. . .
(A seer's side story)
. . .
*slurp*
Noodles vanished, guided by chopsticks and a hunger that knew no bounds.
Steam danced in the air, swirling around the boy's face like a warm embrace.
A steaming bowl of ramen sat before him, its aroma rising in delicate curls. The broth, a deep amber hue, shimmered with droplets of oil, rich with the essence of slow-simmered pork bones and soy. Thin, springy noodles curled beneath the surface, tangled and glistening.
Slices of tender chashu lay on top—fatty, marbled, and seared at the edges. A soft-boiled egg, split in half, revealed a golden yolk just beginning to ooze. Scallions, bamboo shoots, and a sheet of nori rested gently across the surface, adding color and texture. The scent was salty, savory, and just a little smoky—comfort in a bowl, warm and waiting.
The rich broth clung to his lips, salty and savory, each sip more enjoyable with time.
(Damn... I'm getting hungry just by writing this...)
His eyes half-lidded in bliss, he leaned forward, slurping every last strand with single-minded focus.
"Mm… this really hits the spot."
Teuchi chuckled from behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron.
"You've got quite the appetite today."
The boy grinned, lips glistening with soup.
"I could eat this forever. In fact I don't think I can eat anything else!"
The shop's lanterns flickered gently in the evening breeze, casting golden hues on the wooden counter.
Old Man Teuchi chuckled and another bowl was placed before him, piping hot, ready to be devoured.
And without hesitation—
*slurp*
Noodles were once more slurped up in their majestic texture.
Their slurpy and yellow texture that was easy to swallow.
The shining orange soup shone with the brilliance of a setting sun.
The boy raised his bowl, slurping up all the remnants of the food.
"Ah….."
The boy set down the bowl and let out a satisfying sigh.
"Hey Old man Teuchi another one!"
The old man rotated his arm. Stirring more of the delicious wonders of the world.
"Coming right up!"
The bowl was offered to him, and he once more indulged in it.
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Suddenly the stall's opening rustled as a woman entered.
Currently occupied by eating the ramen, Lumian nonchalantly took a side glance at the woman.
A tunic of white fabric clung to her upper half. Coarse wool or linen hung loosely over her body, belted at the waist with a strip of rough leather. Her face was pale and sunken, her figure thin and bony. She wore a white gown draped over her head, concealing her hair.
Strapped to her back was a baby, wrapped tightly in cloth from head to toe, its face obscured beneath the many folds. Even looking closely, it was difficult to make out any features.
Almost by habit, one he had developed since consuming the Seer potion, Lumian tapped his glabella.
Instantly, he nearly choked on his noodles.
The woman smiled and sat down on the seat down next to Lumian.
. . .
"One Shoyu ramen please."
. . .
Old Man Teuchi, oblivious to Lumian's reaction, smiled cheerfully and began preparing the order.
Lumian's hand slightly shook, but he showed now external abnormality as he continued eating. Although a lot more slowly this time.
After a while Old Man Teuchi finished cooking the new order and placed it in front of the woman for her to eat.
Teuchi saw the bundle behind her and smiled.
"Is there anything that I can get for the little one? I have some milk in the back if you want any!"
He leaned in to get a close look at the baby to engage with it.
. . .
Suddenly, the woman jerked back. The stool she had been sitting on toppled over with an audible thud. Eyes wide and vivid with intensity, she gripped the bundle tightly, hugging it close as she leaned back to obscure it from view.
Startled by the sudden reaction, Teuchi recoiled in confusion.
Realizing how abrupt she had been, the woman quickly apologized.
"I'm sorry... I don't think the little one is hungry…"
Then, keeping her back to the entrance, she stepped away from the stall—backwards—and fled into the night.
"Wait!" Teuchi called out, but she was already gone.
. . .
The ramen bowl was sitting uneaten on the counter. Still steaming.
Lumian wasn't startled at the woman's unusual reaction.... In fact he knew why.
"Damn.... how did she get this far into the village without anyone noticing?"
The baby that was wrapped up concealed everyone who looked at it with their eyes. However, that didn't conceal its aura from Lumian's eyes.
Everyone had color to them, whether it was the healthy shade of green on their chests, or the unhealthy orange tint around their lower intestines.
However, their was no color to the little one strapped to the mother's back.
. . .
The baby was dead.
. . .
Lumian set down his chopsticks. He wasn't hungry anymore.
"Hey, Old Man Teuchi… I think I'm full now."
Without waiting for a reply, he dropped a few coins on the counter and walked off into the street.
Behind him, Teuchi stood frozen, still holding the ladle he had used to stir the broth. Bewilderment plastered across his face.
"Huh? What?"
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Lumian walked down the road.
Lanterns hung outside the small shops he passed, casting soft pools of light onto the dusty street.
Occasionally, a shinobi in a Chūnin or Jōnin vest would stroll past.
Lumian was deep in thought. When he had first seen the woman and the baby, his heart had nearly stopped—his mind leaping to the conclusion that a corrupted god was descending. (Lotm reference lol)
But then... he'd recognized the signs. This wasn't divine madness. It was something far more familiar..... and far more human.
He sighed and came to a halt in the middle of the road. Tilting his head upward, he stared at the night sky. The stars twinkled faintly above the rooftops.
Should he intervene?
A dry laugh escaped his lips.
"My name's Amon, but I'm acting more like Klein…"
With that, he turned around and followed the path the woman had taken.
. . .
. . .
. . .
It was deep into the night now. The streets had grown quieter, shadows longer.
A woman sat on a bench in a small park. The pale moon cast a light over her figure.
Lumian stayed hidden behind a nearby tree, its trunk wide enough to keep him concealed.
The woman sat there in silence, clutching the bundle to her chest.
He studied her quietly, tapping his glabella once more. The tension in his chest loosened slightly as he observed her aura.
"Good.... So its not completely hopeless...."
After a moment he formed a hand seal and with a silent puff, invisible smoke surrounded his figure.
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"I want to die."
She was so tired… She was so hungry… And yet… she felt no pain.
Not anymore.
There was a time when the ache in her stomach made her cry, when every bruise, every slap of cold wind, made her shiver and curse the heavens.
But now her body had grown numb. It was as if the world had taken so much from her that even pain had abandoned her, deeming her no longer worth the trouble.
Her limbs were weak, her breath shallow. Her skin clung tightly to bone, and her lips were dry and cracked. But it didn't matter. Nothing did.
She sat still beneath the silver gleam of the moonlight. The bundle in her arms no longer gave off warmth. It hadn't for a while. Yet she still held it close, instinct overriding reason, madness overlapping grief.
Her eyes didn't cry anymore.
Even her tears had run out.
There was no one left to hate. No one left to beg. No god left to curse. Only a silence so loud it hollowed her out from within.
A gust of wind blew past, brushing the fabric of her gown, tugging at the loose strands of her hair. She didn't react. Her heart didn't race. Her body didn't shiver.
"I just… want it all to stop," she whispered. "I want it all to be over."
She rested her forehead on the still bundle, her voice a breath against the cloth.
"I'm sorry."
The world took from her.
And took.
And took.
Until there was nothing left to give.
And still, it demanded more.
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A sudden voice rang out.
"Hello."
She showed no reaction other than a slight flinch.
"May I sit here?"
She slowly looked up. A man stood there patiently waiting with his hands to his side. His attire was weird….. to say the least. Brown eyes, slightly long black hair, average-featured face with some stubs of facial hair, thin yet with a moderately muscular build. He had a weird large black hat and a black cloak draped over his back.
She didn't speak. But she didn't move away either. The silence served as an invitation for acceptance.
The man sat beside her, quiet and still.
She clutched the bundle in her arms more tightly, her fingers pale with tension.
"You seem to be burdened," he said gently. "Would you... perhaps indulge me in what troubles you?"
She should have walked away. She knew she should have. But there was nowhere else to go. Nowhere worse to fall.
She turned to him, eyes hollow and tired. The silence dragged on for a while. She looked at the ground. Then she opened her cracked lips and dry mouth and spoke.
"Will you listen to my story?"
. . .
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"There was a little girl....."
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The girl laughed as she ran across a sunlit meadow, wildflowers brushing her legs. Her voice was light, catching on the breeze. Beside her, her mother—serene and radiant—sat beneath a tree, watching her play.
"Hey, Mom! Dad! Look at what I found!"
She held up a delicate flower, its petals swaying in the wind.
The woman smiled and, with a teasing glance, held her hair as it was being blown by the wind. She spoke.
"Hmm... who's prettier? Mom or the flower?"
She pouted, then dropped her hand dramatically.
The Man next to the woman laughed and said with a mock of hurt:
"Eh... what about Papa?"
A mock scoff followed. "Hmph. Mommy's prettier!"
Laughter spilled into the warm afternoon, echoing across the hills.
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"She had her sad moments, like any child."
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She stood by a grave.
Rain tapped gently on the stone, as if the heavens were mourning too.
Tears streaked her face.
"Mommy... but Daddy..."
Her mother knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"It was Daddy's dream to open a restaurant here, remember?"
The girl didn't speak, only stared at the grave.
"Do you want Daddy to be happy?"
A soft nod.
"Then let's make him proud." Her mother took her hand, warm and reassuring.
They walked back together through the rain.
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"She was happy."
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Years passed. The girl, now older, wore a simple waitress outfit. The apron was frayed at the edges.
She balanced heavy cups of beer in her hands with practiced ease.
"Two cups, please!" a customer called cheerfully.
She smiled and nodded.
After closing, she sat at one of the empty tables, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. Her feet ached. Her shoulders sagged. But she felt fulfilled.
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"Then... her world was destroyed."
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It was a beautiful day.....
The sun gleamed off polished wood and the windows were newly cleaned.
"Welcome!" she said brightly as five Shinobi walked in. They were each dressed in a flak jacket, and pin-stripped leg and arm-guards. Worn on their foreheads 4 lines that flowed up and down were market as a symbol.
One of them had striking blonde hair and vivid green eyes. He smiled charmingly.
They sat down and placed their orders.
Her mom went into the kitchen and, after a moment, came back out.
"Hey Sakagi, can you go pick up the supplies we ordered from the next town?"
Sakagi frowned and looked over at the customers and her mom's tired figure.
"Are you going to be okay?"
"Of course," her mother smiled faintly. "You know me. Your mom is strong!"
Giggling she picked up her basket and walked out the door.
. . .
It was dawn when she returned. She carried a parcel of supplies in her arms.
She heard laughter—loud, drunken, wrong.
She froze.
Something was off.
She opened the door.
Her mother lay bare, broken on the floor. Her garments torn on the floor as a figure lay on top of her moving his body back and forth. Her mother's face was visible and her eyes lifeless.
The shinobi stood nearby, their laughter continuing. The figure paused his movement and looked at the girl by the entrance with his green eyes. They didn't stop when they saw her. Their eyes lit up instead.
Her scream split the air.
They turned toward her.
And then they descended.
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"Her life turned into hell."
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She knelt on the floor of the restaurant. Her stomach now bulged becoming a burden and a target for the men in black suits.
"You've had plenty of time to pay off your wages!"
"No—please!"
Rough hands yanked her hair. She was tossed into the dirt like garbage.
Behind her, flames swallowed the restaurant. The only piece of her father's dream—gone.
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"Until she couldn't take it anymore."
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A woman lay inside a shed.
The shed she was currently in, barely supported the weight of its walls, as it looked like it was about to fall in any moment.
She lay on torn cloth.
Her body ached.
Blood soaked the floor beneath her.
She screamed into the void, and a cry—thin and shrill—rose to meet hers.
Her child had arrived.
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"She tried. She really did."
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She fed it. Held it. Rocked it to sleep in the same melody her mother once sang.
But one day it opened its eyes.
Green eyes. Bright. Familiar.
Blonde hair.
His eyes....
She froze.
Something inside her broke.
She placed the child down and turned away.
It cried.
And cried.
And cried.
Until all was silent.
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"Then... she wanted to die."
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She saw the fragile creature on the ground. She should have been happy. Instead, all she felt was deep sorrow… and emptiness.
She knelt down and picked it up.
Her lips curved up…
"He he..... Hah HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH!!!!!"
A crazed laugh.
A laugh filled with tears.
A laugh of emptiness.
. . .
She wrapped the baby in garments. And she walked, and walked… until she found herself here.
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The woman finally stopped talking.
The man sat there, eyes closed. He had his arms in his pockets and quietly listened in silence through the entirety of her story.
Sakagi turned to him and spoke quietly.
"Do you think she can live anymore?"
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The world descended into the chirping of crickets and the occasional glow of fireflies in the distance.
The man smiled. "A little overwhelming to be asking about life or death, don't you think?"
The man paused and folded his fingers as he leaned forward on the bench. After a while he turned to the woman and spoke.
"Let me tell you a story as well."
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Sakagi didn't care what the man had to say.
She wasn't sure why she was even talking with him. In her mind... no one could possibly understand her pain. Her suffering…
This—this was just a moment. A meaningless conversation. One final indulgence in the feeling of being noticed before she disappeared.
She knew it.
By tomorrow, she would be gone from this world.
But then the man spoke again. And his words reached a place in her she thought had long since died.
"It was hot that day."
"There was a beautiful angel... Her black hair flowed with the wind, and her smile.... her laughter felt like music."
"She sat beneath a tree, watching a little girl play in the grass. The birds were singing. The trees were thick with moss."
Sakagi's eyes widened. Her breath caught in her throat.
How did he know?
"The little girl was laughing," the man continued, "spinning in circles until flower petals tangled in her hair. She looked so happy—so free."
"After a while, she ran up to the angel and wrapped her arms around her."
. . .
And suddenly, she was no longer hearing his voice.
The words faded.
Her mind took over.
It was a memory—her memory.
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The sunlight. The laughter. The warmth.
She saw it all again, just as it had been.
The little girl tilted her head, eyes filled with innocent curiosity.
"Mommy," she asked, "why are you laughing so hard?"
Her mother blinked, slightly taken aback. Then she looked down at her daughter and smiled brightly.
"You want to know why?"
"Mhmm!!" The girl nodded eagerly, her eyes wide in anticipation.
"Because my dream came true."
"Your dream?"
Her mother nodded.
She reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her daughter's forehead. She paused, as if carefully searching for the right words.
"My dream…" she said softly, "was once to travel the world. I wanted to see the ocean, the mountains... places no one's ever discovered."
"Wow…" the girl breathed, eyes shining.
"But," her mother continued, her voice warm and quiet, "then I met your father. And then I had you."
She cupped the girl's cheek in her hand.
"And everything changed. I stopped dreaming of faraway places."
"I started dreaming of small things instead."
"Like what?"
Her mother's smile grew tender.
And the next words pierced Sakagi's chest like a blade she didn't see coming.
"Your smile."
The girl blinked, puzzled but curious.
"As long as you have the smile you have on now," her mother whispered, "I'll be the happiest person in this world."
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The tears that had long since dried returned without warning.
The shock of the man knowing something from so long ago faded into the background. What remained was sorrow—deep, heavy sorrow.
She bit her lip, trying to keep the sobs in, but her body trembled.
Then the man's final words slipped into the silence.
. . .
"Don't you think… it would be nice to fulfill her dream one more time?"
. . .
That was what broke her.
. . .
She sobbed, clutching the bundle to her chest.
The man said nothing. He didn't move. He simply sat there—still, quiet—giving her the space to fall apart.
Her cries were raw. The cries of someone who had felt so much suffering in her life. Someone who had swallowed too much pain, for too long, until it rotted inside her.
And now… it was finally spilling out.
She rocked slightly on the bench, eyes shut tight, tears soaking her cheeks and dripping onto the soft cloth wrapped around the child.
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After her sobbing began to fade, the man stood.
He looked down at her and spoke, voice calm.
"What you do now is entirely up to you. Whether you choose to take your own life… or start a new one… you must move forward from here."
He paused. Then added, more gently:
"It would be good for you to bury the child, too."
Sakagi sat silently. Then, quietly, she asked:
"May I know who you are?"
The man smiled faintly and turned, beginning to walk away.
He spoke without looking back.
"If we ever meet again… you may call me Moriarty.
"Sherlock Moriarty."
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The silent poof revealed the young boy in his true form.
He stepped onto the now-empty road, heading slowly toward his apartment.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small pendant. It glinted faintly under the moonlight.
"Damn… doing a dream divination while someone's talking to you is harder than I thought…"
He let out a breath, slipping the pendant back into his coat.
His gaze drifted upward—toward the quiet, watching moon.
The night was long and the stars shone with hope.
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(Author's note)
Absoute Cinema!!!!!!!!!!! Poor Sakagi...
As always leave a comment or a review for this book!!!!
Thank you..... and POWER STONES!!!!!!