This short little fic contains some AzuCrim and ScarMid (sorry if the pairings aren’t to your liking). And also, the angst is very strong in this one. You have been warned. --- Midnight casually sits on the slab of stone, twirling a red spider lily between his fingers. He swings his legs back and forth, swaying with the quiet wind. Footsteps crush the grass nearby, drawing Midnight’s attention. His eyes trail upward to see a familiar person heading his way. He leans forward in interest, recognizing the blue, messy bun on his old friend’s head. Her steps are slightly hobbled; the woman is having trouble walking. But there’s still a familiar hardness in her eyes that tells Midnight she won’t turn back. Azure breathes out a sigh of relief as she stops walking. In her hands, she clutches two flowers. She reaches out slowly, placing them below Midnight’s feet. Then Azure kneels there, clasping painfully thin fingers together in a prayer. Midnight can’t tell what she’s doing. But then, should he care? She ignores him anyways. The orchid and hyacinth Azure lay at Midnight’s feet would eventually rot away. Azure opens her eyes and stares at Midnight; at least, Midnight hopes she is. He can tell that her vision had deteriorated throughout the years; nothing short of an eye transplant would cure Azure’s eyes now, and Azure wouldn’t take anyone else’s eyes. The expression on Azure’s face is painful. She sees almost nothing. Nothing at all. Midnight watches as the woman treads away, trembling. He isn’t given any time to ponder about Azure, however, because almost immediately he hears more footsteps. In his direction. Heavy crunches in the grass direct Midnight’s attention yet again, quicker than Azure’s pace. This person is, not surprisingly, healthier than Azure is. Crimson’s skin is still moderately wrinkled, his hair streaked with gray. But his muscles are still strong. He’s probably still a *er for tons of exercise. So it’s a great surprise that Crimson’s thick, muscled fingers are delicately holding two flowers. Midnight wonders how they didn’t get crushed to death. When Crimson ever-so-gently places a heather and a forget-me-not down at Midnight’s feet, Midnight almost chokes. But he doesn’t. It’s surprising how Azure and Crimson changed over the years. Midnight wasn’t prepared to see them get together and settle down after the war, but he accepted his sister’s choice. Crimson was a good man, although quite youthful at times. Crimson kneels down and just stares at Midnight’s feet instead of the actual person. He, too, murmurs a prayer. Midnight can’t make out what Crimson’s saying, for once. It’s quite unsettling for the once loud and cheerful teenager to become like this. It’s also one of those rare moments when Crimson sports a grim, melancholy face. Midnight wants to smack the living daylights out of him. Before he can, though, Crimson dejectedly gets up from the ground. With his head lowered, he trots away to where Azure went. Midnight sighs and swings his legs impatiently, waiting for another visitor. Fortunately, it’s not long before swift footsteps begin crushing the grass again, announcing another person’s presence. This time, it’s a graceful, blonde woman. Breeze went through a variety of changes; from growing up to a mature woman, to aging into an even more mature woman. Even with her hair shining partly silver, there’s still a regal aura around her. Her face as cold as a stone mask, Breeze walks up and sets a carnation and a chrysanthemum at Midnight’s feet. She kneels down, murmuring a few prayers as her face slackens a bit. Midnight’s eyes widen as Breeze suddenly pulls out a flute. Her eyes flutter closed as she starts to produce a mellow, lovely tune. He swears his soul starts to relax after Breeze plays her tune. Midnight wonders, for a moment, why Breeze could never settle down with anyone and make them happy. But Breeze had decided since long ago that she’d be an independent soul, no matter how well she tuned in with other people. Midnight knows she thrives best alone; no single person could ever satisfy her. Breeze lays her flute down at Midnight’s feet. Midnight wants to protest; he has no use for a flute that will sit on the ground and rot away. Before he knows it, though, Breeze’s footsteps are getting father away. They fade immediately, leaving Midnight to stare at the flute for a while. Midnight stares so intently at the flute that he doesn’t notice the footsteps heading his way until a shadow falls upon him. Midnight looks up to see a man who seems to be staring right at him. Scarlet has this uncanny ability to always know where Midnight is, even if Midnight doesn’t know where he himself is. Midnight never understood Scarlet’s crazy logic or explanations, and truthfully, he didn’t really want to understand. Yeah, Midnight didn’t want his IQ to lower drastically. But up until a certain point, Scarlet could always understand Midnight. It drove Midnight crazy to think that an idiot like Scarlet would be able to put on a smile and pat his back like an old chum (but seriously, are all idiots like this? Naruto would probably be like this too). And then even Scarlet stopped hearing what Midnight tried to say. There was this terrible void that appeared in Midnight’s heart when Scarlet first spoke and heard no answer. Midnight didn’t know what was wrong with him. Midnight didn’t know what was wrong with everyone. He was here, why couldn’t they see him? Scarlet lays down a lilac and a gardenia flower at Midnight’s feet. Midnight feels so tempted to throw a punch at the man, but he knows he’ll probably send Scarlet to the hospital with his age. Scarlet looks up at Midnight in sorrow, murmuring prayers which don’t reach Midnight’s ears. No matter how hard Scarlet tries, he can’t see him. Midnight clenches his fists. It’s been well over half a century for Midnight, with people walking past him. Not seeing him. It’s so unfair. Everyone wrinkles up and gets old while Midnight gets to sit on top of an old slab of stone. He doesn’t even know what he looks like anymore. For fifty years, Midnight has perched himself on a slab of stone, not getting up even once. Waking up to find himself stuck on the stone was not pleasant. Something deep in his conscience told Midnight that he should never get up, never truly look at the stone he was sitting on. It was like the forces of nature held Midnight back from moving anywhere else. Scarlet gets up, still staring at where Midnight sits. Without a word, he kneels down again and traces the words on the slab of stone Midnight is sitting on. Midnight’s curiousity peaks as Scarlet’s eyes let out a tear. “Goodbye.” Midnight hurriedly leaps off the slab of stone, turning to face the writing on it. He doesn’t even care that his body goes through Scarlet’s. He doesn’t even care that the slab of stone now looks more like a gravestone. Midnight just focuses on the writing engraved on the stone. He’d been silently dreading this for years; he just needed confirmation of it, which Midnight had been avoiding for years. And the answer had been right under his nose. ‘KIA: MIDNIGHT BLADE’ Ah. So that huge wound in his chest Midnight blacked out from really killed him. That wound he received when Madara skewered him drew his sister’s attention to him far too late; by then, his vision had started going black. And the next thing Midnight knew, he was sitting on top of a stone slab. Midnight smiles bitterly, watching his hands fade away. Where will he go now? Will he fade from existence? He turns around to look at Scarlet, who’s still staring right at him. Can he see him now? Midnight waves slightly to Scarlet, looking for a reaction. Scarlet stays very still. But then, then—his hand raises a bit, and he waves back. Another tear rolls out of Scarlet’s eye. Midnight looks down at himself to find his legs gone. And then it’s his chest and arms crawling up to his neck. Midnight looks at Scarlet one last time mournfully. Scarlet blinks, and then Midnight’s gone.
(In which Midnight doesn’t fully realize he’s dead until the end) This post was last edited by MisakiFuuji at 2017-4-24 12:47