Ok...well um o.o im not really sure what this is...o.o Yesterday i decided to write a drabble and...this is what was born. My brainchild came out NOT as i was expecting. I had originally started this one shot as a short kill/bash Sasuke fic...cuz personally i cant STAND THE BOY! But...my mind betrayed me and this is the product XD Anywho my esteemed beta and best friends says this is ok and also hello to the readers out there :)
Anywho, despite the fact this wasnt what i had planned i actually kind of like it and i hope you will too. Leave any comments and or questions by pressing the pretty little button below :D
The Birth Of Death
Rain fell from the sky, a heavy, drowning blanket as the color and brightness of the world drained and merged into the puddle of swirling crimson at his feet. Once luscious, vibrant, blonde, locks hung filthy and dirty in his face; blood that was his and some that was not tainting the lively color into something sordid and foul.
The water that fell from the heavens slowly began to solidify into hail, the sharp ice imbedding themselves into his already torn and ragged skin, but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything. He was numb. He was cold. He was dead.
No, he was Death. A soul sucking reaper. A shadow that passed over the world and stole breath from lungs, staring into wide, begging, eyes as the light faded from the seeing orbs. There were excuses though. So many excuses. Words to keep him sane. Like 'for the good of the village' or 'to save those he held dear'.
But he knew what he was, knew what he did could not really be justified. And yet, before, there had been that light at the end of the tunnel, a goal; that one chance of redemption that he ran towards, trying with all of his might to reach; that one chance to get his own soul back. To right what he had wronged.
But now the light was snuffed out and his soul laid broken and shattered before him, sinking into the spreading scarlet abyss that was slowly being washed away in the rising flood waters. It didn't matter though. The rain and rivers might carry away the physical evidence but he would always remember.
How could he not? It was the day he lost his dream, his goal, his soul and life. But there were still excuses. Still words that strove to keep his sanity in check.
For the good of the village. To save those he held dear.
But they were empty lies now. The village was a hollow shell; clean on the outside, festering rot beneath the surface. The once supreme Utopia that he held on such a high pedestal had fallen down upon him, cutting into him with ragged shards of ugly truth.
The world was not one of justice and compassion, of camaraderie and forgiveness as he had once believed when he was a child. And nor would it ever be. The world was a world of orders. Of demands. Of soul killing commands that people from above issued out as if they were nothing. As if the instructions didn't take every ounce of strength, of power, of life, to complete. This was reality. And no amount of foolish wishing and ardent shouts would make it any different.
"Hn. Dobe."
Tired, empty, eyes that once resembled the clear blue sky, slowly dragged to the sprawled figure at his feet, nothing flickering in the formerly expressive orbs. Nothing registered because there was nothing left to feel. His soul was shattered, his heart along with it.
He was as dead as the form beneath him.
But no…he was worse. He was a wraith, a ghost in this new grey, grey, lifeless world. He had no purpose, had no goal and as such was now doomed to wander this Earth lost and hopeless.
Hope…all their hopes. All their dreams. They were all dust in the wind now. All gone.
Because he had failed them. All of them. His team. His family. They had placed all their trust on him, believed he could bring their dreams and hopes to life. And he did the opposite. He killed them; tore a hole right through their chest. And in turn, he had killed himself.
Knees that had been wobbling for some time now gave as if they had been cut out from under him, the adrenaline all gone now, and he crashed into the mud, specks of soil and gore rising up to join the falling rain.
Time passed but he did not notice or maybe…he couldn't. He was suspended out of time. A second could be a day, a minute a week, a hour an eternity.
And he didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. The dull black eyes that stared at him, stared through him, taunted him with that fact, mocked him.
Those eyes. Not moments ago they had been burning red and alight with rage, with hatred.
With fear.
But now they were empty as his own.
Slowly, he reached out as if to touch the alabaster cheek that was streaked in blood but stopped himself, blood saturated hand suspended in mid air.
Why?, he thought to himself. Why had he left? Why couldn't the bastard just stay? Had he not been important enough?
The memory of the hatred in those scarlet eyes as they faded to black flashed in his mind.
No. No he hadn't. Never important enough. Never good enough.
And now the man he had once considered his ally, his friend, his brother, lay dead in the dirt, his chest gaping wide as the abyss, the jagged edges reaching out, as if to suck him in. And oh how he longed to fall in. Just fall and never get back up. But he couldn't. He had made a promise. And even if he had broken every single one he had ever made already, he would keep this one. He would live. He owed his father and every one else he had failed that much.
But…there was one more thing he had to do. One more kick to the dust that had once been his heart.
There was a sense of irony in the world as the blonde leaned forward, gleaming kunai in a steady hand, and placed the tip of the blade at the corner of the swallowing dark that were once eyes and pushed, dug, yanked, pulled. The dead man had once treasured these eyes, held them above all else. And now they were just orbs of soft flesh in between still clawed fingers.
With no remorse, with no hesitation, his fingers clenched into a fist, destroying the once all powerful portals. Blood and white matter oozed out of his grasp, slipping down into the mud, substitutes for the tears he would never let fall.
Suddenly, a weight descended unto his shoulder and he turned his head in disinterest. What more could the world ask of him? Hadn't he done enough? But of course he hadn't. Enough was never truly enough.
Faces swirled before him, above him, below him, but he couldn't tell the difference between them. They were all just shades of grey. Of mist. Of air.
"Come on Naruto. Let's go. It..its done. You…you did good. Now…let's…let's go home."
Home…there was no such thing. Not for him. It was a familiar word though. Lingering on the fringes of his mind. Like a prize he just couldn't reach.
But that voice…he knew that voice, that voice that was now broken as it tried to form words around sobs. The blonde looked up in a spark of recognition and came face to face with a swirling, crying, red orb.
But…it was only one. Only one. Not two. Never again two.
What had this phantom, this mocking phantom with that taunting red eye, called him?
Naruto?
No…that wasn't right. That was not his name. That name was the name of hopes and dreams, of friends and color and life.
That name didn't fit into this new world. Hopes were nothing but childish wishes, dreams nothing more than fantasy. Friends were nothing. They brought pain. They left and hurt. They turned evil, they destroyed all he held dear. They took color and life with them, so all that was left was swirling grey and burning red.
That was not his name. That name had died with the name Uchiha, swirling and swirling into a red whirlpool until it washed down the river, out of sight, out of life, out of memory.
His name was not Naruto.
His name was Death.
No.
He was Death.
And that's all he would ever be.
PUSH THE BUTTON!
DO IT!
YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!