In one moment, I was surrounded by strangers then just as quickly, I found myself back in my humble cottage, the familiar warmth of home enveloping me once more. The soft glow of indoor lights illuminated the space, casting gentle shadows that danced along the walls. Yet, despite the comforting ambiance, a heavy stillness hung in the air. It was sunset and Grandpa was nowhere to be found.

  "Grandpa—" I called out, my voice wavering with a mixture of relief and anxiety. Relief to be back home and anxiety that Grandpa was no longer where I remembered him to be.

  But before my plea could echo through the empty rooms, my legs betrayed me, collapsing beneath the weight of exhaustion. I crumpled to the floor, the impact jarring my senses. A wave of weakness washed over me as if a boulder had struck me, it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It felt as if every ounce of energy had been drained from my body, leaving me utterly spent. Laying flat on the cool wooden floor, I realized with a sinking heart that my chakra was nearly depleted. If it had drained even a fraction more, my very life would have been at risk.

  "Grandpa," I whispered weakly, desperation creeping into my voice, but my frail body was no match for the overwhelming fatigue that swept over me. Before I could call out again, darkness enveloped me, pulling me into its depths.

  ~~~

  In the abyss of my unconsciousness, I found him again—the boy. The boy named Itachi Uchiha. He stood far away, a distant figure shrouded in a thick fog that swirled around us, obscuring the space between us. I strained to see him clearly, to reach out, but the mist was a barrier that kept me at bay. Regardless, I could sense the kindness in his eyes and the soft curled of his lips, a beacon of warmth that pierced through the haze.

  Deep down, I believed that he wouldn't mind me—that he wouldn't turn away like everyone else had. I believed that he was different.

  Perhaps, he may be willing to be my friend.

  I wanted to see him again.

  ~~~

  When I woke up, I was still lying on the cold, hard floor, the wooden surface pressing against the side of my cheek as reality began to seep back into my consciousness.

  "Grandpa?" I called out, my voice stronger than it had been before, and I believed that the time I spent unconscious had replenished some of my chakra.

  With a slow, unsteady motion, I pushed myself up, wobbling slightly as I regained my balance. I made my way toward Grandpa's bedroom, my heart pounding in my chest. When I reached the door, I found it ajar and the room empty.

  Panic surged through me, dispelling my weariness in an instant. I rushed back to my room, flinging open the closet to find my heavy wool coat. I pulled it on hastily, the thick fabric enveloping me in warmth, before dashing to the living room to grab my boots and gloves.

  Every second counted; I needed to find him as soon as possible.

  When I finally opened the door, the frigid air rushed in, a biting gust that cut through my exposed skin. Snowflakes danced in the air, some found perched on my eyelashes as I grimaced at what this intel.

  "No.." I mumbled gravely to myself as I squinted against the cold, taking in the scene before me.

  The snow was falling heavily, blanketing everything in a thick layer of white, and the sun was dipping low on the horizon, casting an ethereal glow over the landscape. Soon, darkness would befall the world, leaving me with little time to search for Grandpa.

  Grandpa had always told me that to track someone, I must first look for their footprints; their trail. But when I scanned the ground, dread pooled in my stomach. There were no tracks to be found beneath the heavy snowfall; the relentless flurry had erased any sign of passage, burying them six feet under.

  Now it felt impossible to find him, yet I had no choice.

  After shutting the door behind me with a determined slam, I rushed into the swirling blizzard, shouting for Grandpa. My voice pierced the air, echoing against the howling wind that roared like a beast unleashed, drowning out my cries. Although I was terrified of what I may find, I kept my eyes peeled for any dark speck of color amid the relentless white canvas.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  With each step, I fought against the elements, pushing through the snow that clung to my boots and slowed my progress.

  "Grandpa!" I called again, my voice trembling but resolute. I blinked away the snow that formed on my eyelash to scanned the horizon, hoping to catch a glimpse of his familiar figure while constantly pressured by the reminder that time was slipping away, and with it, the warmth of the fading light.

  I had to find him soon.

  He had to be ok.

  I can not lose him.

  Suddenly, a dark speck in the distance caught the corner of my eye, and I paused, my gaze transfixed. At first, I almost dismissed it, thinking it might be just a branch protruding from the snow. But something compelled me to keep watching, and as I stared, I noticed that it could be more than just a branch.

  Without hesitation, I braced myself against the howling wind and trudged forward, my steps swift and purposeful. The closer I drew to the mysterious speck, the more my heart began to race with anticipation. As the distance closed, I realized that it was a figure lying flat in the snow, then immediately, a chill of dread gripped me like a vice. One of my greatest fears was playing out before my very eyes.

  When I was nearly ten feet away, I stopped in my tracks, gasping for breath. What lay before me was not Grandpa, and I don't know if I should be grateful or not. The figure was a boy—perhaps several years older than me, though I couldn't be certain. He was partially covered in snow, as if he had been lying there for some time.

  The boy lay there, his spiky black hair tousled and wild, framing his pale face like a dark halo against the stark white backdrop of the snow. He was draped in a long, tattered black cloak, its purple lining dulled and frayed, wide sleeves spread out on the snow. Attached to the cloak was a hood, partially obscuring his features. Laying beside the boy was an orange mask with distinctive spiral-patterned that covers the entire mask, leaving only a single eye hole on the right side. The spiral patterns created a swirling effect that drew my attention to the eye hole. There was a strange energy about that mask and it unnerved me the longer I stared at it.

  What shocked me most, however, was the state the boy was in. He was injuried, the crimson of his blood stained the pure white snow around him, stark and haunting in its contrast. It was a gruesome sight, one that twisted my stomach with a sense of urgency and dread. But amidst the horror, there was a flicker of hope—he was still breathing!

  I could see his breath puffing out in soft, misty clouds, dancing in the frigid air like a dying flame desperately fighting against the cold.

  Without thinking, I dashed toward him, nearly tripping over my own feet in my haste. Somehow, I found that I could move with greater ease.

  It was then that I realized the wind had died down and the snow had stopped falling almost instantly. Strangely, the world around me had grown eerily calm as if I had stepped through a veil into a different world. But, I can not dwell on this matter as there was a life at stake.

  Dropping to my knees beside the boy, I reached out gently to brush the snow from his cold and pale face, desperately trying to clear away the frost that clung to him like a shroud. The moment my fingers made contact with his skin, a jolt of ice coursed through me. My hands froze mid-motion as I stared at his face in a mixture of concern and shock.

  The left side of his face was marred by deep scars, jagged and grotesque, as if his skin had been ravaged by some unspeakable torment. The scars twisted and curled like tortured vines, giving the impression that the very flesh had shriveled beneath a heatless fire. In stark contrast, the right side of his face appeared normal, untouched by the violence that had scarred his other half.

  I was greatly empathetic towards this boy as all sorts of questions flooded through my mind yet I knew I didn't have the time so I frantically assessed his condition, my hands trembling with a mixture of fear and urgency. Most of the wounds looked like cuts and scrapes but thankful the majority of them were not too severe. Yet, that doesn't explain all the blood that he lost. I'll need to examine him, it must be somewhere on his body that I can't yet see.

  Rummaging through my pockets, I searched for anything that could help—a scrap of cloth, a spare bandage, anything to stem the bleeding but finding nothing.

  "H-hey," I managed to stammer, my voice barely rising above the cacophony of turmoil swirling in my head. "Are you awake?"

  At my hesitant question, the boy slowly opened his eyes, though it was evident that doing so took every ounce of strength he had left. His eyelids fluttered as if weighed down by an invisible force, trembling under the effort to remain open.

  "Stay with me," I urged, leaning in closer, desperate to pierce the fog of his fatigue. "Don't go to sleep."

  I could see him struggling to form words, his lips moving soundlessly at first.

  "...R-Rin?"

  The name tumbled from his lips like a fragile echo, and my heart twisted painfully in my chest. Grandpa had once told me that when someone is close to death, they often see the faces of their loved ones.

  "Stay here," I said firmly, though I knew he was too weak to even move. I needed him to hold on. "And don't go to sleep."

  Just as I was about to stand up, the boy surprised me with a sudden burst of energy, he rose into a sitting position to wrapped his arms around me in a desperate embrace. The unexpected strength of his grip catching me off guard. Shocked, I froze, unable to comprehend how he could muster the energy to move at all.

  "...Rin..." he repeated, his voice thick with emotions, and I felt the tremors of his cold body pressed hard against mine. But this shaking wasn't from the cold; he was crying. "I'm so...sorry. You'll understand, won't you?"

  In that moment, I believed he must be delirious from blood loss and hypothermia. Panic surged within me, I knew needed to do something quick but first, I needed to free myself from his embrace. "Okay, just let me go so I can help you!"

  But, his sobbing came to an abrupt halt, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. I paused, caught off guard by the sudden stillness.

  "I missed you," he whispered, and those words, filled with sincerity and pain, penetrated through the fog of apprehension and confusion. It was a confession that resonated deep within my soul and suddenly, I remembered that boy.

  Itachi Uchiha.

  His confession ignited my resolve to save him, no matter the cost so I struggled and freed myself from his arms.

  "Stay here," I commanded, locking my gaze onto his dark, almost dazed eyes. His arms hung limply at his sides, the strength that had fueled his earlier movements seemingly drained. "I promise I'll be back to help you. I just need to get something to get you home."

  Slowly, he nodded, and in that fragile moment of connection, I felt a swell of confidence rise within me. I was determined to return and I felt ensured that he would still be here when I came back.