Title: One Day
Author: Dorku no Renkinjutsushi
Rating: Pg-13
Disclaimer: Naruto and all related characters belong to Kishimoto-sensei, not me.
Summary: And one day, not so long ago, he swore it. And tonight, he's made it come true.
Sasuke can remember the walls of his home looking like this once before.
(And one day, not so long ago, he swore he'd see it again.)
The moon draped in through the open window that night, too. That night, so long ago, it painted delicate stripes of silver-grey-white across the dark wooden floors, making the silver picture frames (Sasuke's first day of school; Itachi's first birthday; both of them in their formal kimonos when Itachi was ten, before he stopped smiling) glow. It lit up the delicate glass, revealing scenes of a life that is now forgotten.
(And one day, not so long ago, he knelt here.)
Dust twinkles in the light of that heavenly body, dancing and twirling in the seemingly still air. Recently, it has lain thick upon these dark floors. It has been stirred up, though, much like it was that night before, inhabitants of the house inspiring the particles to take to the air and shine with all their might. It seemed then, in the fresh-fallen silence, to be the only thing still moving, and it seems that way now.
(And one day, not so long ago, he watched it.)
Outside, the cicadas chirp. Shrra-shrra-shrra, shrra-chicka-shrra. They drown out the steady sounds, and he's thankful for that. He was thankful for that reprieve all those years ago, too, he remembers, and that adds another sound to the mix—the sound of a still-beating heart being squeezed impossibly tight under a wealth of emotion, left unfelt for years.
(And one day, not so long ago, he sealed it away.)
He's never felt this type of pain before, but he's felt something similar. All those years ago, he fell to the floor clutching at his head, screaming in agony. And tonight, he's fallen to the floor, clutching his stomach, laughing weakly in horror. It hurts more than he thought anything could ever hurt, a burning stabbing murdering pain.
(And one day, not so long ago, he thought the same thing.)
There were similar smells that night. The entire house smells sharp and rich, thick and the tang of iron is flavoring every single breath he draws. Blood—the sharp smell has pervaded everything, so much like that night. There's also the thick smell of sweat, a salty tang that hangs lightly in the heavy air. And underneath that, just barely noticeable, even to the trained nose, the house reeks of fear.
(And one day, not so long ago, he smelled the same thing.)
The walls looked like this once before, he knows. So did the floors. One night they were painted thick and dark, and the soft rose patterning of his mother's favorite carpet that lines the hall was destroyed. Parts of the pattern were soaked away in a red of a different sort, and parts were obscured by the heavy forms of once-humans. Tonight, the carpet is gone, but there's still a human there.
(And one day, not so long ago, it looked the same.)
He thought he was dying that day. Tonight, though, he knows he's dying.
(And one day, not so long ago, he felt the same.)
Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet, using the wall once more. He staggers out of the house, leaving that pattern after himself.
(And one day, not so long ago, he left it the first time.)
Sasuke can remember the walls of his home being covered in red handprints once before.
(And one day, not so long ago, he sealed that promise in blood.)
(Okay, so, written quickly to celebrate Sasuke's (most-likely) 16th birthday, which is today...23 July 2006!)