[accidental video] Week 3, Day 7
[ Death.
Begins and ends like a lightning strike, like a cavalcade of crows rushing from the trees, like wind wrenching the branches until the leaves tear at the thundering grey sky. (It was raining; Kisame had been there, had commented on -- )
Bleeding profusely, from his eyes down his cheeks. Falling into his mouth. Salty. Thicker than the rain. ( -- had commented on his face, which was drowned by the rain, now drowned by blood -- ) And now there is Sasuke's lightning, a storm in the sky, and delirium-death. The world is a candle in fog, the eyes are dying (perhaps Sasuke will have use of them); the world exists in shutter-shots, colours, like a desert vision in Sunagakure, like a the world beyond a flame (Amaterasu) where all is faded foggy dim twilight; and Itachi's eyes die to the sight of his brother; his skin bleeds in anticipation of the rain.
But that is not this reality.
That was the reality one moment before, framed with certainty in the other eye: the eye of the mind.
Death begins and ends like a lightning strike. Like a rushing green world replacing Susanoo's raging sky, though his eyes flash between the two, as if with split vision. The skin was not whole. It was open and bleeding, to be washed in the rain of the coming storm. (He was looking up at the rain, and -- ) But the blood drains off. The skin patches itself together. The arms are not chunks of sores on skin; raw meat. Death must repair. Death must re-incarnate. Perhaps this is all a dying dream: a bright world.
Not lit by a candle, but by the full light of day.
(The full light of day, which he has not fully seen in many years.)
And birdsong. (Not crows. Not ravens.) ]
. . . I suppose there is no room for rain in the other world.
[ The body is repaired. Without blood. No wetness. No warmth. (But it was his warmth to bleed out, and how long had he waited to have it drawn by the blood of his blood?)
Something is making a noise. There is something strange. Something with lights. ]
Brother, I congratulate your victory.
[ Unless this is someone's final illusion. Some new genjutsu. Perhaps he is not dead, but still dying. ]
Though I can do nothing more for you here, and here I see nothing that resembles forgiveness. [ Still to himself. ] And yet, this I did not ask for. I understood the price. [ And perhaps in the end, they both did. ] Here will be nothing new. In the reality beyond other worlds, or even the eyes of our clan, or sealed: it is the same when certain meanings are abandoned. I would have explained that to you. At the last instant, I wonder whether you saw for yourself . . . I think perhaps you did.
[Pause.]
So I have finished my mission, now, Sasuke. Thank you.
[ Perhaps his soul is at ease. At ease. Is this ease?
All this time, the Hitomi has been broadcasting the scene of a very dazed looking individual, seemingly unaware of the surrounding world.
The blood that shed my blood. Brothers in heaven or hell. In all worlds between. ]
The sun is bright once more, I see.
Begins and ends like a lightning strike, like a cavalcade of crows rushing from the trees, like wind wrenching the branches until the leaves tear at the thundering grey sky. (It was raining; Kisame had been there, had commented on -- )
Bleeding profusely, from his eyes down his cheeks. Falling into his mouth. Salty. Thicker than the rain. ( -- had commented on his face, which was drowned by the rain, now drowned by blood -- ) And now there is Sasuke's lightning, a storm in the sky, and delirium-death. The world is a candle in fog, the eyes are dying (perhaps Sasuke will have use of them); the world exists in shutter-shots, colours, like a desert vision in Sunagakure, like a the world beyond a flame (Amaterasu) where all is faded foggy dim twilight; and Itachi's eyes die to the sight of his brother; his skin bleeds in anticipation of the rain.
But that is not this reality.
That was the reality one moment before, framed with certainty in the other eye: the eye of the mind.
Death begins and ends like a lightning strike. Like a rushing green world replacing Susanoo's raging sky, though his eyes flash between the two, as if with split vision. The skin was not whole. It was open and bleeding, to be washed in the rain of the coming storm. (He was looking up at the rain, and -- ) But the blood drains off. The skin patches itself together. The arms are not chunks of sores on skin; raw meat. Death must repair. Death must re-incarnate. Perhaps this is all a dying dream: a bright world.
Not lit by a candle, but by the full light of day.
(The full light of day, which he has not fully seen in many years.)
And birdsong. (Not crows. Not ravens.) ]
. . . I suppose there is no room for rain in the other world.
[ The body is repaired. Without blood. No wetness. No warmth. (But it was his warmth to bleed out, and how long had he waited to have it drawn by the blood of his blood?)
Something is making a noise. There is something strange. Something with lights. ]
Brother, I congratulate your victory.
[ Unless this is someone's final illusion. Some new genjutsu. Perhaps he is not dead, but still dying. ]
Though I can do nothing more for you here, and here I see nothing that resembles forgiveness. [ Still to himself. ] And yet, this I did not ask for. I understood the price. [ And perhaps in the end, they both did. ] Here will be nothing new. In the reality beyond other worlds, or even the eyes of our clan, or sealed: it is the same when certain meanings are abandoned. I would have explained that to you. At the last instant, I wonder whether you saw for yourself . . . I think perhaps you did.
[Pause.]
So I have finished my mission, now, Sasuke. Thank you.
[ Perhaps his soul is at ease. At ease. Is this ease?
All this time, the Hitomi has been broadcasting the scene of a very dazed looking individual, seemingly unaware of the surrounding world.
The blood that shed my blood. Brothers in heaven or hell. In all worlds between. ]
The sun is bright once more, I see.