Blood.
That was all He could see.
It was as if he was reliving that night.
So many years ago
With so much
Blood.
With so much
Hate.
A tear stained his cheek.
"Naruto"
He whispered into the lone, cold night.
Why?
He thought.
Why was everyone close to him…
Dying?
The cold wind whipped his raven hair,
Sending it spiraling across his face.
His fist touched the cold rock,
The barren rock,
The rock on which his closest friend lay dead.
"Why?"
His voice pierced the night.
"Why?"
What had he done?
He pictured his brother lying there, cold.
An image of his family flashed before his eyes.
Why?