The Original Naruto Fanfic Archive

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Any Naruto fanfiction with the main plot orientating around different sex couples.
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An area to submit intelligent essays debating topics about the Naruto Universe and writing tutorial submissions.
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Members: 11990
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Last Complaint by DancerOfShadows

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Chapter notes: Disclaimer: Don't own Naruto.

Man, that chapter was sad. *Sniffles* AND I WAS JUST STARTING TO LIKE HIM A LOT, TOO!
The sky mourned for our loss, mourned for those who didn’t even know of it yet. The sky mourned for our weakness, mourned for how pathetic we were. It wasn’t that I didn’t mind the wetness seeping into my clothes and skin; I didn’t notice it. I was too busy trying to ignore the own wetness that had been on my face before it had even started to rain.

The water mingled with the blood, diluting it and spreading it until we were soaked in it. The blood was cold, and it numbed me physically as much as the death numbed me mentally. The emptiness, the blankness, shocked all possibility of rational thought from my system. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t blink. All I could do was tremble and stare at the corpse that was, just moments ago, one of my best friends and teachers.

I was only distantly aware of Ino and Choji crying beside me. But they, the rain, and Asuma’s body were all that I could care to notice. My trembling deepened to violent shudders, my lack of breathing started with sobbing gasps, and my eyes shut with the horror of the scene in front of me overloading my mind.

As I look back upon that day, I can clearly recall expressions. Asuma’s lack of expression when he closed his eyes and didn’t open them again. Kurenai’s horror-struck expression when she saw who was lying, unmoving, on the makeshift stretcher we carried. Tsunade’s confused expression when she saw me, waterlogged cigarette still in my mouth, and the rest of the team return without Asuma.

We changed that day. Ever-smiling Choji went on a strict diet and trained to exhaustion every day. Loud-mouthed Ino spent all of her free time in the backgrounds of the flower shop, never working at cashier for fear of having to interact with others. And I found self-motivation, soon found myself to be a smoker, and complained only once.

It was at Asuma’s funeral. I remember going to his shrine and placing down my flower. My complaint was simple: “Why couldn’t you have stayed alive longer?”
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