I hate life...
A boy walked alone on a swirling pathway, carrying two buckets of water on his thin back. The water sloshed back and forth despite the boy's lethargic movements.
Evening had come and the boy, Kurogane Shikyou, was abou return to his village. That said, he didn't want to. Going back to his village meant another day of beating and mockery from the villagers because of his unique hair and eyes.
His left hair was white while the right, pitch black. Translucent eyes with faint specks of purple.
Humans revolt anything that looks different.
As he neared the village, a faint whiff in the air caught his sense of smell. Smoke and ash. Had a house caught fire or was someone being burned alive?
He stood in front of the village's entrance, transfixed on the fire burning every nook of the village. Dead bodies lied around, some with their eyes wide in terror while some just lying there.
The boy, unamused, carried the water back to his hut, not minding the dead bodies of his parents lying around.
It was peaceful. The smell of ash, the faint crisp of the fire, the deafening silence. It was...peaceful.
He went out and walked to the village square. There was a smell in the air. Faint but consuming, like a dead flower.
The boy sat crossed legged on the ground, looking at the night sky.
'I wonder if I'll die too...'
The night wind blew on a swordsman face as his ran through the forest. His spiky black hair moved with the wind, so did his green haori. The beads on his arms made sounds whenever he rubbed his arm together.
He heard a demon attacked a village nearby and he wanted to check it out.
The fire was already eating up the village when Gyomei Himejima arrived. He rubbed his hands together as tears streamed down his face. "May the souls of the dead rest in peace."
He could still hear it. Faintly. Their screams of anguish and pain.
As he walked further, he saw a boy counting pebbles on the ground despite the fire burning his clothes and hands. Like the fire was a nuisance to his activities.
Gyomei's breath caught. "Child... why are you still here?"
The boy didn't look up. "I was counting how many died." His voice was calm. Too calm for someone who was burning alive.
Gyomei stepped forward, tears spilling down his cheeks. "Does it not hurt?"
The boy blinked once. Slowly. "It does, I just stopped caring."
Gyomei was suprised. Stopped caring... at this fruitful age. The boy had seen things, no, been through things that destroyed most people but instead of destroying him, it made him numb.
Gyomei gently picked up the child to stand, while patting the flames away. "How old are you, child?"
The boy barely moved. "Fifteen."
Gyomei patted the child's head. "So young yet so lost. What's your name, little one?"
The fire hadn't dissipated but was less raging that before. The boy looked at the ground feeling nothing. "Kurogane Shikyou."