Naruto Drabbles

by wjames260

These are a series of Naruto related drabbles that aren't long enough to justify existing as their own files. Some might be long enough, but I like having them all organized together. My favorite is Two Black Crows. I like to explore the inner thoughts of the characters and also their mundane lives.

2. Katon no Father

His father's face is like a board of plywood. A perpetual frown sagging downwards. Arms crossed like sheathed blades. And sturdy black eyes that are like beacons, like homing devices, and when you make eye contact with him you cannot look away. You can only stare into the dark of his pupils and wonder what he thinks of you.

During the war, his father was known for his terrible eyes and for his mastery of Katon. Whole forests bloomed into a crown of flames when he arrived. Soot speckling the choking air like a snowfall. The murmur of fire, the brooding of fire, it sits in his eyes like coals, like obsidian rock, like -

Again.

Breathing in, Sasuke envisions his lungs expanding like balloons. Clasping his palms together, he runs through the signs - Tiger, Boar, Tortoise - one at a time, giving each sign a due respect, a deliberate shape. During this, he maneuvers his chakra inside his stomach, heating it like a pot of simmering water, sparks crackling from the surface of the chakra. Sweat beads upon his forehead, his palms, his underarms, his upper back. Little pains appear in his gut, like firecrackers going off inside the lining of his organs. His blood pumping quicker, hotter - then, he shouts the incantation -

Goukyaku Katon no Jutsu!

No, too sudden, too harsh, too inarticulate. He stumbled through the phrase, he rushed the words, and the fire sears the inside of his mouth, burning the surface of his tongue, the saliva ducts, and his gums. Like he choked on the flames, like it burst too soon.

On his hands and knees, now, on the scorched brittle brown grass, coughing, hacking spit and small embers of flame. Spitting the fire out into the ground like vomit, like residual saliva. His eyes watering, so dry and bitter. His stomach broiling with unused, clotted chakra. And the tower of his father standing behind him. A shadow cast, a coal in each eye socket. His arms must be crossed, Sasuke thinks. His arms must be crossed.

"I'm sorry," Sasuke mutters, spits, wiping his mouth with his wrist. Waiting for a response, he stares into the ground. Into the tiny embers burning there in the brown grass. Twisting them out with his fist, he coughs and stands back up. His stomach feels bulbous and rotten. His eyes burning with hungry sunlight. But behind him, there is silence.

Looking back, his father is gone. Without even a footstep to indicate where he went.