Changing With the Wind

By: Junsui Chikyuu

March 3, 2005

Changing With the Wind

Once upon a time…

That's the way most fairy tales begin, isn't it?

But this is no fairytale.

Once upon a time, in a foreign religious text, the people's god said to them: "Dust you are, to dust you will return". I suppose it means that everything returns to its original state eventually. It's a bit scary. However, to think of myself as dust is comforting. Dust can ride the wind.

Once upon a time, I was just like all the others. I was a fangirl. I clung and screeched and argued and tried, so very, very hard, to make him like me. I gave up my best friend for him. I went out of my way for him. And all the time I thought, somehow, that he could see all of these things and was just keeping his love for me to himself so as to not disappoint the others.

I wonder now how many of the other girls must have made sacrifices for him. How many thought the same way I did?

I was the lucky one. I was assigned to his team. Team 7. I was the envy of every kunoichi in Konoha. And for a while, I believed it was fate.

I don't know when it happened. I won't even try to explain. I can't tell you when I came to the realization because it didn't happen all at once. I didn't just wake up one day and…

I still love him. I don't think I could ever stop loving him. No matter what he does or who he becomes. He will always be my Sasuke.

But I'm not so delusional as I used to be. I'm not waiting for Sasuke to come home from defeating his brother and seek me out. Kneel before me and ask me to marry him.

In fact, if he ever somehow, for some reason, did ask me to marry him… if he ever did come back… I'm not sure if I could say yes… if I could run up and smile at him like before…

I will always love him. I would do anything for him. Give anything up for him. Except for one thing.

I gave him my heart when I was a child. But he held it so long… he let it rot away… and turn into dust. Each person only has one heart to give. So he can have everything but that.

Everyday I go to the gate that leads out of the village – the one opposite from where he left me that night – and look out at the trees and mountains in the distance.

On the days when the wind blows or a slight breeze ruffles my hair, I imagine the dust that was once my heart being scattered. Far away from here – far away from him. Never to be hurt or crushed or broken. Because dust is dust.

I like those days best.