Twisted

Dying

Warning: graphic-ish depictions of injury

Boruto didn't know what exactly came over him. For a few seconds, he became a monster. A murderous, rage full, bloodthirsty monster. But he didn't care what he became as long as it meant she lived. They were dead, as they deserved to be. But not her. Not Sarada.

Her jet black eyes were cloudy and gray, her warm blood spilling out of her back and onto his hands, onto his boots, his legs, soaking the fabric of her dress until everything was wet and sticky. Her pale lips were parted, blood filling one of the cracks, red marks on her cheeks from how tight the gag in her mouth had been.

Boruto's jaw clenched so hard that his head hurt, pounding with his racing heart as he stared directly into her eyes. He'd done this hundreds of times with Sakura's patients. All they needed was to bring Sakura here, and she'd be fine. No matter how bad the injury was. He could make anyone hold onto their last threads of remaining life while Sakura treated them.

He forced his good eye open even wider and stared as hard as he could into hers, willing the tears to the bottoms of his eyelids and out of his way. He would save her through sheer willpower alone. She would hold on until Sakura could save her. "Come on," he breathed, "You have to look at me. It'll be alright. Don't close your eyes. Just look at me, Sarada. Please."

Her hand lifted, trembling, reaching for his face. "Boruto..."

"Don't talk. Don't move, just..." His fingers were wet with her blood as he held her hand to his face. Each intake of breath through his nose felt tighter, lips and nose twitching. "Just look at me. You're going to be fine as long as you look at me... Just keep looking at me. Don't look away."

Sarada's head was falling limp in his hand, her eyelashes barely giving way for the remaining slits of her black eyes to stare into his. "Thank you... For everything..."

"Sarada!" He was not going to let her give up. He squeezed her fingers tighter, trying his best to apply pressure to the wound on her back with his other hand. But it was so large. He didn't know where it started and where it stopped. And there was so much blood. So much.

A small, weak smile formed on her pale cracked lips. "I..."

"S..." The tightness in his throat gagged him and robbed him of air as Sarada's body went slack in his arms, her neck muscles failing as her head rolled to the side, her curled fingers loosening, the small smile fading into nothingness, her lifeless eyes still cracked open.

Suddenly, vivid memories began flashing through his mind at breakneck speed, but Boruto saw each one of them individually.

He saw his Auntie Sakura, reading a storybook to him in a bed with scarlet sheets. His eyes followed the words on the page as her finger traced under them. He was leaned up against her shoulder, all snuggled warmly into the blankets. But her arm wasn't around him like it usually was. 

And they all lived happily ever after. His heart warmed at that line, but when Sakura got up, he felt cold. Lonely. Tired. Sad. Emotions he felt once in a blue moon were so strong they were almost overwhelming.

Suddenly, he was sitting in front of a mirror, the feeling of soft hands gently tugging at his hair. His eyes lifted to the mirror, and he realized. He wasn't himself. The face belonged to Sarada.

The moment she met Sakura's green eyes in the reflection, the brush fell from her motherly hands, clattering to the floor, the handle breaking. Pale hands ran into the sides of pink hair as Sakura curled into a ball just behind Sarada's little stool. 

Sarada watched her mother tremble, sobs working their way into her throat, escaping more violently, more hysterically than Boruto had ever seen someone cry in his life. It was horrifying to watch. But instead of crying with her, there was nothing in his heart but an inexplicable emptiness. The guilt of knowing he'd done something wrong.