Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto and any other characters from any notable sources. Plots are my own. Cover's mine.
Summary: "Run and don't ever come back" -Kurama
Naruto, an orphan and a war victim of the Whirlpool tragedy, held the note left by his anti-social, magic-phobic foster father. He didn't know where else to go. Why must they run away? What was his usually stoic dad so afraid of? What's going on?
It was then Sasuke had uncovered something major but yet to understand what it meant. How was it connected to his best friend (and secret love)?
WARNING: This is shounen-ai. Although I can write yaoi, but I prefer not to be explicit. SasuNaru with a few side pairings.
He felt the wild whips of heat lashing on his blackened skin. He dug his fingers in frustration into the scorched earth, balling his fists and punched the ground hard as he growled angrily. He stared at his fists as grainy, ashy sand slipped like water onto the ground.
He couldn't believe this was once fertile earth that used to sprout beautiful flowers and soft green blades of grasses which danced with the wind. He looked around him miserably, shaking his head in denial. Tears were streaming down his cheek, blotching his marred clothes and greyed soil. He knew this place by memory; it was the city park.
Not long ago, a large playground was newly built nearby where he kneeled. It was colourful with five different designs and lengths of slides. There was a big, shallow water fountain where little children loved to play in and splash water at each other or sailing their little boats and rubber ducks. Sandboxes were built at two corners where every evening they would be filled with sandcastles and sand figurines. There was a jungle gym made out of colourful recycled tyres, many melody poles and small drum panels at one corner, various swings of different sizes and seats and a large, adventurous set of monkey bars.
It was his idea to build a children playground. It was just last month the place was finally opened to the public. The playground was always filled with children and their parents or guardians, bringing warmth into his heart. He came by every week to watch the children play, feeling fulfilled and happy. He couldn't wait to be a father. His wife was due soon. He couldn't wait to bring his own child… children here too.
There was an explosion nearby and a loud hissing from the burning plastic broke his reverie. The wonderful children park was now replaced by a sea of fire and the air was thick with burnt plastic and rubber stench. Crumbling buildings and fiery flames were all his devastated blue eyes could see. He stifled a sob as grief swelled in his chest. His lips trembled as the incident that ended this battle sank into his brilliant mind. He couldn't collect his will to stand up and run away from the inferno. He saw an exit, but he just – didn't – care anymore.
It didn't matter to him that the thickening ashes in the air made him cough and it was getting harder to breathe. It didn't matter to him that his clothes were charred and tattered. Scalded skin peeked from beneath of what was left of his clothes. He clenched his jaw, closing his eyes that had lost its usual cheerful gleam as more tears wetted his cheek. His blonde head was throbbing in agony in his hands. The truth… the truth was too cruel for his sanity to withstand. He had won the battle, but he didn't feel victorious. Just hours ago the city was lively, like every other day. No one had seen this coming.
Not even him.
The city was famous for having solely tall buildings, standing mighty as the reputation of their King's power that was well-known throughout the land. His blue eyes hardened at the sight before him. There was no evidence of whatever city it had before. Of whatever city he had built here. There were no tall buildings left raised as they were all in shambles and burning. If anything, he believed he was already dead and was thrown into hell.
"Damn!" He punched the ground, hoping that his frustration would dissipate …but it didn't. Instead, he felt worse and the new throbbing pain made him realise that he wasn't dreaming. It made him realise that everything that was happening was real. This hell was the reality. He couldn't forgive himself for not being strong enough. He couldn't forgive himself for failing to protect what mattered most to him. He was their King, yet he couldn't protect his people.
A young yet powerful dark wizard had crossed their path today. That very wizard had heard what the country's sacred treasure could do and had risked anything to get hold of it.
He remembered so vividly how the dark wizard's red eyes were glinting in malice as he paced towards him among the firestorm. The blazing heat made his long scarlet hair fluttered with grace. His fair skin was glowing with excitement. Dark formidable aura was shrouding his very being, leaving none to breathe with ease in his presence. The sight of the young wizard gave him horripilation. The teenaged wizard was deadly gorgeous even with the evil, knowing smirk he directed towards the blond King.
Kyuubi was his name. 'Kyuubi no Kitsune' they had called him. The nickname had come with those mops of red hair that looked like elegant tails of the ancient mythical beast and the strength he possessed. Some believed that he was the incarnation of the beast itself. He was a prodigy wizard and had mastered powerful sorceries at the tender age of nine.
The battle had been dragged on terribly long until the young wizard tripped on the slippery, bloody stones out of exhaustion. The weakening teenager was then bleeding profusely from the strike to his spleen and he was swaying at the verge of death. The King took this as an opportunity to give the final attack with his famed Rasengan spell. Before he manoeuvred to pierce the young teenager's heart, the latter managed to make a huge explosion with a counter spell. The blonde wizard was thrown a few yards away and landed hard on his back. He groaned in pain but he quickly stood upright again, looking around. He didn't have the time to take a breather because he knew every mistake like this was an opportunity for the other.
He gasped when he realised that the teenager had a spell which he knew was deadly, already heading towards him. He knew he couldn't dodge it in time. With a flick of his wrist, the sacred treasure that the dark wizard was seeking for magically appeared in his hand. His hand tightened at the hilt of the powerful sword that could be wielded only by his bloodline. His powers were long drained and he was using magic on mere will. He knew it would damage his body but it was his duty as the King to protect this city, his county. Even if he managed to draw out the sword's potential, he knew he couldn't do it fully because he wasn't its chosen master.
Legend foretold that only those with great power could wield it to the fullest. Despite being one of the greatest wizards alive, the sword didn't elect him as its true master. It was the same for his father and his grandfather. It had been a long time since the sword had chosen its true master. Suddenly, everything went by in a flash and he watched everything in horror. Even the teenaged wizard was caught off-guard and he, soon after, vanished and barely alive. The blonde King was paralysed with disbelief and his face paled as what had happened sunk into his mind. Slowly, he fell on his knees. His unblinking gaze with unshed tears never moved from the spot where he saw a small baby had suddenly appeared …and disappeared a moment after, or did the infant got blown into shred because of the magic seal was too strong for his little body?
The King never knew. He wasn't sure. He didn't want to think about it. If he did... 'no... please, no...' he chanted in his head while struggling in the verge of insanity. He doubted what he just saw. Here he was, wallowing himself in self-hatred and pain with all the memories of what had happened a while ago. The thought of the infant made him slouched even more as he shook bitterly, sobbing aloud hopelessly. The sacred sword had finally chosen its master again after so long and burnt its seal on the pinkish-porcelain skin of its true wielder at the eleventh hour of the battle. The birth of the chosen master of the sword was supposedly a joyous event but it was very unfortunate that the little wielder was now gone forever.
The blonde wizard buried his face into his dirty palms, grieving painfully. He was supposed to die, but fate had cursed him and allowed him to live instead. He was supposed to die instead of the child. The child was supposed to live on. A gentle hand was on his shoulder and he looked up to meet tearful teal eyes, looking as dreadful as he was or perhaps worse. The pregnant lump was gone and her dress was stained with soaking red blood. She quickly threw herself into his open arms, her face buried in the curve of his neck. He could no longer hear the crackles of fire laughing into his ears, mocking him on how he was only a father for a mere moment and a lousy one at that. He concentrated hard on the sharp constant breaths of his beloved wife who was clinging onto him for comfort.
They had won the war, but it came with a terrible price: they both had lost something precious to them.
TBC
A/N: If you have ever read this before, you're not wrong. I republished this fic again. I hope you enjoyed reading this! Drop a review and tell me what you think.
-aya