A/N: So apparently, I have this obsession with angsty oneshots. I should have been working on other certain stories, but I just had to write this after watching 'the End of Tears' episode of Naruto (yeah, I realize the series is so far beyond the first arc, but so what? I'm fairly new to the fandom.) This was done purely for my entertainment - I actually had no desire to post this up here, but I figured I might as well. It was my first time writing from 2nd person POV, so I view this as an 'experiment'.
As a warning, like my "The End of the Beginning" Fruits Basket oneshot, this one has an ending that is in no way related to what really happened in the anime/manga. I decided to twist things around because... well, because I wanted to. XD

01. Fade to Black

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To beguile the time,
Look like the time; bear welcome in your eye,
Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower,
But be the serpent under 't…

(Lady Macbeth, Shakespeare's Macbeth)

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The blood is hot on your skin, the taste metallic in your mouth. Crimson tears. (Matches well with your scarlet eyes.) Your clothes bear rips and tears, long ravishing claw marks down their front… your skin is specked with red, the dark morbid color contrasting greatly with its paleness. Your ebony hair sticks to your neck with sweat… and blood.

His blood.

He, your foe, who is glaring at you now with those oh-so-brilliant blue eyes, unable to speak at the moment because of your vice-like grip on his neck. But he need not talk, for his eyes say it all.

Those eyes – they blink, blink again, and before you know it, they tear up. Droplets of salty water well and run down his face, mixing with dried blood and grime on their way.

One cold drop falls on your hand… and your grip involuntarily loosens.

A racking gasp emits from his mouth, soon turning into a fit of coughs which produce clumps of blood from his throat.

And those tears – they're still falling as his eyes once again find yours.

Tears of anger or sadness?

He, your friend, stares at you with those eyes – pleading, determined, desperate.

'You don't understand. Don't try to.'

------

Flitting out from the shadows of the valley, he catches you off guard. "Where are you going? Come back to us!" He is breathing heavily, exhausted from his chase. But you can tell – he is happy because he finally caught up to you; finally found you.

"Leave me alone," you coldly reply, turning away dismissively. "My choices do not concern you."

-

"Why are we fighting?" he yells in pain as he clutches his bleeding arm, the result of a nicely aimed shuriken from your own hand.

You reply matter-of-factly: "Because we're friends."

As if that makes all the sense in the world…

------

"Because…we're friends." He repeats your words now, whispering them through cracked lips. "We're…best friends."

You glare at him through narrowed eyes, refusing to show any indication of your own feelings (sadness, regret…). No, mustn't turn back now; you've come so far.

"Why?" he asks. "Why?" His voice raises a pitch in desperation, cracking under his strain.

The sheer agony of that single word momentarily catches you off guard, startling you with its raw force. Your hand drops from his throat completely, falling to your side in a tight fist (your perfect pretense shattered). The trembling starts – long spasms that race through your body – as you try to suppress the overwhelming urge to scream.

Mistaking your shaking as rage, he hastily grabs your arms, meaning to restrain you (even though your legs could quite as easily attack he lower half of his body…if you wanted to).

You freeze, and time stands still. It's just the two of you – comrades, teammates, friends… just like the old times.

What is this battle you're fighting?

Why, it's only a quick spar to hone your skills.

You wish.

His breath is coming out steadily, carefully concealing his racing emotions. You know he still holds onto some hope of redemption; he is still telling himself that you won't leave. He isn't taking this seriously yet.

You know what you're going to have to do to him. The thought is killing you. Your breathing, compared to his, is haggard…harsh. Your mind is an emotional whirlwind – more so than his right now – which is threatening to burst.

(Can't take it?)

You can't stand it.

(But you brought this upon yourself.)

It's your hunger for power.

Power.

His face flashes in the back of your head – that cruel smirk, the narrowed snake-like eyes. He, who can give it all to you for such a small price… so you can avenge your parents' deaths.

Because that's what you are – an avenger.

And it's for this reason that you must sever your friendship with the boy in front of you (purge your life of unhealthy relationships, as your brother would say).

"Please…"

Your eyes focus on him, and you immediately regret this instinctive reaction. It's that expression of complete loss on his face. Heartbreaking.

You swallow hard. "Let me go. I don't want to hurt you."

"Why are you doing this?!" he yells in disbelief. "The Village needs you. You can't just turn your back on it… on me…" He trails off, starting to tear up again.

It can't be helped. You should've kept your mouth shut, but, somehow, a question manages to slip out: "'Me'? What do I mean to you?"

Your voice is spiteful, but he answers anyway – more truthfully than you might have wished for. "Ever since I was little," he begins softly, "I've always been alone. I never had family or friends to call my own."

"I know that, stupid," you snap, hiding your true feelings behind your scathing tone. 'I was alone too… after they were murdered.'

"That all changed when I met you," his voice continues steadily, ever so quiet. "I realized that you, like me, was alone. We were both the same, despite what it may have seemed like. It made me happy to know that I wasn't 'suffering' by myself… that there was someone else who shared my pain." He lets out a bitter laugh. "How selfish of me to have thought that way."

His words hit closer to home that you would like to give him credit for. You had thought exactly the same thing when you first laid eyes on him that evening. He was wandering around that playground, alone because everyone he tried to fit in with had gone home with their parents.

He didn't have anyone to go home to.

But neither did you.

"And then, we were assigned to the same squad in the Academy. Imagine how happy I felt! I looked up to you – you, the star student, the one everyone loved. I looked up to you as a role model because you were everything I wasn't."

This strikes you as ironic. You thought of him as a role model; his characteristics were so desirable. …Okay, he was a clown – an impetuous prankster – and an airhead at times. He got into the most trouble at the beginning of their training, always rushing headlong into danger without thinking. But his optimism, infectious smile, courage, and that damned persistence soon won you over. 'If only I could be as carefree as he is.'

He glances at you, as if to see how you are taking this news. "Even though you were always surrounded by your admirers –"

'– who I paid no attention to…'

"I knew you were feeling just as empty as I. I'll admit, I was a bit jealous of you. You were so good at everything! Your lofty attitude made me feel so stupid around you!" he forces out, his cheeks turning hot with embarrassment. "But then I thought… is this what it's like to have a brother? Being able to admire someone, yet hate them at the same time…"

'That's exactly what it's like.' Your brother, the epitome of strength, grace, perfection; the one you loved, admired, and grew to hate… after he killed your parents.

A warm hand grips your shoulder firmly, startling you out of your thoughts. "That's what you mean to me. You're my friend… but you're also like a brother to me," he tells you, his ocean eyes boring into yours. "And that's why I won't let you go to him! I won't let you leave!" His raised voice resonates in the air around you, bouncing off the walls of the towering cliffs you are standing on.

You lower your eyes, completely overwhelmed at his response. You never expected to be a brother-figure to him out of all people, or to anyone for that matter! To think that you mean that much to him… it's enough to make you –

'No. It's too late.'

"So…" The whisper floats out of your mouth. "Is that what it's like? Alright then…" Narrowed onyx eyes flash up and meet his wide hopeful gaze. Your voice is hard. "I guess I'll have to break those bonds."

It takes a second before your words sink in; when they do, his face falls. He drops his hand from your shoulder, as if stung. "W-what?"

"You heard me." Every word is like poison on your tongue. "I'm going to end this, once and for all." Sliding into a defensive stance, you shoot a challenging glare in his direction. "Fight me."

He stands there, fists clenched at his sides. After deliberating a moment (you can see the confliction in his eyes) he mirrors your stance and meets your eyes defiantly. His expression sends a shock through your body, for it is not one of utter defeat as you expected. Instead, his whole face is alight with a fierce determination such of the likes you have never seen before.

"I'm not letting you walk away!" he growls. "Even if I have to break every bone in your body, I swear I will bring you back to the Village!"

You smirk. Finally, something to lessen your guilt: if he plans on showing no mercy, then you can plan on showing no mercy. You'd rather endure a thousand kicks and punches from him than sit through another sob-story (something that really shakes your resolve to leave). Perhaps the pain will knock some sense into you (harden your heart to redemption); act as atonement for your sins.

A flash of yellow suddenly flies by in your peripheral vision. Before you can even blink, the breath is knocked out of your body. You aresent tumbling backwards, skidding along the hard, rocky surface of the cliff. But before you have time to recover, his fists meet their mark again, and again, and again.

Stars are all around you now – great white blotches that dot your blackening vision. Your whole body is throbbing with pain… and yet, it feels good.

'So he's finally taking this fight for what it should be…' you think hazily.

You could tell that he was holding back before; he was still reluctant to hurt you, thinking that with gentle words and persuasion you would go back to that godforsaken Village.

'The idiot finally got it through his thick skull that it's going to take much more than that!'

(Call this physical persuasion, if you will. Though he thinks it will work, it won't. He was better off with his first approach! This is only working towards your advantage.)

Far from numbing your senses, his attacks only rejuvenate your body. With a burst of adrenaline, you send your foot colliding with his stomach, sending him flying over the edge. You scramble to your feet, knowing that he won't be rid of so easily (no, especially not after that training he went through while you sat around the Village plotting your escape). Sure enough, he soars back up through the air, gracefully somersaulting in mid-flight before landing inches away from you.

The two of you stand there for a moment, barely moving, glaring at each other. There is no trace of mercy in his eyes (but the same can be said for you).

So this is what it has come to? Have you driven him so far over the edge that he no longer looks upon you with compassion?

And yet, he's still fighting this fight…all for you. Just to save you.

'But what does that matter?' you ask yourself furiously. No need to let your emotions get in the way again. End this already!

You launch yourself towards him and proceed to deal a series of near-fatal blows to his neck, his stomach. 'No mercy, no mercy' – constant reminders to your head, which is threatening to burst with revulsion as his warm blood stains your hands.

Your attacks seem to have no affect on him whatsoever, or at least he doesn't give any indication of pain. He seems to be using all his strength to fulfill his earlier statement of breaking every bone in your body. You're bleeding; his hands are stained such as yours are.

Both of you are near your limits. Your bodies won't be able to hold out much longer before they collapse of sheer exhaustion.

Through the whirlwind of fists and bloodied flesh, you suddenly see an opening. You whip out a shuriken, such of the likes that you threw at him before. A slight miscalculation on his part, a split second of deliberation on yours… and you strike – directly at his heart.

He is startled and completely unprepared for you sudden move. As your weapon meets its target, his eyes widen in surprise. You feel fresh blood rush out onto your hands, down your arms, onto your clothes. As his body slackens, you pull the penetrating dagger away roughly, sickened.

What have you done?

You step away as he falls to the ground, his open wound bleeding profusely. His eyes remain focused on your face, staring at you with an expression of peace – understanding! And you can't look away.

Why doesn't he show any pain?

It's what you want (need) to see. Anything but the complete and utter acceptance on his face! You just killed him, for crying out loud!

'You're dying because of me!' You want to shout. 'Don't you realize this?'

It's all your fault.

Now, with him out of the way, you have access to all the power you want. There's no one to stand in your way, hinder your progress; once you are ready, you can take over the Village with him dead. No one can stop you.

Is that what you really want?

With him gone, there's no one to play your emotions, no one to put you through guilt-trips… no one to laugh or cry with, no one to understand. Now you are truly alone.

Are you happy?

No… no… "NO!" The cry of anguish escapes your mouth before you can restrain it. You feel your knees sinking to the ground in despair, brining your head down to hover over his.

There is a trickle of blood running down his chin. Other than that, he looks as if he is only taking a nap… if you ignore the gashes running through his clothes and skin. There is even a ghost of a smile on his lips as his eyes open slightly, blinking twice before focusing on you.

"Friends?" he whispers hoarsely, searching your face.

A tear falls from your onyx eyes as your throat closes up. You find yourself unable to answer. Perhaps you don't want to.

…And even if you did, you never get the chance. The remaining light fades from his eyes, and you let the flood of tears escape. They taste bitter.

At that moment, thunder resonates throughout the valley. Five seconds later, rain pours down from the grey skies, dampening your already soaked clothes and hair.

It washes away the blood from his wounds, and from yours.

But you still feel as dirty as ever.

Was this how your brother felt after he murdered your parents? You doubt it. He was always cold-hearted and distant.

You, on the other hand… you deemed yourself an avenger after that incident. You were meant to follow a certain path, but you got sidetracked –

By him. He showed you the true meaning of friendship (and brotherhood). The only real bonds you had with anyone – and now they're gone… because of you.

You don't deserve to be called his friend.

You deserve to die.

(No. You've made it this far. You're far past any point of redemption now… and you know it. You've got no other choice but to go to him. That's what you wanted, right?)

Slowly, you get up, wiping your tears away angrily. You are careful not to disturb his body. The others will find it sooner or later. With one last glance at his face, you turn away.

"I'm sorry," you say aloud.

Only the sound of the rain answers.

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'What's done cannot be undone.'

(Lady Macbeth, Shakespeare's Macbeth)

A/N: Yes, yes, I know Naruto (obviously) doesn't die at the end of this fight. Deal with it; this is my story. Again, this was done purely for my entertainment so don't think too much of it. (If you ask me, I'm pretty proud of it though... ;D) I might extend this into a little collection of oneshots centering around the relationship between Sasuke and Naruto if I get around to it.
Feedback appreciated!