disaster site

He opened the door to his home and set his pack of tools on the floor by the door to his forge. He would have gone to put them all in their proper places on a normal day, instead he put ointment on his bruises. After rinsing off all the sweat from the hot sun with a nice bath, he went to his fireplace and lit a blaze with his fire rod. The flames reminded him of times when he was with those who understood him, who cared for him. Those nights around a campfire after days of dark blooded monsters were always welcomed by the nine heroes, it was a time to recover and unwind and form a new family to compensate for the ones they were taken from. Four had never had any siblings, being that he lost his parents at such a young age, so having the sailor to look after and the older heroes to look after himself was something new to him, but he never wanted to give it up. And just like that, he had to. He didn't know how long they were all together but it wasn't long enough. All the others had friends and family to go home to that would greet them with hugs and loving tackles upon their arrival. What did Four go home to? An empty forge, a quadripartite mind, and a never ending job to keep a roof over his head. Of course, the mind issue was mostly fixed when he gave up his sword. He would still argue with himself occasionally and he would find himself thinking out loud as though talking to someone else. The shelves mounted on the wall held many little trinkets and gizmos from his travels, one of which was his trusty old ocarina, that he hadn't played since that night around the fire that his questing brothers decided was a musical night. The night he realized that Warriors didn't know how an ocarina works, he remembered as he chuckled under his breath. He reached for the ceramic instrument and fumbled his fingers over the tones. There was a song that the old man had taught him and the sailor to play, a short tune that was repetitive and easy to remember. He played quietly and slowly at first, getting used to the rhythm, but eventually he stood confidently and played at the tempo he remembered. After a few verses, he was startled by a heavy drop of water hitting the roof, but he dismissed it and kept playing. The drop turned into drops and eventually a torrent. As the rain began to grow louder, Four ceased his melody and listened to the rain's own song. The downpour continued and he smiled as he eased into his chair by the fire. Just for the moment, it was no longer too quiet, and it was the best moment the lonely hero had had in a while.

Literally just ignore me I'm half insane rn please someone end my life 😭