Flowers don't cry

Chapter 13

I'm struggling to see if I left something or go back to retouch my wording errors and such, I would really appreciate a comment.

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Chapter 13

Time ticked as he mentally prepared himself for those dreaded moments he gets to visit his best friend at the makeshift hospital. An old building taken by the rampant cases of blank ink that swept the nation in the last few years.

Truth be told, there were more pained faces he would steal some glances at before his heart would shatter.

Kakashi hated to see pain.

Even if his work would push him to cause pain to those who - let's be honest - asked for it, it did not mean he was one of those criminals who developed the sick thrill of causing it on others.

Hell, he had to undergo the psychological and mental evaluations just to be sure he wasn't showing those sings, because, either you believe it or not, that sickness will show it's ugly face.

Part of the problem was not only the physical damage the black ink, but the emotional and mental damage. He saw first hand the monster that it creates.

Normal men who would rather be stabbed than hurt the innocent would smile as they shattered bones and carved skin on battle.

Whatever it was, it brought the worst in people, rotting them from the inside out.

Children included.

Mothers who used to love their children would turn on them, children who had friends and education would end up in custody after they tried to burn down a school filled with innocents, fathers who worked hard on the field would turn to unsafe practices and fall in the pit of darkness.

Yes, evil does exist even without the horrid condition. But evil can also be created from outside factors.

Most of Kakashi's colleagues would fight it until the bitter end, pushing back on those dark thoughts that plagued their mind at every turn, leaving shadows under their eyes from the strain.

Eventually, they would fail the evaluation, sent to the camps, and undergo the inefficient treatment.

One by one, falling like domino's.

His father fell not long ago, the most honourable and kind man he ever met was found injured at the edge of the forest, he had stabbed himself once the pain became too much to bear and his mind started to darken.

He rather die than hurt his village.

Sadly, he was in the intensive unit. No visitors allowed. Only updates on his comatose condition, the spread had stopped as his body no longer responded to anything, asleep until further notice.

Maybe they had the perfect guinea pig for their purpose... find a cure.

Let us return to the present - Dark gloomy eyes stared at the entrance, people coming in and out with supplies and bad news as they rushed to deal with the impossible. The sun was high and pretty, blue skies warming his dark green uniform. It was another day of work for him, soon he would end his thoughts and focus on his blade to fight and protect.

No time to feel.

No energy to wonder.

Just focus on anything other than his closest suffering. His hand itched for the small pocketbook he used to shut his lingering thoughts.

It was a wonder how his depraved mind was willing to switch between naughty romance novels and work like night and day.

His father called it a defence mechanism against the gloom reality above him. That dark cloud that refused to rain, but he knew it would be his turn eventually.