ᗰOᑎᔕTEᖇ [🧡 ᑎᗩᖇᑌᕼIᑎᗩ 💜] [Ɱҽէąʍօɾքհօʂìʂ] Bσσƙ Oɳҽ

The Beginning

Just...

Emptiness.

His chest tightened, breath hitching.

The burn in his throat blooming seconds before the first droplet of moisture slipped from his tightly clenched eyes. Tears, unbidden, unwanted, dripped down his chin. Shoulder shaking as he wept.

Agonizing questions ran through his brain.Questions he didn't really want the answers to.

What pain had Ero-Sennin borne in his final moments of life?

Had he died afraid?

Why?

Why him?

Why Ero-Sennin?

A man he'd loved and admired, the closest thing he'd ever had to a grandfather.

To real family.

He was sick with regret. Adrift in an ocean of sadness that he had never told the old hermit what he meant to him.

And now, he would never get the chance.

It was one of the harshest, most painful realities tearing him apart. The inescapable truth that he could never say all the things he hadn't known he felt. That he could never express the happiness and contentment he'd taken for granted while at Pervy Sage's side. Never convey how overwhelmed and grateful he'd been picking out new gear with his pseudo grandfather. How he'd been himself with happiness that the Legendary Sannin had cared enough to notice his pupil's clothing was coming apart at the seams. It was too late to thank him for the long, intense hours they spent training.

Too late to share another Popsicle beneath a shady tree.

There would never be another 'research' journey or a goofy self introduction.

No more crude jokes his young mind had barely understood or soul deep words of wisdom he'd spent many a night contemplating.

A surge of pain swept through his shuddering form and a bottomless well of emotional torment dragged him down.

He was drowning.

Trapped and suffocating beneath a merciless tide.

"Naruto-kun?"

He startled. The soft voice jarring in the permeating silence. Irritation rushed to the forefront, shifting swiftly into anger.

His teeth clenched.

Hands fisting.

He didn't look up.

He knew who it was.

Why she was here, he didn't know, but he could safely say, he wasn't in the mood for company.

His jaw hardened, a dull ache spreading along his stubborn jaw. For as long as he could remember, he had always craved the attention and regard of others. Had made a fool of himself in order to obtain the spotlight. But right now, at this very moment, he repudiated it with as much contempt as he could muster.

He didn't want to talk.

Not to her.

Not to anyone.

His emotions were raw, his pain bone deep. He was afraid if he opened his mouth he'd lash out and say something he'd regret later. He knew himself well enough to know that he wasn't coping very well.

That he couldn't control himself right now.

Rage simmered beneath his grief. The heartrending news of Jiraiya's murder stirring dark emotions he had never thought himself capable of. If she had come here to offer cookie cutter platitudes he was going to lose it. If she uttered the words 'he died an honorable shinobi' or the hated 'he's in a better place' he would explode in an unrestrained tirade of ire.