Just to clarify, the ":::::" indicate a flashback.

As per usual, I do not own any of the Naruto characters or themes.

Enjoy.

The Shrine/An Argument

A Sasu/Naru fanfiction

By Joni Lee Davis

A heavy mist rolled across the land. The early sunbeams were thick as they filtered through the dense forest foliage. An animal chattered in the underbrush, calling to a fellow. The sound of tumbling water echoed softly off the still trees. The animal ceased his call and stood still, sensing the intruder in the early morning. The intruder's footfalls were light upon the ground, as if he was hovering. He, the dark-haired raven, appeared gracefully upon the ledge of the fountain shrine, his energy causing the pool of water to ripple slightly. He remained silent and expressionless as he stood, looking deep into the pool. Coins glittered on the bottom, long forgotten by the children who had tossed them there ages ago. The heavy scent of apple blossoms hung on the mist, wafting from the apple trees that grew behind the shrine. A few of the blossoms had blown on to the surface of the water, defacing the intruder's reflection. His dark eyes stared blankly back at him, his lips lax. His face was sullen and pale; his complexion more striking against the black hair that framed his face. Suddenly, his blank expression fell and for a fleeting moment of time, a flash of exhaustion and the pain of a broken man seemed to try to pour out of his dark orbs. Of course, he would not let these emotions show, and the looks were gone. His guard was put back in place. How silly for it to fall even for the fraction of a second. How dare it try to cloud his face with all the feelings he refused to acknowledge: shame, exhaustion, pain, and brokenness.

He allowed himself to lie upon the fountain's edge, his sight never leaving the surface where his solemn self stared back. As the sun crept higher into the sky, particles of pollen interrupted the sunlight, flickering randomly in their self-imposed vacuum. His gaze moved to the apple trees, the source of the pollen. How wonderful, he remembered, green apples tasted in the summer. Their bitter flavor reminded him of life

He let his gaze fall into the pool once more, this time staring past the ghost looking back, and onto the coins. They were meant for luck, something he did not believe in, and they were there for prayers, another thing he turned his back upon. The sunlight caught them abstractly, making his thoughts drift to the children who had left them, and how their eyes would have been full of hope. Perhaps they were old now, and they understood the pain that life brings; how hope is for the weak. He once knew someone who was like a child, innocent and full of life, even as an adult. This person had seen the pain that life brings, yet his blue eyes still shone with the faith that it all gets better one day. Someone like that, so rare, so precious, should be rendered beautiful and sacred; protected like a jade jewel. Yet, what had he done? He had taken that life, that surreal life, and crushed it between his long graceful fingers. He had played with that innocence and then watched blankly as it evaporated in the wake of his destruction. What had he done?

He did not believe in mercy. He did not believe in guilt. Yet, he found himself wondering what became of the sun that he thought shone too brightly over him. He found himself wondering what became of the sun that he covered with clouds of pain.

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He awoke and immediately had things to complain about. The blankets were too hot, soft, and heavy. The air was stale. The room was too loud. The sun was too bright. His anger must have been rolling off him, for he felt the other presence in the room slump over and then he heard the sigh. It was too early, he growled in his head, to deal with him. The sun was already blinding him; he did not need it personified. He, the dark-haired raven, tore the blanket from his body and rose swiftly, without a word to his counterpart. He did not care. Not now. The tension had been suffocating for weeks, no years. He wanted to throw something to make the blinding white turn away and leave him with his black night. A voice spoke softly. Its speaker was trying to remain calm, he could tell. He turned to face its source, a blank expression painted across his face.

"I've been thinking…" It trailed off at the look he gave him. That gaze, the one that spoke volumes without being spoken. You're an idiot. Everything you think about is nonsense. Why can't you just shut your mouth for once? Give me silence. I hate you.

"Don't think," he interrupted with a smirk, "you know how it hurts you." His words cut through the atmosphere like knives. The face, that face, refused to show any pain, yet he could tell in those blue eyes he had wounded the sun. Good, he thought selfishly.

"I just want to talk. We've been distant lately. Why don't we have dinner together? This must be the first time we're home at the same time in months. I can ask you about your missions. They sounded so dangerous. I am really glad you made it back in one piece…" The voice trailed off again, knowing it was rambling. The raven thought about this.

"Fine, dinner it is." Maybe now the sun would leave him alone.

There was a time that the raven and the sun had coexisted peacefully. One could even say that the two had been in love, but that was a stretch, one taken by the people who insisted they had a right to pry into their private life. There was a time that the raven actually considered himself happy, as happy as he could be. The sun had warmed his cold skin and he welcomed its light. He clung to it, as if it would hold enough hope for the two of them. They had waded in the ocean, napped in the meadows and kissed in the rain. Letters written whispered secret sweet-nothings when they were apart. It had felt as if their fingers fit perfectly together. The blankets had been cool, and the air had been fresh, and the sunlight in the morning had been a warm reunion with reality from dark nightmares. But, this happiness was just an excuse to bury the raven's true self: a cold, blank person. The sun tried so hard to melt him completely, but eventually it became too much for the raven to bear. He closed up and distanced himself. The dark thoughts returned and he refused to be enlightened again.

The evening had fallen before the raven had expected. The sun was tossed aside by dark clouds. The smell of rain was in the air. The sun had prepared a simple dinner for the two of them, attempting to please the raven. Nothing could please him anymore.

"I made your favorite," the sun said timidly. The raven barely glanced at the food. He just wanted to eat and return to whatever it was he had been doing. Whatever it was, it was more important than listening to the sun babble.

They sat at the table, opposite each other. The sun looked uncomfortable as the raven said nothing in return. The silence hung around them heavily. The room was growing darker with the passing of time. A clock ticked loudly on the bookshelf.

"So, how was your mission?" The sun asked, looking at the raven, hoping— no, begging— to get an answer longer than five words. The raven did not answer for awhile. He drew a deep breath.

"It was fine." The raven's orbs glared at the corner of the ceiling. Dejected by the obvious rejection of conversation, the sun ate slowly, thinking. A few minutes passed.

Suddenly, the sun slammed his fork down on the table, breaking the eerie silence. The raven flicked his gaze, expecting the usual dumb outburst. Instead, he saw the shoulders of his counterpart shaking violently in dry sobs.

"What's wrong with you?" The sun asked hoarsely.

"I have no idea what you are talking about," the raven drawled out. Red flashed across the sun's eyes.

"What do you mean? I've been trying to get you to say something to me that is more than seven words for months. And the funny thing," the sun said as he laughed painfully, "you want to know what's so funny, Sasuke? When you do talk, you hardly even look in my eyes!" The sun shouted. The raven just stared blankly at him from across the table. This was nothing new, and in a few hours he'll calm down and be back to annoying him senseless. "Oh? You're not going to say anything? Don't you have something to say to me you bastard? No? Fine," and with that, the sun shot up from the table. In the process, he upset the bowl of dinner and it fell to the floor. Without looking back, he flew up the stairs and slammed the bedroom door. The raven continued to stare at the place that the sun had just been. Now, he had a soupy mess to clean up. The sun hadn't even bothered to get a towel. As he stood to angrily clean the mess, he heard things being thrown upstairs. He did not care. The sound of a downpour echoed on the roof.

Soon, the door slammed open and the sun stomped heavily down into the entryway. This is a new stunt. The raven, spilled bowl in hand, walked silently to where the sun was. He noticed a suitcase in front of the door. The sun was angrily putting on his coat. In his tan hand was a stack of letters. The raven recognized his handwriting on the envelopes. It was silent.

"You didn't clean up your mess," the raven said into the quite. The sun's eyes grew wide in disbelief. He waltzed over to the raven and tore the bowl from his hands. The sun walked back to his suitcase. The raven stared after him blankly. He spoke again, "I had to clean up your mess. You are such a clumsy idi-" His words were cut short by the bowl flying inches past his face. It smashed into the wall behind him, shattering into a million pieces. The raven's eyes grew wide. The sun smiled icily.

"Well, that's the most emotion I've seen you show in forever," he said poisonously. And with that, he turned, grabbed his suitcase, wrenched open the front door and walked into the sheets of pouring rain. He did not close the door. The raven walked soundlessly to the door and caught a fleeting glimpse of the sun disappear into the dark.

Days passed and the raven found himself going about his daily routines. He did not feel any different in the empty house. In fact, he felt at peace for once. It was cold, and the sunlight did not blind him in the morning.

Months passed and a thick awkwardness fell upon the house. The raven found this puzzling, for the tension should have left with the sun. The blankets felt too heavy once more upon his body, and soon the morning sun broke free, like a giant torn from the clouds. It was overpowering, and yet the raven wandered through the halls, the ever-blank expression upon his face.

One morning, while on a mission, he sensed the sun through the forest. Curiosity got the better of him and he ran towards the pulse. He dashed cautiously through the foliage until he reached the edge, when the thick underbrush became sandy grass. The raven hid himself in the branches as he watched the ocean curl against the land. He saw the sun standing in the water, stock still. He could not see his face. In his hands were the letters.

The raven watched as the hands grabbed the letters tersely and the wind carried the sound of ripping paper to his ears. The sun threw the remnants of the raven's love into the air, and they scattered as ashes do. The sun's heavy sobs echoed off the rocks. Pieces of the letters landed in front of the raven.

I…love…you…

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The raven had turned his back upon the scene, and headed back to camp. He did not think about the sun again, until this misty morning at the shrine. He had no reason to. He no longer felt his pulse.

He turned his eyes away from the glowing coins and turned his vision to the pale blue sky above him. The wind blew a few blossoms skyward. They danced gracefully, twisting and turning. The sky was oppressive and seemed to press down upon his chest. He needed to leave.

Like a bird, he flew through the apple trees and onwards, just running for the thrill, which he did not feel. He ran for what felt like hours, until at last he finally tumbled down into sandy grass. He stared at the vast expanse of the ocean, mightily roaring at the coast. Slowly, he walked across the beach until he felt the water lap at his feet, eyes never moving from the horizon. There was no sunlight shining down upon him here. Dark clouds were building soundlessly to the east. A bitter wind whipped his face and caused the sea to spray against the rocks. The cold whip of saltwater did not alter his blank expression.

The raven was now up to his waist in the increasingly violent water.

He wanted to scream out his guilt into the salt-ridden air, to finally purge himself of the evil that resided inside of him. He wanted to admit to crushing someone so pure, to admit to stealing the life of another human being. He wanted to cry, cry for all the times that he had known the sun had thought that those glares meant I hate you when in reality it had been his scared self not wanting to admit that maybe, just maybe, he could be saved. The raven had loved the sun, but he was not willing to accept it. So instead, he destroyed the life of the only person that had ever believed in him.

But, of course the raven refused to acknowledge these urges to show regret, weakness. He remembered the ashes of the letters that had ghosted past him from the sun. He remembered the words that had made him turn away and forget.

Slowly, the waves crept up his body, eventually knocking him off his feet. He went under into the cold liquid. He allowed the ocean to lead him like pollen on the breeze. Here there was silence.

Because, in reality, Sasuke would rather die than have to vocalize how he had destroyed Naruto.

I wrote this because of the song "The Shrine/An Argument" by Fleet Foxes (But don't listen to the song as you read, it clashes. But listen to the song! It's amazing). I've had this story playing in my head since May and I finally sat down and wrote it in September. I've been abscent, I know. But I just had to get this out. 3 Joni Lee Davis