Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction ever...I hope it does not offend.
Disclaimer: I have no rights to Naruto or any related Indica. However, even if I said that I did, I couldn't be sued since I'm making no profit from this. If anything, I'm losing money.
Warnings: None, really...it's not very graphic, no yaoi...at least not yet, anyway.
Once again: Please review, even if it is just to flame. As is Naruto, so shall I be: To be hated is better than to not exist.
This one goes out to you, Nightfall G
Shinobi's Hope
Dust. It is the recognition of the fallen hope of a civilization, the faded dreams of a modern race. Dust is our beginning, and out ending, our hope and worst fear. Are we truly here, or is the human race just a cruel illusion projected onto a moving curtain of choking dust?
Or are we more?
A small boy, innocent of all that was wrong, questions his existence.
Dust and Ashes, tears and Sand, he paces his brutal existence, hoping for more.
There is nothing.
He sighs, and returns to the eternal routines of bloodletting and hatred which ark his daily existence. How can one so young have done something so wrong? He is a killer, bringing that which was once dust back to it's original form.
A savior.
A demon.
None dare look him in the eye as he continues his lonely everlasting existence, but one word holds him to his solitary truth:
"Why? Why me, why now?"
And only whisperings of gently sifting sands can answer him.
In his fury and loneliness, he destroys all the love that he had ever possessed, marking himself in shame for what had come to pass.
Hope is dead, and only survival remains.
And then, in the everlasting dark of blood and helpless fury, a light shines.
Again he questions, "Why?"
There is no answer to his tremulous query, and he sinks into despair, seeking to destroy the one who came to save him.
He is weak, and in his weakness, he is saved.
And one young boy began to live, again.
Gaara of the Sand