laid out the breakfast item by item, and by the time Mo Jingxian finished washing up, the meal was ready.

"I didn't expect you to have such a virtuous side."

As he spoke, he sat down at the table and began to devour the food like a whirlwind.

Ayako Hyuuga didn't mind his nonsense and watched him eat in silence.

"Let's go." Mo Jingxian wiped his mouth and stood up, and the two of them went out together.

Neither said where they were going, and they remained silent throughout the journey.

In a civilian district of Konoha, a few children were playing ninja games by the roadside.

In front of a doorway on the east side of the district, Mo Jingxian raised his hand and knocked twice.

He waited for a moment.

The door opened.

"Who are you looking for?" The little boy held the doorknob, looking up with a hint of wariness in his eyes.

"Your name is Shinno Ishikawa, right?"

"How do you know my name?"

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

The boy's eyes widened. "Who are you?"

"We are your brother's friends. Aren't you going to welcome us?"

"Of course I am." The boy's eyes lit up, and he ran back into the house like a gust of wind. "Mom! Mom! My brother's friends are here!"

The faint smile faded, and Mo Jingxian suddenly felt a sense of dread.

"Let's go in." Ayako Hyuuga spoke softly.

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

The house was somewhat old, and the courtyard was cramped, with only a single cherry blossom tree planted inside.

The wind chime hanging at the corner of the house occasionally emitted a crisp sound.

The two entered the room, where Shinju Ishikawa's mother had been waiting for a long time.

She had combed her hair very neatly, and though her kimono was a style from ten years ago, it had been well preserved.

She knelt on the tatami mat with a square table in front of her, the tea already poured.

"I've troubled you both. My home is humble, so please have a cup of tea first."

Shinju's mother was a standard housewife; it was clear she wasn't very familiar with these formalities, but she was trying her best to maintain a final shred of dignity.

Her eyelids were red and swollen, her lips were dry, and her gaze hid a heartbreaking sorrow.

Mo Jingxian sighed inwardly.

"Madam..." The two of them sat down on the other side of the table.

He stalled, unsure of how to open his mouth for what needed to be said next.

"The two of you should have some tea first." Shinju Ishikawa's mother pushed the teacups forward, then looked back at Shinju's younger brother: "Shinno, go out and play for a while."

"Oh." The little boy went out, looking reluctant.

Mo Jingxian lifted his teacup and took a sip; the glaze on the rim had flaked off, revealing a white ring underneath.

"Please excuse the state of things." Shinju's mother apologized softly.

Mo Jingxian sighed inwardly; the economic situation of this family was clearly not optimistic either.

"Madam, please accept my condolences." He set down the teacup and took a parcel from Ayako Hyuuga's hands.

He handed the parcel to the woman: "These are the belongings Shinju left behind. Please, keep them safe."

Inside the parcel lay the only thing Shinju Ishikawa had left behind: his forehead protector, along with the death benefits issued by Konoha.

Of course, Mo Jingxian and Ayako Hyuuga had pooled together some extra money, hoping it might be of some help to this family.

Shinju's mother's hands trembled as she took the parcel.

As she personally touched the forehead protector her son had left behind, she could almost hallucinate the lingering warmth of his body.

The child who had come from her own womb, the child who had called her "Mom" for ten years.

The mother could no longer hold it together.

A wail of grief erupted in the room: "My son!"

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

Mo Jingxian looked up at the ceiling, holding the tears back within his eye sockets.

This heart-piercing pain, facing the self-reproach of a mother who had lost her child—he truly did not want to experience this a second time.

A full hour passed before Shinju's mother managed to collect her emotions somewhat.

"Please excuse the two of you for seeing such a sight." The woman bowed deeply.

She was a great mother; even at a time like this, she was still striving to maintain a sense of dignity for Shinju Ishikawa's sake.

Mo Jingxian felt a suffocating tightness in his chest; he couldn't seem to catch his breath.

He didn't even know how he had walked out of that house; his mind was filled entirely with the image of Shinju's mother, her eyes red-rimmed, trembling as she bent her waist.

"Damn this bastard world."

The two of them left as if fleeing, but a sense of responsibility had invisibly settled onto their shoulders.

Mo Jingxian had lost all mood for anything else; he locked himself in his room and stayed there quietly for a day and a night.

The morning sun rose, and Konoha welcomed a new day in the dawn's glow.

Dressed in black, Mo Jingxian attended the collective funeral Konoha held for the fallen ninjas.

He stood by Shinju's mother's side; Shinno Ishikawa's tears fell like beads from a broken string, hitting the bluestone ground and leaving little marks.

At five years old, the little boy had experienced the parting of life and death.

The Hokage stood at the front of the crowd, followed by the Council of Elders.

Standing in the second tier were the ranks of the Konoha ninja clans, and Ayako Hyuuga was among them.

These families all held their own prestige: Hyuuga, Uchiha, Sarutobi, Nara...

Only then came the families of the ninjas who had lost their lives on the battlefield.

"Konoha is a Konoha for everyone; we shall remember those who made great sacrifices for it..."

The eulogy for the dead flowed through the solemn atmosphere.

Every face wore a look of sorrow, whether genuine or performed.

Mo Jingxian suddenly felt a wave of suffocation; he feared that one day he, too, would become like them—finishing the eulogy, then easily beginning to plan the next struggle for profit.

Three minutes of collective silence.

In the solemn stillness, a girl's questioning voice rang out abruptly: "Lord Hokage, could you please explain the 'Will of Fire' once more?"