Aug 22, 7 AK
I cannot get the bleeding to stop.
Wasabi is gasping up at me, and his eyes are terrified, and I am pushing all the gauze I have, all the extra bandages into the sucking wound in his chest, my hands glowing pale teal as I try to stop the gushing crimson-
I cannot get the bleeding to stop.
I'm not good enough and he is dieing under me in horror, a premonition of the future perhaps, my own fate laid out for me to see in exquisite detail as my eyes activate in instinctive response to the stress, jittering over every detail so that I will never forget this moment, sky grey, shadows blue, blood so red.
Please. I don't want this. Please. Not Wasabi.
How? How can this be happening? We are strong, we aren't weak, we should survive, we should all survive, we killed them, reckless, faceless Mist Genin, but one of them had some sort of mace or something and it hit Wasabi, and words are tumbling from my mouth unchecked as his face etches itself indelibly into my mind-
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please don't die, don't die, I can fix this, I can, don't leave me, I'm not weak, I can fix this, I'm sorry-"
Below me more blood burbles from Wasabi's lips as he tries to form words, a stream of please, please, please, drowning under the searing crimson-
. . .
My eyes burn.
. . .
We cross the finish line, Nikkei and I, the heads of the enemy squad in a sack and Wasabi's body sealed into a black banded scroll to be delivered back to his family in Konoha.
Her gaze is haunted, eyes nervous and filled with a desperate, exhausted anger, mirrored in her ninken's matted fur and twitchy barking.
My eyes are empty; wide, flat, and staring, dried blood forming tear tracks on my cheeks.
. . .
Mist cares less about Squad performance, it so happens, than about how well individuals perform. 2 out of 3 surviving the second round is good enough for them. The finals arrive fast, only a day after the conclusion of the survival portion. Nikkei and I beat our first opponents in a good display of skill and forfeit out of the next battle, too fatigued in body and mind to continue any longer.
A good enough showing, especially after the loss of a teammate, that I now have a Chunin vest in my hands.
I cannot seem to stop myself from smiling, my eyes constantly repeating the terror on Wasabi's face, and my mouth stretched tight in dissociative anguish.
I really am in hell.
. . .
A/N: Fun fact: Nikkei means 'cinnamon'.
