>>5818031<span class="mu-b">... A part of my love, the music of an earlier day. A life was lived each day. A life has ended, with me. With the memory, this life has ended, with the memories of time, of heaven or another life, we, friend, being in the fabric of times, have context to this life and the memories to hold their spirit alive, inside of me, inside of me, for in this life, now silent, is the passing of our friend, but their spirit is alive, in casual belief, they will always be near, inside of me, inside of me. Lives have been touched by me, moments lived, in my own life, I know, now silent, living only in this life, I know not where, but their spirit soars, to renew again, and all who took their time ended, with the passing of a our friend, but did their spirit lived each day. Heaven or another life was lived, in my own life, we friends did share. I miss my friend, but they are gone from the earthly plane, their life has ended, their life has ended, with the passing of my friend, but my life has been touched by sunrises and dark nights...</span>
Your mind is coming apart at that seams. You see yourself, eyes radiating blue, eyes beaming like lighthouses, soul on fire. You cannot contain purity within yourself. It cleanses all that it touches, and your own body is too filthy to not be burned away instantly by the touch of the divine. It was fire to you. Lava. Bright, burning acid.
You see that frail little boy curl up in a ball, unable to take it.
He screams. He dies, disintegrating into ash. He should have never lived at all. Never should have even tried.
—
Slowly, consciousness stirs somewhere in the black void of time. Memory fades out, sensation fades in. Deep throbbing in your muscles, like some giant grabbed you and squeezed the life out of you until you were a drained, bruised raisin. You can hardly move. You can hardly think.
Incomprehensible noise radiates from somewhere nearby. You can’t make any sense out of it. Eventually thinking is too difficult and you just stop.
—
Consciousness stirs once more. You feel a soft hand running through your hair. You move, stirring slightly, trying and failing to open your eyes. The soft hand stops, and you hear a yelp that reminds you of some kind of little dog before there’s a rapid scurrying and a bang.
You take the measure of your surroundings with your blurry eyeballs. You were in your room. Konoha. Not particularly good. You must have been unconscious for at least 6 hours, and that was if someone like Naoki scooped you up and took you here immediately.
Your mouth is try and you feel like you haven’t tasted water in days. Tentatively, you assume you’ve been unconscious for at least 24 hours. You attempt to sit up, but not only can you not move, but you can’t even feel the sensation of your body trying to move. Eventually you feel dizzy and stop trying to think.
