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“Glass”

.x.

He stares into the glass, unearthing his brother. Black hair buried under spikes, black eyes hidden in sight, black clothes concealed by innocence. He sees a shadow, mistakes it for his brother.

He glances into the glass, noticing his mother. Soft hair caressed by a small hand, large eyes staring into a colorless world, pale skin glowing in the darkness. He sees his mother, mistakes her for an angel.

He glares into the glass, but cannot find his father.

.x.

His feet stick to the floor with the blood. His parents’ blood. The moonlight glimmers ephemerally on the sword. His brother’s sword. The dark room echoes eerily with the scream. His scream.

The world twists and changes itself to red and black around him. Red of blood, black of night. Red and black, his brother’s eyes.

Blood patters softly to the ground. Corpses lie down to rest in the black street. Silence envelopes the still night air, dyed red.

A glimmer of light shines through color, awakens everything. It reflects on a blade stained red and black with blood, in a world stained red and black with hate. His brother’s eyes, stained red and black with murder.

Blood surges and strikes the ground violently. Corpses scream their ends, cursing his weakness, his brother’s eyes. Glass crashes behind him.

The world twists and warps itself into reality, filled with the dark shades of pain. The silver moonlight offers no sanctuary.

“Hate me.” He knows nothing else. Red and black, his brother’s eyes, reflecting in his pain.

.x.

The bite stings with poison, throbs with power. A purple sound confuses him awake. Shards of pain teach him to hurt, to shatter, to break. Red and black and something else. He doesn’t understand.

He reaches out, his hand red and black, his pain, his brother’s eyes, his brother’s strength. They crumble at his touch to purple dust. He laughs purple, eyes red and black, strength.

“Sasuke!” She rushes to him, pink and red and green. He almost understands. Glass shatters, he forgets, pain fades. Pink and red and green; red and black and something else. Almost.

.x.

His teacher’s fist glows blue and calls with birds. He watches, eyes red and black. He learns. His teacher shows him, silver and green and blue. He understands the fist, glowing with power; ignores the rest.

His fist glows blue and shrieks with birds. Red and black and screeching blue. The curse laughs purple, wants to fight, to kill. He ignores it; his fist glows blue, his eyes glow red, dampened by black.

He aims for stone, brown and warm under yellow sun. He wants to kill his brother’s eyes, red and black and evil. Blue strikes brown, red and black remain.

His fist breaks stone, laughs, and glows again. Brown, purple, blue.

.x.

The curse spreads over his body, painful and black. His opponent strikes, brown and dried blood, but his friend stops it in orange. She hovers over him, pink hair over her face, hiding caring green eyes. He doesn’t understand.

She tries to fight, pink and determined. His opponent brushes her aside in a wave of brown and dried blood and pins her to the tree. Her chin falls; he sees only pink hair and brown pain.

He can’t let them die like his mother, like his father, lifeless and red and black, killed by his brother’s eyes. He helps yellow and pink, exhausts black, falls to the dark tree bark. His friend saves everyone; an orange fox protects pink hair and black eyes, frees brown blood.

He doesn’t understand, but he wants to.

.x.

His fist glows blue and shrieks in rage. His brother barely notices, but turns his eyes, red and black, to see. His fist fails, pitters out, retreats.

His brother stops him, throws him, red and black and power, clashing, crushing red and black and hate. His brother shoves him into the wall, training him in pain.

“Not enough hate.” His brother’s voice whispers in his ear, reveals his weakness. His brother’s eyes distort the world to red and black, remind him how to hate. His mind cowers in pain, shatters like glass.

Red blood oozes from life, creates death. Black corpses claw out his eyes, curse his weakness, his brother’s strength. Shards of glass cut trails in his skin. Red and black.

His brother’s eyes.

.x.

Water falls from his, surges from his friend’s, mocks him in blue. He turns away, face hidden in black, shame concealed in ice.

Inside, the glass reveals his weakness. Skin: pale and thin; hair: dark and tangled. White and black. So thin and pale and dark, so weak.

He shows the glass his pain; it returns everything. He understands. White and black make no sense, but red he knows. His brother cut his fist, broke the mirror. Red and Black, the white drained out.

He understands. Erase the white, the weak; replace thin skin and tangled hair. Black remains, white becomes red. Weak becomes strong.

“Itachi.”

Red and black, his brother’s eyes. He understands.

.x.

The water falls and surges between them, separating, connecting, and sparkling like glass. His friend shouts of home, yellow and orange and blue.

The colors confuse him, stun his eyes. He knows only red and black, blood and night, his brother’s eyes. He knows only pain and hate; his friend doesn’t understand and calls him home, where vengeance left long ago.

His friend rages orange, flames and home. He almost understands; sees himself in the water, red and black and blue, not quite his brother. He sees them both, beaten but fighting, determined. He almost understands.

His friend blazes orange and blue. He smolders black and blue. He understands.

“Naruto.”

Blue rain cleanses yellow and orange, smears red and black, connects. He understands.

Red and black. And blue.

.x.

He shatters the wall like glass; inside the snake laughs purple, long and strong and evil. He ignores it; his curse spreads, laughing a softer purple, promising death. The snake laughs and fades into white.

He examines evil white but doesn’t understand. His blade slices through, blue and silver. White and purple cloud his mind, laugh with power, shriek with glee. He knows he cannot lose. Red and black shatter white and purple. Red and black, his eyes, his strength, his brother’s eyes.

He sees himself in misted eyes, red and black and blue. His brother, his friend. Fire, night, lightning; red, black, blue.

His curse shrieks in purple glee; he ignores it and seeks his brother’s eyes, red and black, blood and night. Blood of night, his brother’s death.

.x.

His blackened skin glows and shrieks in blue; his eyes glare red anger and black hatred. He strives to strike his brother, red and black, demolish him with blue. He strives to kill his brother, blade in flesh to bring him death.

His brother sees in red and black, renders blue useless. He screams and strikes in desperate purple, but he doesn’t understand. He crumbles in a purple heap, his world consumed by red and black.

Blood coats his skin, dyes him red with hate. Corpses beg him for their lives, grinning blackened death. He falls and cuts his hands on black glass, bleeds red.

His mother holds him, white stained red. His father scolds him in words black and dead. His brother laughs blackness, hands him flowers dripping bloody red.

“Hate.”

He sees himself in shards of shadowed glass, red and black and weak.

.x.

His brother calls him weak, says he’s forgotten how to hate. Instead of showing red and black, his parents’ death, his brother creates new pain.

Pink strikes hard and true and useless. She fights desperately, filled with fear and love. His teacher fights beside her, deadly silver striking in blue.

His brother slices through them, invisible to eyes clouded with red and black. She dies, red staining her hair and skin. His teacher falls, eyes wide in black pain; they stare with death.

He shrieks and stumbles, too weak to stand. He gapes at death, pink and silver and cruel. His brother laughs an evil red and calls him foolish. Home lays bleeding, screams in pain.

His friend races, late to death, and strikes his brother in furious orange, almost red.

.x.

His brother stands before his friend; his friend holds his revenge. He can’t lose his cause; he can’t let his friend steal his life, blazing orange and blue.

Rage strengthens him; blue shines painfully and charges screaming. His friends eyes widen, shocked with blue, calls him a fool. He strikes, but his friend deflects his feeble blow. His brother laughs and calls him weak.

Fury calls his eyes to red and black, he shows his friend vengeance, red and black and filled with stabbing hate. He attacks while his friend fights a reflection, confused by eyes of red and black.

His blade slides cleanly silver through his best friend’s neck. Orange chakra lashes out, falls, dissipates, dies. Home lays broken, dead, lost forever. The colors fade, then leave.

Only red and black remain.

His brother laughs a sickly red and walks away. He stumbles, falls, mourns, ignores, and seeks his brother’s death.

.x.

He screams black rage and his brother stops, turns, laughs. He glows blue with power, red with hate. His brother tries to bend the world, to shatter him like glass; he brushes it aside and his brother steps back, red and black eyes wide.

He strikes with glowing blue and laughs in gleaming purple. His feet beat on packed dirt, brown beneath a cold yellow sun. His brother blocks and leaps away, but he chases and pink dazzles his brother’s eyes.

He thrusts his fist through his brother’s chest and hurls him into green grass. His brother bleeds a deep red but stands, coughs, spits, fights on. His brother cuts him, summons bright blood that falls in streams to the ground.

He hits again, his glowing blue fist cuts through his brother’s heart. He sees his brother on the ground, red and black and dead.

He finds his brothers death drowned in bloody hate and painful night reflected in shards of broken glass.

.x.

He returns to his dark house, but can’t find home, yellow and pink and silver. He stands before the glass, but can’t stare into it; glares at the blackened floor, old and made of wood.

He looks up, finds another boy before him, red and black and murder. They frown. “Who are you?” But they ask together, so one voice sounds.

Neither answers. They turn and walk away.