Fade Away (Naruto)

v. to reminisce

It didn't take long for Nanao to defeat their assailants in her rage-driven frenzy. What took a while, though, was for the events to actually sink in.

Sayaka was dead.

Dead.

She was gone, just like that.

It was a harsh reminder of their current standings as Shinobi. A reminder that was very much unwelcome.

"We have to keep moving."

It was a wonder how their Sensei seemed to be so unaffected. Shiki had started bawling after the initial shock had faded, and Kazuto was in a daze, in complete denial of it all. Yet the brunette was quickly back to her usual self. It seemed like an amazing feat to the two.

But through the haze that clouded his mind, the black-haired boy noticed the way she stood, stiffer than usual, the look of defeat in her eyes and the carefully hidden crack in her voice. Her expression was far more guarded than they'd ever seen — a delicate mask crafted over years of practice.

"...dreams died a year into the job."

A year? It'd taken barely two months for all his fantasies to be crushed.

She gave them some time to themselves before dragging them to their feet and getting them to help her bury the girl's body. They couldn't even take her back to the village. They were on a mission, after all. They had to deliver the scrolls, no matter what. They had no other choice.

The redhead was completely silent throughout, and this time it was Kazuto who let the waterworks loose.

But they didn't have time to dwell on it. Before long, they were back on the road, torn between wanting to stay more alert to avoid the same fate and drowning in their sorrow.

It had only been two months.

And it would always have only been two months.

•

It was a widely believed fact that it took a whole lot to affect Hyuuga Nanao on an emotional level.

But right then?

She was dying inside.

No, she was drowning, more like. Drowning in guilt. In complete self-hate.

It had happened again. And again, it was all her fault.

How many more times would she screw up like that? How many more would die because of her?

How many more people precious to her would disappear because of her?

She couldn't stop thinking about it. She just couldn't stop. And it hurt, just thinking about it.

It hurt so bad.

Everything just went over her head. She couldn't concentrate on anything except the thoughts swirling through her mind, causing nothing but pain. It was a miracle that she and the two boys — the two students she still had left — didn't run into any more trouble along the way. Maybe she'd missed one of the scoundrels and he'd run off to tell his friends to stay away?

She wasn't sure if she was glad for that or disappointed in herself for letting one of them escape.

There was no conversation along the way. None, except the short exchanges when she'd issue instructions or they'd relay information from lookout. Nothing except what was necessary.