[Naruto] Something Wicked This Way Comes
Jun. 6th, 2010 11:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
aconitedollDisclaimer: I don't own anything.
A/N: the run-on sentences are deliberate.
Summary: He knows that day – this day - will be the day he dies. •ℵ• Vaguely prequel-ish to Nine Tails. •ℵ• AU
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He wakes up in the dead of the morning, those silent hours before dawn when the air is suffocating and his lungs burn with the effort of trying to breath. The bed refuses to creak with his movements and his footsteps fall quiet on the hardwood floor. The faucet turns smoothly and the water spews out and the drip, drip of droplets on the ceramic of the sink is deafening as he splashes his face and tries to wash the shadows out of his eyes by sheer force of will. This early in the morning of a summer day, the heat has yet to come and the glass of the mirror is uncomfortably cold against his forehead. It does nothing to ease the burning in his mind and his brain regurgitates blurred outlines of skeletons dancing in the wind and towns set afire and cackling laughter over the roar of the wind and the snarl from jaws lined with bloody teeth and a lolling pink tongue. He steps out the bathroom and clothing slides over his fingers like liquid silk and the red of the fabric reminds him of blood. The connection has never felt so obvious and his fingers curl around the material until the entire thing falls off the hanger and lies crumpled around his hand. When he blinks, the world blurs out of focus and he stands in a copse of trees and his entire world narrows to focus on the terror reborn as spinning black bars and circles set on red overlay themselves on the nine tails that send living ghosts flying, faces smashed beyond recognition. He sees a green necklace on a tattered scrap of green fabric before his feet and the crystal is cracked; he stoops to pick it up and sees his distorted reflection and the shattered eye socket and the gaping hollow where the maxilla once was makes him dry-heave and he is screaming something – why me, why us, we tried goddamnit where did we go wrongwhyareyoudoingthisstopitpleasecomebackIhateyou – and the world snaps back into focus and he is on his knees in a room in a seedy hotel in this small town on the outskirts of Hi no Kuni.
A/N: the run-on sentences are deliberate.
Summary: He knows that day – this day - will be the day he dies. •ℵ• Vaguely prequel-ish to Nine Tails. •ℵ• AU
________________________________________
He wakes up in the dead of the morning, those silent hours before dawn when the air is suffocating and his lungs burn with the effort of trying to breath. The bed refuses to creak with his movements and his footsteps fall quiet on the hardwood floor. The faucet turns smoothly and the water spews out and the drip, drip of droplets on the ceramic of the sink is deafening as he splashes his face and tries to wash the shadows out of his eyes by sheer force of will. This early in the morning of a summer day, the heat has yet to come and the glass of the mirror is uncomfortably cold against his forehead. It does nothing to ease the burning in his mind and his brain regurgitates blurred outlines of skeletons dancing in the wind and towns set afire and cackling laughter over the roar of the wind and the snarl from jaws lined with bloody teeth and a lolling pink tongue. He steps out the bathroom and clothing slides over his fingers like liquid silk and the red of the fabric reminds him of blood. The connection has never felt so obvious and his fingers curl around the material until the entire thing falls off the hanger and lies crumpled around his hand. When he blinks, the world blurs out of focus and he stands in a copse of trees and his entire world narrows to focus on the terror reborn as spinning black bars and circles set on red overlay themselves on the nine tails that send living ghosts flying, faces smashed beyond recognition. He sees a green necklace on a tattered scrap of green fabric before his feet and the crystal is cracked; he stoops to pick it up and sees his distorted reflection and the shattered eye socket and the gaping hollow where the maxilla once was makes him dry-heave and he is screaming something – why me, why us, we tried goddamnit where did we go wrongwhyareyoudoingthisstopitpleasecomebackIhateyou – and the world snaps back into focus and he is on his knees in a room in a seedy hotel in this small town on the outskirts of Hi no Kuni.
०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
He leaves before the birds begin to chirp and his legs burn with the effort as he shoves more and more chakra into them until the trees become a reassuring blur of green and brown. He makes it to Konoha before the guards change shift and startles one of the pair into awareness as he stops just long enough to be recognized and clears before he is going up over the walls. It is the first time his eyes bypass all the women and Tsunade’s impressive bust. If there is a certain brittleness in his sudden smile and an emptiness in his eyes and gestures, he ignores it and instead lets familiar lies and excuses slip past his lips. He is smiling when she makes as though to punch him and he dances out the door to avoid the paperweight thrown at his head; he fancies there might be a hint of hysteria in his laughter and he wonders why he cannot shake the uneasiness gnawing away at his stomach later that night, when he shares a jug of sake with Tsunade.०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
He wakes up in the dead of the morning one day, not one week into his stay in Konoha, and hears the alarms blaring and civilians screaming. He hears the footsteps on the roof of the hotel and free-falls out the window to join the shinobi pouring out of their apartments and he heads straight for the gates. He sees the red clouds floating on black cloaks, the eighth notes etched into metal, and swallows the voice that whispers in his mind “run away, run away, you will not survive this battle” and his smile is a flash of bone-white teeth in the dim strains of early morning light as the sun comes up. The rising sun reflects off the edge of the shuriken in his hands and the blurred mass of black metal meshes with the wave of a Suiton jutsu and the light shines into his eyes; he thinks this is a good day to die as he leads the charge off the wall and hands over the defense to someone else.०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
When he feels the poisonous choking of the Kyuubi’s chakra from somewhere behind him as he summons Gamabunta and takes on another summons studded with chakra receivers, he smiles around the blood in his mouth and spits it out onto the bull’s brown fur and he spews fire to join the toad’s oil and follows up with a Rasengan to one of the creature’s eyes and he takes his energy from the fact that he will be dead before he sees the seal fail. 
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no subject
Date: 2010-06-07 07:46 am (UTC)Again, a job well done. Keep writing!
no subject
Date: 2010-06-07 09:52 pm (UTC)I actually wasn't sure exactly who I was writing about - other than "it's a guy," which is really quite vague - until I slipped and wrote "the red of the fabric" and decided then and there that Jiraiya would probably be the best fit given what I was planning. :) The angst had me a bit worried when I re-read it a few times, since we never really see Jiraiya as a very introspective character prone to fits of angst, but I figured that he couldn't always be perverted and given his past history with students and the fact that he's been in war, there was bound to be some angst hidden away ...
no subject
Date: 2010-06-10 04:59 am (UTC)Anyway, I love how ominous this is. Once again, something about the way you word things is so appealing. I love it to death, really. Lovely.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-10 09:38 am (UTC)nngh. you're spoiling me! (but thanks!)
I like your stuff :) I keep loading the pages and reading them when I don't have wifi. D:
I will comment today though