Title: Kage of the Graves.
Author: The Dirtwater Fox
Summary: The suicide note.
Notes: A little bit... over the top in the angsty department, I suppose.. but... eh...
Adrift in a sea of darkened vision, with pain as the only drift to attach too, the mind seeks a rational for its disturbances. If we are hated, then why? If we are feared, then for what? If we are loved, then where does it show? Does it show in the bruises - the gashes, and bone splinters? If love were to be true to the torturous name it is so often given, do we measure it in ache and heartache? Truly then, am I the holy one. For each hand they lay upon me, how shall I be known to give it back? Will I open my arms to weak and strong - sickly and whole, alike? Or shall I return kindness with kindness - hatred with hate? Can I be the hero, when I can only play hurt. Can I be the healer, though I can't even heal myself? Why? Why do the crowds part from me as if I were Moses to the red seas? No holy presence guides my hand, nor evil - though the whispers would explain my words to be a lie. Should a child be forced to live a lepers life, though his heart beat's stronger than most. The answer is simple: No. So label me as I am, then, a man. For I posess no fond memorial to childhood, I hold no fragmented blanky to my chest. Though my stature isn't even the match for some several years behind me, my age has never been marked or measured by a day of birth. 'Demon' they call me, and spit upon my shoe. 'Away' they shout at me, and defile even my meagerest of meals. Have I done them wrong? No, certainly not. I have even helped them to destroy me, for it is my curse to always come back. And I must smile, always smile, for to show weakness is a thing I can not afford. If I am to be shunned as a mongrel, stoned and hunted as if I were a rabbid stray, then I must emulate the feral, and hide all my pain away. But there is no rest for the weary, while the wicked have the numbers to rest and grow stronger. Alas, they have beaten me, and I must now give up what I may. I can not, in good conscience, let an animal suffer, and that is all that I am. So, as my last act - my last example of Nindo keeping, I shall put this cur down. I would ask though, please - remember me when I'm gone. If not to mourn me, then to hate me still if it is your wish. I will never fulfill my dreams of Kagedom, but that dosn't mean I want to slip away forgotten. I leave this world now, not with a bang or whimper, but with a last few quiet words. To all of those I could have loved, and to those who could ahve loved me - I cannot wait alone any longer, and I am sorry to ahve taken the cowards way out. I shall miss you, though we've never met, and, although we ahve never met, I would like to think of you missing me in return.
These are the final words of Uzumaki Naruto, so I'm sorry if they do not sound great. But I am long tired, and I can no longer think of the wisdom you seek to hear - nor can I give you a chance to understand my sorrow. Through a long life of tribulations and trial, I have south only a singular kindness, and failing that, I withdraw.
Till we meet in the after life, and may we meet as siblings and friends,
Uzumaki Naruto - The Hokage of the Graves.
(AN: I just... started writing, and this is what came out.)