Author's Note: The third and final installment… Geez, talk about how great a pain in the backside college has been. I'm so sorry, guys, if I'm super late. College's been hell… oh well, enjoy this, okay?
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto, enough said.
Thanks to the ff who reviewed:
Leiral: Thanks for the review. I'm really sorry if I didn't update on time. As stated above, college's been hell. Well, enjoy the last part!
-Kimchi77-: Uhm… The story takes place during the time skip. And this chapter is after it. Well… you'll get it in the end. Thanks for reviewing. Enjoy!
Sekiryu: Thank you for the great comments! Enjoy!
Through Oblivion and Back
He lay in bed, trying hard to catch sleep that continued to elude him. He was aching all over, his mind not letting him forsake his mission, his bloodlust and need for vengeance. It was cold, breezes in this village completely different from the breezes in the place he used to call his home, the place where everything had happened, where he cried, and hated, and loved, and lost.
He couldn't help but wonder, as he lay in that little cot inside his lonely room in the depths of the snake-bastard's fortress, what would have happened if he didn't leave at all. But knowing himself to be the logical man, he disregarded all thoughts at once. There was no need to remember, there was no need to feel regret. In fact, that was the last thing he needed right now. He was injured, practically dying maybe. Kabuto could not heal him completely, some medic he was, and so he was probably in the brink of death.
He laughed humorlessly to himself, keeping careful to stay still. He didn't want to open his wounds again and die while not being able to finish what he had started. But it was ironic, he couldn't help but think to himself, how the snake's own training and missions would be the death of him. He swore he knew he'd be stronger with that bastard of a Sannin… ever since he got a taste when he first held the power of the curse seal. But maybe, although he'd never admit to anyone but himself, he was wrong. So desperately wrong. And now he was caught up in a web of lies, deceit, and evil, being part of that cold-eyed man's many pets.
He shifted in his bed, feeling all his wounds throb. He smirked to himself. Yes, he was probably a little masochistic. He knew what pain was and didn't reject it. He had felt a significant pain as a child and he thought that nothing else would hurt as much as what his brother did to him. He felt himself clench his fists. He gritted his teeth, knowing that he was the reason for his lack of sleep. He didn't want to sleep. He'd have dreams again.
No, not dreams… nightmares…
Nightmares of them screaming, calling out to him for justice for their deaths. Every night, he could hear their blood drip to the ground as he was frozen, watching his brother slay the people he called family. He would watch them reach their bloody hands out to him for help and there was nothing he could do, just watch and maybe, just maybe, cry. But each nightmare would remind him of how much he truly hated that bastard of a brother, how much he loathed that completely emotionless face he used to admire so much as a child. He laughed again to himself.
Irony played such a great part in his life. He had admired his brother to the brink of idolization. He had this dream to work together with his brother, side by side, taking on all evil ninjas who would dare attack their home village. But it was this person whom he had admired so much that brought all this upon him. And now, he was dying in a cold cot in a room owned by that snake-bastard whom he thought would give him power to defeat his brother.
Ah yes, his life was indeed ironic.
Maybe, for once, since he was dying, he could let his thoughts wander freely. Maybe he could let his thoughts wander to the place he had left behind, to the people he had left behind. He had seen them once before. And he had attempted to kill them too. But in that few minutes of time he had spent with them, practically threatening them, he saw the changes. Subtle they were but they were there. In that few minutes, he saw the changes in character and relationship between the other two members of his former genin team.
He liked seeing the look of terror on both their faces, one with such emotional blue eyes, feeling fear and awe and respect and hate all at once, while the other was veiled, green, but veiled. Those looks made him feel superior, more powerful over them. He did not know who the other people there and he couldn't care any less. He didn't even look at them, focusing solely on the two people he used to consider as friends. Maybe he still did. But he would never know if they would ever forgive him as he knew he was indeed dying, his sight hazy and breathing ragged, sure signs of a slow and painful demise.
He forced himself to stay awake, to keep away from the darkness that would consume him in each of his nightmares. Truth be told, he was scared. His nightmares have worsened. Not only did he see his family being massacred, he saw his former genin team being slaughtered in front of him as well. He would see his brother pulling a blonde's guts out while he ripped the head of a masked figure.
But he never saw her.
Strange as it seems, he never, not once, ever saw her in his dreams. His blonde idiot for a teammate and former sensei were both there, dying by his brother's hands but when he searched for her, she would not be found. He reasoned to himself that maybe she wasn't really one of his precious people or maybe he really didn't care much about her. But deep inside, he knew he was just lying to himself.
His memory of telling his blonde team mate that he didn't want to lose any more of his precious people when that sand demon had her pinned to a tree, unconscious, proved to him that she was indeed someone dear to him. Maybe that's why he wanted to risk something, maybe even his life, to get her back to them, alive…
But he didn't succeed in risking anything.
He saw his other teammate defeat that sand demon. He figured that the blonde had so much more resolve than he did, that the blonde had loved her just a few inches deeper that he did. Maybe because his blonde teammate knew he'd never say anything to anyone but himself that she was practically different and unique in his eyes.
There was a hidden aura inside of her, he saw it when she had been beaten to an inch of her consciousness trying to protect them while they, the blonde and him, were both unconscious. She was weak, he knew that she knew that she was weak, but she was there, knowing she didn't stand a chance at all but gave it a shot anyway. Yes, he nodded to himself, something was indeed different about that girl.
And there was the fact that she never appeared in his morbid nightmares. And this, he couldn't help but wonder why. What was so special about that annoying kunoichi, he could call her that, seeing her fight, who used to dote on him like crazy?
And he never could find the answer in his usually intelligent mind. He shrugged, wincing in pain once again. He mentally berated himself for thinking such thoughts about her, especially now that he was dying.
No, he determined to live. To live so that he could kill that man. It was all he could see in his future, his running, dashing, to catch up to the man he is so desperately trying to murder. But he couldn't help but think about what she had said to him the night he had left. Would he be happy once he had reached his goal? What would he feel?
He ignored those questions as he stared at the dark ceiling, knowing those questions cannot be answered too. He mockingly humored himself by imagining that when he did answer those questions of hers, he had already killed the man and thus, telling her his feelings after. It was logical. It was slightly morbid but humorous to him. He could imagine a shocked look on her face and he couldn't help but smirk. So now, he was not only masochistic but maybe a little sadistic.
The window, he just noticed, was wide open, making him see the shadows of the trees and the bright and full moon. He shivered, remembering that breezes in this place were so much different, so much colder. He was so distant now. He could not see the lights, the mountains, the sights, sounds, smells, and everything about that little village of fire and leaves. Maybe he did miss it.
The light of the moon shone down on him, and he blinked, feeling a sense of peace suddenly come over him. He placed a hand over his forehead, thinking of what would have happened if he didn't do the mission his Sannin mentor assigned him. Would he still be killing people in a rampage right now instead of dying in a cold cot? Would he still be working his bone off, trying to gain the power he so desperately wanted and needed?
He didn't know.
He growled. He didn't know. He didn't know! He wanted to yell in annoyance and disdain. He wanted to scream. He was frustrated. For once in his life, knowing he was dying, he wasn't sure about what he had done. His resolve had weakened. He was confused. He was dying and he was confused, now feeling the regret catching up to him, the guilt and regret eating him away like worms eating a rotten carcass. He just wanted to get out of this dark and forsaken place, to finish off what he started so that maybe, just maybe, he could get back to living!
Real living!
He closed his eyes. He sighed. Trying to calm himself down, he took deep breaths, trying to ease the pounding of his heart. He felt that strange sense of peace flood all over him again as he once again glanced out the open window. He admired the full moon, it was so far away and yet big enough for him to see. It was bright and it illuminated the dark sky but it gave that soft eerie glow. It was, to say the least, creepy, but he wasn't scared of that. He blinked, feeling a soft and gentle breeze like the ones in his former home tickle his cheeks. He knotted his eyebrows, confused. Never had he ever felt a breeze like this in such a long time. He painfully tried to sit up…
But he couldn't.
Grunting in pain, he relaxed, taking in the seemingly special breeze that he knew, deep inside, he missed. It comforted him, in a sense. His emotions were calmed down, the wildness tamed inside of him. He had never before felt those extreme emotions claw at him. It made him realize that he was still human, so very human, a fact he had tried to ignore and detest since he had chosen this evil path.
There was nothing he could do now but wait. Wait for his death that he was certain would come. He would wait until he would see where he would go. He was certain he would fall down to the deep and fiery pits of hell due to what he had done, due to the souls he had sadistically murdered. There was no chance that he'd be able to go up where the angels and clouds were.
It would be too good to be true…
He sighed again. Was it because he was near death that he was thinking this way? Was it because he knew he probably would never have a chance to fulfill his goal and go back to his home? He had always planned on going back anyway, and face the humiliation and the dire consequences. But that place was the only place he could go back to. And this, now this, was it because of this bright feather floating directly above his head the reason for his feeling human again?
His eyes widened. What the… He couldn't understand. What was this thing before him? Where did it come from? And why was this thing giving off such a peaceful aura?
Painstakingly holding a bandaged hand out to it, he let if fall onto his palm. It was bloody and soft. It glowed all the more as he held it to his handsome face and in that instant, he felt all the physical pain wash away. He sat up immediately, dropping the feather accidentally on his lap.
He pulled off his bandages and saw no more wounds, no more gashes, not even the slightest hint of a scar. For the first time in his life, he let the shock come to his face and he stared, long and hard, at this little soft fluff. He picked it up again, scrutinizing this feather, wondering where in hell, or maybe, plausibly, in heaven, it came from.
He twirled it between his fingers, careful not to let any strand come off that little glowing fluff. It was tainted with blood. Blood! He wondered whose blood was on this feather and in the back of his head, where the sadism and masochism resided, he felt something snap. But he calmed himself down, taking to smelling the feather. And his eyes widened, there was no trace or hint of blood on that feather…
But there was a distinct smell…
Of cherry blossoms and vanilla, of salty tears and sweat… Of pain. And he suddenly knew who owned this feather and he didn't care if it was odd that someone would send a feather to him. He knew of only one person who cared enough. He knew who would care enough to send part of oneself to him, with magic, with healing powers. He realized that this feather, tainted as it was, came from a pure heart, a loving heart, and slowly, ever so slightly, gripping it gently, he closed his eyes, lying back down on his cold hard cot…
And he slept…
And dreamt…
But not of blood or pain…
But of smiles and laughter…
She glanced up and noticed how bright the sun was today. She looked out the dirty and misty window, feeling a different breath of air around her. Her eyes widened. Where did this come from? Why was it so familiar? She looked down at the medical scrolls around her. They were dusty and old. She had been studying them for the past two hours and there it was again! That weird feeling…
She laid her fingers on one of the old scrolls. She gave a deep, deep sigh. Her heart was beating unusually fast as she reread those characters in the side of the scroll. How come she had never seen this scroll before? Dreams… That's what was written in that dusty old scroll…
Dreams…
She had been having strange dreams, she wouldn't dare call them hallucinations-she wasn't mentally ill, for the past few months. She shook her head, concentrating on the scrolls in front of her.
Where are you?
She looked up abruptly. The voice was lulling… It was beautiful, familiar. It called to her. She stood up, feeling all her senses suddenly dull and all she could hear were those words echoing inside her head. She felt a sense of familiarity claw its way into her heart. Unconsciously, she placed a shaking hand over the beating muscle. She walked out the door, her mind in a daze, her eyes far…
Can you hear me?
They watched as she slowly made her way through the streets. Again, the surrogate father and brother, taking their place behind her, following her. They nodded to each other, knowing the change, the call, the feeling. They had felt it too and they couldn't help but feel a sense of relief and happiness. It was time. She wouldn't cry anymore. She wouldn't suffer for their sake.
And they watched as she disappeared through the crowd, suddenly just a wisp of pink in the orange of the setting sun. He grinned his fox-like grin, nodding to the older man holding an orange book. The older man nodded back ever so slightly and one could see a small trace of a smile on those hidden lips. Within a second, they were gone.
Will you listen?
She knew that voice. She knew it with her heart. But she could not recall it with her mind. She wanted to scream out, and ask that floating tone where it was and whom it belonged to. But something deep inside her told her to calm down, that she would find it in due time. She wandered around, ignoring the calls and the protests of people who knew her. She wanted to find this lulling melody…
She stopped, her hand dropping from its current position to down to her side. She glared at the looming figure before her. And she glared at the stone figure enveloped in the warmth of the beautiful setting sun to her left. She closed her eyes, sighing. Her daydreaming had brought her back to the place that held the most heartbreaking memories. How could she move on this way? How could she when she wound up in front of this bench almost every day?
She sighed yet again. And she slowly trudged towards the bench, her heart, with every footstep, was breaking. She sat down, not wanting to believe how she could still live in the past. She had a new life now. She wasn't supposed to feel this way. But she did… she did… and that's what hurt her the most. It's what hurt them all the most.
She placed her hands on her lap, staring at them, forbidding the salty tears from falling. She immediately wiped them away, knowing that they would be watching again. She knew they protected her, she was grateful. But it proved to her that she was still defenseless. And it proved that she was still, God forbid,
weak…
She could feel a new wave of tears wanting to flow. But she had to stop crying. She had to stop the weakness from overwhelming her. She had to stop her heart from cracking, for their sake. They would feel that they did not fulfill their precious roles, they would feel disappointment, disgrace. She knew they had assigned themselves this. And God forbid, she would want to hurt them by being selfish, by being independent…
But something within her told her that she wouldn't want to have it any other way. And something within her told her that she couldn't have it any other way at all. Because that's what she was. Their precious little glass doll, weak, defenseless. They told her otherwise. But she knew they only said that to make her feel better about who she was, what she could do. She was nothing…
Are you crying?
She shook her head, answering that strange voice's question. She could not reveal to that hidden voice what she felt. She could not tell anyone that every night she would feel the deep sadness emerge yet again, trying to tear her heart into two. She could not tell anyone that during the day, she would live with a fake smile and a fake laugh. She could not tell anyone that at night, where things are dark and are not what they seem, she could still hear his voice and feel the beat of his heart.
Maybe she had been given this curse of eternal tears. Maybe it was her destiny. She could hear footsteps. But they came from the direction of the huge and looming cement figures beside her. She knew they would just be people traveling, maybe tourists. But there was something about those footsteps, something strange. Because they stopped. And they stopped right in front of her…
She turned her emerald orbs up to the stranger and found herself staring. And staring. And staring. She blinked. Feeling all this to be just a dream. A nightmare. A mixture of both. She did not, could not believe what stood in front of her. Or who, rather. And emerald clashed with onyx. Night and day once again met in the orange sky. She could not move, could not breathe. She did not dare take his eyes of off him.
"I have something,"
She watched as he spoke, his voice the one she knew from the heart, and fumbled with his bloody hands, as he dug into the pockets of his black pants, not bothering that his entire body was covered with blood and that he was severely injured. She watched as there was a soft look, a distant look, in his eyes, a look she had never in her life seen from him. And she felt her hand being held by his calloused ones. She felt something soft being thrust into them, his hand never leaving hers.
"that I believe is yours…"
She glanced down and saw. A feather. She blinked. She blinked so many times and remained so quiet. Wondering. Trying. Wanting. She could not express how she felt. She stared at the dirtied and bloody feather. She felt two figures appear behind her. There was a huge gust of comfort filling her heart and she felt their gazes on them, he with the once stoic mask, and she with the fake smiles and laughs.
"Tadaima. I'm home. Naruto. Kakashi-sensei."
"Okaeri-nasai. Welcome home,"
"Sasuke…"
And with that, she launched herself at him, tears finally flowing, grasping his bloodied dark shirt with her pale fingers, her heart bursting with so much relief and joy. And he caught her, hugging her, not wanting to let go, finding the comfort he had so longed for, knowing he was home.
"Tadaima. I'm home… Sakura…"
The sky was orange, the sun setting…
Feathers floated down, softly, gently…
She was no longer sad, and she was no longer twisted.
She was free…
Maybe if I could fly, I could reach you. But all I could do was cry and hope that maybe somehow,
those tears would tell you how I feel…
Owari
Author's Note: Yes… It's the end. How sad. At the last moment, the part where she hugs Sasuke, I kind of recall a Card Captor Sakura scene from somewhere, where Sakura launches herself at Syaoran and she just cries and grasps Syaoran's shirt and Syaoran just holds her, a small smile on his face… Such a sweet scene… I did my best in trying to describe it…
Oh yeah, this last scene, assume that Sasuke already killed Itachi and Orochimaru, just to clear things up.
Review. Please.
