Words of warning: I am likely not to finish this. The OC is also rather ambiguous in gender and might be a Mary/Gary Sue. So be warned! So... enjoy?
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or the Uchiha brothers. Do support Masashi Kishimoto and the official anime/manga releases.
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With long black hair bundled up neatly, I pinned it up with a silver flower hairpin. It was the kind that stuck out and had little beads dangling down from one tip of the silver stick. A black top clung to my chest. The high collar was iconic to the Uchiha's. My bottoms was the clingy type too, showing off my long slender legs. Putting on the violet yukata and tying around the blue obi, I stepped into the wooden geta and left my apartment.
To people who asked, I called myself Death. Living was like dying. Without Koibito, life was without colour. Even if my Sharingan was running, I would only remember the days running in blurs.
It was a long mission. 'Infiltration', 'double agent' and many words were written on the contract. At least my love was with me. We kissed and hugged. We lied and pretended. Where others would retire on marriage, we married while at work. We knew we would die on duty. Once found, imprisonment and torture would follow. But we were happy. We were together.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
Only the regret in his old tired eyes spoke how sincere he was. Sandaime, we succeeded the mission but I think we failed. With no will to live, I was wondering if I should work until a mission killed me. However, I knew my love would not want to see me wilt away. Yet how do you live when you're all alone?
He had my eyes. Black like death itself. He had seen as much as me; loss of love and many deaths. His hands were different. Small and clean not like my calloused and blood-stained one. His short black hair spiked behind while mine remained held by Koibito's gift. So different yet so similar.
He used to be so small. Just a baby in my arms. His mother, beautiful and kind, smile warmly, asking how I and my love was. His father scorned me but never dared to disturb the peace. His brother, so mature for one so young, looked up, yearning to take the baby from my arms. When the baby was in his arms, the child smiled happily, a rare sight for the stressed prodigy. Was it always this peaceful? This happiness bloomed from the sight of one so innocent. I swore to protect the baby. The child swore as well.
"He always loved you. He always protected you."
"He killed them! The past was all just an act!"
Voice so loud and filled with fury. Once innocent and joyful, the voice was now tainted with hatred. I watched sadly at the child. This was not the fate I had imagined for the innocent. Then again, I never imagined a life without my love.
"No matter how smart or mature they are, pretending for years is a feat impossible. Even for your prodigious brother. Somewhere he would have made a mistake and I doubt a five-year-old would think and plan for a mass-murder. Plus, who do you really want? A brother or a murderer?"
"He said… he did it to test his capacity. He killed them all for that…."
"I don't think there is much to test from fighting some geezers and the retired. Your smart brother would have gone for the hokage instead if that was the truth."
"Are you saying…."
"Who knows? For now, we choose who to belief, how we would proceed into the future and keep on living."
Yes, keep on living. That would be what his brother would want for him and what Koibito would want for me.
"Will you stay?"
His voice so innocent yet filled with pain. I wonder what it would sound like when spoken with happiness. The corners of my mouth twitched. My right hand stroked his head in a gentle and comforting manner.
"I will. I'll take care of you and watch over you. I'll stay by your side but you too must stay by mine, alright?"
The boy nodded, determine to keep his word. I hope he does. After all, I don't think I can bare losing anymore important people. As the boy lay on the white hospital bed, he rolled closer to one side. Eyes watching me, asking silently for me to lay beside him. With my arm over his waist and my head on half of a pillow, I hummed a simple melody. His eyes slowly closed and soon mine followed.
While I heal the younger brother's traumatised mind and broken heart, I wonder how the older is faring. No matter what anyone said, I know that the child from eight years ago would keep his words. After all, the child in my arms was alive and breathing.
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