Disclaimer: If they were mine... /dreams/
A/N: My first Naruto fiction. I had a bunch of things to get off my chest, was in a weird mood, and felt prompted to write, the result of all three combined you will find below (remind me never to do this again as it makes for depressing subjects). Seeing as this is a product of approximately (only) 45 minutes of writing, please excuse any grammatical, spelling, punctuation, and factual errors you may find here. Oh, and I apologize for any OOC-ness.
There were so many things left unsaid between us, him and me. There were too many tensions in the air, and I wondered, as my heart throbbed painfully, whether or not I was at fault. I wanted to scream but, at the same time, I wanted to cry. I wanted to grab him by his neck and shake him until he…until he admitted that I was right, that he had hope, that he had a choice. I wanted him to smirk at me, like he always did, wanted to hear his voice calling me 'dobe,' the way he always used to.
That wasn't Sasuke.
That couldn't have been the Sasuke that I knew. That I had grown to admire, respect. Love.
There was rage, pounding in my veins, intertwining with the guilt and the fear and the hurt, fueling my determination to wake him up. I hit him, hurt him, partly because I thought he'd snap out of whatever was happening to him, partly because I wanted him to feel as torn up and shitty as I was feeling. I poured everything into those punches, kicks, those words that I shouted at him, so loudly that I could feel my vocal chords tearing.
His eyes were so cold.
I wouldn't let myself believe it was him, that my friend could possibly look at me that way, with the intent to kill.
There was desperation in my actions and I knew it. I was always rash, jumping into things headfirst without a thought but this was different. I knew what I was doing, knew that I was killing myself but also knew, instinctively, that I had to keep going. I had to show him. Show him what, I had no idea. I was desperate to get him back, confused and hurt and angry and so fucking tired. I hated the way my name rolled off his tongue, like a curse, as though it pained him to say it. I hated the way he smirked at me, a truly evil smirk. I hated the way I shuddered when he looked at me with those eyes, cursed eyes, cursed body.
I hated him.
In those moments, I hated him and everything he had allowed himself to become, what he was doing to me, to Sakura-chan, to Konoha.
There was also love for him, a deep brotherly love that was so strong it hurt almost as much as his attacks. I loved him so much, so very very much and I cursed myself and my weakness, cursed that I could feel so strongly for him when he felt nothing toward me. I wanted him to see that he still had people around him who loved him, who cared about what happened to him. I wanted to hug him too. Even as he spat in my face and tore out my heart, I wanted to hug him. Even as he denied our friendship and turned his back on me, even as he killed me, I wanted to reassure him that not everything in this world was evil. He had to know, had to see, that there was still uncorrupted good if he would just open his eyes. If he would only look around and allow himself to smile, he would see, I was sure of it.
My heart broke.
It broke so violently that I was left on the ground, choking and gasping for breath, dying but surviving for another torturous moment.
There was despair, so dark and consuming that I drowned in it, allowing tidal waves to submerge me. There was sorrow and I wanted to cry but found no strength for the heart-wrenching sobs that were trapped in my throat, clawing for freedom. I saw his face above me, so familiar but so fucking far away. I reached out for him but my body wouldn't listen to me, muscles screamed in protest. In the end, I gave into the pain and lay still, in the rain, his face above mine. I wondered if dying felt that way, if it was supposed to feel like a white-hot blade cutting away my soul, until all that was left was a cold body and sad eyes to tell the world that I had failed.
I sobbed once.
Silently and to myself, I cried for what I had lost, there at the Valley of the End, a fitting place for the end of everything.
There was nothing more I could do. So I closed my eyes to the rain, to the sight of a Sasuke I did not know, and waited for his last blow to kill me. Waited for it and prayed, in my last moments, that somehow, somehow, my Sasuke would fight the darkness that held him in its grip, that he would find his way back to me, to Konoha. My soul whispered a farewell to my home, to Iruka-sensei, Kakashi-sensei, Tsunade-baachan, all of my friends. And it apologized brokenly, tearfully, to Sakura-chan, begged for her forgiveness for reneging on my promise to her. That promise I had made, so full of optimism and sunshine.
I closed my eyes.
And waited.
It was a brilliant sunrise; golden rays peeking from the horizon, turning stormy grey clouds into a loving pink, a hopeful orange. Night's blanket of darkness was folded and placed away as the sun made her warm appearance in the sky above Konoha. In the streets, villagers greeted each other good morning, smiling pleasantly.
A wizened eye watched the peaceful village from a high window, an eye that was lined with shadows and laced with weariness. A sad sigh passed from lush lips as their owner turned away from the sickeningly sweet sight. Her mind was weighed with decisions to make, people to meet, missions to assign. Yet, despite the responsibilities that tugged at her attention, there was something else at the forefront of her concern.
Because, lying in the clean, hospital bed in front of her, his face troubled and his hair gleaming in the warm, early-morning light, was Uzumaki Naruto.
Her strong arms reached out and her hands carefully smoothed the rumpled bed covers. She sighed again, running a hand through her limp hair, uncaring that she looked like a mess. Despite all her knowledge of medicine, Tsunade-sama was quite lost as to how to deal with the patient in front of her. For all her strength and reputation, she did not know how she could possibly heal all of his injuries, because all the chakra in the world could never hope to penetrate the inner sanctum of his soul, where his wounds were most threatening.
His blue eyes fluttered open, as though he sensed her presence, and her breath caught in her throat.
Where a smile was normally found, Tsunade-sama saw only a sad, furious, hurt determination and a vague, suppressed hope.
"Get well, brat," she whispered, the words sticking to her mouth, knowing that he could not hear her. "Bring him home."