[Naruto] Māgha Pūjā
Jun. 9th, 2010 12:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone.
A/N: I’m beginning to think I should add a general disclaimer that all run-on sentences are deliberate and meant to reflect the thought process in question. Same with improper grammar.
Summary: Forever in the space of a minute. No one wants to die, but he cannot force himself to act. •ℵ• mildly AU for the most part •ℵ• very AU at the end
In the moments between action and spoken word, he stares at the old man and thinks – pretends – that it is an accident, the departure of his feet from the solid ground and the wind whistling through his ears. This isn’t happening to him, it’s just a bad dream, a nightmare, and he’ll wake up in his own bed with the covers tangled around his legs and laugh at his reflection in the mirror and mock it for panicking because it fell (but not him, because he is a better shinobi than that and besides, why would he ever let a perverted old man – and it must be just a perverted old man, because one of Konoha’s Densetsu no Sannin (the two loyal ones, not the pedophilic snake-freak) would never murder a child in cold blood – get so close to him that he cannot react in time?)
He closes his eyes and holds his breath, counting to ten, before pinching himself and opening his eyes again. The blue sky greets him and he squints at the blinding sunlight and he knows that this is real and that he is falling still. Naruto closes his eyes again and swallows hard (he is only 12 and that is too young to die, he thinks, especially in a time of peace). He does not want to look up (there is freedom in the sky but he cannot fly and the earth is a prison). He does not want to twist and look down.
Kage Bunshin fill the chasm and explode in puffs of smoke and he wants to rage and struggle and fight when he realizes the walls are too steep, too slick, too sharp. "It isn’t fair," the last clone shouts before it dispels, and the sound echoes in his ears when he twists and sees nothing but black. His hands twitch and he forms the hand seals for Kuchiyose but he is falling so fast and the words die in his throat and this time, not even a tadpole appears.
Naruto is afraid of dying. Against Zabuza, against Orochimaru, his opponent was a tangible object that he could see and hear and touch; he knew how to react to those objects. (Kunai and shuriken and Kage Bunshin and taijutsu and the hope that cold metal cuts skin and fists and feet feel the give of living flesh against them, because that is the only way he knows of surviving.) He does not know how to fight this and frightens him, somewhere deep in his mind where all his fears lurk.
०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
He tries Kuchiyose again and fails and he does scream this time (because he is falling too fast and he trusted the old man who trained the Yondaime Hokage and how could he be such a fool to trust the word of a stranger); his fingers brush against his jumpsuit and he can feel the heat emanating from his stomach even through the fabric and he remembers with sudden clarity the seal on his stomach and the black kanji and symbols that form a cage for the demon whose malevolence scares him even behind the solid bars.
He does not want to die here, alone in some gorge where no one will think of looking for him, where his death will be attributed as little more than a tragic accident during training. He forms the Hijutsu seal and does his best to try and concentrate on that heat but there is bile rising in his throat when he remembers the loss of control and the rattling of bars as a massive paw slams into them. His breath is coming in shorter gasps and Naruto closes his eyes and tries to pretend he is standing on solid ground and not free-falling. (He almost fell to his death once, he knows, and that sensation has haunted him ever sense. He hides it with a sheepish grin and a laugh and calls the rush of adrenaline and primal fear a joke.)
His lungs fill with tepid water when he breathes and he chokes, coughing up murky brown liquid as he staggers to his hands and knees. His face is pale and his eyes wild and wide and the image ripples with each droplet of water falling from his hair. The water he sees is black and the walls are washed white-grey when he forces himself to his feet (but all around him, he sees spikes jutting from dark walls and a dwindling speck of blue; the orange of his jumpsuit stands out in stark contrast and blinds his eyes). He wanders the hallways and there is a nagging thought in the back of his mind that this is not right but the maze of pipes above his head seems more interesting; there are flashes of color on the dull grey of the metal that were not there before. (“I was so scared,” the girl in light blue and white whispered to her friends. “I thought I was going to die! My life was flashing before my eyes –“ and he tunes out the rest of what she says with a scoff, because who would bother trying to remember their entire life when a Katon jutsu is flying at their face?)
Naruto winds up before a massive cage again, on his knees in the water as waves of crimson chakra emanate from the Kyuubi and curl around him, spiraling in the water. There are red eyes high above his head (he thinks of Sasuke’s eyes and the Sharingan and it spurs him to recklessness, as do all thoughts of Sasuke) and a mouthful of sharp teeth to go with glowing eyes and Naruto stands and crosses his arms and pretends he is not at all frightened, even though his jumpsuit sticks to his back and sweat beads on his face. (“I don’t want to die,” he repeats to himself over and over as he clings to the edge of the Yondaime’s nose on the Hokage Monument, so he grits his teeth and ignores the tears that spring to life in his eyes as he digs raw, bloody fingers into the rock and forces sore muscles to pull him up. He was always that much braver – or perhaps, that much idiotic – when he was a child.) He thinks that perhaps the Kyuubi is afraid of dying, too. The thought is oddly comforting and he wildly thinks that maybe Sakura-chan would find him cooler than Sasuke if he tells her that not even the Kyuubi no Kitsune is braver than him (but then he remembers that it is a secret he should not tell and he wonders, ‘why did I forget that?’) but the notion clings to the edge of his thoughts and feeds his false bravado until he almost forgets that he is falling to his death with no protector there to rescue him if he messes up and no second chances.
The water behind the bars of the cage is boiling. The chakra around his fingers clings to his skin and drips down and he remembers the warmth of freshly spilt blood on his hands (but whose blood he does not remember anymore. He thinks that perhaps it is a stranger’s, but he is not a killer yet.) The Kyuubi’s laugh comes out as a rumbling growl and Naruto instinctively ducks and tries to minimize his stature in the water, even though he is far enough from the bars that the bits and pieces of the nine tails smashing against the black walls of the cage that he can see are small. The sound still travels and he scoots backwards, away from it, until he is pressed against the edge of the room (and even then, he still tries to move back and he never notices what he is doing). His breath comes in gasps and he clutches at his head and covers his ears, but the sound multiplies and bounces back and forth from the walls and morphs until not only the Kyuubi laughs inside the cage, but everyone he has ever known.
Naruto screams. The Kyuubi laughs and laughs and the room floods with its chakra and he sees it crawling up from the surface of the water onto his body and he chokes on its malevolence.
He
does
not
want
to
die
here.
(“Once upon a time, there was a boy who dreamed of being the Hokage. That boy spent his entire life training, even after he became a hero in the Daisanji Ninkai Taisen. Do you know who that boy was?”
In the back of the classroom, he perks up and stops doodling on the desk as all the children around him shout out the same title and the teacher laughs warmly and writes the kanji on the board. It is summer now, the sun shining brightly into the room even with the blinds drawn half-way, and if he squints out the window, he can see parents gathering outside to wait for their sons and daughters
He wonders if there will ever be anyone waiting for him.)
Jiraiya waits at the edge of the gorge for all of a moment before his attention is stolen away – momentarily, he insists to himself, only because there is nothing interesting in staring after a falling genin with the means to survive – by the bikini-clad girls at the foot of the waterfall. He feels the Kyuubi’s chakra gather and dispel and he thinks that the son of his student has managed a decent summon (but no blond boy ever rushes up to him with a wide grin and bright blue eyes and he wonders where all his students have disappeared to, finishing off a jug of sake.)
A/N: I’m beginning to think I should add a general disclaimer that all run-on sentences are deliberate and meant to reflect the thought process in question. Same with improper grammar.
Summary: Forever in the space of a minute. No one wants to die, but he cannot force himself to act. •ℵ• mildly AU for the most part •ℵ• very AU at the end
________________________________________
In the moments between action and spoken word, he stares at the old man and thinks – pretends – that it is an accident, the departure of his feet from the solid ground and the wind whistling through his ears. This isn’t happening to him, it’s just a bad dream, a nightmare, and he’ll wake up in his own bed with the covers tangled around his legs and laugh at his reflection in the mirror and mock it for panicking because it fell (but not him, because he is a better shinobi than that and besides, why would he ever let a perverted old man – and it must be just a perverted old man, because one of Konoha’s Densetsu no Sannin (the two loyal ones, not the pedophilic snake-freak) would never murder a child in cold blood – get so close to him that he cannot react in time?)
He closes his eyes and holds his breath, counting to ten, before pinching himself and opening his eyes again. The blue sky greets him and he squints at the blinding sunlight and he knows that this is real and that he is falling still. Naruto closes his eyes again and swallows hard (he is only 12 and that is too young to die, he thinks, especially in a time of peace). He does not want to look up (there is freedom in the sky but he cannot fly and the earth is a prison). He does not want to twist and look down.
Kage Bunshin fill the chasm and explode in puffs of smoke and he wants to rage and struggle and fight when he realizes the walls are too steep, too slick, too sharp. "It isn’t fair," the last clone shouts before it dispels, and the sound echoes in his ears when he twists and sees nothing but black. His hands twitch and he forms the hand seals for Kuchiyose but he is falling so fast and the words die in his throat and this time, not even a tadpole appears.
०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
Naruto is afraid of dying. Against Zabuza, against Orochimaru, his opponent was a tangible object that he could see and hear and touch; he knew how to react to those objects. (Kunai and shuriken and Kage Bunshin and taijutsu and the hope that cold metal cuts skin and fists and feet feel the give of living flesh against them, because that is the only way he knows of surviving.) He does not know how to fight this and frightens him, somewhere deep in his mind where all his fears lurk.
०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
He tries Kuchiyose again and fails and he does scream this time (because he is falling too fast and he trusted the old man who trained the Yondaime Hokage and how could he be such a fool to trust the word of a stranger); his fingers brush against his jumpsuit and he can feel the heat emanating from his stomach even through the fabric and he remembers with sudden clarity the seal on his stomach and the black kanji and symbols that form a cage for the demon whose malevolence scares him even behind the solid bars.
०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
He does not want to die here, alone in some gorge where no one will think of looking for him, where his death will be attributed as little more than a tragic accident during training. He forms the Hijutsu seal and does his best to try and concentrate on that heat but there is bile rising in his throat when he remembers the loss of control and the rattling of bars as a massive paw slams into them. His breath is coming in shorter gasps and Naruto closes his eyes and tries to pretend he is standing on solid ground and not free-falling. (He almost fell to his death once, he knows, and that sensation has haunted him ever sense. He hides it with a sheepish grin and a laugh and calls the rush of adrenaline and primal fear a joke.)
०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
His lungs fill with tepid water when he breathes and he chokes, coughing up murky brown liquid as he staggers to his hands and knees. His face is pale and his eyes wild and wide and the image ripples with each droplet of water falling from his hair. The water he sees is black and the walls are washed white-grey when he forces himself to his feet (but all around him, he sees spikes jutting from dark walls and a dwindling speck of blue; the orange of his jumpsuit stands out in stark contrast and blinds his eyes). He wanders the hallways and there is a nagging thought in the back of his mind that this is not right but the maze of pipes above his head seems more interesting; there are flashes of color on the dull grey of the metal that were not there before. (“I was so scared,” the girl in light blue and white whispered to her friends. “I thought I was going to die! My life was flashing before my eyes –“ and he tunes out the rest of what she says with a scoff, because who would bother trying to remember their entire life when a Katon jutsu is flying at their face?)
०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
Naruto winds up before a massive cage again, on his knees in the water as waves of crimson chakra emanate from the Kyuubi and curl around him, spiraling in the water. There are red eyes high above his head (he thinks of Sasuke’s eyes and the Sharingan and it spurs him to recklessness, as do all thoughts of Sasuke) and a mouthful of sharp teeth to go with glowing eyes and Naruto stands and crosses his arms and pretends he is not at all frightened, even though his jumpsuit sticks to his back and sweat beads on his face. (“I don’t want to die,” he repeats to himself over and over as he clings to the edge of the Yondaime’s nose on the Hokage Monument, so he grits his teeth and ignores the tears that spring to life in his eyes as he digs raw, bloody fingers into the rock and forces sore muscles to pull him up. He was always that much braver – or perhaps, that much idiotic – when he was a child.) He thinks that perhaps the Kyuubi is afraid of dying, too. The thought is oddly comforting and he wildly thinks that maybe Sakura-chan would find him cooler than Sasuke if he tells her that not even the Kyuubi no Kitsune is braver than him (but then he remembers that it is a secret he should not tell and he wonders, ‘why did I forget that?’) but the notion clings to the edge of his thoughts and feeds his false bravado until he almost forgets that he is falling to his death with no protector there to rescue him if he messes up and no second chances.
०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
The water behind the bars of the cage is boiling. The chakra around his fingers clings to his skin and drips down and he remembers the warmth of freshly spilt blood on his hands (but whose blood he does not remember anymore. He thinks that perhaps it is a stranger’s, but he is not a killer yet.) The Kyuubi’s laugh comes out as a rumbling growl and Naruto instinctively ducks and tries to minimize his stature in the water, even though he is far enough from the bars that the bits and pieces of the nine tails smashing against the black walls of the cage that he can see are small. The sound still travels and he scoots backwards, away from it, until he is pressed against the edge of the room (and even then, he still tries to move back and he never notices what he is doing). His breath comes in gasps and he clutches at his head and covers his ears, but the sound multiplies and bounces back and forth from the walls and morphs until not only the Kyuubi laughs inside the cage, but everyone he has ever known.
Naruto screams. The Kyuubi laughs and laughs and the room floods with its chakra and he sees it crawling up from the surface of the water onto his body and he chokes on its malevolence.
He
does
not
want
to
die
here.
०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
(“Once upon a time, there was a boy who dreamed of being the Hokage. That boy spent his entire life training, even after he became a hero in the Daisanji Ninkai Taisen. Do you know who that boy was?”
In the back of the classroom, he perks up and stops doodling on the desk as all the children around him shout out the same title and the teacher laughs warmly and writes the kanji on the board. It is summer now, the sun shining brightly into the room even with the blinds drawn half-way, and if he squints out the window, he can see parents gathering outside to wait for their sons and daughters
He wonders if there will ever be anyone waiting for him.)
०౦ംഠ०҆'˚'҅०ം◦∙ × ∙◦ം०҆'˚'҅०౦ംഠ०
Jiraiya waits at the edge of the gorge for all of a moment before his attention is stolen away – momentarily, he insists to himself, only because there is nothing interesting in staring after a falling genin with the means to survive – by the bikini-clad girls at the foot of the waterfall. He feels the Kyuubi’s chakra gather and dispel and he thinks that the son of his student has managed a decent summon (but no blond boy ever rushes up to him with a wide grin and bright blue eyes and he wonders where all his students have disappeared to, finishing off a jug of sake.)