A/N: My second ficlet, and a companion fic to the first, Carved in Stone. As Carved in Stone was from Anbu Lady's point of view, this is from Hayate's. Enjoy.
Regret of the Crescent Moon:
Laying here, staring up at the clouding sky, I can't help but think of you as I shudder to draw breath. The sand jounin has gone and I am alone as I lay dying. Is it selfish, to want you by my side as I die? As I wither from my wounds as my illness could never do? No, if I had said that you would have laughed at me. I cough and choke on blood as my vision begins to fade to black.
The moon is bright in my sight even as I die. The clouds slowly move across the sky as it stays the focus of my eye. I wonder how you'll fare, when I am gone. For I know I surely am gone. I can feel the blood seeping from many wounds, caused by blades of wind, sharp and real as if they were forged of cold steel.
And what would become of Konoha when I die? I can never tell what I have learned, that the Sand and the Sound villages planned to attack under the truce of the chunin exams. Even using the Dance of the Crescent Moon I had been unable to kill the traitor. But then again, maybe they would be able to find my killer. But for some reason, the fate of Konoha doesn't seem to concern me as much as your fate did.
Will you cry for me? Will you move on? Will you smile again? Will I see you again, once more, before I die? I can't seem to settle on one thought as my conscious blurs. My hand is still holding tightly to my sword, and I clutch it like a lifeline. Trying to hold on to anything, trying to tie myself to this world, I lock my eyes on the moon above.
I can see your face as well, a faint and distant image, receding as my life dims and my hold on this world weakens. I'm trying to hold on, trying to stay until I see you again, but it is now, as the shining moon itself dims, that I realize that I won't see you again. I will die here alone, in the dark, mourned only by the moon. My breath is quick and shallow in between coughs of blood, and I can feel the blood leaking out of my broken body with every breath.
My hand slowly opens, and my sword rolls away before coming to a halt mere inches from me. I strain to reach it, but my arm, my hand, will not move. I sigh a little, looking up at the dark night sky. I feel no pain, I am numb, and I feel myself dying as my illness never could kill me. But thinking of you makes it better. For when you first smiled at me, I was born again. When you loved me, I truly lived. And now, as your face disappears along with my vision, I die.