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Dem Bones	By : zomboid Category: Naruto > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 949 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Dem Bones.
Dying, whether we like it or not, is a natural part of life. Human life. Living means to die, slowly, over a period of days and weeks and months and years. The sand is always falling in the hourglass, counting down to that time, whether it be in a far future in the warmth of our beds, or swiftly, soon, in a spray of blood and all the other little bits and pieces that make us whole.
But there exists a hope for us, the solid belief that after our corporeal forms have failed us, there exists an After. Someplace we go once our hearts have stopped beating, to exist forever and ever.
It�s hard to contemplate such a thing, considering all the religious issues that get entangled with such an abstract thought as �after.� Is there a God? Is there a heaven, a hell? Are my actions in life reflected once I�ve died, or do I simply cease to exist?

It was something he had an eternity to contemplate. To consider his own hovering existence, his soul to give it a word, floating there in blank space and just� existing.

It sounded drab, but it wasn�t so bad. He supposed this was just a part of the great machine of heaven�you could envision your own paradise, and the machine made it work to Paradise�s standards. An endless expanse of soft cloud footing, painted with yellows and pastels of an eternal sunrise, the air delightfully warm with a hint of a breeze. It was perfect, absolutely perfect. Where he sat (for lack of a better term, as he really had no ass to sit upon,) he could see for miles, and all the vague blue forms that made up the other souls inhabiting this section of heaven. Some were milling about, preferring to wander the endless expanse of cloud and visit the other souls that were currently stationary.
Typically, the souls would remain in clusters for the most part, though those clusters often changed to include new memories of faces and new echoes of voices. People here tended to retain their social instincts, the impression of the basic human need to be near one another.
He was one of few who kept away. He couldn�t quite remember, or reason why. It was a side effect, however frustrating it could be. Here, memories were carefully infected and erased, depending on the quality of that memory. One couldn�t be perpetually happy if you were able to remember all the terrible things of your mortal life, after all.
He could barely remember anything by now, an approximated four years later. Though, that was a guess, since there was no way of knowing the time differences in eternity as compared to the mortal realm. As far as he knew, for sure, he had only been dead for two seconds. Either way, two seconds or four years, he had already forgotten most of his life. There were a few scraps of memory remaining, certainly, clear as day and enhanced for the sake of magnifying the pleasure of those memories.
Most of them were around the same age range, involving some silly triviality that was made to seem like the happiest moment in the entire world. He thought that it must be pitiful, if he was only allowed to remember this much.
His life must have sucked. Hardcore.
Still, amidst the vibrant displays of himself sledding down a snowy hill or hugging the warm body of a rabbit close, there was something that seemed to be missing. A vague idea, like a faded photograph that he couldn�t quite bring into focus, but still knew existed.
The very fact that the Machina allowed him to remember it at all meant that it couldn�t have all been unpleasant. Whatever he was forgetting was something important, far beyond some silly sled ride and a bunny. But what was it?
He had been struggling to answer that very same question ever since he found that shadow of a thought in the recesses of his mind. He knew, somewhere deep inside, that whatever it was, he had loved it. Well and truly loved.

But you can�t have, said the Machina, a hissing whisper in his head, you can�t have loved it if you�ve forgotten� just let it go� it�s not worth the trouble�

For a moment, he was tempted to do just that. The Machina had filled him with a warm sense of contentment, his thoughts momentarily turning to cotton as that whisper touched him, coaxing him away from the pursuit of that memory.
Only through intense effort was he able to pull himself out of that daze, giving a little gasp as clarity took him again. No, no, he mustn�t forget. It was important, vastly important that he remember, remember NOW. He knew his attempts would draw attention, and from his perch on the hilltop of cloud, he could see a bright blue blur making its way towards him, albeit slowly. Another soul to soothe him, to take his mind off of what was interfering with the workings of paradise, no doubt.
He frowned, heavily, straining even harder to remember as that other soul got closer and closer, a second one not far behind him. He could almost feel himself tearing away from the Machina, like the stitching slowly pulled from two pieces of cloth. The photograph was clearing up, shapes were taking form, a hazy outline drawn out as the very center began to come into focus.
A person�?
�Now, what�s all the fuss here?� he almost growled in frustration as he was pulled from his task, concentration broken by the hazy blue form in front of him. He stared at the face, lined with age, the lines even more numerous because of the smile the old man was wearing. Immediately, his mind supplied him with a name, as well as any neutral information that could be shared.
�Sandaime Hokage.� He murmured in a show of respect, however fleeting that was. The old man smiled ever more.
�The other name, I want you to use it. That�s a title, it has no place here. As it were, you didn�t answer my question.�
�It�s not something I can readily explain,� he said back, though the old man must have picked up on his tone.
�Or want to. I understand. But there is a problem�� the man�s words faded slightly, following the younger�s eyes out across the hill, to where the other soul was approaching. He gave another smile, arm raised in a hailing sort of wave. The soul sped up a bit, slowing only when it was mere feet away, standing apart from them.
He had died young, unlike the Hokage before him, face void of lines, pale and smooth. There was something else, though, that set him apart from the old man sitting, something that couldn�t be placed into words. The green eyes, lined with red, held nothing of the insipid happiness that one often found in the eyes of others.
As those green eyes met his own, he couldn�t help but let out something of a sigh. Somehow, that feeling felt kindred, that tinge of sadness and want hidden underneath a neutral expression.
�He doesn�t want to forget, Sarutobi.� The voice that accompanied emerald was slow, precise in what he said, holding perhaps a thousand different meanings behind the words. Every single one of those meanings struck a chord in him, resonating and making the desire to REMEMBER even stronger.
�It�s not a matter of what he wants, unfortunately� The Machina won�t allow it. The memories are too grey.� The old man, Sarutobi, gave an apologetic smile at the soul in question. �I�m sorry. I can�t remember too much either, but it�s necessary� to remember the pain of living is to denounce this place. And who knows what would happen to you then?�
He just continued to stare up into those green eyes, never giving a sign that he heard the former Hokage speak. Something struck him then, a vague image from when he was very young, that same time period where he was allowed to remember.
�I know you� I remember, when we were small��
�Unfortunately, I don�t. Not very well, anyway. My childhood was obliterated.� The white-haired young man broke the stare, eyes flicking over to the former Hokage, head tilted. �It isn�t our choice, Sarutobi.�
�I know it isn�t, but how could he possibly know the consequences? Who�s to say he isn�t better off just forgetting?�
The young man didn�t speak for a moment, and the silence gave him the chance to continue to think. Was it really that bad, that he remember? Was it really so bad that he forget?
Who was it that meant so much to him? What was it that made the Machina want him to forget?
He saw the old man whirl to face him out of the corner of his eye, but he paid him no mind. At that moment, his entire consciousness was focused on that photograph in his mind, which was now blindingly clear as if branded on his very eyeballs. He felt a jolting pain at the center of his being, a tug at his core, wrenching and pulling as if to punish him. And as he curled up upon himself and screamed, he knew he deserved to be punished.
He could see nothing but that memory, that clear and frozen image in his mind, could see nothing but a broad, tanned chest littered with little scars and old bruises. He couldn�t feel anything but the hardness of another body pressed against his side, warmth radiating from that form into his own as a strong arm forgot its pride and came over his shoulders to pull him closer.
He knew Sarutobi was yelling his name, but all he could hear was that low gravelly voice doing the same, and all he wanted to do was scream and cry and tear himself apart. Finally, strong hands gripped his shoulders and shook him, and the memory was scattered in favour of Sarutobi�s face, the man looking desperately down at him, pleading.
�Stop, before it�s too late! Please! There�s nothing you can do for him, Haku!�
Immediately, the pain vanished, though it was not overtaken by blissful, stupid warmth. Instead, all he felt was cold, a calm, cold fury that anyone, anyone dared to tell him such a thing. He felt that fury rising, though he forced himself to keep calm as the last seams holding him in place came apart.
He gave a glance at the younger man, met those green eyes one final time, and found a smile there instead of that aching sadness. Kimimaru nodded once, and Haku turned to face Sarutobi once more.
�I can do nothing?�
Sarutobi sighed as if relieved, apparently taking the words to mean he would stop.
�Nothing, Haku� there�s nothing you can do for him, where he is�� his last words were cut off, though, as the soul in his arms gave a barking laugh and pushed him away. The boy leaned back then, as the clouds opened up into oblivion, and let himself fall through. The last thing the two watching souls heard from the boy, before the clouds closed up again, was--
�Watch me.�
Kimimaru and Sarutobi stood in stunned silence for what seemed like an hour. The old man closed up on himself then, hand raised to hide his eyes, as if he were a mourner standing before a grave.
Kimimaru stirred then, though his eyes were fixed on the space where the other boy disappeared, a smile still on his face.
�We don�t have to abandon him, you know.�
�What can we do? You know as well as I that he can�t come back. And considering the state of his spirit, there�s no way Hell will allow him. He�ll be stuck on the mortal plane, doomed to wander it until his soul destroys itself.�
��His goal is hell, to be certain�� Kimimaru was speaking carefully now, deliberately, never saying his idea outright, waiting for it to click in the elder man�s mind. �And what is hell but the manifestation of the sins of the body?�
The elder frowned at him, the former Hokage staring at his younger companion as he contemplated those words, hazel eyes soon widening in understanding.
�But how? His own will have been obliterated by time, if not the hunter-nin.�
�What is a body, but water, earth and bones�?� Kimimaru was smiling even wider now, green orbs showing some of the life that had left him long before he had died.
�Water, earth and bones.� Sarutobi repeated, and smiled.
Haku was still plummeting, and he had time enough to marvel the sheer distance between the Machina and the mortal realm. He was wondering when he would ever stop when things suddenly came into focus, stars and dust swirling around him as he continued to plummet, falling past planets and meteors and even the cold surface of the moon before he saw it through a haze of fire, the flames opening up into the vast blue of a sky, green stretched out below him.
As the ground rose up to meet him, he wondered, vaguely, if this would hurt. He never had time to prepare himself, even as he felt himself becoming somehow heavier, looking down at himself to find, much to his dismay, that he was completely solid.
�Oh, fuck me...� he managed to whisper before he went crashing through the roof of what appeared to be a very old shack in the middle of a neglected farm. The entire structure cried out in protest as he hit the dirt floor below, slamming into it with enough force to send any furniture inside scattering.
When he next woke, sunlight was pouring down at him from a hole in the roof, the position of the great yellow star telling him it must be past noon by now. He shifted, tensing in preparation of the agony of broken bones, only to find he felt nothing of the sort. He sat up then, looking down at his dust-covered limbs to find that no damage had been done by the fall at all. Rather than complain, he decided to just accept that fact and got to his feet, pushing bits of wood off of himself and making a sad attempt to rid himself of some of the dust and grime. He managed to get most of the mess off of his naked form before he realized he was just that, grimacing at this newfound annoyance.

Looking around at the destruction that he caused, he was struck with the idea that finding anything here would be next to impossible, only to see a fragment of something jutting out from where the remains of a dresser once was. He grabbed and pulled an old shirt from the mess, crying out his luck at the length of the thing. Even if there were no other clothes, it would be long enough to cover all the necessary parts until he could obtain something more� appropriate.
Tugging the shirt over his head, he continued to dig, if only in the vague hope that he would find some pants or anything else that may be useful. He didn�t find the former, certainly, but he was just as happy with a length of rope and some old sandals, tying the rope around his waist to turn the shirt into a makeshift dress, the sandals pulled onto his feet soon afterwards.
A sack and another length of rope made a decent pack, which he slung over his shoulder as he made his way out of the ruined shack and out into the sunlight proper.
It certainly was amazing to see things through solid eyes once more, after having been robbed of the experience. One never appreciated anything until it was long gone, something that Haku knew only too well. He raised his arm as if to touch the sun, before he realized how silly that would be and let the limb drop once more. He began making his way away from the abandoned farm, finding a road and taking it to where, he didn�t know.
Now that he was here, it was hard to figure out the next step. He knew where he came from and he knew where he needed to go, it was the �how� that had him stuck.

Well, he supposed, the first thing that was in order was a bath. He grimaced a bit, attempting to brush off even more dirt without any success at all. But a bath would require either a stream or a village, and neither seemed to be in sight.
As it were, it was two more days before he even caught the slightest hint of another person. The afternoon was incredibly hot, and he was lucky enough to finally find running water, pulling his makeshift clothes off and washing them, setting them against a rock to dry as he went to take care of himself. He was just scrubbing sand into his hair when he heard footsteps on the path running along the river, and he sank further into the water to avoid being seen.
What he saw, or rather, who he saw, made him jerk upright again, staring at the rather battered figure that was bending at the river�s edge for a drink.
Dark eyes stared right back into his; the man�s rough face transformed by surprise, mouth hanging open as his hands slowly lost their hold on the water cupped there. He stood then, rising as if that would help him see the boy in the water with a little more clarity, though he still wore an expression of shock.
�Well, I�ll be damned.�
�Wouldn�t doubt it, Gozu.�
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Dem Bones