Welcome to my collection of writing prompts. The majority of these will originate from words given to me by my blog's followers on Tumblr (foreverkonoha is my url on there, by the way). These aren't my best work because of the fact that not much time was spent on each one. However, I hope they are remotely acceptable. If you'd like to submit a prompt, I'd really love to have a go at writing a short piece for it. Either message me through my blog or leave it in a review. Thank you! -Léa
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
Prompt: Hair.
He was just sat on a bench.
He was just sat on a bench with his head bowed.
He was just sat on a bench with his head bowed and his hands tearing at his hair.
That wonderful hair. A golden yellow as untamed as his personality. Spikes stuck out at odd angles, the colour so eye-catching whatever room he was in seemed visibly brighter. Tonight though, its shine seemed dull somehow. His hair appeared slightly ruffled from his clammy hands constantly combing though it as he sat, making it look more wild than usual.
His face was hidden from her, but his quiet, uncontrolled sobs rang out through the silence of the night.
In the harsh orange-tinted light given off by the streetlamp next to the bench, she saw that his was torn in places and in others it was matted with a mixture of mud and blood.
He seemed unresponsive to her presence. Either in his grief he hadn't noticed he or considering the circumstances just didn't want to acknowledge her being there. He wouldn't have lived this long if it was the former, and she stood in the shadows a mere five metres from the bench. She knew he'd want to be alone right now, but she hoped he'd at least be a little comforted by the fact she was there.
The pain he felt was understandable, of course. He'd experienced death before. Hell, the average life expectancy for a person of the shinobi lifestyle was just twenty. He'd seen time and time again the eyes when glazed over on a dead body. The colour leaving the skin as they bled. To Naruto and any ninja in the world, death was the norm, not that that made it any easier to overcome and move on from.
He'd seen so many people die now. Friends, those he saw as family, enemies, even those who he saw die by his own hand.
He was just a shell now. There was only so much death one could see in their lifetime.
He found himself asking the question no ninja ever should.
Was it worth it?