Fanfic: Run
Title: Run
Fandom: Prince of Tennis
Author: WakingHyde
Rating: PG-13 (N-17?)
Characters/pairings: Fuji Syuusuke
Warnings: Character death, blood, slight torture
Wordcount: 774
Prompt: Character death + green
Character: Fuji
A/N: HUZZAH! Finally a drabble under 1000 words! It's ridiculous, but I haven't managed that for a while. So I just sat down at school today and told my friends to give me a random character to kill, and a color. So yeah. x3 Doesn't really make sense and is overly dramatic, which means I'm now teased forever. xD
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He ran. He ran, and ran, and ran, until his legs cried out in sheer agony, really too tired and broken to continue, and he would stumble, he knew he would fall, but he could not. He would not fall, would not stop, because surely, then he could never rise again. Nothing kept him going but this knowledge, despite the temptation growing too much for him to resist, and it would have been so soothing, so delightful, to halt and rest, if only for a second, to let his aching limbs have a break from the endless torture.
But he could not.
Fuji had lost track of time entirely, could not tell how long his wounded feet had hammered the broken concrete, how long the crying sirens had deafened his ears. The shrill sounds of projectiles and gunshots rang out easily, never ceasing, not for a moment, as if taunting him. Dull colors blended into one and another, black, grey, red, brown, yellow, all faded and dead colors, until he could hardly tell apart the ground before him from auburn, sweaty locks whipping his face.
Fuji was terrified, that much he would admit, if anyone asked. But who would ask in a situation where the only other people around were withered corpses drowned in dust, grime and rot; covered in their own blood as that which had been their faces twisted in momentarily agony that was etched into forever.
He knew some of those faces, had known, some time. Not anymore. No one knew anyone anymore, after all.
No one would miss Fuji when, if, he was gone. Maybe in a past life; but Fuji did not miss anyone either. It was the knowledge that you were all alone, left in solitude to make of your life how you deemed it best.
And Fuji wanted to survive.
He wanted to get out of this hellish existence, to relive the times that had once been. He longed for anything but the same torn, grey-shaded buildings, hostile, faceless soldiers bringing doom and nothingness. He wanted to see the green fields again, hear birds sing and children laugh. People. Life flowing as if nothing was wrong.
Fuji wondered whether he actually remembered these visions, or if he just imagined it from tales whispered to him as a child.
These thoughts ran through his head as he kept running. He needed to motivate himself, for his instinct for survival had long since passed its limit, and he was left with dreams to push legs forward, legs that threatened to fall off with the intensity of his muscles burning.
And Fuji knew he had long since passed what one would usually call pain; but was instead left with a dull feeling he could almost place, and he briefly wondered just why he had not yet crumpled down in a heap to drown in misery and pain.
But had he believed in omens, he would have cracked at the irony by now; he was just clinging to the last remnants of hope and dreams that he so desperately yearned to experience for real, and a vain spark in his heart that imitated knowledge, some day, some time, he would indeed see the green fields that represented everything he wanted to hold dear. And then, he had felt it.
Blazing in his shoulder, soon after followed by a concentration of fire in his chest, licking at his lungs, burning him from inside out, only in a short second, and he gasped and futilely attempted for another step forward, once more, but it was of no use, and Fuji tumbled down.
His chest, legs, shoulder, every inch of his skin hurt like it never had done before, but Fuji chuckled darkly in his head, for he knew he was dying; he was dead. He had fallen, and could never get up. He had ran, and ran and ran and ran and ran, but in the end, what good did it do. He weakly tried to lift his hand to clutch, claw at his chest in pain, because his instincts told him so, and he had only come so far by trusting his instincts, after all. But he found he could not, once more, and he vaguely registered a faint frustration at his own helplessness, defeat.
Then again, even as Fuji’s life energy slowly, but still too quickly, faded out to the cold, unforgiving ground, his crystalline and pale eyes captured by the illuminated, glowing green shade from the little, lonely weed before him. And when Fuji’s eyes fell closed for ever, he did not wear a masque of grotesque horror. Fuji smiled.
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Sort of crappy, but I don't really care, I got under 1000 words! Which means I'll hopefully be able to continue on this track and post more fics in time. Hallelujah!