Souls' Ground

Word Count (WC): 621

The brilliant colors brush against the sky, creating a mass of purple, orange, pink and grey. It is perhaps the only time of day when the sky looks so alive. Usually, it would fall into darkness, the liveliness disappearing. But for this place... it always seems alive, whether it be night or day. But at the same time, it is always... dead.

There is a hill in an unmarked area, where one is able to look up at the sunset and think he can touch the sky. Maybe even paint more colors onto it, or grasp a star out of the sky.

The people that whisper call it the Souls' Ground.

One man now sits on the hill, leaning on his hands. A good name, he thinks, for such a sad place. He should know. He's there every day. He likes to think he knows the hill, unlike anyone has known it before. He knows the height of it, the slope, and even the number of feet that walk across it each day... each week... each month... each year...

Yes, he knows the hill.

And so, he is very aware when another presence intrudes. The newcomer sits down silently next to him, dangling her hands between her knees. The first closes his eyes, letting a soft breeze wash across his face. They stay in silence for awhile.

"He forgives you, you know."

It's abrupt, but he should have expected it. Everyone has already told him this; why would she think that it would make any difference if he heard it again?

"I'm sorry too." She hugs her knees to her chest, draping her head over them. He glances at her. Is that supposed to make things go back to normal?

"We – we just want to be a team again."

Frowning, he finally turns his head completely toward her. "I was never part of it."

She falls silent. "We... he... Please, come with us."

He can see the redness in her eyes, and hear the tears in her voice. He forces himself to turn away, stubbornly looking at the sunset again. A small sob emanates from his right, where she is sitting, and he feels his composure break. Crying girls – he had never been good at dealing with them. "I just..." he falters, looking for words to justify himself to her. Maybe a small attempt to console her.

Instead he mumbles, "I don't think I can face him again."

The crying cuts off. Her gaze lingers on him, but he continues to look at the colors; the orange now mixes in with the graying sky. It's almost dark.

"Why?" she asks. "He forgave you a long time ago."

He contemplates the answer; even as he watches the colors slowly fade. He wonders if, just like those colors, his opportunities will fade. "Because," he hears himself answer, as if from a distance, "I don't think I can forgive myself."

When she doesn't say anything, he dares to look at her again. Full on look. Not at her shoulder, not at her hair. His eyes catch hers, noting the surprising depth in the brown.

Somehow, she has managed to clasp his hand without him noticing. Blinking, he looks down at their combined hands, and back up to her.

"We'll help, Kakashi," she says. "We always will."

Eye widening, he allows her smaller form to pull him by the hand. Under the rapidly setting sun, she leads him down the hill. At the bottom, two more greet him, pulling him instantly into their group.

By the time the stars began to twinkle, the group have already disappeared.

And a small group of four sparkles quite brightly that night, right where the hill meets the sky.

Note: Agh. Don't really know about this one.