{Dream 003 - Red Clouds at Dawn}
You emerge from darkness into chaos.
Katsuyuu peels away from your skin and what had once been whole is now rubble. Everything ahead, around, behind, is blasted and ruined; chunks of walls, of roofs, are still raining down around you with loud cracks that shake your bones. The landscape of the village that was so familiar and comforting is nothing of what it was. Twisted, deformed, broken. Your home is a wasteland.
This destruction took so little time. One second your chakra was mending some woman's shattered arm and the next the hospital is unrecognizable. You might not even be in the hospital any more.
Dust still floats in the air, and it stings your eyes.
And your mind just goes blank. (Because don't think about it, can't think about, if you think about it, you might fall apart too, and become just a part of the broken landscape; broken Konoha.)
Then,
I have to find the Hokage.
And duty takes over, and you rise without being fully aware of it, and just run.
Run run run through a dark hallway, your shoes going thud thud thud through a labyrinth of passageways lit up orange by the torchlight. You throw open each door you come to, and they slam against the wall and rebound back at you, but by that time you're running again. Searching.
Who are you looking for?
You turn one corner and suddenly in front of you is sunlight - a hole blasted through the corridor. You stop cold. Dread fills you up like ice through your veins, and you still don't remember who you're trying to find, but they could be dead and then you're running again, into the light.
Into a storm.
A storm not of rain or of lightning but of chattering jaws, black cloaks, weapons dripping with poison. And they're coming straight at you. A puppet soars through the air with a sword aimed right at your heart; you dodge to the right and drive your fist into it, but two more replace it as it shatters. You duck under their attacks and put your foot through one's chest, punch a hole into the other's stomach. More puppets rush to fill the ranks of their fallen comrades. There are enough of them flying around to choke out the air.
Battle wipes your mind clean. You think of nothing but dodging, ducking, jumping, punching, kicking. Destroying. Don't let them touch you, because one touch is death. Stay alive. Find the puppet master.
Puppet parts fall around you, litter you don't bother to pick up. One cracks into a million little pieces; onto the next one.
And another and another.
Finally, you see an opening. A gap in the assault, and you see red clouds and red hair and twisting fingers. He knows you've spotted him: puppets come at you from all sides, but you jump over the weapons and launch yourself at him, your fist drawn back and a battle cry ripping through your throat.
Suddenly, he's not Sasori.
You freeze dead in your tracks.
He stabs you through the stomach, just where Sasori had. It hurts twice as badly.
You put your hand to the wound, but you don't heal it. You're too stunned to. You just watch as your warm life drains out of you, red red red blood staining your glove.
Lift your eyes past red red red clouds
into red red red eyes.
Blood bubbles up in your throat; you choke on it, cough, and it runs down the corners of your mouth.
He just stares at you.
Your last gasping breath, your dying breath, is a name, nothing more.
"Sasuke-kun..."
------
[ Sakura sits up sharply with a gasp. Her breath is shallow and harsh, and tears are already there, making tracks down her face. ]
Damn it. [ She snarls. She grips the sheets and bites her lip to try and control herself, but she very visibly fails.
She grinds the heels of her hands into her eyes and flops back down on the bed. After a moment, one shaking hand leaves her face to end the broadcast. ]
Katsuyuu peels away from your skin and what had once been whole is now rubble. Everything ahead, around, behind, is blasted and ruined; chunks of walls, of roofs, are still raining down around you with loud cracks that shake your bones. The landscape of the village that was so familiar and comforting is nothing of what it was. Twisted, deformed, broken. Your home is a wasteland.
This destruction took so little time. One second your chakra was mending some woman's shattered arm and the next the hospital is unrecognizable. You might not even be in the hospital any more.
Dust still floats in the air, and it stings your eyes.
And your mind just goes blank. (Because don't think about it, can't think about, if you think about it, you might fall apart too, and become just a part of the broken landscape; broken Konoha.)
Then,
I have to find the Hokage.
And duty takes over, and you rise without being fully aware of it, and just run.
Run run run through a dark hallway, your shoes going thud thud thud through a labyrinth of passageways lit up orange by the torchlight. You throw open each door you come to, and they slam against the wall and rebound back at you, but by that time you're running again. Searching.
Who are you looking for?
You turn one corner and suddenly in front of you is sunlight - a hole blasted through the corridor. You stop cold. Dread fills you up like ice through your veins, and you still don't remember who you're trying to find, but they could be dead and then you're running again, into the light.
Into a storm.
A storm not of rain or of lightning but of chattering jaws, black cloaks, weapons dripping with poison. And they're coming straight at you. A puppet soars through the air with a sword aimed right at your heart; you dodge to the right and drive your fist into it, but two more replace it as it shatters. You duck under their attacks and put your foot through one's chest, punch a hole into the other's stomach. More puppets rush to fill the ranks of their fallen comrades. There are enough of them flying around to choke out the air.
Battle wipes your mind clean. You think of nothing but dodging, ducking, jumping, punching, kicking. Destroying. Don't let them touch you, because one touch is death. Stay alive. Find the puppet master.
Puppet parts fall around you, litter you don't bother to pick up. One cracks into a million little pieces; onto the next one.
And another and another.
Finally, you see an opening. A gap in the assault, and you see red clouds and red hair and twisting fingers. He knows you've spotted him: puppets come at you from all sides, but you jump over the weapons and launch yourself at him, your fist drawn back and a battle cry ripping through your throat.
Suddenly, he's not Sasori.
You freeze dead in your tracks.
He stabs you through the stomach, just where Sasori had. It hurts twice as badly.
You put your hand to the wound, but you don't heal it. You're too stunned to. You just watch as your warm life drains out of you, red red red blood staining your glove.
Lift your eyes past red red red clouds
into red red red eyes.
Blood bubbles up in your throat; you choke on it, cough, and it runs down the corners of your mouth.
He just stares at you.
Your last gasping breath, your dying breath, is a name, nothing more.
"Sasuke-kun..."
------
[ Sakura sits up sharply with a gasp. Her breath is shallow and harsh, and tears are already there, making tracks down her face. ]
Damn it. [ She snarls. She grips the sheets and bites her lip to try and control herself, but she very visibly fails.
She grinds the heels of her hands into her eyes and flops back down on the bed. After a moment, one shaking hand leaves her face to end the broadcast. ]