Post by Chouji on Oct 3, 2006 16:09:34 GMT -5
Okay for those who read this...it is dedicated to Chouji and talks about his life from the time he was young to the battle with Jaroubu till the day he dies ((Which I made up because that has yet to happen...and I hope it wont))
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Chouji Akimichi was like a butterfly. He always fluttered about from one spot to another looking for a place to where he would belong. He fluttered here and there hoping to find that one place where he would not be rejected and where he would be accepted for who he was. Like a butterfly, Chouji’s inner beauty had gone unseen for the longest time.
He would look to his father for the wisdom and comfort he could not bring to himself. “Father am I weak?” He would always ask in an innocent tone. Chouji would follow his question with a tilt of his head as he took his father’s kind words to heart. The words he knew came from a man who had been through the same.
“No Akimichi is weak. And do not let anybody make you believe otherwise.” Chomaru would say comforting his young son and accompanying him with a gentle pat on the head and gave an encouraging smile that radiated with warmth that only a father wielded.
As he was younger Chouji was taunted in the halls of the Academy. His only friends at the time were the fluttering butterflies and a bag full of potato chips. And they remained his only friends for a much extended period in his life.
Chouji had swallowed his pride and let others tease him. He spoke with no complaints and with no anger nor malice. He would turn his head to one side in an attempt to hide the pain of being the topic of the teasing. He would close his eyes shut pretending and wishing he did not notice the faces being made behind his back. When pushed Chouji would stumble to gain his balance, bow his head, and mutter in a mute manner several unneeded apologies. When he was teased verbally he just shrugged his shoulder in an attempt to make the insults disappear. A small troubled smile would grace his slightly chubby face. The smile that always hid the emotional wound that grew with each harsh word that slithered from others mouths aimed at his direction.
“Chouji, son, what friends have you made this year?” His father would question gently as he received his answer. Chouji would gaze up at his father and gave off another tender smile and replied. “The butterflies.”
Chouji would free any butterfly from harms way but, he could not free himself.
Soon the bullying and cold hearted banter turned to his weight. There, at that point, Chouji would bite down on his quivering bottom lip and take blow after blow. He stood straight despite feeling emotionally weak and frail. He shook his head determined to not give in. He forgave them all. That was the way Chouji was. His heart could not carry any anger, revenge, malice, or hate.
Bothered, he would ask his father why he and their family were large in build. Chouji sat silently and listened trying as hard as he may to understand his father’s wise words the best he could.
“Even if you stopped eating you would not loose much weight. Our power resides in our stocky build. Without our weight our techniques would be useless and we would no longer be strong. Then we would have no need to be ninjas.”
Chouji grew remembering his father’s words. Trusting him till the very end. Indeed, Chouji had made friends, just as his father had said he would.
Shikamaru was Chouji first friend. Then Ino Yamanaka turned from her teasing to join him. He always knew there was kindness in every human’s heart. As he grew older his group of friends grew and his smiles were no longer hiding hurt.
Time had passed and Chouji had stumbled upon the spot where the words “Hurry up and come! We’re all waiting!” Had been carved into the tree stump. The same spot he sat limply the day he thought he died. He had lived though.
“Akimichi’s don’t die easily” His father’s words came ringing in his ear.
It was true. He had lived through a time when he was positive he could not survive and here even as blood was gushing from his stomach he knew a normal person would have been dead from blood loss minutes ago. But he was an Akimichi.
His pale limp hands traced the engraved markings on the bark one last time. “Shikamaru, Ino, Kiba, Neji, TenTen, Lee, Shino, Hinata, Naruto, Asuma-sensei…Dad…my friends…love me” He muttered for the last time. “I am coming…you waited long enough.” Those were the last words spoken from the young Akimichi’s mouth as he slumped back against the tree and slid down lifeless. A small blue butterfly fluttered and landed on top of the dead boy’s hand.
The clouds were heavy and the sky dark the day the casket was settled into the ground. The casket had belonged to that of Chouji Akimichi.
Chomaru’s head was lowered as he mumbled about his son and rambled on about the butterflies and how he had been the kindest person who never deserved to die in a war in the grim fashion he had.
After the funeral had ended all but Nara Shikamaru had stayed behind to leave the last words. Shikamaru knelt at his friend’s grave. “Chouji…when I meet you again I promise that I’ll stop any offenders who threaten to steal your bag of chips.” With that Shikamaru pulled a bag of chips from his pocket and gently laid it on his grave. “Not even I will steal a chip” He muttered and stood up walking into the distance leaving the empty bag on the grave accompanying a precious pack of cigarettes from Asuma and a elaborate bouquet from Ino.
Alas, the words on the freshly polished tomb stone shined in the darkness and had soon become a resting place of the several blue winged butterflies that nestled about the grave showing their own amount of remorse, grief, and sorrow. The tombstone had been engraved with the words “Chouji Akimichi: A butterfly rests here who dared spread his wings. He who has found a place amongst the butterflies.”
-----
Chouji Akimichi was like a butterfly. He always fluttered about from one spot to another looking for a place to where he would belong. He fluttered here and there hoping to find that one place where he would not be rejected and where he would be accepted for who he was. Like a butterfly, Chouji’s inner beauty had gone unseen for the longest time.
He would look to his father for the wisdom and comfort he could not bring to himself. “Father am I weak?” He would always ask in an innocent tone. Chouji would follow his question with a tilt of his head as he took his father’s kind words to heart. The words he knew came from a man who had been through the same.
“No Akimichi is weak. And do not let anybody make you believe otherwise.” Chomaru would say comforting his young son and accompanying him with a gentle pat on the head and gave an encouraging smile that radiated with warmth that only a father wielded.
As he was younger Chouji was taunted in the halls of the Academy. His only friends at the time were the fluttering butterflies and a bag full of potato chips. And they remained his only friends for a much extended period in his life.
Chouji had swallowed his pride and let others tease him. He spoke with no complaints and with no anger nor malice. He would turn his head to one side in an attempt to hide the pain of being the topic of the teasing. He would close his eyes shut pretending and wishing he did not notice the faces being made behind his back. When pushed Chouji would stumble to gain his balance, bow his head, and mutter in a mute manner several unneeded apologies. When he was teased verbally he just shrugged his shoulder in an attempt to make the insults disappear. A small troubled smile would grace his slightly chubby face. The smile that always hid the emotional wound that grew with each harsh word that slithered from others mouths aimed at his direction.
“Chouji, son, what friends have you made this year?” His father would question gently as he received his answer. Chouji would gaze up at his father and gave off another tender smile and replied. “The butterflies.”
Chouji would free any butterfly from harms way but, he could not free himself.
Soon the bullying and cold hearted banter turned to his weight. There, at that point, Chouji would bite down on his quivering bottom lip and take blow after blow. He stood straight despite feeling emotionally weak and frail. He shook his head determined to not give in. He forgave them all. That was the way Chouji was. His heart could not carry any anger, revenge, malice, or hate.
Bothered, he would ask his father why he and their family were large in build. Chouji sat silently and listened trying as hard as he may to understand his father’s wise words the best he could.
“Even if you stopped eating you would not loose much weight. Our power resides in our stocky build. Without our weight our techniques would be useless and we would no longer be strong. Then we would have no need to be ninjas.”
Chouji grew remembering his father’s words. Trusting him till the very end. Indeed, Chouji had made friends, just as his father had said he would.
Shikamaru was Chouji first friend. Then Ino Yamanaka turned from her teasing to join him. He always knew there was kindness in every human’s heart. As he grew older his group of friends grew and his smiles were no longer hiding hurt.
Time had passed and Chouji had stumbled upon the spot where the words “Hurry up and come! We’re all waiting!” Had been carved into the tree stump. The same spot he sat limply the day he thought he died. He had lived though.
“Akimichi’s don’t die easily” His father’s words came ringing in his ear.
It was true. He had lived through a time when he was positive he could not survive and here even as blood was gushing from his stomach he knew a normal person would have been dead from blood loss minutes ago. But he was an Akimichi.
His pale limp hands traced the engraved markings on the bark one last time. “Shikamaru, Ino, Kiba, Neji, TenTen, Lee, Shino, Hinata, Naruto, Asuma-sensei…Dad…my friends…love me” He muttered for the last time. “I am coming…you waited long enough.” Those were the last words spoken from the young Akimichi’s mouth as he slumped back against the tree and slid down lifeless. A small blue butterfly fluttered and landed on top of the dead boy’s hand.
The clouds were heavy and the sky dark the day the casket was settled into the ground. The casket had belonged to that of Chouji Akimichi.
Chomaru’s head was lowered as he mumbled about his son and rambled on about the butterflies and how he had been the kindest person who never deserved to die in a war in the grim fashion he had.
After the funeral had ended all but Nara Shikamaru had stayed behind to leave the last words. Shikamaru knelt at his friend’s grave. “Chouji…when I meet you again I promise that I’ll stop any offenders who threaten to steal your bag of chips.” With that Shikamaru pulled a bag of chips from his pocket and gently laid it on his grave. “Not even I will steal a chip” He muttered and stood up walking into the distance leaving the empty bag on the grave accompanying a precious pack of cigarettes from Asuma and a elaborate bouquet from Ino.
Alas, the words on the freshly polished tomb stone shined in the darkness and had soon become a resting place of the several blue winged butterflies that nestled about the grave showing their own amount of remorse, grief, and sorrow. The tombstone had been engraved with the words “Chouji Akimichi: A butterfly rests here who dared spread his wings. He who has found a place amongst the butterflies.”
