Roses on Your Wake
Warning : Road accident and suicidal thoughts.
I don't own Naruto.
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When the white SUV-the kind Hinata used to see whenever she passed by her father's office-raced by the corner, her first thought was: this was a mistake.
Because that boy, who had zero chance to get away in time with his old bike didn't want to die. No. She was the one who left home knowing she didn't want to come back, that she would walk to the station and wait. That station was still miles away, yet the train came anyway. Not for her, but for Namikaze Naruto, the boy with smile as warm as the morning sun.
This was a mistake.
But the car ran on. It slammed into Namikaze Naruto at full speed, and he was flung up the air, so high, that for one unreal moment it seemed like he would float forever. Then the illusion was gone, and much too quickly, plunged to the ground. She could have convinced herself she was dreaming if not for those sounds, that horrible rattle of solid metal mass crashing into a much too frail flesh and blood body, and the ear-splitting screech of tires skidding on asphalt. The car had turned sharply-too late, it was way too late-leaving dust and smoke on its wake.
She understood all these things, but her foggy mind offered no resistance as a desperate wish overtook her, a wish that somehow Namikaze Naruto was alright-that he was flung far enough from the realm of consequences. Unfortunately she's not crazy enough to believe it. Her frantic legs-when had she started to run?-stumbled on the sidewalks, almost tipping her over. Along with the familiar falling sensation, a certain dread washed over her. Humans weren't made to withstand such force. Namikaze Naruto was no exception.
There's no way he could survive that.
He's dead.
She slowed down. By the time she turned around the corner, she was only walking. All around her people were screaming. They must have been anyway, but she couldn't hear very well. She's underwater. She saw people pouring out of buildings. Some leaped out of their cars. They were converging on a point some distance away from her, to the left of the intersection. She also saw the excecutioner of the day, the white SUV. Absently, she thought that the driver had unwittingly become an accomplice of fate. Or God. Or whoever arranged for this to happen. A particularly shrill shriek awoke her from her musings. Like waves on the shore the world rose and fell on her ears. A lady in yellow dress was backing away from the crowd, hands covering her mouth. A man who looked vaguely familiar walked up to the distraught woman and embraced her. Amidst all these distractions, her eyes somehow found the bike.
Or it had been the bike. It no longer looked like one.
Unbidden, another shriek, this time much closer-it was her own, she realized-childishly, hysterically demanded that she stop. She obeyed without much thought. In the end it didn't matter.
Visible from a gap that had appeared in the barricade of legs, was a red corruption.
And a broken doll wearing her school uniform.
She stumbled backwards. Oh, he'd floated, hadn't he. Not high enough though, he's still caught. A victim. That's what he was. Someone shoved past her, and this time she surrendered to gravity. She closed her eyes even as the crowd shifted and the gap was closed, hiding him from view. But the image, now seared into her memory in perfect clarity, refused to leave her. The tide rose over her again, inescapable. He couldn't escape either. The odds had always been stacked against him. It could have been heart failure or an incoming train, she always thought she'd die by one of those. Certainly not a road accident. A morbid question came to her: did if hurt more than getting hit by a train? It was so red. Would she end up like that if she actually went through with her attempts? It might even be worse-she'd be brought back to her father in bits. She'd known that ever since she first thought of the train, but she had reasoned she won't have to deal with shocked relatives if she actually did it. And it would be quick. That's why she chose it. Meanwhile, Namikaze Naruto didn't even get any choice.
He didn't want to die.
A hand grabbed her shoulder. She would have jumped in shock if she could. As it was she could only watch dumbly as a man not much older than her moved his mouth-speaking to her, apparently. She only registered some of the words, but she understood enough. His face was kind, concerned. She wanted to tell him that she's okay, she's not the one lying on the ground, her body utterly broken. Her voice had deserted her though. So she stood up on shaky legs and brushed the hand away. Namikaze Naruto's still there, dying, or dead already. She had to see him. She stepped forward hesitantly.
The crowd had thickened considerably. She had to push to get anywhere. She was moving too slowly, while her heart trembled like a dying butterfly. She pushed harder. Someone cursed. She soldiered on. Then, before she could prepare herself, the crowd in front of her parted. She almost screamed. But there was nothing there. Only a wide, dark stain that would never wash off even if it rained forever.
She looked around frantically, half-convinced that she had dreamed the whole thing. But then she saw, so clearly she wondered how she'd ever missed it, the ambulance. And in front of its opened doors, partially hidden by an army of paramedics, was a broken Namikaze Naruto. She forced herself to look. Paramedics moved around the gurney with a sense of purpose. Like they were trying to save a life. So he might not be dead.
But he would.
They hauled him through the back doors. She stepped forward without even realising it. But for what? Looking at him again? Checking if it was indeed an alive human being there, not a lifeless doll? She had no right.
The sirens blared, a shrill accusation.
She stood still as they closed the doors and drove off. They would try to save him. But it won't help. The closest hospital was only half a mile away, but they were too late already. He had been marked. Namikaze Naruto was today's casualty. Someone somewhere had made a mistake, and he ended up paying for it. Namikaze Naruto who was always smiling. He wouldn't smile, now. How could he? He'd lose so much. Family who loved him. Friends who adored him. Dreams to achieve. Expectation to surpass.
An entire lifetime of hopes.
It was too cruel.
She stared at the red spot. It would show up at tomorrow's papers. Then everyone would know. Or maybe she didn't have to wait that long. People would cry, she was sure. They would cry their hearts out, as though it would make the freshly gouged wound scab faster. Yamanaka Ino would be inconsolable. Haruno Sakura would weep bitterly. Uchiha Sasuke would probably stand there beside her, silent in his own resigned despair. All those people...
She closed her eyes. Her wish was heard but it was granted to someone else. Not to Hyuuga Hinata who had nothing left but the choice to die, but to Namikaze Naruto who had every reason to live.
She wanted to laugh. But what came out was a choked sob.
Well I hope that was not too incomprehensible.