Beginning of the End

Warning! The content has some trigger implications. For your health and safety, I recommend skipping this chapter.

Don't worry, it won't disrupt the flow of the story if you do.

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??? POV

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I'm not actually a 4-year-old, and I wasn't always Noemi Tsukiko.

To start, I was a 24-year-old modern girl on Earth, living off my days in apathy.

I never dreamed of anything, never truly thought about what I like or dislike.

I simply didn't have the luxury to think much more deeply.

Not with being orphaned at such a young age, with no siblings or relatives and no deep friendships to rely on.

I've always been on my own and solitude has been my constant companion throughout most of my life.

I learned to sustain myself early by studying hard, taking care of myself, juggling part-time jobs, getting a scholarship, graduating and finally having a stable job.

To others it wasn't a simple feat anyone can pull off.

But that is the most I can recall.

Everything after that became a different kind of struggle.

I started to fall into a mindless routine of work and medicated sleep, anything to detach myself from my unsavory thoughts.

I didn't have any goal to push forward.

I already fulfilled my parents' wishes, and frankly, I'm just tired.

In a way, I ended up in denial about how meaningless my life turned out to be, or maybe deep down, I knew all along but didn't want to accept it.

The alternative isn't a possibility I can afford to entertain.

However, it seems fate has other plans for me.

Like an impossible person that he was, a constant came into my life.

A friend whom I couldn't dare to say out loud for fear of the hurt if he too decided to leave like the rest had.

He embodied everything I was not - he was kind, full of energy and life.

He became my 'sun'.

It was impossible for me not to love him.

Nor is it beyond me how he broke down the walls that closed me to the world.

Being with him brought vibrancy to my days.

He was funny and outgoing. An adventurous person by nature.

And, just like the moon chasing after her sun, I started to gravitate around him as well.

Of course, it is without setbacks.

To my surprise and horror, he was a combat-artist-enthusiast.

If not for the stamina and endurance I built on my odd part-time jobs, I wouldn't have survived getting closer to him.

To me, who knew nothing but to live for the sake of living, I desired a deeper understanding of him.

He is an enigmatic figure propelled by a passion that eludes my understanding.

This curiosity led me to participate in his sport-related activities alongside him, ventures I wouldn't have typically pursued if not for the curiosity sparked by his bold claims that they would provide a new perspective on life.

His peculiarity didn't stop there.

He is also a die-hard otaku.

Thinking about it now makes it really hard for me to keep my smile in check.

It was adorable.

He kept talking incessantly about one of those shinobi he had watched in an anime series to the extent of customizing a cloak with a big "Hokage" stitched on its back, displaying his reverence to the anime.

He really wanted to become one.

And I don't see why not.

He has the skills of a fighter honed through years of dedication.

For me, he already was.

Despite it all, I enjoyed indulging my life with him.

Never thinking how much his existence changed my own.

He was my breath of air from this shell of a life.

In other words, I never moved on when I lost him too.

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That's when I lived my life with reckless abandon.

I began to resign from my job and go beyond the borders of being adventurous.

Unlike him, I continued to attend kendo and learn how to wield a katana, like he had, with fervor and aggression meant to hurt even its wielder, training with hand to hand combat more seriously till I can feel the pain from each hits, doing sports and physical activities he normally would have attended to, just to fulfill his childish desire to be a real life shinobi.

While I, for the lack of better reason, grieves his absence that used to fill my days with endless joy to suffering.

Exhausting myself with senseless training, like a masochist that I didn't know I turned out to be.

I started to watch Naruto despite the hurt trying to suffocate me.

For the year I have known him, I can confidently say this anime made a big impact on his character.

While he was here, he made me promise to binge-watch the anime series with him in the summer.

Although it's long over due now.

'I'm sorry, it took me a while to watch this'. I whispered to no one in particular.

Investing my time watching Naruto in between my 'activities' helped me grasp what he cherished and loved about the anime.

Because I also found myself loving it just as much as he does, if not more.

And out of all the characters in the series, Obito Uchiha was my favorite.

He reminds me of him yet also has a uniqueness that only he has.

Watching over him until the end of his line brought back something I thought I had lost.

The warmth of a companion.

For the life he lived I ceased to see him within Obito and instead wished for Obito himself to attain his own happy ending.

I didn't want him to die like he had.

Time moved forward and so have I.

Although the thought of Obito pushed me forward, the daily numbness and weariness eventually took its toll in me.

It was inevitable that my reckless behavior finally caught up to me and spelled my demise.

I felt remorse for following him so early on - he must have never wanted this from me.

'I might even receive a good scolding from him once I come to face him'. I mused mirthlessly.

A bitter part of me, however, is relieved that my suffering is coming to an end and secretly wished to see him again if the heavens permit.

Perhaps I'll finally have the courage to tell him the things I couldn't say.

I didn't know though that I unconsciously thought of not only him but Obito as well.

Even if I myself never truly believed my wish to be ever granted, not even at my last moments.

Yet, like a hopeless fool, I still made such a whimsical wish if only to find a momentary solace from my perpetual torment.

'Maybe in another life, our time won't be as short as this one'. I thought as I drew the last of my breath under a moonlit sky.