Ghosts of Konohagakure (Sequel to Shadows of the Village)

Chapter 2: The Death of Imori

Two years earlier...

A lot of things happened all at once when Kuma's blade had been stabbed into Imori's chest for the final time.

First, the oxygen in his body depleted even more and circulation slowed, leaving his limbs numbing. Next, it became harder to breathe, unable to feel his chest rise and fall. It terrified him more than he'd ever voice, because Imori never wanted to die at the hands of his brother. Then, the grip on his tantō waned as his sense of touch alluded him, as did his sense of hearing.

For a moment longer, Imori could smell all the blood that had been shed in the battlefield outside of the village, in a secluded section of forest left for these kinds of messy fights. As he fell down, Imori found himself looking towards a scarlet soaked Kuma and Sai, who stood emotionlessly beside the monster of a man, Danzo Shimura.

An unexpected cry left his brother's lips as he dropped the blade used for Imori's execution and rushed forward to comfort the slumping figure. Though Kuma did not catch Imori, his body coming crashing to the ground. Dust and debris was lifted into the air, obscuring his vision.

But it didn't matter much, as convulsions soon followed.

Imori was deaf to the words leaving his brother's mouth, having lost that sense already. His vision was unfocused and clouded. He must of had tears in his eyes but he didn't have the control over his eyelids to blink them away in his current state.

His mind reeled with the thought that Sakura had seen the mess Kuma had made of him, as the memories of the clone came rushing back, and he hoped she wouldn't judge Kuma too harshly. He never had a choice in the matter and Imori prayed to of communicated that effectively. He began to shiver uncontrollably as he released his clone to follow his fate, as death welcomed him with open arms.

There were many instances over Imori's time in root that he wondered what death felt like. He had predicted his life to flash before his eyes—ironic, considering his memories were heavily tampered with. He had also assumed that there may of been some white light he needed to walk into—his body was numb and muscles wouldn't be able to cooperate even if he so desperately tried to move.

It was then Imori suddenly became conscious of the fact that neither of those things happened. Which was odd, considering he shouldn't be mulling over any thoughts because you know, he died. He had been killed. Never to walk or talk again. It didn't make sense that he felt suspended in the alternate state of reality, unable to see, hear, smell or feel anything.

That was until it all came rushing back at him.

The pitter patter of shoes against tiled floors. The voices of two ladies as they chatted, while audibly russling paper before placing it down on something solid. A rhythmic thudding was almost white noise given its consistency, though he did not know the source. There was a loud beeping noise that increased as his own self awareness grew. Was he...alive?

He felt blood pumping in his veins, oxygen circulating his system as his limbs became tingly. Pins and needles sharply pricked his muscles as he tried to wiggle his fingers and toes. The excruciating pain was a welcome relief from not being able to feel anything for so long. So he persisted.

In a moment, Imori realised he needed to breathe and immediately upon trying to inhale, choked as he felt something was shoved down his throat. He gagged as a machine blared obnoxiously nearby, numb hands flying to rip what he came to assume was a tube, from his oesophagus. Imori didn't get far as the voices of ladies returned and hands gripped his shoulders, holding him down.

His eyes flew open but was unable to see past the flaring black dots scarring his vision. He felt weak and unable to put up much of a fight as the ladies yelled at him to stop thrashing, as one gently removed the tube from his throat. He was left violently heaving, trying to suck in as much oxygen as possible into his lungs before trying to lift himself to his feet.