Long Black Train

Summary: So horrible…All shall soon be revealed, but it's fun to theorize with Tobi.
Note:
Mixed and jumbled; so incredibly bad. I said Tobi first, so that's what's here. (Dead give-away, I know…lol) And yes I was thinking of Josh Turner's song, Long Black Train.
Disclaimer:
I don't own Naruto, but Naruto would probably believe me if I said I did.
Genre:
General…cause it's not overly angst or…whatever…


"Pein…have you seen…my eye drops?"

This was how he humored himself these days.

He laughed. He howled with sheer unadulterated laughter, and most of the time in these instances he could not explain it. It's just that he simply meant to be utterly ironic and yet all for this, he once found himself sprawled out on the ground being strangled by the legs of a one-armed man. Still, he remembers listening in feigned rapture at the one-name disclosure of poor Deidara-senpai's venture. It was all the former iwa nin would say. And it's not like Tobi had anything better to do. At the time, the rest of them thought he was a green songbird, just learning how to fly—a 'good boy' as Zetsu-senpai helpfully hinted. Indeed he could not explain compulsory laughter. However, it did not trouble him—unlike the dreams. Sleep was interesting, to say the least. For, in Tobi's dreams, there all was comprised of and existed yestermorrow—a peculiar feeling that left him quite sober every sunrise and very anxious every evening. Past and future experiences were sometimes difficult to separate. He did not mind analyzing his dreams—it gave him resolve. And yet all for that Tobi knows a few faces…or lack thereof, will refuse to leave him. He has few questions, because reversely, he has few reasons to ask them. He only has to look to his physical body to give him avengence. As he considers Sasuké, the feeling must be like a sort of disease these days.

"Konan…you should smile more, it will go with your flower."

The girl he saw in his dreams was always smiling.

He smiled. It was underneath the whirlpool of the mask, another of his homespun ironies for lovely Konoha. Sometimes he woke up when he hadn't fallen asleep and lie there wondering why he was smiling that way. It was an intensely personal question caught between a rift of two inner personae. But it was just something about the girl, it had to be. Tobi would see her and the sun would shine. The moon would rise. A long dead and silent moth escaped the cave of ants and flew away to someplace bright and warm. Tobi liked this gift she had. But it had never saved his body, had it? And yet for all this perverse circling of thought, he smiles. He's not sad. He's never been happy. From all above the addition line, the only thing he knows is that he must have been born on the battlefield. That was his memory. Blood and swords of that which shined in the wounds of still another person stalking his dreams.

He did not have any particular feeling for him.

Why not Tobi dwell not on yestermorrow, why not let Tobi define himself by where he is now—why not let him continue laughing. The laughter lasted for a much longer time in his tortured heart than a care-free thought for one man.

Tobi liked Sasuké. (Former sensei.) Tobi liked thinking about the girl. (He let her die.)

(No he didn't.)

(Yes, he did.)

(No—)

(Goodbye.)

Because Tobi can say that word.

That's what he could think all day on a long, black train…


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The End...?

'Hope it passed the time…lol

(Kishimoto-sensei, get going :)