Summary: AU. When one dies, they don't expect to be brought back to life to help a lonely kid after a massacre. I've learned to start expecting the unexpected. (OC-centric)
*All rights for the characters go to Masashi Kishimoto; except for mine of course*
Updated: 1/26/16
Chapter 1
First person POV
My first actual conscious thought as I woke up in the world of my second chance went along the lines of 'why is the room spinning?'
It was a repeat of what happened only seconds before—a sense of panic, disorientation.
But this time—this time was different.
The air felt clean, fresh—there was a presence there that screamed life and energy; it was jumbled and a bit chaotic, but it was there.
I wasn't stuck in the underworld anymore—I was living again.
The sheer knowledge of that almost made me forget how I was about to throw up.
Almost.
Groaning in dismay, I shifted on my side; warm face pressed against cool, cold tile. It was hot wherever I was, and that was only making matters worse.
There was also this weird smell—not foreign, but also not recognizable. It was if the walls were made out of antiseptic, the floor soaked in bleach.
'At least it smells clean,' I thought, rubbing my numb hands over my eyes to clear the cloudiness.
Blinking slowly as the world came into focus, I found myself blinking again—in shock this time.
"A hospital?" I questioned, slightly apprehensive and entirely not amused.
It was an ironic thought; Death putting me in a place were people go to escape the afterlife.
And yet, I couldn't help but find it comical.
'Who knew Death had a sense of humor?'
I willed the distracting thoughts away, instead growing tense at the fact that I was unfamiliar territory. This wasn't the world I've been accustomed to before—these were uncharted waters, and were to be treaded carefully to avoid conflict.
'...Have I always been so cautious?' I briefly thought, ignoring my protesting limbs as I moved into a crouching position.
I just passed off the weird attitude as frayed nerves.
Making a move to run a hand through my tangled and knotty hair—an utterly nervous habit—I paused, eyes incredibly wide in doubt.
My arms seemed so sickly pale—so thin, and fragile, and tiny—that it seemed impossible that I was standing here, breathing.
That all of this wasn't just some crazy dream.
…Or nightmare, however you wanted to look at the situation.
I glanced down at myself, immediately put off at how much smaller I was—in weight and in height.
On the verge of hyperventilating again, I came to two conclusions:
I resembled a human corpse—which, technically, I had been.
I was a child again—no big deal, this was fine—everything about this was fine.
'Well, isn't this just one huge disaster—and it's only been about five minutes.'
I shuddered once again, putting away the distracting and now disturbing thoughts.
'Focus,' I huffed, chilled by the frigid air and reality, 'you need to focus, Susana.'
Death mentioned I would be placed somewhere else—another realm for all I know—to help someone. What he failed to mention, was that I was going to become a child while helping this person.
Who just forgets to mention such vital information?
While keeping my attention away from how I suddenly turned eight—how was that even possible?—I flickered my sight back and forth through the room, trying to find something that would give me answers. Why was I eight? Why was I smaller? Why did this have to happen?
My eyes locked on a tiny, round shaped object on the table next to the bed, and I leaped to my feet to get it.
As I bolted forwards shakily, not used to the exercise, I realized with I start that I didn't even know what I looked like.
There was a new resolve—a definite subconscious decision to see my reflection for what would be the first time I could remember.
Cringing as tiny, ghostly white hands gripped the silvery edges of a tiny mirror, I raised the expensive looking piece slowly, scared of what I was about to see.
Biting my lip, I yanked my hands up, bringing my reflection to eye-level.
Wide, forest green eyes stared owlishly back at me; blinking before narrowing in calculation.
Freckles dusted across my face in an array of color, cheeks slightly gaunt and pale.
My collar bones were evidently displayed, my eyes slightly sunken in—I was like the poster child for malnutrition it seemed.
"No," I muttered, trembling, "this is not happening."
I truly was a living corpse—a living eight-year old corpse.
"It could be worse?" I tried, giving this a positive outlook.
A few seconds passed by, eyes still trained on my image.
'…who am I kidding?'
I heard a voice from outside the room, snapping me out of my internal battle. Head whirling towards the large door with horror in my eyes, I held my breath as I tried to eavesdrop.
There was a muffled, older voice—sounding kind and elderly. It was a sweet sound that was followed by much younger voices—all feminine and distant.
But now the unrecognizable conversation was getting louder—the people involved in the conversation were getting closer.
'I'm about to get discovered!'
My eyes travelled around the room frantically, looking for a place to hide just in case they were to walk in here. I took one step towards the bed, before stopping mid-step.
The mirror in my hand slipped, and I watched in surprise as it fell to the ground in slow motion.
I made a motion to save the silver trinket, cringing and frantically grabbing for some sort of hold on it.
But I wasn't fast enough.
The horror in my expression traveled all throughout my being, wincing as tiny, broken fragments of glass ended up pricking my foot. The shattering noise echoed around the room, the ringing noise still dead set in my ears. I stood frozen, not able to comprehend that the mirror falling had actually just happened.
I hadn't noticed the talking stopped until I heard louder versions of them erupt from outside the door.
Cursing inwardly, I haphazardly made a beeline for behind the hospital bed as the footfalls came closer, the doorknob shaking and turning.
Strewn out on the floor, I was trying my best to practically melt my body into the floor; painfully stiff as I peeked behind the end ledge.
I caught site of three figures, all evidently shocked and a bit apprehensive.
It was three women; all who looked as if they were nurses—well, if their yellow uniform and nurse caps were anything to go by, that is. Two out of the three looked younger, and identical at that. The only difference between them being the way their hairstyle was, one with their hair down, and one that was tied up.
The third was an older woman, one who looked to be in her mid-sixties; she wore the same uniform, and had her graying hair pinned up in a clean bun. She looked kind, and reminded me of what a stereotypical grandma looked like.
"Did you hear something," the grandmother asked, tone fretting as she glanced around, "I thought I heard someone in here."
'Great, I scared a poor, little old lady—way to go, Flynn.'
The two younger women shook their heads simultaneously, before one of them spotted my broken mirror and spoke up: "The mirror's broken—it must have fallen off the dresser."
"I thought this room was vacant for the time being." The grandmotherly lady mused, taking a second glance around the room.
I just sunk further into my hiding spot.
"Well, whoever was in here is gone," one of the nurses announced, while the other just nodded.
If they weren't twins, then I was going to be really surprised.
"Not to mention, that when a mirror cracks, it's bad luck on whoever broke it—I'd hate to be that person."
She just said that to smite me, didn't she?
"Now, now girls," the grandmother nurse spoke, smoothing her apron and sending them a kind smile, "do me a favor and get me a dustpan and broom—but before that, can you check on the young boy in room 103 for me please? Thank you."
"No problem Hana-sensei! We'll be right back!" The two of them cheered, eager, before running out the door in a hurry.
'Sensei?' I asked myself, 'where have I heard that term before?'
"Oh dear me, I wonder what actually happened." Now deemed Hana-sensei muttered, kneeling on the ground and picking up the larger shards.
Watching her clean up my mess was starting to weigh on my conscience, and I could feel myself start to crack under the guilt.
'Screw being cautious, the little old lady needs help.'
I settled back on the floor, before pushing my body up to stand slowly—my joints still ached, but it wasn't as bad as before. At least I had some sort of feeling in my legs.
Walking around the side of the bed, I stood facing her with a guilty look on my face, ready to apologize once she acknowledge that I was there.
A second passed, and she never looked up.
Confused, I took a step towards her, crouching down to gain her attention, "Ms. Hana-sensei?" I murmured the name foreign on my tongue.
"Yes?" she replied, still picking up shards.
She never looked up, confusing me further.
It was a natural response to a question, of course, but it wasn't exactly right. Her voice was too loud, like she was talking to someone from a distance; yet I was standing right in front of her.
"Uhm," I tried speaking up again, "I'm really sorry for dropping the mirror—I wasn't paying attention and, uh, sorta dropped it."
"Oh, it's no big deal," she started, smiling, before turning to look at the door way behind her and I, "I'm sure it wasn't on—hello?"
She was tensed, like she was really surprised that no one was standing there. Did she really not see me?
"Is anyone there?" she repeated, standing swiftly and heading straight for the door. On reflex I followed her, still confused on why she wasn't aware that I was practically standing next to her.
I was filled with a sense of dread, an idea of why she wasn't seeing me nagging to be recognized.
"Hello?" she asked loudly, now standing in the middle of the hall. Her light blue eyes looked startled as they traced back and forth through the hall—never once looking straight at me.
I walked past the doorway, and into the brightly lighted hall—taking a few cautious steps toward the lady in front of me, "Uh, ma'am? I'm right—!"
I cut off midsentence as she whirled around in a panic, eyes wide and slightly confused. She was trembling—in a way that made question if there was some huge monster behind me.
Freezing, I turned around slowly; only to see and empty room.
So why was she scared?
I took a look at her eyes, just to see exactly what she was staring at that made her freak out—at to my horror, I realized something. She didn't see something that scared her—it was more of what she didn't see.
Her eyes were on me, I recognized, but she wasn't seeing me.
'No,' I thought, eyes stinging, 'out of all things—no.'
My eyes started to sting as I carefully wove myself away from her, barreling into a brightly lit hallway. I wasn't entirely focused, breathing irregular and eyes blurred—my concentration just wasn't there.
Avoiding running into thoughtful doctors and fretting nurses, I didn't even want to think about what would happen if I did make contact with them.
My frantic thoughts became so loud in my head that I didn't care where I was running anymore—I was aching—I was invisible—I was a freak.
I just wanted to go home; wherever home was.
Death didn't explain this part. Nor did he tell me who I was supposed to risk my second chance at life for. How was I even supposed to help this person if I wasn't even visible?
I was still running, but now the halls were getting more barren. Rubbing furiously at my eyes—because crying was childish, and I was not a child despite my appearance—choked down the sob that threatened to make itself known.
There were a few more steps—shaky and uncoordinated, might I add—before I found my pathway blocked, and my body sent backtracking towards the floor.
'Well, that hurt,' I thought, groaning into my arms, 'what did I even hit?'
A similar sound of pain not too far away caused me to snap my eyes open, and I peeked from underneath my arms.
There was a boy in the exact same situation as me on the floor, black hair tousled and dark clothes stained.
He looked up, a slight glare and confusion in his expression.
I noted just how young he looked—but his eyes told a different story. They held true horrors—they saw something that should've never been seen.
There were dark circles under his onyx eyes as well, indicating just how worn and tired he really was.
I faintly felt a strong pull—a brief click that made it seem like something fell into place.
Shocked, my stare hardened.
That wasn't normal—none of this was—but that was definitely was a clear sign of not being a coincidence.
Making another groan—more for complaining purposes this time—I pushed myself off the ground, and into a sitting position. I was just about to open my mouth to apologize, but the words died in my throat.
Would he even be able to see me?
Shutting my eyes before they could start stinging again, I made a move to stand up; stopping only when I saw him sit up with a wince, quickly reaching for his arm.
"Are you ok?" I blurted before I could stop myself, scooting a little closer to him as I reached my hand out.
Watching in shock as he opened his eyes—forest green meeting deep onyx obsidian—I saw him stare directly at me as he nodded his head suspiciously.
Frozen, I stared in disbelief.
'He can see me,' my mind screamed, 'he can see me!'
I stared at him a little longer, before zoning out completely. I copied his suspicion, pinpointed his features in slight confusion.
Why does he look so familiar?
A faint rush of dull memories hit me suddenly, all too quick and too jumbled to be actually comprehended. I pressed my hand to my head before I could help myself. Biting my lip, I bit back the instinctive groan that usually followed with pain.
"Did you hit your head or something?" he asked, somewhat inquisitively—yet the underlining tone of bluntness was still there.
"A-ah, no," I muttered, clearing my throat, puzzled and a bit frazzled, "it's just that you look familiar for one thing—and you can see me. Like actually see me, unlike that one woman in the other room—Hana-sensei was her name, I think. Anyway, you can see me; which is odd, because the coincidence is—?"
He cut me off mid-babble—giving me a strange look.
Fidgeting, I sighed, running a hand through my hair, "Look kid—today's been absolute hell. I apparently just died on the wrong date—got brought back without any clue of who I am—and now apparently have to abide by the rules of serving as a helper to someone who has it worse than me; I'm completely invisible to everyone except you weirdly, and I have no idea where I am—spare me, ok?"
I met his eyes again, taking note of the apparent doubt of my explanation,
"You don't believe me," I deadpanned, feeling deflated
His eyes betrayed his impassive face, and could tell I hit the nail on the head.
He could tell too, and he sighed.
"I don't believe you," he clarified, shifting to stand up, "for now anyway."
Immediate relief washed over me, and a tiny smile graced my lips in gratitude.
If he hadn't believed me, I doubt I'd be able to find another person who could see me.
I looked up when he got to his feet, watching as he paced quickly before heading for an exit.
Furrowing my eyebrows, I launched up myself, trying to catch up, "Hey! Wait up!"
"I need to go—now," he spoke, looking as if he suddenly realized something incredibly important.
He zoomed off once more, his run turning into full-fledged sprinting.
Gasping and out of breath, I stared bug-eyed at the boy, "Slow down! What's wrong—uhm—!"
He halted abruptly, standing tense at the edge of a corner.
Stumbling to a stop, I steadied myself quickly, struggling for air as I nearly plowed into him—again.
"Sasuke." He stated simply, cautiously peering at the space behind the wall.
Bewildered, I narrowed my eyes, "Uh, What?"
He sighed in exasperation, eyes still holding that twinge of something being horribly wrong, "My name—it's Sasuke."
Blinking, I nodded dumbly—absentmindedly what kind of name was Sasuke.
"My name's Susana," I greeted, light smile on my face as I watched his eyes connect with mine.
A question along the same lines as mine before passed through his gaze, and I found myself childishly pouting.
'My name is perfectly normal,' I internally huffed, 'and he dares to question that with a name like his own?'
"Yeah," a feminine voice from around the corner broke into the silence, agreeing with whoever they were talking to, "that's what I heard too."
I now realized the reason for his sudden halt, sharing a brief glance with him once more as we crept closer to listen.
"That boy was the only one who survived the massacre," she continued, sounding heartbroken.
I noticed Sasuke visibly tense, now listening in with his fists clenched tightly at his sides.
'Could they be..?'
"Someone said they think he has an older brother, is that right?" a new voice spoke up, sounding like I've heard it before.
I walked passed a now wide eyed Sasuke, giving him a reassuring glance as I stepped ahead of him and practically in front of the nurses—who didn't notice—and turned to see the same two twin-like nurses from before.
'Ha, if he didn't believe me before, he should believe me now.'
Shifting my glance back to Sasuke, I noticed how his wide eyes were distant, as if remembering something.
The two women kept talking.
"Yeah, he does—but no one knows where he is right now." The girl wearing her hair tied up explained, clutching at the clipboard she was carrying.
"Awe" the second lady sympathized with the first, eyes getting soft.
I made a move to say something, but I paused after I saw him clenching his teeth, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.
'They're talking about him,' I realized, 'and he looks ready to snap.'
Neither nurse heard him though, and continued gossiping, "I can't believe it, that the elite Uchiha clan could just be—!"
I didn't understand why she had paused until I turned, watching as Sasuke trudged dazedly forward, bangs kept hovered over his eyes.
'Uchiha…why does that sound familiar?'
He was nearly at the end of the hall despite how slowly he was walking, and I made a dash towards him before he could exit through the front hospital doors.
I met up with him right as he took one step out of the building, nudging him with my shoulder.
The look he gave me in reply was chilling, and so helplessly lost, that it took all my willpower not to shy away.
"Let's go," I whispered, staring directly into his eyes, "wherever you need to go, I'm going too—so let's go."
"What? Why—?"
"Sasuke Uchiha," I stated, testing out the name on my tongue—trying hard to ignore its foreignness—and giving him a look, "I have no idea what's going on here—I have no idea why I am here; but I can only assume you being able to see me when no one else can was far from being coincidence. So wherever you're going, I'm going."
My stern speech worked for whatever reason unknown to me, and he nodded; speeding off towards the street in a frantic hurry.
'Why must it always resort to running?' I mentally complained as my legs protested with the fast pace, 'my body can't take this for much longer.'
Albeit my apparent dislike for running, I still kept up at his brisk pace, not wanting to get left behind.
I knew now for certain that he was the person I was supposed to help—he was the only one who could see me, and had a great loss and close ordeal with death.
Just like Death himself had mentioned.
The streets we ran in seemed somber, almost to the point where everyone seemed like they couldn't function. The lanterns that filled the space overhead were all dimly lit, the markets and street vendors all seemed weary and drained, and the people passing by us seemed to move in a zombie-like trance. The weirdest part was how everyone snapped out of there stupor right as Sasuke passed, all locking there gazes on him and whispering—all the while giving him a sympathetic look.
If Sasuke noticed this behavior, he never showed it. Instead he was gazing straight ahead, eyes set on their target—his home.
The clouds in the sky seemed to reflect on the people's and Sasuke's mood, turning dark and gray and moving at a fast pace.
I didn't notice that our running had started to slow, too mesmerized by all the colorful buildings with signs that weren't legible—was that kanji?—that I had to force myself to stop abruptly before I ran into Sasuke for the millionth time.
Sucking in heaps of oxygen, I placed my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath—glaring daggers at the boy in front of me for looking mostly unaffected.
I let up my glare when he too had to take deep gasps of air, and breathed deeply before standing up straight.
"Is this…?" I trailed off, walking forward and pulling at the yellow police tape.
"Yes." He replied curtly, looking on with furrowed eyebrows at the entrance. My gaze lingered on the two decorative paintings of a single red and white fan, before my mind clicked.
The Uchiha clan.
The Uchiha massacre.
Sasuke. Uchiha.
'No,' I thought mentally, eyes as wide as saucers, 'out of all the things…'
'Death sent me to an anime world. And to make it worse—he had me help one of the main characters.'
I sucked in a breath, lump forming in my throat—this place was dangerous. The person walking over and underneath the tape in front of me is dangerous. Why, out of all the places, was I sent here?
Was here even a real place?
As if on cue, a flash of something that I saw in the hospital hit me, a whirlwind or information about this place filling my memory; a picture, of a girl and two other boys all sitting on a floor together, huddled in the dark with loud laughter in the air. Bags of chips were strewn across the floor, and CD's laid everywhere. The three kids were all sat next to each other, arms and limbs thrown across one another like it didn't matter. The two boy's looked older than the girl, and on top of that, identical. Despite that, they were all doing the same thing—watching a small screen.
"C'mon!" the twins shouted in unison, mischievous smile lighting their faces, "just one more episode! We know you want to finish the season too!"
Squinting at the screen, I realized what is was.
Naruto.
The picture became clearer, as were the people—within seconds the color intensified, then faded, and I was left standing by the police tape once again, staring at the back of the boy in front of me.
'There's no doubt,' I thought, 'the girl in the picture was me.'
"Sana," Sasuke hissed, impatient, "hurry up."
'And this place is actually real.'
Doing a double take at the thought and at the new pronunciation of my name—because where had that come from—I climbed over the police tape, careful as to not rip it—still thinking about the picture I saw.
Was that small memory my answer for why I was here? And for my past?
'Think about that later, Susana. There are more important things happening More definite things.'
Just as I finished reprimanding myself—as weird yet slightly normal that was—the sky darkened further, letting off a rumbling noise; seemingly picking up further on Sasuke's mood.
He was found staring distantly at the places and shops around him, watching some as if he could still see the people standing there, talking to him and asking him questions. His mood picked up slightly, but came crashing down once reality set in; all he had now were just memories—the people from before were gone.
The sky rumbled once again, and the smell of blood and death became even stronger, seeming as though the smell alone was taunting us in a messed up way.
I kept glancing at him and he walked in front of me—still unnerved, distant. He reminded me of a sponge, able to absorb the damage but not process it completely. He looked weary, and I knew I should probably say or do something to make him feel better.
But what does one say to another when their entire clan dies? At the hands of the one closest to you as well?
I understood death—I went through it—but the death of people closest to you was something I wouldn't comprehend—or remember, that is.
I opened my mouth to say something, but the words died in my throat—rain had started to fall. It fell one drop at a time at first, before spilling over completely.
Picking up my hair and placing it over my shoulder, I glanced brokenly at how the rain didn't even affect Sasuke at all; he kept on walking, hands placed in his pockets, and his face downcast.
He paused slightly, turning to stare over at the wall beside him. I followed his gaze, looking at the large Uchiha fan painted on the wall, and noticed the large crack there was in it.
'Didn't Itachi cause that?'I fleetingly thought, random scenes of the show replaying in my mind.
By the way his hands clenched, and he whipped his head forward, I would say that I was right.
He pressed on, still walking as if in a trance—and I followed, still not sure how to respond. I rubbed the rain off my face with one quick swipe of my hand, before wringing out the bottom of my shirt. The rain was starting to come down more rapidly, making it harder to see.
'Some of the things here aren't meant to be seen anyway.'
A loud sound of something being opened brought my attention back to Sasuke, who was opening the door of what I thought to be what used to be his house. He stepped pass a huge, red umbrella and the large plants by the side wall, looking stiff and shaky along the way. Once inside, he turned his head briefly, eyes locking onto mine as a silent message to walk in.
Before I could respond, he turned his head back around, taking off his shoes and walking forward into a dark and haunted looking hallway.
It was his way of saying that it was ok that I was here—that it was ok to know the things that he knew.
And that thought seemed abnormal to me.
I swiftly ran inside, wringing out my stained and wrinkled shirt once more and closing the door before following after him.
I would have taken off my shoes, but I didn't have any on—so I ignore it and brushed more hair over my shoulder and out of my face. I was practically walking on his heels now, feeling the eerie aura the hall was giving off. It wasn't a pleasant experience, but I pushed forward, watching silently at how many memories were making Sasuke suffer.
He trudged a bit farther, turning the corner to a porch on the outside of the house. The wood was stained with water, mini puddles filling in the small dents of the floor boards. It looked serene past the wooden rails, but it was far from the actual truth.
I slowed down a little so that he had some room to process and think, and instead focused on how he made footprints on the wood as he walked. The footprints slowed somewhat, and I looked up to see him staring at the space in front of him, before looking down once more.
'Death, what did you just get me involved in?'
The walkway on the porch led up to an opening in the way—which I later realized was another room in the complex—and Sasuke turned to walk in, yet paused as his eyes became distant once again.
He was smiling slightly, and could tell he was thinking of one of his parents. When his eyes refocused, the smile dropped altogether, and I knew that I had to do something before it was never seen on his face again.
Mustering up some courage, I grabbed his hand from his side, and ignored the shocked look on his face; instead I smiled reassuring, and tightened my grip.
He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off when a loud noise crashed from somewhere in the other room.
Both of us swiveled our heads towards the direction from where it came from with two very different reactions—mine being suspicious and scared, and Sasuke's being hopeful and anticipative.
"Mom?" he called out hesitantly, running full speed towards the room and almost literally dragging me behind him.
I jumped over the few items on the floor, and avoided running into the wall as he yanked me forward; my hand clenched tightly in his so I wouldn't lose balance and fall on my face.
I made a choked noise and stumbled as he made a grab at the door, flinging it open with ease and running through. His expression wasn't readable from where I was angled at, so I couldn't really make out what he was thinking. Feeling my fingers start to ache, I looked down to see his hand tightly grasping mine—a completely unaware gesture on his part—and resigned to the fact that my hand was going to fall off.
A loud, low, and down-right creepy cat-like noise came from ten feet in front of where we stood, yellow eyes peering back at us and illuminating when the lightning flashed.
I 'eeped', eyes widening from surprise, and jolted to take a step back—the hair on the back of my neck standing up.
When the lightning flash resided, I breathed a sigh of relief, but tensed when I felt Sasuke let go of my hand.
Bringing my attention back to him, I noticed how fast he had switched from hopeful to melancholy. His shoulders sagged as he watched the cat jump from the window and out into the rain, taking off without a look back.
He tore his attention off of the window and the doorway that stood across the room—placing his right foot forward and began the trance-like walk once again towards it.
I remained where I stood, watching with longing—it was my job to help him—it's basically the only reason that I was here right now—yet I didn't know how.
'Be there for him,' I thought instantly, staring at his back before it disappeared into the room, 'he's going to need all the human contact he can get with everyone gone.'
Moving around the table and dashing quickly into and through the doorway, I ran straight to his side, grabbing his attention for a split second before it turned distant once again.
'There's still at least some hope.'
He walked through the bedroom doorway before I did, pausing and staring down at the floor with mixed emotions. I paused too, staring down with horror at the taped out outlines of his parents bodies.
What made it worse was the blood was still in splatters on the floor, now brown due to how long it's sat there.
I felt a surge of anger run through me, teeth clenched and shoulders tight, 'there's no reason for that to be left there—shinobi village or not, that's just basic human compassion.'
Outside, the rain kept pouring vigorously—lightning and thunder raging and flashing with vengeance, and seemingly lighting up the room in haunted and eerie shadows.
Closing my eyes, I mustered up my courage for the second time today, and turned to face the close to tears boy. "Sasuke," I murmured, speaking up for the first time in a while, and placed a hand on his shoulder. He turned to me in question, eyes watery and bleary.
I captured the image in my mind, feeling ready to break down and cry with him. From this point on, things were different—he would go on this path of an avenger if I didn't stop him.
But I will—I will stop that from happening. No matter the cause.
I had a duty to this boy—and that duty started with five simple words:
"You're going to be alright."
He would make it through this—he wouldn't cave.
Maybe it was what I had said, or the whole event in general, but a few tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes, rolling off of his cheeks and falling to the floor.
And just like the rain, one after the other poured out.
As he slumped to the floor, crying silently over the outline of his dead parent's bodies, I sat next to him, clutching his hand in reassurance.
And together we sat in the dark, waiting for tomorrow to come and to make this day end.
I apologize for the long wait; and thank you all for being generous and following/favoriting/reviewing.
Hopefully the second edited chapter will be finished soon enough; if there's any questions, comments, concerns, feel free to let me know!
I, once again, apologize to all of my previous readers who have to re-read this once more; thank you for your patience!
I want to make Sana's character less naïve and more calculating—only so I can have major development and cool abilities for later on; I also plan to make most of the interactions between her and Sasuke different, and make Sasuke more believable in general.
Thanks for reading!
…
Question: Any ideas I should add to the re-write?