Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Reaching for Air ❯ Black and White Contention ( Chapter 2 )

Disclaimer:I do not own Naruto. It belongs to Kishimoto Masashi-sama, and this work is absolute fiction.

 

Author's Note: Second chapter already. I started writing this when I realized some people had actually put alerts on my story- that was pretty surprising. Thanks to everyone who put an alert on this story, reviewed it, or even took the time to read it. People like you help me get the inspiration to write more. This chapter is a bit shorter, but carries a bit more meaning. This isn't the end;there are a lot more things I want to happen.

Enjoy,

-RaiMidori

 

POV: Naruto

 

 

I… wanted it a lot. I just never understood it. Well? What's it like when you just want something you don't understand so badly? I… really don't know. That's just the way I felt about Sakura, the way her body swayed so gracefully, the way her emerald eyes seemed to bore into your soul. I could watch her forever without saying a word. Really, the long kind of forever. The kind of forever that drags on an on, fated never to turn back. The kind where your memories flutter past you so slightly that you start to doubt they're real; where blood is blood and pain is pain, but nothing matters but her.

 

I remember him. The veracity of his vivid image would pop out at me in stark contrast to the rest of the bland world. When the cherry blossoms swayed under the weight of gravity, death and change, he walked away from me. Just like that, his back exposed, his spiky, charcoal hair flung restlessly to and fro in the scented breeze. I remember all of it, but I don't know why. It's the most arduous diatribe my mind has conjured- why, Naruto? If it brings you so much torment, just let it go. Let him go. But I can't. I just… he's a part of me, I can feel it. I don't ever want to let go of him. He's a comrade.

 

Us two, we're chiaroscuro. An endless contention of pure opposites. If I said that, he would look at me, his lightless eyes pale against the sky. He'd laugh a spiteful laugh, throwing his head back in mirth. An endless cycle of eccentrics. For him, it wasn't I who mattered. I wasn't even an obstacle. So I promised myself I'd prove him wrong. I said it in my head, I really did. I'm going to take this kunai and… I'm going to hurt him. Not a lot- just a little bit. I want to remind him, show him I've gotten stronger. But it was all empty. Like an aberrant magnetism, Sakura loved those words. She smiled and encouraged me, and I knew I couldn't go back. Never again. But these hands will never hurt a comrade. He'd tell me it was weakness. But it's not. It's just me.

 

Me. Naruto Uzumaki. How different am I from him?

 

I once saw a tree- a beautiful one, no less. It sprung upward from the ground majestically, a silver frame for the cerulean sky, winding up and breaking into a refulgent canopy. The porous holes let out an exuberant light- I basked under it for a while before circling it, just once. But once was enough. On the other side, hidden away from my curious eyes, was a hollowed out trunk- the tree had been dead for years. But I couldn't know- I didn't know. I don't want to blame myself for something as frivolous as a decadent tree, rotting away in an earsplitting silence. But I felt the weight in my heart like no other. If Sasuke was on the other side, he would have seen something totally different- perishing beauty, while I was caught in its magical lie. I couldn't let that go, though. Sasuke saw things differently than I. And who knows? I could be the wrong one, all this time, living out my life as a fabrication.

 

Who would forgive me, then? Who would actually approach me after all of the wrongs, all of the delusional mendacity? That girl- the coral haired, benign Sakura. She's the one I've loved for all of this time.

 

Sakura let her chartreuse gaze, in contrast with the blush blooming on her anemic face, wander across the dying landscape, worn thin by our countless sparring matches and jutsu practices. It was in startling disarray, showcasing fading slash marks on tree trunks from our lesson on chakra control, traces of cardinal blood littering the soil in plentiful droplets, charred grass from Sasuke's fire style drills. Charred remains, like the bonds of our friendship. How was I…? How could anyone even expect me to fix all of that on my own? It would take a lifetime. I didn't have that kind of time. I was going to die someday, and never come back, I wanted to be Hokage, I wanted to love Sakura as who I was, I wanted Sasuke to come back. The blackened yet symbolic bits quivered at the slightest breeze, quailing from the universe. I was on the verge of tears, my whole body shaking with the effort to hide them from my partner. She pretended not to notice but instead placed her lips on my cheek, elegantly consoling me. I took her head in my hands and turned it toward me, letting her beautiful and full mouth lock with mine exquisitely. Her lips were still the same, like the silk of a midnight kimono, and all of a sudden, it was midnight, and time was passing without me, rushing ahead, tip-toeing backwards. I let my thoughts settle on Sasuke, the obsidian traitor, and, of course, of course, Sakura, the striking, dazzling goddess before me. I felt my love for her take control over me, drowning me in a moonlit lake where a shimmering, disembodied reflection of who I used to be stared at me blankly, tauntingly, and I didn't mind, no, I didn't mind at all.

 

Oblivion is too dark- it floods your eyes like a solid parasite. An opaque cage that consumes the soul- but, really, it's a rather sterling experience. Having nothing to do, nothing to live for, but living anyway. It's a meaningless existence, like buying a pearl for its sheen and never seeing it again, but when you live like that, even if for a second, it's like the torrent of anger sadness is accepting that you just can't. Maybe you don't want to, or maybe you want to give up. But part of moving on is realizing that it's alright not to be able to do everything. In oblivion, the only pain is the nostalgia that you bring to your familiars, but that, too, is washed away by the cleansing nothingness. It's a swirling whirlpool, it's a bottomless pit. Whatever you want it to be, it both is and isn't. Oblivion is nothing and everything, and no one can ask for any more.

 

I don't know why, it's just… things like that comfort me. The inviting obsidian depths of an eager blindness seem to beckon me, like it's really a good thing. I've questioned them, questioned them plainly about the veracity of it all, but they'd just ignore me, singing, joyfully, lyrical verses of another language, gibberish that I doubt I'd ever understand. There is a way to oblivion out there, there's a path. Humanity has blocked it out, separated it with a titanic barrier, challenging anyone who dare think the unthinkable. It hurts when you try, it hurts if you stop. It hurts when you leave. It's an endless cycle of affliction, a steady, growing forest fire willingly engulfing you in flames. Ah, but maybe, maybe then you can reach it, by being destroyed you travel somewhere else, by dying you can be nothing, feel nothing.

 

She didn't want to let go of it. She wanted to keep holding it all in, safe, inside her. The childish, defenseless way she clung to my body was a hint in itself. I watched her tapered fingers, as pale as the rest of her body, trail across my chest in a plea of forgiveness, a dull, aching throb of repetitive meanings. Don't go don't go don't go. Understand me, please, understand. She tugged at an imaginary daisy, watching the fluttering petals waltz, slaves to the every whim of the wind. Tug. Sasuke. Tug. Naruto. Tug. Sasuke. Tugtugtugtugtug-Naruto Sasuke Naruto Sasukenarutosasukenarutosasuke… she pulled the last one free. I watched in awe as the air where it would have existed shimmered, just the tiniest window into an oasis. “Naruto.” She said it a matter-of-factly. Just the way she was so sure touched my heart like no one else could. I felt the troublesome tears sting at the corners of my eyes. Wiping them away nonchalantly, with a single swipe, I pretended they weren't there, no, they never were. The daisy itself was never real- an intangible manifestation of our emotions. I'm sure she'd never understand what I meant by that, but I said it aloud anyway. The pearly sheen over her eyes glittered like the tumbling, windswept waters of a rogue, forest-side brook. She said, simply, “I understand, Naruto.” And then she kissed me. Not too hard, not too lightly, just perfect, just perfect, and I felt that, all of sudden, I knew why I loved her.