Disclaimer: Naruto doesn't belong to me.
Pastel Shades of Black
Chapter 1: MiRoR
His arms were weak. His hands were trembling; his fingers were nimble and didn't cling to the cold, slippery, metallic bars, which were too thick.
He could remember swinging on the monkey bars while his mother assisted him and caught him by the armpit before he fell to the barren soil.
Afterwards, they'd walk back home. The playground is just a walking distance away from their home. But to him, home is everywhere where she is present. Right now his home was the playground. Holding her hand. Soft hand, it must've felt like the cottony clouds. It must've been that part of his life wherein he was offered a glimpse of heaven. What a pity, he wasn't able to relish that.
Very warm. Very safe. Sometimes, he'd press it against his cold cheek and sniff at the scent of the light and fragrant cologne. His eyes would curve into happy arcs and he'd giggle. His mother used to ask him why and he'd answer 'Nothing'.
Everything's just too perfect. Too perfect it must be an illusion.
He'd answer 'nothing'. And then there's this warm lingering sensation in his chest every time they smile together. How ironic, he was supposed to answer 'everything'. Maybe he's just delighted when she makes that face. She'd stare into his eyes as though the answer was at its very core. And it was funny. His lips would quirk. One side of her lips would quirk. Then they'd suddenly burst into laughter. The woman he calls 'mother' would tickle him and everything around would turn into a blur.A colorful blur.
The playground disappears and what remains were just the two of them. Then he's floating. The sound of their laughter was too overwhelming. Too contagious. It was almost deafening. His lungs would hurt. But it didn't matter. It was a good kind of hurt. His chest would hurt afterwards. And he'd clutch his heart, desperately trying to recover the lost breath.
It must be a drug.
She was his drug.
But he was right. Everything was an illusion. It must be an illusion. It was just a matter of time. The spell JUST HAD to be broken. If only it lasted longer…
Oh god. He thought everyday is just like the day before. They'd go about their daily routines. Laugh. Smile. Dance. Sing. Eat. Sleep. Read. Bathe. Laugh more. Smile more. You get the point. Always together. Inseparable. And she promised. She promised that she'd stay with him forever in that make-believe heaven.
He didn't know that time exists. That people don't stay forever. That adults make empty promises. His mother was among those adults. She made a promise. She made a promise about 'forever'. But forever doesn't really exist.
His heaven was a feeling… not a place.
Feelings are fleeting. Feelings disappear.
Heaven cannot possibly exist on earth.
Perfect things can't possibly thrive on such filthy place.
All it took to make the illusion shatter was a phone call from a hospital.
So, they were back home. Sitting on the carpet. Reading 'Three Little Pigs'.
It was the funniest story, ever. Up to now, he laughs when he reads or hears about it.
His mother would make a huffing noise. Blow an imaginary house, impersonating the big bad wolf. Those were the best times. He laughed and he laughed. The best times were always with her in it.
The clock was ticking away. Oh, if only he knew that it was only a matter of minutes before the illusion shatters… but he didn't even know what a clock was for back then.
And he huffed and he puffed…
3…
2…
1…
and he blowed the house in.
The phone rang.
She lifted herself from the floor.
Her feet gently carrying her towards the impending news of her husband's sudden departure. Death.
The low murmurs from his mother was the only sound aside from the ticking clock.
He waited expectantly for his mother to approach him as soon as he heard the phone receiver being put down. But she remained rooted to her position. Walking towards her with reserved steps, the boy noticed the way her right hand twitched and noticeably shook.
He carried the book with him to his mother's side. Clutching it against his chest. Tugging at the hem of his mother's shirt.
"Kaa-san?" The boy asked, tilting his head inquisitively. Eyes filled with confusion. Sadness was an emotion he wasn't accustomed to seeing in his mother's features. Her tense shoulder slackened.
"Naru… chan." She was biting at her lower lip, which was shaking uncontrollably.
"What's the problem? Kaa-san… why?" He asked, his own eyes suddenly becoming moist. He didn't understand why. But he didn't like seeing his mother like that. Just like laughter. Tears were contagious.
"N-nothing…" She murmured shakily. Enveloping Naruto with her arms which were suddenly cold. Her entire body was cold.
"Nothing." Naruto repeated and she began to cry. Hot tears cascading down her cheek and soaking into his shirt.
How ironic. Her answer was supposed to be 'everything'. That moment. Was the moment that erased Uzumaki Naruto's everything.
The colorful blur twisted and was distorted into an ugly black. Everything was drowned by tears. Spoiling the image in the process.
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