WALTZ, UCHIHA
Author: Asylum for the Verbally Insane
All Standard Disclaimers Apply
NARUTO ©Masashi Kishimoto
I
Uchiha, Sasuke lay upon the cold blood soaked ground, his blue tinted lips tilted up into a sardonic half smile. And his nearly sightless black eyes rested upon the unmoving form of a man, whose own dark countenance was so similar to he himself. Something, that he found grimly amusing and ironic, lying here at his deathbed.
For in the end, they were the same; became the same.
He supposed that a story in which began so darkly, should indeed have a damned ending as well. His life from the moment he had walked through the gates of his home, to find the endless corpses of all he had held dear had played out in a sad waltz. The grief turning into hate for his brother, the hate masquerading as divine justice, the justice making a path for ambition, ambition trailed to the heady notion of vengeance, and the only result that borne of vengeance, was death.
Looking to the frigid light of the full pregnant moon; he began to remember… glimpses and shards of a place warm and bright as a never-ending summer afternoon. Filled with laughter and tears –a breeze through the boughs of a large weathered tree, stirring the bright green leaves.
A voice hazed in and out like the images he was experiencing –it was a man with silver hair and mismatched eyes, this man was trying hard to teach him a lesson about teamwork. Sasuke could feel the scoff working its way up his weakened throat.
It changed then, to a boy with the sun for hair and blue eyes like the sky, sparking so fiercely, he was yelling with conviction, with a promise –he'd always been so loud.
Finally ribbons of the softest pink, which reminded him of the thousands of floating petals in a sakura grove. Her eyes were green and tremulous, baring an entire soul just for him –far too precious a gift that he should never receive.
For Uchiha, Sasuke did not deserve that mentor, that friend, or that lover.
A sudden pained cough erupted from his throat, his vision turning black. It was time. He gagged and spluttered up the remainder of his lifeblood, cursed blood. Using the last ounce of strength he still possessed, he reached over and clasped the hand next to his own. He held it tightly. Together, Itachi, you and I can make that journey into oblivion.
And it was okay, because he deserved his brother.
II
If you hate a person, you hate
something in him that is a part of
yourself. What isn't part of ourselves
doesn't disturb us.
Hermann Hesse
-Finis-