Fate Wheel | Naruto

𝟗𝟐| "Fragility of memories"

CHAPTER 92 — FRAGILITY OF MEMORIES
══════════════════

THREE AND A HALF YEARS AGO FROM CURRENT DAY

Freshly baked bread was still ripe in her memory. She remembered how to make dough, the movements her fingers made whilst kneading the dough and the strain she felt in her wrists when her knuckles clenched too hard in concentration.

Dawn trailed her fingers lightly over the dough, making a small dent on the smooth surface after rolling it into a perfect ball. She hoped that Hitomi would notice the denture and force her to remake the shape, at least then she could memorise her movements again and again until it became muscle memory. Until, it wasn't just her mind that recognised the familiarity of her surroundings, but her body too. She wanted the sweet taste of frosting to remain a prominent infatuation, the texture, the colour, the atmosphere it was made in, the person who made it, what she felt when she first tasted it. She didn't want it to disappear.

It had been weeks since she was last admitted to the hospital for temporary stay and days since she had her last check-up. Kei's insistence was heart-warming and in no way would she ever take it for granted. Yet, when she desperately tried to convince not only everyone, but herself included, that there was nothing wrong with her other than the tricks Sora was playing on her— it was difficult to fully comprehend the being that didn't reside in her, but was her, and the everlasting effect it had.

No one can know about her. Dawn constantly reminded herself. She only exists to you. She's apart of you. She's not a demon. She's you. They can't know. No one can.

No one could know the things she had seen and done. The lies she had told. Although, she was oblivious to what lies she had convinced herself to believe as some sort of defence mechanism, they had been said and committed to memory. That they were real memories, real emotions she had experienced.

That was why Dawn found it difficult to understand herself and her surroundings. As if every sight and every event that happened in her life were only figments of her imagination, another trick of the mind, a cruel and twisted puzzle with missing pieces that she misplaced, a large elaborate scheme designed to destroy the progress she made— every baby step she took until she was left crawling in vain. Even now, as she stared at her calloused hands, scarred from every time her nails dug into her palms, it didn't seem real to her. Only something that was being presented in front of her as she was told to take it in and unravel its secrets.

I'm sick and tired of secrets. Her fingers stopped kneading. Once again, her thoughts took control over reality. It's because of the secrets I fed myself and the things I was forced to forget, that I'm like this. It's all because of... me.

"Don't do that." Sasuke said, grabbing her hands and unclenched them. He looked at her, before lowering his voice softly. "What's on your mind?"

"There's nothing on my mind." Dawn blatantly lied in a dry, monotone voice, almost as dry as the rustling of the leaves outside.

"Yes, because that was totally convincing." He replied sarcastically, his eyes searching her face. She hated when he did that, she was afraid she'd cave under the pressure of his analytical gaze and let a few secrets seep through. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away."

"I'm not pushing you away." Dawn denied, avoiding his eyes as her own scaled the interior of her hut, the cosy atmosphere she had grown to love now another ghostly memoir soon to be forgotten in dust. A wall with memories, a mocking signpost of her doom.