Author: Lilas
Title: Under a Tree
Summary: An older Naruto contemplating his best friend's fate.
Author's note: Well, I wanted to write a 500-word drabble, and this is 508 words, so I think I did pretty well for myself! This is very depressing, just as a forewarning if anyone is reading this. No major spoilers, really… But just in case, watch out until 234.
You know the drill peeps! C&C!
Sometimes he still thought about it. Every once in a while he still dreamed about it. The feel of his friend's hand inside of him never left him; the dark gleaming eyes as they stared at his battered form with a satisfied grin still haunted him.
It had been years already. Everything had been resolved under his watch, under his command. The old hag had given him the mission. He had been the only choice. He had been the only one who would have been able to put an end to everything.
He could still see Sakura's face as she had bid him good-bye and good luck with a promise that she didn't blame him, that she wouldn't hate him. That she would never turn her back to him. The rest of the group had made similar promises, and although their support was important to him, it hadn't meant as much as the pink haired girl's.
He could still remember how his heart had quickened, how he had released all his chakra points and pushed aside any feelings, any memories that could have been a hindrance to the mission.
No matter the situation, a shinobi must keep emotions on the inside. You must make your mission the top priority… And you must possess a heart that never shows tears…
The fight had been nothing like the one they had waged as Genins. They had both grown since then; they had both become sronger.
Sometimes he still thought about it. Every once in a while he still dreamed about it. He still saw his hand drenched in blood and chakra as it pierced his friend's chest and gripped his heart. He could still feel the tears leaving a hot trail down his cheeks, cleansing his face from the spilled blood.
Everyday he woke up at the crack of dawn and silently made his way to a clearing in the middle of the forest, to a tree in the middle of thousands. Every time he paused a few feet away and wrestled to stop the tears. It had been years and what had once been a struggle to him was now a ritual; a ritual no one questioned.
Tsunade-baba had chosen him because there had been no one else who could have shouldered the burden. She had put her faith in him and it had been his obligation to find a way to deal with the consequences of his actions.
For the most part he could still live with himself. For the most part he could accept his responsibility.
But he still thought about it, and he still dreamed about it. He could still smell the blood; he could still feel the dirt between his fingernails as he had worked under the tree.
Sometimes he still cried over it. Every once in a while he hated himself and Tsunade. But everyday he visited the grave he had dug for Sasuke with his hands, and everyday he forgave the man for the ambition and greed of the teenager he had been.