Disclaimer: Naruto is a copyright of Masashi Kishimoto.
The body fell to the ground with a thud.
It was bruised and battered from the many blows it had endured.
Eventually, it gave out and collapsed.
Still. Lifeless.
When the body was found, it was much too late, and yet too soon.
The flesh was still warm. Skin still flushed from the heat of the battle.
Fresh blood still oozing out of a numerous amount of wounds; some recent, some old.
The still form was lifted and put onto a stretcher, broken limbs dangling off the sides.
They knew there was no hope. The heart had stopped. Blood had ceased to flow.
At least they could take the body back to the village and clean it up. They would have a proper funeral.
They departed from the barren wasteland, the corpse in tow.
It rained the day of the funeral.
The sky was gray and forbidding.
Rain fell down harshly on the black-clad villagers.
They stood in grief stricken silence, taking a moment to grasp the cold, hard truth.
One by one they approached the casket, murmuring their final goodbyes.
Some immediately broke down sobbing as the small, frigid form came into view.
The skin was pale, paler than usual.
Arms and legs bandaged to conceal the gruesome wounds the body had endured.
Hair limp and disheveled from lying down.
Eyes. Empty and lifeless, they would imagine. Never to appear from behind pale lids again.
The body lying in the coffin was still; never to move again.
The casket was lowered into the ground. Flowers placed atop the grave.
The villagers left.
The rain, however, did not let up.
It rained the rest of the day.
And into the entire week.
The rain continued its downpour, as if refusing to cease its mourn for a loved one.
This can be viewed as anyone's death. I tried not to specify any details, so it can go in any direction.
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Ja, Ne.