Author's Notes: Hi, hi! At first I thought this would be a multi-chaptered fic, though it worked well as a oneshot too. This was, indeed, brought on by "The Book Thief" by Markus Zusak, particularly, its first chapter. I downloaded an audiobook then realized that it was so wonderfully awesome that I had to have my own copy. Sadly, I couldn't find one at that time, and in my heartbreak, I wrote the first chapter. XD I wanted to make this a multi-chaptered fic so that I could be, well, 'sustained' until such a time that I found that book. But I just recently found the book in our local bookstore last week in a weird stroke of incredibly good luck, so, er, I decided to put an end to this story. XD So, it's now a… a two-shot! XD Is there even such a thing? Ah, whatever. Anyway, hope you guys like this. Please R&R. ^^
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto.
An Unwelcome Passenger
It was probably a bad idea, and yet he still found himself following the boy into the ambulance. He figured the boy would need some company, now more than ever.
Then again, nobody in their right mind would ever think that Death would be 'good company', and he was pretty sure Uchiha Sasuke wouldn't either.
In fact, the boy probably held some sort of grudge towards him now, never mind that he was just doing his job.
People were weird like that; they always needed someone to blame.
Still, he would do it for himself, if not for Uchiha Sasuke's sake. Even if he was not at fault, he felt particularly guilty; like a spectator to a train wreck, powerless to help, but hoping that he could somehow do something, anything.
Carefully, he sat beside the boy, making sure that they didn't touch, lest the boy feel a draft and somehow suspect – well, that was a bit farfetched, wasn't it? For all he knew, the boy might not even believe in such things as Grim Reapers or Angels of Death. But no – that wasn't right. From the boy's position – hands clasped, head bent down, almost leaning over completely, unintelligible words spewing from his mouth, – he could tell that the boy was praying. The word 'God' was definitely thrown in somewhere in there, so either the boy truly believed in a supreme being or he was just being desperate.
He knew he should depart, leave the boy on his own, but he couldn't. It was never good to be behind schedule, especially in his line of work – something about prolonging the agony of the dying – but somehow, right now, he felt like he could afford this, if only just for this one time.
To his right, the boy was still mumbling, praying, and it looked like he wouldn't stop any time soon. Too bad his prayers would not be answered. This was a beef he actually had with the Big Guy up There. If everything was predestined, written in that obscenely humongous "Book of Life" of His, then why teach people to pray in the first place? Why inject them with the false hope that an all-powerful Deity would somehow swoop down and fix things for them? It was cruel, too cruel.
Then again, who knew what went on in His mind? Perhaps there was a purpose in all this – perhaps.
Perhaps.
He certainly hoped so – for the sake of all those he ferried and all those that they left behind… for the sake of Uchiha Sasuke, whose prayers were now replaced with unabashed sobbing, punctuated by the steadily decreasing sound of the machine's (the heart of the boy's wife, her heart, oh, her heart) all important 'beeps' and the agonized wail of the ambulance siren.
Death was assaulted by a myriad of stimuli, all of them unpleasant – the calculated speed and the jerky swerving of the ambulance, the metallic smell of the girl's blood, the grotesque sight of the little boy's bent neck, and the depressing sound of Uchiha Sasuke's tragedy, his heart breaking for the second time around.
Suddenly, uncontrollably, he felt his anger rise at the unfairness of it all. He wanted out. He wanted to get out of the confined spaces of the ambulance, primarily. But most of all, he wanted to be out of work.
With an uncharacteristically rough jerk, he prematurely siphoned the girl's soul out of her body (there was no way he was returning later, no way he would be forced to look at Uchiha Sasuke again, at least not any time soon – damn his schedule and damn that Book) and made his way out of the vehicle, trying his best to ignore the piercing wail that followed in his wake.
Was there any meaning to this? Was there, really?
Perhaps there was – But could 'perhaps' really cut it? Was 'perhaps' enough to justify Uchiha Sasuke's suffering?
No—no. 'Perhaps' would never be enough. Never.
End.