The Meltdown of Max

Max would scour through his medical textbooks, finding little in terms of breakthroughs. Maybe this feat was beyond him… maybe such a thing was beyond the powers of a shinobi. It is always easier to fade into the darkness than to walk in the light. Taking life was easy and typically quick. It only required one person with something to settle or prove. A single thrust to the ribcage could take life, death finding his quarry in mere moments … but to create it? That was a process much more time consuming.
 
Ask the farmer what takes longer, growing his harvest or picking it and he will always answer the same. Destruction is… easy. Creation was not.
 
His days were now starting to blur together, as lack of sleep and exhaustion began to take its toll on the child. His shoulders would slump, his eyes sunken and weary. He hadn’t been eating properly which only escalated the problem. Despite him learning as much as he can about medical practices and techniques, he wasn’t taking care of himself. He simply didn’t have the appetite for food, and sleep was for those that earned it. He had done nothing to earn it.
 
Max was alone in his house, the building large and empty with only the small boy within. It had been built for two. Max would look over to his various papers and notes, looking for some gleam of hope within. Maybe there was something that he overlooked, or perhaps a note misread. Finding nothing the boy would fling his notes to the ground, the otherwise calm and collected shinobi allowing his rage to boil over. Such outbursts were happening more and more, though only within the secure confines of his own home. A chuunin should be above such petty things. A true shinobi was in control of his emotions at all times, as allowing them to take over only lead to suffering and death. Despite knowing this, his outburst would continue.
 
A laugh would be heard by the boy, a chuckle from a familiar voice. It was the cackle of Napa, his oldest friend. “You find this funny!” Max would scream, his chakra flaring in rage. He would turn to the chair that housed his puppet Napa, the skeletal being sitting there still and calm which was the complete opposite of Max right now. The cackling would continue, ringing in his ears.
 
Max had enough. His anger and exhaustion threw the boy into a frenzy as he rushed over and threw the puppet to the ground. Max would strike it repeatedly in the skull, but the boy was never very strong. Max’s flaring chakra would connect various threads to the puppet frame and drive it headfirst with all of its might into the ground. The floorboards would crack, as would the bones of Napa. It would crumple into a pile of old wood and bone.
 
“Who’s laughing now, NAPA!” The boy would shout, his rage seething.
 
That was when he would hear a spectral voice in his head, that of Napa. “You know as well as I do that destroying that measly skeleton body wouldn’t cause me any pain of suffering. Did letting that out make you feel better?” Napa would ask, mocking the boy’s tantrum. “Such things are beneath you, and you should act as such, else you will never reach those lofty goals you’ve set.”
 
Max would begin to sob, realizing what was becoming of him. “Why can’t I find something to bring him back, Napa? Why must I lose everyone?” The boy would cry and repeat this last sentence over and over until he cried himself to sleep.
 

“You haven’t lost everyone, boy. I will always be there to help you, as is my duty.” Unbeknownst to Max, he was lying down next to a book that would help along his path, almost as if Napa had been trying to help the boy all along. The now resting Chuunin would sleep until he wakes on his own, getting the rest he needs. And when he wakes up? Well, he would find the book tucked under his arm ready to be read.

WC:694

Claims:

694 Words Towards Spirit Schism (694/6000)

Destruction of Napa Skeletal Puppet (1 Undead Puppet [T-94x] being removed from inventory)