Feed the Rain
The rain was hungry. Gai could feel it in the roar as it smashed into the pavement. His hand slipped on the rail, metal slicked with the water, making it impossible to hold onto. But maybe that was just him.
Gai never could hold on to anything.
His breath came in gasps, ragged as they were ripped from his lungs, the air snatched from his throat.
His back ached from hours hunched over notes, pouring over mission logs and details, the only sound his frantic scribbling. For what? What did it matter?
What did it matter? What did it matter? What did it matter? What did it matter?
The mantra pounded in time with his steps as he jogged up the staircase.
Higher, higher, closer to the rain.
His voice was a whisper, drowning in the torrents of rain that fell around him, "Kami-sama." He crashed to his knees, clutching at the fabric of his jumpsuit like a lifeline. Maybe that's what it was, a mask of colour that protected him from the realities of the world. The sharp, grey realities that always threatened to cloud his vision, turn it white, and leave him blindsided, in the dirt.
Just like he was now.
He almost expected the colours of his jumpsuit to bleed and run into the dirt, leaving him as cold and colorless as the world around him.
He slammed his fist into the asphalt. His fist was ground into the dirt, the grit clinging to his skin. It should have hurt, but all Gai could feel was the rain thundering across his back, soaking his clothes, his hair. His hair fell into his eyes, the world veiled by the black.
His tongue was thick, and his mouth tasted bitter with all that could have been. Implication. Insinuation.
He tore the sleeve from his jumpsuit, hooking the edge of the kunai into the stitching, before tearing it loose. The water hit his skin, shocking his system. He didn't flinch, just cast his eyes to his arm. The raindrops hit with a force that sent an aura across his skin. An aura of rain. Pure.
He wasn't pure.
He cast his eyes away. More likely the rain's hunger had become more desperate, trying to pierce his skin, and finding no entry. No grasp. Hopeless. Hopeless. He turned his eyes skywards, squinting into the clouds.
"Soon." He murmured, "I won't allow your struggles to yield nothing." Not like mine.
There was a kind of hopelessness in the air. That was his fault. It was gritty and heavy, yet it remained intangible. Gai thought he should be able to reach up and trail his fingers through it. He almost tried.
Guilt thundered in his chest, and the slash across his middle throbbed beneath his bandages, slow in healing. This was failure. This is what drove Shinobi to their deaths, to deaths on a battle field, fighting fiercely to prove to themselves that their lives were not in vain, to prove that somehow, they were worth something. This is what drove Shinobi to days of drinking until their bodies collapsed, or their hearts gave out. This is what led to Shinobi jumping off buildings and splattering on the pavement. Sometimes, Gai wondered what it would be like to join them. But he was stronger than them. He had to be. He had to survive even when he no longer wanted to.
Something like rage welled up in the very core of is being. It wrapped around his chest, hot cords of pain that threatened to strangle the reason from his mind. In his mouth, a taste like bile, of guilt and uncertainty lingered. He spat into the dirt but the taste remained and his efforts were covered by the rain in a matter of seconds. Tension bunched his shoulders and he felt himself twist the fabric in his hand until it was ready to tear. Gai could tear it easily, just as he could tear a man into pieces. It was only fragile restraint that kept the balance of order. But sometimes, that restraint slipped.
Digging his knees into the stones beneath him, the pain bringing him back from the cruel and harsh realities of the world, and into the moment where only the dull agony in his knees was known. Then he slammed his fist into the pavement and the pain increased. It was like an itch under his skin, to feel more of the agony that swept his mind from the true agonies of the world.
And still, the rain pounded against his skin, struggling to feed on the flesh of a desperate soldier. Gai tightened his grip on his kunai, his knuckles turning white. The rain wanted blood, his blade wanted blood.
Who was he to deny them this one thing?
Gai wasn't pure.
He raised his blade, letting the metal rest against his flesh. Goosebumps raised on his skin, pressing into the blade. It was sharp. The slightest movement would pierce his skin. Gai stared. Gone was the sense of ferocious emotion, replaced by a dull sense of detachment. His chest throbbed with the ache of desperation, gnawing at his bones.
Gai tilted his head to the sky, the rain hitting his face. He pulled the blade away from his skin.I lust for after no disaster can touch us anymore. Foolish hope.
Don't walk away; don't walk away when the world is burning.
Without a second though, he drew the blade across his bicep.
For a second there was nothing, then warmth flood his arm, the searing pain that he had felt so many times before on the battle field. Pain.
Gai dropped his kunai. It clattered on the pavement as he sank into the dirt. He didn't feel better. He didn't know what felt any more. Everything had long since blurred into the struggle that was the life of each and every ninja. Gai wasn't sure what was real.
Nor did he care anymore.
And around him, the rain was satisfied, with the blood of another fallen soldier, who just could not take it anymore.