In an attempt to get back into writing again I joined the 10prompts lj community with Obito as my character.
Prompt 01: Blood
After Kakashi pulled Rin away from danger everything went dark, the rock's had sealed him in, and he was left to die by himself. He wondered how long it would take. Hopefully not too long, his whole right side was killing him, physically and metaphorically.
He could smell the blood soaking him, feel it oozing out of him, and pooling beneath him.
He tried to imagine what his funeral would be like, how many people would show up? Probably not that many, he was just the disgrace of the Uchiha clan after all. But then again maybe a whole lot of people would go. That old saying 'Everybody's your friend when you're dead.' came to mind. Maybe one or two of them would cry, his mother would, but would others? Sensei, Rin?
The blood was pooling in his mouth, he could taste it.
Crushed by a rock, what a way for a shinobi to go. He would have preferred being cut down in a blaze of glory, actually he'd preferred not to die at all. At least he had saved Kakashi, dead last Uchiha Obito daringly rescuing the prodigy Hatake Kakashi from certain doom! Who'd have figured that would happen? Certainly not him. Too bad he wouldn't be around to brag about it.
He tried to spit the blood out of his mouth, it came out as a dribbling saliva blood mixture and slid down the left side of his face. It tickled his neck as it went further down.
He thought for a brief moment that he would like to come back as a ghost and haunt Konoha. Or maybe get reincarnated as somebody cool, somebody who would grow up to be a great shinobi, unlike him. Or would he go to heaven? He didn't think that he'd ever been bad enough to go to hell. How many different religions where out there? Each with a different explanation of what would happen to you after you died. He wondered if any of them where right, or if it would be like going to sleep without waking up. He supposed he'd find out soon enough.
Some of the blood was starting to dry around the edges, and was starting to itch. How long had he been down here anyway?
He was starting to feel fuzzy and floaty, like the time he'd raided his father's liquor cabinet. Did that mean he was almost dead?
Thought was starting to leave him. The last thing to float though his mind was that the light was starting to get brighter.
