Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.
He was good at what he did. He had to be. Art was a dangerous. He would know better than anyone.
It was like a dance. He tossed a perfect clay model, a bird, a snake, a cricket, in her direction, and waited for the perfect moment. Then, in a sudden flash of light, it would ignite, a ball of fire, suspended in the sky, forcefully pushing air and dust out of the way, changing random debris into deadly projectile.
There was an echoing crack as she kicked over a large, incredibly old tree, and threw it up at him. He swerved on his bird, narrowly missing it. There was a flash of pink. Using the tree as a cover, she had launched herself off the ground, fist pulled back, electric blue sparks flying off her knuckles as chakra gathered. A remnant of the youngest Uchiha.
He caught her wrist, carefully avoiding the blazing chakra around her fist. The mouth on his hand gave the sensitive flesh a tiny lick, and then, swift and sudden, he flung her back down. Her emerald green eyes widened in surprise.
He dropped a bomb. Small, but powerful. It exploded. The timing was off. His fingers were burned, the ends of his hair charred. The smell was terrible. He breathed deeply.
He was good at what he did. He never made mistakes. As he saw the art unfold, a beautiful explosion of color and heat, he recalled holding the bomb, for a split second, just a little closer to his heart, letting go just a little late.
His fingers would be scarred. A third-degree burn. Her parting gift.
Short and sweet. I like this one. Sort of twisted. Sad that Sakura had to die though. Review please.
- Red