[Reunion Challenge] Behind Red Eyes
Posted: Thu Sep 23, 2004 7:53 am
Behind Red Eyes
By Beer-monster
Eyes are the windows of the soul.
Or so they say. But as I look into his eyes, I wonder; is that true of us? Perhaps we, whose eyes have grown beyond human, no longer have human souls.
Where in the eye is the soul revealed. Is it the pupils, dark filmy holes that allow the
light of the world into our minds. Does the light of our spirits shine from those voids as the world outside filters in?
He has three, as do I. Three spiralling pupils, the shape of twisted tear drops. Three pupils that allow us to see more. To see deeper, to see everything. We can see it all, but what can others see when they look into our eyes.
Perhaps they are like prisms, our eyes split ourselves into three constituents, the three parts of our souls that dominate the others.
I look into his eyes as he snarls at me. I look into his wheeled eyes with my own. I see hatred. Deep hatred that has suffused his every cell, tainting his flesh and his bones. That pupil somehow seems blacker than the other two, a well of the dark side of man.
In another pupil I see desire. The desire for power and the lust for strength. It consumes him, drawing his heart into a ravenous maw, as hungry and insatiable as he own desperate thirst for greater skill and more formidable might.
The final pupil is the worst, for within I see loneliness. The pain of being the last of your kind, for being forever just one. He has built walls to ward off the loneliness, but those defences are what keep him alone.
What if it is the colour of the iris that reveal the depths of the spirit. The cheerful vitality of azure blue eyes. How millennia of wisdom can seem condensed within swirls of grey. The innocence of deep brown, like as pure and loving as Mother Nature. The knowledge and intensity of emerald green.
But what of our eyes? Crimson, the colour of blood. The blood of our past. The blood of enemies, spilt because of necessity. The life of friends, dripping into dark pools so that we might ascend beyond the normal, so that we might see everything and yet nothing. Blood of that we share, that runs through both our veins. The blood of family, the blood of the Uchiha. The blood I spilt because of my own lust.
The eyes I see in my brother are the same as my own. The same strength lost in the wheel, the same pain and desire hidden in the pupils. The same past and the same future, tainted with the constant shedding of blood. Is this what I have made of him? In my need to test my strength, have I done nothing but create another me, a darker more real form of replication than even the Kage Bunshin.
No, he chose to walk this path as did I. And though I was years ahead, I knew we would always meet again here, at its end. Our destined reunion.
My sharingan see his motions as if in slow motion. His actions; past, present and future, flicker past as if caught in a strobe light. He grasps his kunai in white knuckles fists. I do the same, withdrawing my own weapon from beneath my cloud marked cloak.
?This is the end,? he growls.
?Come, Sasuke,? I hear myself reply. ?Let this be our reunion.?
The end.
A little something I threw together while bored at work. Hope you liked it.
By Beer-monster
Eyes are the windows of the soul.
Or so they say. But as I look into his eyes, I wonder; is that true of us? Perhaps we, whose eyes have grown beyond human, no longer have human souls.
Where in the eye is the soul revealed. Is it the pupils, dark filmy holes that allow the
light of the world into our minds. Does the light of our spirits shine from those voids as the world outside filters in?
He has three, as do I. Three spiralling pupils, the shape of twisted tear drops. Three pupils that allow us to see more. To see deeper, to see everything. We can see it all, but what can others see when they look into our eyes.
Perhaps they are like prisms, our eyes split ourselves into three constituents, the three parts of our souls that dominate the others.
I look into his eyes as he snarls at me. I look into his wheeled eyes with my own. I see hatred. Deep hatred that has suffused his every cell, tainting his flesh and his bones. That pupil somehow seems blacker than the other two, a well of the dark side of man.
In another pupil I see desire. The desire for power and the lust for strength. It consumes him, drawing his heart into a ravenous maw, as hungry and insatiable as he own desperate thirst for greater skill and more formidable might.
The final pupil is the worst, for within I see loneliness. The pain of being the last of your kind, for being forever just one. He has built walls to ward off the loneliness, but those defences are what keep him alone.
What if it is the colour of the iris that reveal the depths of the spirit. The cheerful vitality of azure blue eyes. How millennia of wisdom can seem condensed within swirls of grey. The innocence of deep brown, like as pure and loving as Mother Nature. The knowledge and intensity of emerald green.
But what of our eyes? Crimson, the colour of blood. The blood of our past. The blood of enemies, spilt because of necessity. The life of friends, dripping into dark pools so that we might ascend beyond the normal, so that we might see everything and yet nothing. Blood of that we share, that runs through both our veins. The blood of family, the blood of the Uchiha. The blood I spilt because of my own lust.
The eyes I see in my brother are the same as my own. The same strength lost in the wheel, the same pain and desire hidden in the pupils. The same past and the same future, tainted with the constant shedding of blood. Is this what I have made of him? In my need to test my strength, have I done nothing but create another me, a darker more real form of replication than even the Kage Bunshin.
No, he chose to walk this path as did I. And though I was years ahead, I knew we would always meet again here, at its end. Our destined reunion.
My sharingan see his motions as if in slow motion. His actions; past, present and future, flicker past as if caught in a strobe light. He grasps his kunai in white knuckles fists. I do the same, withdrawing my own weapon from beneath my cloud marked cloak.
?This is the end,? he growls.
?Come, Sasuke,? I hear myself reply. ?Let this be our reunion.?
The end.
A little something I threw together while bored at work. Hope you liked it.
