A Fleeting Memory [Flashback Part 2]

[Part 2/3 of Flashback Topics]

[Occurs before this topic, but after this topic chronologically.]

Amidst the gnarled branches and the whispers of rustling leaves, the Seraph's thoughts ventured back to a time before the weight of his mission bore down upon him. It was a rare moment of solitude, a respite from the relentless pursuit of criminals and bandits that had become his daily existence. He wandered through the verdant wilderness, his footsteps softened by the carpet of moss beneath his boots made of combat, subterfuge, and warfare, The Wraith's distant memories unfurled like delicate scrolls, revealing a chapter of his life that he had buried under his years of successive loyalty.  The scene opened before him like a vivid painting. He was no longer the merciless hunter, but a young boy, standing at the edge of a tranquil lake. The cerulean waters stretched to the horizon, mirroring the azure sky above. The sun bathed the landscape in a warm, golden hue, casting a gentle glow upon everything it touched. Incandescent it was, vanquishing all shadows that would dare encroach the surface. 

Enishi Kurosawa's fingers brushed the surface of the water, causing ripples to dance across its placid surface. His reflection stared back at him, the silver hair indicative of the boreal valley he once lived in, and the emerald eyes that were once as calm as the lake itself. It was a moment of innocence, a brief respite from the harsh realities of his past. Beside him stood a figure, a woman whose features were etched in his memory like a cherished painting. Despite not being anywhere close to possessing the same blood as him, her role was undeniable in his life. A caretaker, a role model, a confider...

A mother.

She held onto it with an unwavering grip. Her voice, soft as a lullaby, replenished the air as she spoke of dreams and aspirations. She told him tales of a world beyond their secluded mountain home, a world where he could be anything he desired.

The silver-haired orphan listened with rapt attention, his heart filled with a sense of wonder. At that moment, he was not burdened by the expectations of others or the weight of his bloodline. He was just a boy, captivated by the boundless possibilities of the world.

The memory shifted, and Enishi found himself standing on a hillside, overlooking a village bathed in the warm light of dawn. It was Hoshigakure, the town that had saved him from the abyss of his past, the village that had given him a purpose. As he gazed upon the town that gave him life in a hopeless world, a profound sense of gratitude welled up within him. It was a place where compassion and kindness thrived, a stark contrast to the darkness he had known. Hoshigakure had offered him a second chance at life, a chance to become more than the monster he had once believed himself to be. Enishi's fingers, now calloused from years of combat, brushed against the bark of a tree, grounding him in the present. The memories of his past, though poignant and beautiful, were just that – memories. 

They were the foundation upon which he had built his resolve to protect the hope that Hoshigakure represented.

For nothing else saved him like that village did, three momentous years ago. 

WC: 542

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