Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto
Looking up at the dark sky, rain falling, mingling with tears and washing the blood away. Washing away the heavy scent of iron in the air. Nature taking its true course, coming full circle and making everything clean again.
Except for me.
As much as the rain falls, no matter how long it washes away the stains, I will never be clean. The blood of many stains my hands. These red hands.
The rain stops. I look around at the battlefield. It is torn and muddy, and corpses scatter the ground, but it is clean and soon it will be nothing more than a memory.
I look down at my hands.
They are clean.
But then the dying screams of the last man I killed (no, no, not the last, just the last of many) echo in my head and my hands are red. Red with blood and hurt and dying and anguish-
I put on my gloves. Now, no matter how long or hard they scream, I can't see the blood.
And if I can't see it, then it's nothing more than a memory.
Right?
A bit depressing, this one. Focuses on Sakura's gloves in the Shippuuden arcs, and why she wears them.