So, someone decided to favourite and follow this- You have them to thank for me deciding to update this, that made me really happy. I think this is the last chapter for this, but within this same universe I think I'll write Sasuke's perspective, what led to him making his decision. We'll see. Also, I updated the other two chapters, so feel free to look at those. I glad to finally finish something, hope you enjoy.
So, I ran. I ran, and I ran, and of course I ended up on top of the monument, where else would I go?
I don't know what was wrong with me. I don't know why I shoved her. I don't know why my face was bleeding, and why I liked that it hurt. I don't know why I ran, instead of facing them. I don't know anything. I don't know a single thing. It was like that wasn't even me. I don't think I was in my own body. Something else was possessing me, or something, because nothing felt real. That wasn't me. That really wasn't me.
The wind was cold and bitter and the view wasn't as nice as it once was. Or maybe I just didn't like it as much. I didn't know. I didn't know so much. So I just sat there, a blade on my arms to remind myself I'm alive. My mind kept saying things, small thoughts that didn't make sense. Words, and ideas, and things that had occurred to me so many times but never like this. Jump. Cut. Hate. Cry. They don't want you. They never wanted you. They just want the safety you provide. When you go away, all they'll mourn is their hero. Not you as a person, not you as who you used to be, just the person that you could've been to them, and the purpose you could've served. They will never see me as who I am.
I will never be who you wanted me to be.
Live with that.
So, I sat on that monument, all of this going through my head. Sasuke was gone. Sakura was hurt. God knew what happened to Ka-
"Yo." I had jumped, and almost slipped, but he put his hand on my shoulder and steadied me and I didn't want him to take it off. This touch felt safe. Maybe it's because I could've fell if it wasn't there. I didn't know. "A little bird told me something happened between you and Sakura?"
Who told him so quickly? Why did he come so quickly? Why was he here? I looked at him, and he looked almost scared, and did he…? I thought he thought that I was losing control again. I shoved someone, a small shove and the first thought was if they'll lose their precious pet, if the saviour boy with the devil inside him was finally giving in? Why? Why didn't they trust that I could be good, if left alone, why did they send some watchdog to look over me? "Nothing happened, Kakashi-Sensei. It was just an accident. Nothing to worry about."
"And I guess me needing to catch you from slipping just now was also an accident?" He said it almost imperceptibly quietly, and he, again, looked scared. Why were people scared of me again? Why were people becoming terrified? I didn't understand. I still don't. "Are those cuts on your arms also accidents?" Oh, joy, he sounded angry now.
Still, I just smiled at him. I think that was the biggest 'fuck you' i could've given him right then. He looked so concerned, sounded so upset, and I just smiled. "Slipping was an accident." Was it though? Was it really? Why did I get the feeling that it wasn't, even if I wasn't thinking about it? I didn't bother to talk about the cuts, why would I, why did it matter to him?
Why did any of this matter?
His fake little smile that he had been maintaining slipped. It was like he was in a fight, and I was the enemy. Why? "Are you sure? We, as a hidden village, like to try to try to support our ninja as much as possible. If you need help, I'm sure-"
Great, all I was getting was the rehearsed little message that I had gotten before. Every time I had asked for help in the past privately, it was always 'here's one resource, and here's another, and if neither of these work, go fucking die I guess'. What the fuck is up with that? Do better, from now on.
"I don't need your damned help. I don't need any of those resources you're about to hand me, I don't need anything that you've rehearsed like everyone else. Just leave," I told him just as quietly as he was before. "I don't need you for this. I never will."
Time skipped forward again, and I was alone. I think I hurt him. I think my words cut him like I intended them to. I hope they did. I think, before he left, he said he would not talk to me about it again soon. I hoped he would stick to that.
So I stood up, one last time. Blood was dripping down my arms, and it stung, but even that failed to bring me back. What was my life?
I went home. Every step was being watched and took more effort than I would like to admit, and I think anbu were tailing me.
I went home to my ex-apartment. I grabbed the last of my things. I brought it to the bench where I placed the rest of my stuff. And I sat again. I sat and stared at the ground and again people stared, why did they stare, I would've been fine if people stopped fucking staring so much, all their eyes were on me, why were all their eyes on me?
Then someone touched me, and again it all went wrong, time skipped, and why was there blood on my hands, why were my eyes closed, why were anbu masks around me, why are they saying people died, why, why, why, why, WHY-
They sent more anbu. They wouldn't be able to stop me from escaping, and finding some pen and paper. They weren't able to stop me.
If you're reading this, nobody was.
This is my last goodbye.
My final fuck you to my dearly detested.
I hope you hate it even a fraction of how much I enjoyed writing it.
If you saw me smiling when I made that final cut, know it was because I can only imagine you people reading this at my funeral. You people will mourn my future while reading my past.
I'm sorry for saying all of this. I'm sorry for being so cruel in these last moments. I'm sorry for making you think I hate you people. I just keep saying these things I don't mean, just keep saying these things that hurt both you and me. I just need to go away, and now I finally have.
I hated you all.
I love you all.
This is my final goodbye."
The funeral party was deathly silent, until finally the sobs started again. People wailing, and screaming about how it isn't fair, yelling about how they shouldn't have let this happen, wouldn't have let this happen if they had known. What does it mean, anymore? He's gone. He's gone and we did nothing.
This is the funeral of 13 people.
12 people who were murdered, 4 civilians and 8 anbu, and the genin who murdered them.
Some people argued on why on earth a monster, a murderer, someone as mentally unstable as him, should be buried with the people he killed so violently? He certainly didn't go easy on them. He was violent, and the scene was gorier than some war battles. Why should he get buried with the rest of them? Those people quickly forgot he was a hero before he was a murderer.
I don't know what I think. This henge is uncomfortable, and it feels weird for no one to recognize me, and my thoughts barely feel any less so. He… they all thought I was dead, yes, but I didn't think he of all people would believe it. Why did he believe it? Why did he go through with this? My best friend and brother… dead at his own hands, after committing an atrocity.
Was I to blame? Would he have done this if I didn't fake my own death? Is his blood on my hands?
Seems like it.
Gosh, that's how he was viewing our last interaction? That's how he thought of it? Why did he think that I was upset at him? Surely it didn't look like that? Of course I couldn't be upset at him enough to… I thought I was causing him pain. I thought I was making him hurt more. I thought his pain was because I came back.
He hated me? And he didn't tell me? Why? Why didn't he say something? Why did he think to hide the fact that he couldn't stand me anymore? Why not just say it to my face. It would've hurt less.
What's wrong with me where he felt he had to do that? Why did I let him do that? I remember that day, too. I was outside of the village, I had left him all alone to suffer, I left him to die, and he did. He died. He's dead. And I'm alive. Instead of helping him bear all of the sadness, instead of helping him live, he's dead, and I sit here, alive, and breathing.
I'm alive.
And I'm not me.
I'm alive.
And I will never be me again.
I'm alive.
And it hurts more than death.
I'm alive.
And being like this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive.