What was pain, exactly? Mokuntaku had pondered this for an hour, waiting for the Raikage to finish his meeting with the village elders. He knew what physical pain was, but the meaning Mokuntaku sought was much deeper, more connected to the soul. Was the meaning of pain what the common Shinobi knew? Was it to experience death? No. Pain was something worse. Pain was having the void left in your heart after someone died. Pain was crying in your bed at night, wishing for the loneliness to end. Pain was believing that you had failed yourself, and someone you loved to the ends of the world. Pain was what Mokuntaku experienced. Mokuntaku reminisced on the days when he had felt her warm embrace, the adventures they had together. When Mokuntaku had taught her the Katon: Great Fireball Technique. When she had taught Mokuntaku what the true embrace of love was. Back then, Mokuntaku was a cheerful, happy go lucky boy, never had a care in the world. Her name was Suko. Her name was… what he repeated in his mind at night, when he wanted to use the kunai in his pouch to just… finish it all. To end the suffering which had started on “that” day.

No… the memories and the voices were rushing in, and for the first time ever, Mokuntaku couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t control it. Suddenly, he was swept back into memories which he had long since thought he buried. He was seeing all of the memories of her he had, all the memories which had created happiness in his life. “Hi, my name is Suko. I like purple, and I want to teach men not to underestimate girls!” “Hahaha, stop it, you can’t tickle, that’s cheating!” “I love you Moku…” He heard her voice everywhere he turned. He was delusional, “Why did you let me die Moku? You promised to protect me.”

He was staring at his younger self back when he was a genin, standing next to a cave. Suko was by his side, holding his hand. She was beautiful, perfect. She was wearing a pair of black pants that only covered half of her calves, and a tight pink shirt, made of some material that Mokuntaku knew not the name of. He knew it wasn’t the ordinary cotton that he’d seen on the villagers all the time. Her hair was tied back into a tight bun, with a few strands over her face. Some may think she was dirty or sweaty, but Mokuntaku couldn’t see a single flaw about her form. She had green eyes. Those dazzling green eyes which Mokuntaku seemed to lose himself in, those which made him forget his being, his surroundings, and the only things in existence were her and him.

No doubt. It was “that” day, and Mokuntaku was watching it over again, helpless. The cave came out of the side of the hill, and since Mokuntaku of the past had not yet awakened his Sharingan, he wasn’t able to see very deeply into it. Opposite the entrance of the cave, was a vast, ominous forest. It seemed like if you walked into the trees they would swallow you whole. Today’s Mokuntaku watched the Mokuntaku of memories grip the Suko of Memories’ hand. From his lips spilled the words with more passion than even the most famous poet, and yet the words were nothing special. “I think this is the place for the scroll. If we can get it, it will teach us the secret of your Kekkei Genkai.” Forth from the Suko of Memories’ lips came words with the most elegant, yet strong voice, that even to this day, Mokuntaku had found none to rival. “I am ready. I love you Moku…” They turned to each other in front of the mouth of the cave, and their lips met. Present day Mokuntaku felt a tear slide down his cheek. Oh, how he longed for those days, the days which he had had the perfect one, the one which he could call his, how he longed for just the slightest touch of her lips, or the smallest whiff of her perfume again. He’d remembered. This was when it happened.

At the top of the cave stood a man. No… Present day Mokuntaku recognized him. It was… the man that killed Suko. Present Mokuntaku knew he couldn’t be heard or seen, but he still begged the man to turn back. To no avail. He begged his younger self to just give the scroll to the elite. Still, to no avail. It hit him. He was going to be forced to watch this over again. No. He couldn’t stand watching it again, helpless to save her, helpless to uphold his promise to protect Suko. Despair filled his heart. He tried to turn away, to close his eyes, but he couldn’t. He was frozen to the spot, and suddenly his body was gone. Mokuntaku was a floating entity, no muscles or body he could use to turn himself away. Present day Mokuntaku watched the two parties exchange short words and saw Suko’s face fill with horror. The young Mokuntaku had sprang into action, a fierce look on his face, his hands wove together into hand seals that today’s Mokuntaku knew all too well. No doubt about it as young Mokuntaku shouted the words, “Katon: Great Fireball Technique!” And so, from his lips erupted a great ball of flame, the heat so intense it felt like he was observing the sun from ten feet away.

Did it… hit the man? No, Mokuntaku remember, and he looked into the trees. Sure enough, there stood the man, and he heard the scratchy voice, which Mokuntaku heard in each of his nightmares, the voice Mokuntaku pictured the Devil with. “Do you think that two small love birds fresh out of the academy can hit me? Heh, I will give you two minutes to attempt so.” A face of pure loathing, pure anger adorned the younger Mokuntaku’s face: And one of dread filled the older. Mokuntaku remembered how he used to let emotion control his will and his wits in battle, but after this day he was experiencing for the second time, he had adopted a strange battle trance. He’d let go of all emotion and retreat deep inside himself to the point that it felt like he was watching the battle from someone else’s eyes. With his own eyes, bearing the Sharingan, Mokuntaku watched the events that ensued. The younger Mokuntaku, who had yet to unlock his Sharingan charged the elite man, and swung. And swung. And when he was tired of swinging, he still swung. Young Mokuntaku was near collapse, and then, from the elite man’s lips spilled the words Mokuntaku dreaded hearing. “Your two minutes are up. Time to die.” And the next voice Mokuntaku heard was that of his beloved, which he still heard in his sweetest of dreams. “No!”

No, indeed. This was when Mokuntaku’s life changed forever, this is when the pain that took complete control of Mokuntaku was about to be inflicted, the void added to Mokuntaku’s heart. This is… the basis of the memory Mokuntaku was experiencing. The elite raised a kunai… and launched it. Time slowed. Every second passed with excruciating detail. He heard the sound of the crickets. He heard the Kunai whipping through the air. He heard the thud, and the drops of blood hit the ground. It sounded like gallons of it were hitting the ground. Suko lay dead on the ground. She had tried to take the kunai for Mokuntaku, and found it in her throat. The young Mokuntaku’s eyes turned the familiar red of the Sharingan, and two tomoe seals erupted from nothingness. Before present day Mokuntaku could take in any more detail, the world faded.

It was dark. He heard voices and recognized them. It was the old shaky voices of the elders, and when Mokuntaku opened his eyes, he realized where he was. He was back on the bench, in front of the Raikage’s office. He had fallen asleep, and the chatter of the elders had awakened him. Out spilled the Raikage’s assistants, advisors, and associates. Then, the Raikage himself emerged. “Hello, Raikage-Sama.” Mokuntaku could barely get the words out. He was... traumatized all over again.


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