| [Jun. 3rd, 2009|07:45 pm] |
Grey dawn light was completely obliterated by the roiling orange glow of flames, but the air was cold. Ginta's oxygen-starved brain triggered a deep, gasping breath, and that brought on violent coughs. He shook in the clone's arms as it ran. For a moment consciousness sparked back, and he lifted his head, squinting through the carnage.
People streamed out of the burning factory, soot-blackened, bleeding, some screaming in pain, others silent as ghosts, with their skin blistered and peeling away from raw, red flesh. Shocked, animated corpses. It was beyond any hell Ginta had ever imagined. As bad as anything he'd seen in the war years. It was worse, because then it had been shinobi dying, and now it was civilians.
Of course there were shinobi here, too. Waterfall ninja, rushing to put out the flames, get the survivors to safety. There were shouts and whistles, a crackle of chakra. A water jutsu cascaded into the throat of the volcano, which belched steam and foul, sulfuric fumes.
No, not a volcano. Ginta lifted his head. Factory. It had been a factory. Where was Tsuyako? He choked on the smoke, clawing at the clone's shoulder for a moment, before his body went slack in its arms.
Running. They were running. There were no more screams now of dying women. Dying men. There was running, shouting, questions and orders. Running. Medics had him. There'd been an attack. A surge. The battle lines had broken, and they were in retreat...
No. Not the war. A mission, and Kakashi. Kakashi had appeared out of nowhere.
Every breath of cold air seared in his chest, tracing pathways the burning gasses in the factory had scorched through his lungs. Every step the clone took jolted through Ginta's body, through his legs. Broken. Beyond that he couldn't contemplate. The right leg was broken, and his foot was ice cold--a bad sign, he thought dimly.
Fire and chaos and death. The Fox. Was it the Fox? Hadn't the Fourth sealed the Fox away?.
The running stopped. The roar of the fire was gone. The shouting, panicked people gone. All that remained was Ginta's own harsh breathing, and pain.
That meant he was still alive. |
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