Threads of Fate
Prologue
You are redundant.
You are weak.
So why do you fight?
Why do you still hold on,
To the thread of hope,
When there is nothing there?
But go on.
Follow your fate,
By changing it yourself.
Because I won't change it for you.
There was darkness. Shadows that used to dance in the presence of light stood still as they lingered upon a sleeping form. Its deep breaths were the only sound that could be heard, breaking the silence. Cavern walls surrounded it, shielding it from the world outside. But at the same time, they were caging it in the restlessness of its thoughts, that bothered it even in its dreams.
The boy, merely yet a man, had his eyes bandaged. He deserved a good rest after the surgery he had gone through but knew he couldn't risk to waste time any longer. The drugs that circulated in his blood made his visions even more vivid in their cruelty, reminding him of what he had to do once he recovered. The hatred that had captivated his wishes and dreams a long time ago made him fantasize about what was yet to come. He could hear voices in his head, some laughing, others screaming in despair.
Nobody but himself would be the one to decide Konoha's fate.
He dreamt of blood and death, of bodies lying on the ground. Some of them he recognized, others were foreign to him. There were adults and children and elders – the elders he resented to much for what they had done! –, there were women and men, mothers and fathers, brothers and sisters. It didn't matter to him. They all deserved the pain he would implement on them and the fires that would burn down the lies they cast while laughing in ignorance.
Despite his flaming thoughts, the boy looked tired, even in his sleep. He was covered in wounds and dirt. He seemed weak, almost. But that he was not. It was nothing but an illusion, one of the kind he used to cast upon those, who were foolish enough to engage him in battle. Deceiving had always been like a second nature to him just like it was to be expected. Once, people wanted him to be good at it, yet they cursed him for fulfilling their wishes. They didn't know anything but judged him for being what they, themselves, had made him out to be. I was their fault, not his. Why should he regret what they decided to overlook?
The sound of steps reechoed from the walls. They seemed loud in the dominance of silence but were still those of a shinobi. Swift and elegant, fast but cautious.
Red eyes broke though the darkness, their gaze fixating on the boy. The shadow halted in front of him, standing still while watching his almost peaceful looking face. Its orbs caressed his figure for a moment before suddenly starting to rotate. They begun to change, the comma-like circle widened, blackening the blood-colored pattern.
Once again, there was nothing but darkness.
It is time to decide the boys fate, it thought. Reassured, it reached out to him, lightly touching his shoulder.