Seventeen
Experimental Microfic By Sarehptar
Theme Song: Soul Rescuer
He is seventeen, and home is two hundred miles behind. He is paler than before; the kunai gash across his ivory cheek is half green from lack of care. He can see the shadows under his eyes, black like bruises and storm clouds. Even the shine has leeched from his normally bright hair; he feels dirty, he is dirty, and there is nothing he can do it change it.
He is seventeen, and his hands are red with stains that won't wash clean. His tongues have tasted blood--sugar sweet and tart like fermented strawberry. He has watched flesh burn, cut skin off rotting corpses; he has found the sweet spot on the human body that reacts perfectly to explosives--just the right amount of force can send the blood splashing out in a perfect, unending, circle.
He is seventeen, and the word 'Akatsuki' rolls off his tongue like boiling water. Hissing bubbles of anticipation well deep inside his chest, driving the darkness from his eyes and whispering promises of protection in his ear with a silky, serpentine voice. Akatsuki... And it feels as if a red sun is rising before him; bleeding delightful death and danger into an innocent blue sky.
He is seventeen, and the promises don't need to be any more appealing. He is hunted; he is a swift and merciless genius. Everything they've ever said has come true. Seventeen and skilled beyond compare. Seventeen and more in love with art than air. Seventeen and known for murder; seventeen and raining sweet innocent sneers down onto his victims.
He is seventeen, and a child only in the word's most figurative meaning. He knows how to flee, how to hide, how to kill and laugh. He knows which places are blind and which cities to avoid. Necessity has taught him to beg; patience, to kill, but it was the soulless eye slits in the Hunter's masks that taught him fear. And it is fear that drives him now, like a seabird before a squall. He knows it, he hates it, he tells no one. There is no one to tell. Skilled, seventeen, and all alone. Everything they've ever said has come true. Akatsuki. The word is papalable to him, ready to be taken up and molded. He knows this will be his masterpiece. A bright glimmer on an attainable horizon; a beckoning beam in a monotonous grey world of flight and fear. Akatsuki... He trembles in delight.
He is seventeen, and though he is taller, even the shortest of them manages to make him feel small. They are perfect matches, strong and fast and heartless. He wonders briefly if they aren't some different species of human altogether. Meticulously, he runs a pale lip and palm over the new soft silver on his index finger, and realizes that home is redefinable. The thick cloak on his back seems, for the moment, a perfect shield from those who would prefer to see him lifeless. The shadows under his eyes will fade; the fear will fade. A cacophony of colored glares delight an innocent sneer onto his face. He has surpassed everything they've ever said, and his scarred headband blends so well...
He is seventeen, and smiling.
Author's Notes: This is what comes of me trying to prove I can write in present tense. Heh, guess I can't. I'm really sorry for this one, it's WAY confusing. There are two different "them"s... One them is the people he used to know (I guess), and the last "them" is Akatsuki... I can't write. Anyway, this was posted only because I like the way the words sound (sorta). Eh, I'm sorry? I also wanted to thank everyone who reviewed! Oh yeah, it has a theme song! I decided to include a bit for the song I was listening to when I wrote the piece. They're all J-pop, so if you get a chance, listen to them!
To The-MarmaladeCat1: I'm excited that you like it! Whee! Thank you so much for reviewing my piece, and I hope this one didn't totallybore you to death... Wow, I'mso glad you understood my description of "danna"...
To TidAL-rabbiT: LOOVE. (Rabu) Yes, I said good-bye to dear Cali, but I have lots of fond memories and peeling sunburnt skin to remind me of what I'm missing.
To Smallpox Plum: You are so cool. I love you. LOOVE. Lol, only kidding. But seriously, you are like the coolest reviewer ever! I love long reviews, they make me feel like I really know the people who read my stuff! Anyway, I'm sooooo glad you liked the last piece, and it's nice to know the Itachi one wasn't as awful as I felt like it was. Yay, a subtle relationship lover! Deidara and Sasori just seem like a pair who would never be really out there with their feelings... Plus, subtly is much more fun to write. Thanks again for reviewing, and I'm really sorry about this piece. Someone dared me to write in a way I'd never written seriously before, and I couldn't think of anything but present tense.
To Rikou Suiyou: It's not me, un! It's all Kishimoto-san. But I'm really flattered that you enjoy this random stuff... This one was awful, ne? And loving Dei-chan's not a sin. At least, not in my book.
To Fuhrer: Yay, new reviewer! (dance) Okay, now I will try to explain my reasoning for letting him get sick. Sasori is not totally a puppet. He can't be, he has to be composed of at least some organic material in order to exist in the way he does:the other puppets are not capable of speech or movement, but he is, therefore, he cannot be completely fabricated, and if he's not completely fabricated, he can still get ill. Also, there are definate visible lines when it comes to him, such as the lines on his neck and torso. These lines may (or may not) seperate areas of puppet material from human material. In essence, Sasori turned himself into a puppet, but in order to remain a puppeteer, he couldn't kill himself and finish the switch. Yeah, I could be wrong... But isn'tsickness cuter?