As a father has compassion for his children, so the Lord has compassion for those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust. (Psalms 103:12-14 NIV)

Thus ends this mini-tragedy. On a side note, I think we have too much money circling around. I expect inflation down the road.

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I’ve failed my country. A soft breeze tugs at my hospital gown. The one thing I did right for my country, I can never do anymore. As the wind collects dead leaves, it rattles them against each other and scrapes them across the dead ground. Tsunade says that I cannot return to my work because of my mental stability. Above, the tall, naked trees shiver loudly as the wind hisses angrily through. The one thing I excelled at, taken away mercilessly. The trees are black as death but still stand at attention. It hurts so much, but I refuse to cry, refuse to let out a noise; interrogators don’t cry. Bushes squat among the trees and squirm in the winds. What am I suppose to do? Winter has already killed the grass surrounding my resting place. Am I to go back to passing out during battles and completing average, mundane missions? Then the cold seeps into my bones, and I shiver against it. I am no use to my country anymore, and the fact drives a knife into my chest. Even as the wind picks up and my body shivers violently, I remain on my back, legs stretched out, and arms relaxed by my side. I’m just an extra. My body tenses at the biting cold and digs into the cold ground. If I weren’t, wouldn’t somebody have noticed my disappearance? My fingers subconsciously dig into the earth below to keep moving and to keep warm. If I was someone important and needed, the others would have found me by now. The wind howls in the distance. The need would have driven them to fulfill it; instead, I am here, and I don’t know where here is. The full moon above me glows brightly, casting an eerie glow around me. I would be home with my children. No clouds, no stars yet, to block its beauty. A slight pain rises at the mention of them. I see no colors, only shades of black and brown. They don’t need me. The shadows sink deep in the night. They have proven many times that they could take care of themselves in my absence. I can’t hear the sleeping village from hear, I dimly note. I’ve let Ibiki down, too. In fact, I can’t hear any wildlife. I couldn’t separate myself from my emotions. The cold drives them all to a warmer place to stay than the open air. I gasp back a sob. I’m all alone then, and it suits me to die alone. I will not cry.

From my peripheral vision, I see clouds forming dark and ominous shapes. A large flash and a rumble emit from above me. The dark clouds crumble and spread across the sky like ocean waves. I whine slightly as the rushing clouds block the moon’s light. The beautiful moon leaves me. The trees fade from my sight in the dark. Another flash and another rumble. As the first drop lands on my face, I find no desire to move out of danger. Numbly, I search my head for any reason to return home. Many arise including a warm bed, warm food, warm smiles, and warm arms, yet my body doesn’t listen to reason. I’m too numb for warmth to have any appeal. As the freezing rain drops faster and harder, I wonder if I can drown in the rain. Is this abandoning my country? I’m a disgrace. There’s no honor to this, so why am I doing this? Sanity and patriotism, I have neither. In the end, neither matter.