3. The silent "praise" brought to a fighter
"Ever your desire is to appear lordly and generous as a king of old, gracious, gentle. That may well befit one of high race, if he sits in power and peace. But in desperate hours gentleness may be repaid with death."
I couldn't figure it out for how long I was sitting in the heart of the shadow woods, with nothing more than my own skin to cover myself, immersed in the spring whose glow dissipated into the depths lost among the chimeras, feeling that I am sinking deeper and deeper into an overwhelming feeling of the unknown that spreads beneath my body. I felt lost in my own thoughts, with a wandering soul searching for itself, in its mad rush. The idea that something hungry, something above myself, with clenched jaws and sharp teeth like blades could wait, with demonic eyes, mischievous crumbs, to draw me into the overwhelming abyss of the water and devour me with all my worries, awoke in me the cold shivers of horror.
I could feel my body temperature dropping dangerously low, while the blood in my veins seemed to thicken, dripping latently, feeling a kind of bizarre numbness all over my body that made me believe that the flesh on my bones would crack and the blue veins meandering alive under my thin skin would explode. I closed my eyes, letting the sour pain that had settled in my tense limbs free me from the constraints and torments that had chained me. The scarlet traces of suffering that defiled my body dissipated on the wavy surface of the black water, leaving my frozen hands to regain their translucent whiteness.
The darkness didn't bother, it didn't scare me anymore - I had resigned myself and accepted it as inevitable. There was a gloomy silence around me, as if all the surrounding nature was asleep or even dead - an oppressive silence. Sometimes all that could be heard was the distant rustle of dry grass from the scorching rays of summer that had just passed, like the sand dripping between the short fingers of a chubby child grinning in the azure light of dawn. Everything was so strange, shrouded in the white veil of mystery, that I was beginning to feel like a porcelain doll or maybe even a stake in the game of a strange power.
We are born alone and go through all this shocking tumult that we simply call "life", constantly looking for something or maybe someone, trying to assert ourselves and find a purpose in our existence and in the ignorance, we have, we forget that from the first second we are doomed to imminent death. It is difficult for us to accept it as the inevitable presence of human nature - the end of a journey.
Today, the deceased was a poor child. But what about tomorrow ... who else will follow?
"I'm so sorry, little one ..." I whispered that for me, longing to forget this miserable day; to forget that I had lost another patient.
I let out a heavy sigh to escape through the purple lips that trembled from the unbearable cold that had fallen as heavy as a burden over the old cypress forest that had already penetrated my bones, trying to ignore the massive raven with bloodshot, repulsive, cold eyes which had settled on one of the slippery stones surrounding the endless mirror of water, croaking annoyingly in an attempt to capture my full attention. I raised a hand in the air, sprinkling cold drops of water all over, wanting to drive away the annoying bird, with mesmerizing plumage with a bluish-green sheen, which stared at me with small, evil eyes in a frightening way.
"Sakura-Samaa ..." a voice tickled in the distance, calling me from behind the rusty edge of the bushes, and the bird flew scared "Sakura-sama, it's an emergency! Lord Itachi and ... and Shisui are at home "I heard the girl again, this time much closer" Shisui is seriously injured! You have to hurry!"
It was the moment when I felt torn from my daydream by the responsibility of debt and my body flashed by thousands and thousands of sparks, making me jump out of the water I was bathing in and grab the nightgown folded by little Chio. I ran away among the ghosts of the dry branches that seem broken from other times, barefoot, with pink hair fluttering in the cold wind. The thin white silk clung to the skin from which still dripped drops of ice-cold water on the generous roundness of my body and I moved forward with determination, one thing in mind - I will not let anyone die.
The pulse of the night seemed to dissipate as I approached the playful flame of the district's heart, around which were gathered the district guards, unperturbed by the agonizing screams of the wounded man lying unconscious, carried in the arms of two ANBU soldiers. The thin, trembling gleam of fire flowed on the damp dust, forming here and there drawings of the night that reminded me of an ancient play by the puppet theater No, and the moans of the dying man seemed to transpose me into the character walking the beaten path of his own tragedy.
Smooth as the river flowed, the low prayers of the monks rose to the sky, like the solemn sounds of a funeral ceremony, nuancing nostalgic memories of all forgotten heroes. The sacredness of the moment was oppressive, suffocating, and as Shisui walked away, taken to the makeshift infirmary, as if it were just a ragged bag of potatoes, there was a terrible feeling in my soul that I was simply letting it go like a fragile leaf in the wind.
Fear guided my steps to the poor hut with the thatched patchy roof, among which the rain and mold had infiltrated, cadenced by the whispers rising from the temple on the hill, which shone dimly as a hope, overcoming the darkness. It was cold and cold, and people passed me carelessly, like undead — or maybe I was the specter that passed like a flake past them, ignoring their ignorance.
Everything around me was austere and cold and lonely; there was no one there beside him, as if no one cared. The corridor was shrouded in the mysterious cloak of night. The reflection of the moon on the white paper, powerless to drive the deep darkness out of the niche, was in fact rejected, creating a confusing universe in which it was impossible to distinguish anything. It was painful that no one had thought to bring light to the head of the one who had worshiped the whole existence of the clan - this clan that suddenly went blind and deaf; to this clan who now refuses to look back at the helplessness of a wounded man.
I took a deep breath into my lungs, then entered, slamming the double wooden doors, which were smashed by adobe walls, dirty and clogged with moisture. I was struck by the pungent smell of death swirling in the stuffy room that could easily pass like a nest of bacteria that could grind his weakened body. He lay there, like a worn-out puppet, on the old wooden floor, puddling in his own blood. In the pale darkness of the room, the rough outline of his face faded, the white glow of his skin faded, and I shudder at the thought of the unimaginable beauty that the man whose life slipped through my fingers once had. His whole body was so weak and wizened that I felt like I was holding my hand a fine piece of what he had been.
He was on the edge of the abyss, torn between life and death, showing no sign of being willing to fight and take the reins of his own destiny. He was caught in the throes of delirium, looking at me with tired, erased eyes, catching me in their impenetrable trance, lost in the black, glassy expanse. He looked at me as if I were the epicenter of a world, he had dreamed of all his life, as if I were the answer to his great questions, and when he uttered my name to me, in his low, hoarse voice, he acted as if I were his salvation. He whispered it like a fervent prayer, like a secret oath between us.
"Stay with me, Shisui ... I won't let you die! I won't ... it's a promise!"
I then seized the kunai, which he was still trying to clench in his fist, as if a fierce matter above him, about to attack him, and I tore the black material of his uniform, soaked in blood and sweat that clung to his wounds, revealing his worked abdomen, with well-defined, strong muscles that trembled at every touch of mine. His wounds were many and deep, many of them infected by the miserable conditions on the battlefield, and his heartbeat was jerky, far too inconsistent, to the point of collapse. His body was burning, as if caught in the burning flame of a demonic fire, and for the first time in my short career as a doctor, I froze.
It was as if the ice claw of death was tearing to pieces of my soul as I watched life flow from it, second by second. As if an unseen force had bound me with unseen chains, staring at my body, blocking my motor abilities. I felt like I was dying with him and going black - an intense black, without stars and without suffering.
Then, from outside, there was a terrible noise, a croaking that might have taken the dead out of their own graves, followed by sharp claws digging deep into the caries-eaten wood of the barracks, then a loud flutter like a storm. I had the impression that whatever was outside, it was seized by a blind, mad and dangerous rage, being able to destroy the roof and devour us both, out of breath, leaving as our memory only some hollow, empty, fleshless bones.
It was my call to awakening - the invisible hand of divinity that shook me slightly and led me to the reality that I had to face and emerge victorious.
In front of me was a patient who needed me and fear was not allowed. Shisui had to survive and I will do my best to make it happen. I soaked the cold compress in the medicinal liqueur prepared by Chio and began to tampon the sensitive skin to clean the wounds, while infusing the green chakra, healing to relieve pain and the refreshing, calming effect I knew it had. I felt him more relaxed as the wounds closed and I could breathe a sigh of relief when I realized that Shisui was now out of danger. Even his skin, bruised and inflamed, had regained some of the radiance of a living man.
When I felt that I could interrupt the healing process, I realized that his moans had stopped, now being replaced by small snores that crept through his burned lips, making me unconsciously think of a fat, orange cat spinning on a terracotta stove on a cold winter's night. He was calm, and I couldn't resist the temptation to remove the rebellious strands of his ebony mane that had tangled on his still-hot forehead from the fever. They were wild and fierce and at the same time gentle, he was like an unleashed force of nature.
I woke him up by mistake. At that moment of the night when the time was freezing, his eyes seemed strange to me - they were eyes that I not only saw, but also felt somewhere in the depths of my soul. They were the eyes of a man who felt everything and nothing at the same time, who loved and was abandoned and mirrored his wonderful soul, who was able to offer everything and much more; the moon and the stars, maybe even the whole world. Full of pathos, mesmerizing, I likened them to a light song that I seemed to have heard in another life. The abyss of milky blackness hiding behind his gaze stirred me, terrified me, and aroused in me strange desires that only Itachi had been able to provoke, and somehow, without my will, I found myself wondering what these eyes would look like, in love. Could they shine as brightly as they do now?
Then he smiled at me and I knew in my heart that he would be fine because he was nothing less than a fighter. He had incredible power as the source of his own core of existence that made him seem untouchable, like a demigod. There was a force in him, a force I used to call fire or maybe even pure madness that guided his steps to virtue and made him so extraordinary. He felt different, he enjoyed life differently and had the ability to live as if tomorrow didn't matter to him - he smiled sincerely and brightly at me, with the joy of a child who sees the sea for the first time, even though he had a few broken ribs and even breathing seemed to be a burden.
And it was still warm and good and it was essentially everything an Uchiha lacked. It was a paradox, a misfit that the clan always chased away like a dog, when his presence was unwanted, so that later, in times of hardship, he would be crowned with laurels, like a hero.
"Your eyes, Sakura ... are so beautiful ..." and, well, he was a great conqueror.
…...
Hello everyone, after almost a month, many sleepless nights and very, very much stress given by the faculty, I managed to finally bring chapter three, in which appears for the first time the love of Shisui, who does not do much, but to stay quiet and compliment your lady.
The inspiration for the last scene came from an adorable story of my boyfriend, from his childhood when, after waking up from anesthesia he saw a very nice nurse and like any ten-year-old boy would have done, he told her that he has some very beautiful green eyes.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter because I had a great time writing it and I am very excited to start the next one.
Thank you for taking the time to read something I wrote! Stay safe!