Welcome To The End
When inspiration strikes...
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A Naruto-fanfiction by Rike-sama.
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DISCLAIMER: Do you ever see Sakura and Itachi teaming up and trying to destroy the world in Naruto? No? See, it's obvious I don't own it.
AUTHOR's NOTE: I'm posting this before I get back to my senses and loose confidence. Yes, I was sleep-deprived. Yes, the screen kept getting blurry. Yes, I shouldn't have written this - but I did, so here it is... whatever 'it' is. o.o Well, whatever it is... it sure as heck doesn't make any sense. At all.
Oh, and if you want to flame something for this thing, flame Naruke. She had an odd/interesting collection of lines in her profile and I borrowed one. "No excuses, no apologies, no regrets… Welcome to the end." - that's courtesy of her. That was what inspired this fic. So, blame her, not me.
On another note - my first language is German and my writing sucks, so please bear with me here, all right?
ENJOY!
WELCOME TO THE END
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?"
His voice was the sweetest poison – dripping from his chapped lips like blood from a deep wound, captivating her. Dripping from his thin lips like unforgiving rain from a wooden roof burnt black, pulling her in. Dripping from his pale lips like wax from a violet candle, setting her on fire. It was soothing, so soothing, painfully trickling down her bruised neck.
It seeped into her and slowly disintegrated the rotten flesh just beneath her creamy skin, tinted in cool crimson, blackened with icy embers. Soothing, so soothing… Until she felt numb. The poison, his poison burned in her eyes, threatning to fall from the corners of her eyes.
No… That wasn't poison. Those were tears. Angry, hot, salty tears, leaving trails of wetness on her cheeks.
She could feel him shift his weight behind her, then tighten his grip around her waist, one hand buried possessively in her pink hair. "It's what you wanted, isn't it?", he spoke again, his voice laced with so much expectation that it made her want to choke and die of suffocation.
"No", she managed to say, her own voice feeling like caustic venom in her mouth, on her skin, in her ears. She was shaking. She was trembling. She felt sick. Something was twisting and turning in her stomach, as if a nightmarish viper was trying to pierce her from the inside. "This isn't what I wanted."
The cold, dead body behind her pressed closer, the contact made her feel nauseous. His mouth was so close to her ear that she could feel his stale, hot breath ghosting over her skin. It was so close that she could feel his lips twisting into something that might have been supposed to be a smile but ended up as a horrendous grimace. When he spoke again, his voice didn't feel like poison anymore. It felt like needles made of splintery wood.
"Oh?" That single whispered word carried so much morbid amusement and such a sweet kind of bitterness that it made her toes curl and the hair on the neck stand up. He was sick. She knew he was sick. She couldn't force herself to care. It was because she was sick too. There wasn't even the slightest spark of resentment in her empty eyes, filled with tears that were only there out of habit.
Her eyes looked like glass marbles, like the eyes of a porcelain doll with beautiful hair and ivory skin. And like a doll she felt, lifeless and unmoving in the arms of someone she should hate. The thought repulsed her, but she didn't think about it too much. She was too weary to think.
They stayed quiet for a long time. Motionless they waited for nothing to happen, leaning against each other for support. They didn't love each other. They weren't capable of such emotions. They used to be, but that was a long time ago, long before they met. Inside of them there were two growing voids, darker than the darkest night and deeper than the deepest abyss.
"This isn't what I wanted…", she repeated monotonously. The man behind her snorted in disgust at her empty words. They sounded hollow even to her. But she couldn't help saying it over and over again – because she needed reassurance. She wasn't the monster the remaining pieces of her conscience told her she was. She was just misunderstood. And lonely. And desperate. And maybe just a little bit insane.
She didn't wince as her head was jerked back so she was now staring at the sky, where a storm was brewing. Only that it wasn't a storm. It was swirling chaos, untamed chaos, unadulterated chaos. It was the essence of pitch-black chaos tinged with gold and red. It wasn't ill-natured. It wasn't vicious. It wasn't maleficent. It was famished. It was chaos, and it craved for the world it loomed over.
"Our creation…", he hissed into her ear, running his hands down her sides, over her stomach, up her front, and into her hair, fisting them in the silky pink strands. "Our creation… don't tell me it's not what you wanted." She kept silent, staring at the chaos that was hunger incarnate. She wasn't really looking at it. Her eyes were focused on something pure, something white, something untainted that lay beyond it.
"Don't tell me you didn't want this!", he all but snarled, his breath growing ragged, the three semicolons of his sharingan spinning wildly. "You helped me create this, didn't you? Didn't you? How can it not be what you wanted?"
"You dragged me into this."
He gave a raspy half laugh into the base of her neck. "That's right, I dragged you into this. It's like a powerful current, isn't it? Once you get too close you're pulled in, and then there's just no chance of ever escaping from its grasp. I pulled you in, didn't I?" He paused and smirked, she could feel it on her skin. "No, that's not quite right. The darkness in your heart pulled you in. Isn't that right?"
She didn't respond for a very long time. Then she closed her eyes and surrendered, meaningless tears rolling down her cheeks. "You're right. This is what I want. Because I've got nothing left. I'm caught in the undertow."
He threw his head back and gave a full-fledged laugh. It would have sent shivers down her spine if she hadn't grown accustomed to his demented laughther already. She wondered when it had started. When she had started to feel this way. To want this. Thinking back to the events that lead up to this very moment she formed her lips into a smile that rivaled her partner's grimace from earlier. All of this had begun when team 7 had started to fall apart…
But this wasn't something she wanted to think about right now. She didn't want to think about anything. All she wanted was to rest. She wanted blissfull oblivion to engulf her and swallow her whole. She wanted chaos to devour the world. Looking up she noticed that the swirling in the sky had stopped and ghostly threads of darkness had begun wriggling towards the ground, creating something akin to a cobweb.
Turning around in the fake embrace of her fake lover she reached up and violently janked the ribbon out of his hair, watching in fascination as the long black hair pooled around his face and onto his shoulders like liquid silk. This was a mistake. They were making a horrible mistake. But she didn't care. Her voice husky and breathy she said "It's finally time…" before standing on her toes and placing her lips to his in a searing kiss.
If felt like eternity before they broke their kiss. As velvet curtains of thick darkness fell around them he gazed deeply into her eyes, searching for something. He didn't find it, but he didn't care. His voice was nearly inaudible as he said with barely contained excitement: "No excuses, no apologies, no regrets… Welcome to the end."
She smiled. Her smile was just a little sad. "Nothing gained and everything lost, right?"
Instead of a verbal response he pulled her into another kiss.
The world ceased to exist.
You're still here? Like, woah. o.o
For all of those who didn't figure it out: the two people that destroyed the world in this are Itachi and Sakura. Yeah, that doesn't make any sense. At all. Oh, and about Sasuke, Naruto and Kakashi... they're probably dead in this, I dunno. o.o :cries:
Now, click the pretty button and tell me just how confused you are...