A/N:WARNING! CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE MOST RECENT CHAPTERS IN THE MANGA! Also contains character death.
Yeah so I'm not sure how in character this is, but I just got done reading the last 10 chapters or so of the manga. And it made me think. Something tells me (or maybe I just want to believe) that Sasuke isn't a complete heartless bastard, but he stills has a lot of problems and has been manipulated by some very evil people.
Well anyway, I also got a lot of inspiration from the song Taishou.a by Annina. Really, go look up the english translation to these lyrics and listen to this song. It's very beautiful!
And as for my multi-chapter fic, I'm nearly done with the first chapter! So if you like my writing, keep your eyes peeled! It's called Perfect Stranger. Oh, and as usual, any constructive criticism is welcomed, but no flames!
The tear that ran down his cheek blended with the rain, and his vision began to blur. Sasuke stood over the makeshift grave, staring blankly at the flower he had laid there. Picturing Hinata's body beneath the freshly upturned dirt was too painful to bear for long. Despite the circumstances of her death, her face had looked so serene when he had picked her up out a pool of her own blood. The daintiness of her white cheeks contrasted with the ugly dark red hole in her chest. She looked like a porcelain doll that he had so recklessly broken.
He asked himself over and over again what kind of inhumane urge had driven him to do this. Had the past really been that painful? Was he really that drunk with vengeance and anger over what the village had done to his clan as well as the brother he had vowed to kill since the massacre? He refused to admit that raw hatred had clamped its jaws on him, bleeding out any compassion that he had left in his heart. He didn't want to even recognize the possibility that Madara had manipulated him for his own selfish agenda.
The rain had already begun to fade the crimson stains of Hinata's blood on his shirt, though her memory was bright in his mind. He remembered the love she offered, the pure affection, the sacrifices of honor. He could remember that the most peaceful moment he had had in years was that day he was with her. But he had given up too fast; the light she gave had quickly faded into the darkness he had worked himself into. After years under Orochimaru, he had learned to take comfort in his immutable anger and savor the taste of vindictive rage. And now he was the only one standing in Konoha to pick up the pieces of his own destruction. Hinata's corpse, along with the rubble that burned around him, left tangible evidence of what kind of a monster he had turned into.
Sasuke finally pulled himself away from the grave to retire for the night, hoping that the rays of a morning sun would soothe away the punishment that was his remorse. Squeezing his eyes shut, he wished that he would be able to smile like that day he had with Hinata; like he had not lost anything at all.