Sixth Sense
Summary: When the first five just aren't enough.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto. Don't sue. Don't come after me with hacksaws. Everyone's happy.
A/N: hey, guys. Here's a little depressing fic for all you death-lovers out there. Even if you don't like angst, give it a shot.
The way she had looked at him, her silver eyes wide, told of an unspoken fear swirling within their depths.
Fear of what?
He caught her as she fell, cradling her bedraggled and torn form to his chest. Her breathing was shallow; he didn't like it. "Hey." She showed no response. The only show of life was the slight rise and fall of her chest, which seemed to weaken each passing moment. "Hey, Hinata."
I'm fearing now.
The movement stopped. Alarm crept into the back of his mind as he attempted to remain calm. Gently shaking her, he moved his finger to her wrist. He felt no pulse. "Hinata!"
What am I fearing?
His face darkened as he heard his adversary land behind him, quietly waiting. He gingerly spread her beneath the tree, fingers ghosting over her cheek. Standing, he turned to the attacker.
He felt the rage boil inside him.
He felt the fury rear its ugly head to the sky, battering against its confining cage.
He felt himself embrace it.
The notion of fearing for myself would be pointless, possibly even ludicrous.
He heard the enemy take a sharp breath.
He heard the feral laugh escape his lips.
He heard the shouts as the remainder of the rival band drew closer.
Cracking his knuckles, he knew he could make short work of them all. He blinked his crimson eyes lazily, twisting his mouth into a crooked grin. Flexing his claws, he rushed forward. He didn't bother looking at the dead man's face, he didn't care.
Am I fearing for her?
He smelt the blood splashing across his face; none of it was his.
He smelt the terror of those still living.
He smelt the form of his wife, who lay unmoving under the high oak.
He stood over the last man, claws dripping with the scarlet life of those who opposed him. The man, struggling for breath, coughed violently, blood splattering on the grass below him. The crimson-orbed demon's smile turned to a frown as he knelt next to the dying ninja, and he placed a talon against his throat. The enemy looked up with russet eyes, mouth agape at the sight before him.
"You- you're a monster…"
"That's right," the demon muttered gravely, slicing the skin. "I'll see you at the gates of Hell."
All too suddenly, his eyes became their customary cerulean, taking in the scene before him.
Am I fearing for anyone?
He saw the bodies littering the forest floor.
He saw the blood staining his once ivory robes.
He saw the all too familiar scores in the corpses.
Piecing together the obvious evidence, he sped to his beloved's side, placing a gentle hand upon her ashen cheek, doubting it would do any good. "Hey, wake up." To his glad disbelief, hoary eyes fluttered open, dulled from the pain. The figure cast about, scanning the area and absorbing the sight.
"Naruto… you didn't…?" He held her to his chest, repressing the tears that threatened to come.
"I thought you were gone," he whispered desperately in her ear. "I thought you had left me."
Reaching up, she brought his face down to hers, pressing her lips against his. How did they fit together so perfectly?
Maybe it's not fearing for but fearing of.
He tasted the blood on her rose lips.
He tasted the salty tears sliding slowly down both their cheeks.
He tasted the promise of a long future for them both.
He wished that promise could be kept.
I am fearing myself.
They lay together under the high oak, the man cradling the slowly fading woman, waiting for help to arrive.
He bolted upright, blonde strands sticking to his sweaty forehead. Looking about, he found himself in a cool, dark room. Quiet breaths could be heard beside him, and he cast a worried glance at the figure next to him. As he ran a hand through her ebony locks, she shifted slightly, cracking open an inquiring eye.
"Another nightmare?"
"…It was nothing." The Rokudaime smiled fondly down at his wife, continuing to stroke her hair. She beamed in return, Somnus laying his veil over her once more.
"Would you go check on Kazuma?" She was asleep before she received an answer. The man gazed lovingly at the woman before placing a soft kiss on her forehead and leaving the bed.
That night, the Hokage shook as he sat at her bedside, clutching his eight year old son. Another sob tore from his throat as he tried to explain that she was not coming back.
A/N: Woah, that was angsty. Sorry 'bout that… I've felt a little depressed of late, and writing these sorts of things helps a bit. I've got an entire folder of emo poems in my laptop. (sigh)
Nevertheless, I hope you understood and enjoyed the story. Please give me some feedback, whether it is in review or e-mail!
--DML