AN: I originally wrote this as a "Writing to Show" (an assignment where you show the reader how the character feels, instead of telling the reader). It was a soldier. I changed it up a bit, changing the soldier to a Naruto character and gun to kunai, etc. I hope you like the writing. I know it's small, but I'm quite proud of it.
Dedication: To all the soldiers in Iraq, Afghanistan, etc. We truly appreciate what you do for us.
Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto.
His eyes flutter shut like that of a butterfly's wings flapping. A shiver rises from his toes, to his spine, and finally to his head as he fights against the urge to run in the opposite direction. His eyelids slowly rise to reveal the sightseeing orbs, and his body is doubling over from the quick observation of his surroundings. A stained kunai drops to the underlying blood-splattered grass with a clink. A gagging noise rises in his throat as if pumped by some unknown force. In through his nose, out through his mouth, a mix of oxygen, nitrogen, and other gases rise into his suddenly deprived body. Respiration had never been such a complicated process before. Reaching behind himself and clawing for the object of his desire, he picks up a canteen, raising himself up to drink from it. Tipping the light as a feather container over his mouth, a cry of frustration similar to that of a baby's wail escapes his throat as only a few drops of the cool liquid fall into his mouth. The scene surrounding him whispers with tales of how this is happening, and how easily it can happen to him. He throws his canteen to the ground, picking up the kunai he had dropped moments before, and suppressing another shiver analyzes his surrounding with the critical eye of a scientist observing a test subject. Digging deep inside, he lifts right foot, left foot, right foot, left foot, in a rhythmic pattern that creates a drumming sound.
His eyes quickly glance right, left, forward, back. He stops with a movement he is witnessing out the corner of his eye. Gripping his kunai in a defensive position, he stalks over to the object of motion and, one, two, three, throws his last kunai.
Only a squirrel.
The man breathes a sigh and walks away, ignoring the death just caused by his own hands. His head shakes back and forth, as if ridding himself of something, and he continues on. Refusing to give in, Naruto trudges through the battlefield littered with bodies, as cluttered as the ground after an outdoor concert would be. Konoha is another mile away, and every second feels like a minute as he walks onward.
AN: This is a somewhat sidefic of "Breath," my Sasuke-centric oneshot. If you liked this, go check that one out. Well, I know it's very different from my usual stuff, but I hope you liked it! Please review and tell me what you think of my writing style here, like it, don't like it, whatever. Thanks for reading!