Wicked Little Pieces
Piece 04: Paradise Lost
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Naruto.
Author's Note:
Funny thing I've noticed–most of these titles come from the LJ community, IconFiend 100's themes list, of which there are now four. So therefore I suppose I should credit them in some of my inspiration.
In this little piece, I return to one of my three true loves (Humor, Romance, and Angst). Of course there's going to be an unhappy story somewhere in this collection (probably more than one). Well, enjoy!
Burn.
The blinding ash blew through the air as a single entity, massive and dark, smothering those who were already crying, already panicking, already screaming that they didn't want to die, not yet, not this way.
His eyes follow their progress and see the selfishness of human character, the women pulling their children along and ignoring those who are not of her brood, though they were the same size, the same innocent. He sees the old men, weak and crippled beyond recognition from themselves as young fighters, being trampled by the feet of the ones with fear. He witnesses, understands, and hates.
Suddenly—a voice, calling and begging, furiously prodding.
"Daisuke! Keep up! Mayumi, don't let go of my hand! Eiichi, Akina, Kohana, Orino..." She pushes, grabbing their chubby arms and running as quickly as possible while keeping them together.
The dark red curtain of fire and dust had matted her hair, but underneath the grime he could still see hints of pink. Her pale skin seemed to be illuminated by the chaos as she bent down to pick up a fallen child, moving her feet desperately to the gates of the Konoha.
There she was, a spring blossom doing her best the save those would could not save themselves.
He didn't know what to think. He felt nothing for her now, no comradeship, no guilt, not really anything. What he did know was that he was burning the stage of his childhood, where had witnessed the first nightmares and first dreams, where he had pretended to get stronger while really dying slowly.
"Hurry, please!" her voice is desperate, her strength and will stretched to a breaking point. Her eyes, glowing in its intensity, roam the streets, the rooftops, searching for an escape route.
They find him, instead.
Her lips part in surprise, her eyes widening. She momentarily forgets the destruction, the deaths, the orphans she knew would die without her.
He smirks, mouth jerking upwards in cruel irony. She seems to snap out of her surprise, dropping her gaze. He doesn't have to see her eyes to know they're filling with tears. Her hands tighten on the wrists of the children, and she runs on.
It's the end of them, the end of the green paradise that once cradled them in its embrace, hiding the world and its evils.
It's the end of Konoha, the village of leaves.