Fire and blood and all that war leaves behind.
Destruction was everywhere: flames devoured what had once been a village on the edge of the Land of Fire. Once, this village had been enlivened by the cries of children playing, but now all that remained were the cries of pain and the weeping of people being slaughtered by shinobi or dying under the rubble of collapsed houses or engulfed in flames.
The air was filled with the sickening smell of burning flesh and blood. A few hours earlier, on the same night, shinobi from Iwagakure had attacked and killed over five hundred and fifty civilians. Upon learning of this, the shinobi stationed at one of the camps in Konoha rushed to the scene of the attack, but it was all in vain: when they reached the village, they found few survivors and many enemies to kill.
After a long battle, the Iwa were forced to retreat due to the larger and more powerful number of shinobi, and Konoha's forces split up, one side heading towards the enemies while the other searched the area for survivors.
"I found something" the kunoichi of Konoha, with her long black hair and eyes with no visible pupils, shouted, her gaze glued to a pile of fire-blackened rubble. The sound of her urgent voice cut through the crackling of the remaining flames and the moans of those still fighting for their lives.
He approached the pile of broken wood and stone, digging with frantic hands. Each move revealed a scene more horrifying than the last: a charred arm sticking out from under a burnt plank, a blood-soaked piece of cloth violently torn from someone's body. The kunoichi did not stop, her breath racking with tension and nausea from the unbearable stench.
Finally, after using all her strength to move a heavy beam, a small body wrapped in rags appeared beneath it. It was a baby, only a few months old, its face smeared with ash, its chest barely heaving for air. His large, tear-filled eyes stared into the void as if they had seen too much.
"He is alive!" the kunoichi shouted, her voice cracking with disbelief.
The scene was both relief and damnation. The child was no longer crying perhaps he had screamed until he was exhausted, or perhaps terror had paralysed him. His small body was stained with blood, not his own. His clothes bore the marks of larger hands, as if someone had protected him in his last desperate attempt to survive.
One of Konoha's shinobi approached and watched the child with an indecipherable expression on his face. And the parents?' he asked, even though they both knew the answer. A glance around was enough to tell next to the child, buried under another pile of rubble, were two indistinct bodies, reduced to one by combustion. One of them was still clutching a small, blackened blanket that had probably belonged to the child.
The kunoichi lifted the child into her arms and held him gently. There is nothing left for him here," she murmured, her voice almost a whisper as her eyes lingered on the ruins. There were no more houses, no more lives but that of the child. Just silence and ashes.
A few steps away from her, another shinobi bent over a body lying on the ground. We must move,' he said without looking up. If Iwa's reinforcements return, we won't have time to retreat or search for more survivors.
But as he spoke, an inhuman scream tore through the air. It was a woman, or what was left of her: her mutilated limbs lay a few feet from her, yet she still seemed conscious, her face distorted with despair and pain. She was trying to drag herself towards a smaller body, a child that showed no signs of life. The sight was unbearable, but no one moved to help her. No one could save her.
Another explosion in the distance made her jump. The battle was far from over. The war never ended. As they left, taking with them this small fragment of life, they left behind a village reduced to rubble. Just ruins, ashes and the weight of the dead.
............
(5 years later, March) (Kai)
Feeling the fresh air caress my face as I walk under the blue sky makes me feel calm like few other things. The wind caresses my skin, but there is something strange. Ever since I woke up, I've felt something strange pressing down on me, but I don't know what it is.
Five years have passed since the day I was pulled from the rubble of the destroyed village. Old Emi, who took me in at the orphanage in Konoha, told me that I was found in the rubble by a group of shinobi. They brought me here, to the village I now call home, where I lived every day as one of the many orphans seeking affection and normality.
I wonder if those who saved me are still alive, but not that it matters. Maybe they are dead, I think as I see a group of children running down the street. War is always present when I read those books that tell the story of this world and its conflicts. They taught me that life and death are just two sides of the same coin, and that one should never hope too much. If they are no longer alive, at least I no longer have to think about them.
I look around and the village is as usual: the streets are full of people coming and going, the sound of footsteps mingling with the sound of vendors shouting for attention. The sky above me is clear, but something inside me keeps swirling. Why now? Why today of all days? Is it because the academy is about to start?
I decide to carry on with the day as if nothing had happened and try not to think about it too much. I make my way to the park, trying to chase my thoughts away and maybe play a little with the others....
As I sit on the swing and let myself swing absentmindedly, a thought distracts me.
"Kai! What are you doing all alone? Come and play with us."
I looked in the direction of the voice and recognised him: it was Akira, another orphan. He smiles, but his smile is innocent, without the consciousness I sometimes see in my own eyes. He does not understand what is going on around us, inside me, he does not know that while he is running to play, people are dying like ants.
"OK, I'm coming!" I answer, trying to sound happier than I really am.
We play with the other children, chase each other, jump in the bushes. Part of me is there, part of me is still the child who has never seen war, but I cannot ignore the strange feeling that is growing inside me.
The day passes slowly, between laughter and games, but the overwhelming feeling is always there.
Late in the afternoon, as the sun begins to set and the light becomes softer, I sit on a bench near a tree. In the courtyard of the orphanage, I look at the sky and think about the time that has passed since I arrived. The strange feeling of oppression persists, as if I had a weight on my heart.
I close my eyes and try to relax. My strength slowly left me and lulled into sleep, I let myself be lulled into silence. Somehow, I managed to fall asleep there, under the clear sky that continued to ignore the world.
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Hello World and people: Can you suggest a title for this first chapter, I don't know what to choose? Also tell me what you think and what I need to improve.