Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
Bathing in Blood
18. This Last Frontier
And there is a wisdom obscured in darkness
When wrong is thought to be right,
And when things are thought to be
That which they are not.
-The Bhagavad Gita
Naruto plodded along in the line, wading through a river of quiet that clutched at his ankles like quicksand. His knees were still trembling, boneless and jelly-like, all of a sudden turned to celery stalks pathetically attempting to support his weight. The silence wasn't exactly helping matters, either.
He glanced quickly over his shoulder at the parade of genin behind him; imagined that their reptilian eyes were glaring at him and him alone, lips sewn shut with invisibly grisly black stitching, speaking hideous volumes with their bleary vision.
He whirled around hastily, facing forward once again. Listening with hopeless necessity to the electronic pulsing of the fast-approaching crimson 'EXIT' sign, drifting without direction towards a pair of double-doors. Reading, squinty-eyed, the yellowed handwritten placards plastered over layers of cheap, chipped paint.
"Danger"
"Only Authorized Personnel Allowed"
"Keep Out"
The blonde-haired boy could almost hear the voices hidden in the scrawling messages, whispering from their fragile dwellings with the rustle of generations. Reminding him in crackling undertones of so many lessons that had gone unlearned.
Frighteningly nonchalant, the dark-haired instructor in the light coat swung past them with a single careless kick. One of the time-worn pages, edges curled and crinkled, let go at last and fluttered to the ground. The howling death-wails were drowned as scores of feet trampled over it, a pitiful warning on the dirty linoleum, ignored and forgotten.
But Naruto had no time to contemplate philosophical metaphors, not now. Maybe later, as the pangs of regretful déjà vu began to emerge, but not now. Before he knew it, a shove from behind sent him sprawling, headlong into ghastly open air. Flailing weakly as the familiar chills filleted his limbs, instincts screeching in utter desperation at the aura of evil and unadulterated terror loitering just one step further.
And all for nothing, as the herd around him charged eagerly ahead, mindlessly scurrying into the slaughterhouse. Though the chorus of fear deep within him screamed danger, he had no choice but to do the same.
Perhaps that was how they all felt, he thought. Perhaps they were all sensing the horrors to come, save for that stupid kid at the back jostling the one in front of him, who couldn't help but push the rest of them, too. Then again...wasn't everything like that?
Naruto sighed in resignation, signing the final dotted line in a barrage of documents that sealed his fate for good. Better to do that, and not put up a fight against things that couldn't be fought. Better to just surrender while you're still on top, and retain the distant hope of making it through in one piece. After all...it was better to have that than nothing at all.
The trees towered over the cluster of children, a forest barely restrained with barbed-wire fences and a few more discolored signs. Dire warnings, of course; the stereotypical, overstated understatements that trumpeted their messages in graying bold print.
"Dangerous Area"
"Forest of Death"
"No Trespassing"
Like any of these cowards need a warning. The pink-haired girl frowned in passive disgust. The feeling of foreboding that radiated from the murky depths was enough to trigger obvious trepidation in the amateurs surrounding her. Why isn't this place opened to the public? If we were allowed to train here...
The talkative teacher that had led them out here was giving some sort of roundabout instructions, hands gesturing wildly, trying her pathetic best to both confuse and scare the voluminous audience. It was working, for the most part. Storing the key information in the depths of her mind, Sakura let the obnoxious, squawking sounds fade out like a far-off radio signal, her thoughts drifting ahead into the Forest of Death.
