It was an accident.
(#10 Breath Again.)
On the day of Umino Iruka’s fourteenth birthday, he shared his third kiss. The lips against his own were slack and cold, and he couldn't help but wonder about who did the girl think about as he pressed himself tightly against her. Her eyes were unfocused and cloudy, unnervingly still. She came from Snow country.
If he had looked harder, Iruka might have seen a hint on accusation in them as well.
The chunin didn’t feel the sting of remorse though, only a coldness that matched that of his unresponsive partner. It wasn't an extraordinary kiss. In fact, he doubted there was anything extraordinary at about in his entire life at all. There was only from the constant memory of a blood thirsty demon ravaging his home that stood apart for the rest, he could still taste ashes on his tongue whenever he thought about it. Iruka was bland, plain, and probably bound to be a failure as a ninja, and thus he knew he would never forget that kiss.
The contact of their lips lasted for twenty-seven seconds, and no matter how hard he tried, he did not manage to push air back into her lungs. He tried a second, a third and then a fourth time before falling back on a cardiac massage. There was blood so much blood as he dug his hand into her chest cavity to squeeze her heart.
Iruka's warmth, or whatever was left of it, did not reach her no matter how hard he tried. Her heart's beat wouldn't match his rhythm.
On the day of his fourteen birthday, Iruka killed someone for the first time.
It was an accident.
On the day of Umino Iruka’s fourteenth birthday, he shared his third kiss. The lips against his own were slack and cold, and he couldn't help but wonder about who did the girl think about as he pressed himself tightly against her. Her eyes were unfocused and cloudy, unnervingly still. She came from Snow country.
If he had looked harder, Iruka might have seen a hint on accusation in them as well.
The chunin didn’t feel the sting of remorse though, only a coldness that matched that of his unresponsive partner. It wasn't an extraordinary kiss. In fact, he doubted there was anything extraordinary at about in his entire life at all. There was only from the constant memory of a blood thirsty demon ravaging his home that stood apart for the rest, he could still taste ashes on his tongue whenever he thought about it. Iruka was bland, plain, and probably bound to be a failure as a ninja, and thus he knew he would never forget that kiss.
The contact of their lips lasted for twenty-seven seconds, and no matter how hard he tried, he did not manage to push air back into her lungs. He tried a second, a third and then a fourth time before falling back on a cardiac massage. There was blood so much blood as he dug his hand into her chest cavity to squeeze her heart.
Iruka's warmth, or whatever was left of it, did not reach her no matter how hard he tried. Her heart's beat wouldn't match his rhythm.
On the day of his fourteen birthday, Iruka killed someone for the first time.
It was an accident.