He sees black but remembers orange and pink so vividly. There's smells that come with them. And some noises. He can't pin any of them down. They're not familiar but...these colors. These colors, they won't go away. For a brief moment, he wills for them to leave him alone but he's plunged into further darkness and spirals for a moment. Then he opens his eyes again and it's not as obsidian as it used to be. There's a hue in the sky, the two colors that won't go away mixed together, although different shades of what's in his head. They're not the same, but they plead for him to follow and he wants to. Wants to so desperately. They'll help him.
"Help."
The sound startles him so much, he falls. Knees scraping the grovel and dirt while his thighs continue their tread. He's slick from rain but the forest floor has already dried up. The water on his body keeps him from feeling the ground, now all spread out and trudging along by the pull of his elbows.
It comes again.
"Help."
This time it shocks him further into a surge of sudden adrenaline. He collides with branches, bushes, even an entire trunk, not even aware of the hard impact that overcomes his body and he's on the floor again. His eyes close and open six times, he counts. The first three the sky goes blue like him ('why like me?' he thinks), so deep and serene, childlike. Then the third is a darker blue, a sinking sky and the most miniscule spots of white stars all seemingly clustered directly into his line of sight. It was the best time he opened his eyes, he decides. Twice he saw the same black from before. And the last was his painful orange and pink, the brightest they have ever been since they first invaded his mind.
goawaygoawaygoaway
Now it rains into his open eyes staring at a light blue canvas, no blurs of white clouds disrupting the paint and he still feels soaked from the downpour he (must have) endured earlier. Although his current state of awareness is limited, it makes no sense for so much water to cling to him for so long or for such a day to bring this type of weather.
It was seven not six times these sore eyes of his open and close except the last didn't happen until
"Help"
His whimper, heard only by him, doesn't even echo, doesn't go past the bush he shades his face under to prevent burns already being scorched into his other exposed parts of skin.
The noises he heard weren't the frightening sounds of the forest, it was him.
The water soaking his clothes and wetting his skin isn't water, but blood.
The rain pouring into his eyes isn't rain. They're tears.
Sasuke shuts his eyes for the last time.
First of all, I promise he's not dead haha
Second,
Hello :)
Yes, this chapter (if I can even call it that) is very short but I have finally decided to get into a serious story, one that I really want to update and catch the interest of readers. So I'm hoping people see this small preview for this story I've been plotting out for weeks and maybe I can get some writing advice and reviews on whether they would really like me to continue. I can always continue it anyway for me, but I want it to be for you, you know. Anyway, there's so much more to come from this if you truly liked this and want to see more, so please let me know. Thanks!