Dawn desires to live a life that shelters her from the monsters of her past only to find out that ignorance isn't bliss, but a recipe for upcoming disaster. After all, in order to fight monsters you must become one yourself.
❝ 𝘐𝘧 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦 𝘢...
"In order to understand, I destroyed myself." — Fernando Pessoa
══════════════════
4 YEARS LATER THE VALLEY OF THE END
The end was near.
Here, in the valley that served as the border between the Fire Lands and the Sound Lands. Here, in the valley that displayed such potent destructivity enough to permanently scar the earth with its ancient relics. Here, where all thriving beginnings met its inevitable, ruinous ends. Here, stood large, stalwart statues of memorialisation, symbolising the creation of something so devastatingly flourishing yet, so tragically fragmented that she couldn't help but acknowledge how fitting the earth and its frightful memories was for the current juncture.
The end was near.
Years. Years he had known that karma would ensue and time would eat away quicker than he had sinned. Years, he awaited the tasteful glory of death, knowing that what laid ahead was nought adjacent to a blissful paradise of rest for his tired, aching soul. A soul that had been corrupted long before he knew how it had happened, how his downfall came to be, how death felt like a promised reward to a loyal servant. He was willing to beg, grovel his knees into the hardened dirt until they bled and bled as he cried- pleading for his refuge until his voice decimated to the idle sound of sinistrous silence.
Her grip was firm, the sharp edge of her katana placed on the curve of his Adam's apple.
Fugaku, a man once known for arrogance that rivalled the devil's yearn for wreckage and bedlam, kneeled for his promised mercy. Oh, how meagre the sight was, it almost made her pity him. Almost.
This was it, he was at her disposal, this was going to change everything, turn the tides to her favour, it was necessary. Fugaku's death was necessary, albeit a catalyst for pending, political subsidence, but necessary. It was a shame that she had to be the one to execute it. Dirtying her hands for meaningless, dawdling implementations was an undesirable way of spending her time.
"You understand, don't you?" Dawn asked nonchalantly, dragging the blade along the lineament of his throat until she forcefully lifted his chin to meet her gaze. "You understand why it must be this way. I'm not a fan of explaining myself."
The temperature was ice against his body, a veneer of vengeful verglas painting his skin blue with blistering coldness despite summer soon sweeping over the spring's ambit. She found the irony of the crepuscule humorous. After all, she, a light sung to raise day chose to blow the candle instead, reigning darkness into the world.
Fugaku nodded, despite the lightweight katana feeling like pounds of heavy bricks straining his muscles.
"Any last words?" She asked, her face similar to a wasteland stricken by explosives; nothing was left alive.
Dawn applied more pressure to the blade, inflicting a small cut as blood trickled down his neck and onto his clothes. The Uchiha patchwork on his breast pocket now stained with a coat of maroon.
He remained silent. She felt otherwise, to which her lips downturned into an impatient snarl. She loathed waiting, she also loathed those who made her wait.
"Y-Yes." He stared directly into her dull eyes, a teardrop trickled down the bridge of his nose. "Thank you... Thank you for releasing me from their hold. Only if... Only if I was able to hold out long enough to tell Sasuke that I'm sorry for letting those monsters control me and becoming one myself. I... I truly do love him and I am so proud of everything he has accomplished." Fugaku forced out a bitter laugh, all the while trying to keep his tears tamed.
"Take care of him, Dawn."
In the fullness of time, Dawn tilted her head forward and chuckled lowly.
"It seems you have misinterpreted my actions. I do not serve your death as an act of mercy. Nor do I particularly care about your dying wishes." She skewed her grip on the hilt, momentarily lifting the blade from his skin.
"Your death... is an execution."
Blood splattered across her face. The sound of his body thudding to the ground briefly echoed in her ears before she pushed the hem of her sleeve forth and wiped her cheek.
The end was near, for she was the end.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
