From the Ashes

[NARRATOR]

Ryuusuke, the voice said. It permeated throughout the darkness of eternity, into the bowels of death and beyond. It moved with purpose, searching for the detached consciousness and soul of a warrior who had be robbed of his greatness -- a man stripped of his duties and left bare for the fates to clutch. It was an affair that he had no business interfering with, yet this did little to stop him; he could not let the fates have this one. Not yet.

Within the stale pitch of black, a light erupted. Wake up, the voice commanded once more, and slowly the lost soul would begin to feel itself tugged and pulled. Ethereal hands grasps the intangible source's throat, and violently he pulled the conscious mind from the amalgamated river of countless beings he'd joined.

Steadily, the darkness and light became a twilight of disfigured shapes and countless shades of grey. It was a change that lasted briefly, as this mixture soon bled into more recognizable definition and fixtures. Splotches of black became mountains in the far off distance; whites became endless beds of snow; strangely shaped greys became the dark night sky and perpetual overcast, sprinkling snowy flakes upon them. Ryu would find himself sprawled across the bitter, frigid floor of ice and snow, utterly nude and exposed to the elements.

Kouketsu stood only a handful of feet away from him, donning his usual armor and unnatural eyes -- the Rinnegan. Crossed arms unfold and hanged lifeless at their respective sides, and he tilted his head as he waited for some sign that the resurrection was fully successful. Once he was sure, he'd speak.

"I leave you along for ten minutes and you get yourself killed," he teased in a flat, dull tone. "Welcome back."

[Trigga]

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, in sure and certain hope of the resurrection…

...In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread

Till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken

For dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return…

It was cold, It was bitter. The essence of what was slowly washing from tide to tide, stroking fate’s gentle face and kissing her sweet lips. For what was can’t exist in both plains, and while the soul is perpetual, the body is nothing more than a vessel. Once designed, it can’t harbor its precious paragon and without its vessel, the jewel of ineffable wealth cannot continue its journey through life.

He was cold, yet he lacked felling. His eyes shed tears, yet depression had all but settled. His eyes could see all, yet he could not interact. Reaching out without feeling in his limb, his hand, outstretched, grasped at nothing. Falling endlessly into the depths of the ocean, Ryūsuke, though drowning, couldn’t feel it—he couldn’t feel anything.

“So this must be what death feels like..”

Nothing. As he continued to sink into the hereafter, his life forfeited by negligence, the boy was at peace. Having accepted his destiny, he could finally rest. His efforts on the planet all but finished, there was no returning from where he was going. Hopefully, one day someone, something would continue what he started; his pilgrimage for peace all but finished and his objective not ascertained, he couldn’t do nothing else. The lively, almost seductive red of his family’s Kekkei-Genkai fading from presence and allowing the natural magnetism of golden amber, the light in his eyes soon faded as well.

Numb and without an emotion to spare, the Uchiha would fade to black. Until…

“Hmm?” His throat violently grasped without restraint, he was pulled. This force unknown, though a voice as familiar as any other, the blue-haired entity of the afterlife found himself tugged from the nadirs of hell. Fast-moving and with purposeful intent, Ryūsuke swiftly moved towards the surface; the feeling once lost slowly returning to his body as his sight gradually grew in strength. This ride of sorts restoring all absent sensations, it wasn’t until heappeared did he actually utter anything as the shadow over him grew in substance.

“Its cold..” And he meant it literally.

His body, bear and without fortification, the Uchiha now rested in a bed of white. His eyes slowly, gradually adjusting to the entry of new light as his skin tingled under every bitter, brittle touch, he looked up at the armor man who stood just feet away. Still weak and unwilling to move for the time being, he had one thing to say.

”W-where am I?

[NARRATOR]

"The world of the living," Kouketsu replied dryly to the reborn Uchiha. The King of Hell had spent quite some time devouring Ryuusuke's battered corpse, sowing its torn flesh and tattered muscles together again with thick, ropy threads of saliva with each chew; breathing life into every cell with every exhale. Minutes turned to hours, and hours turned to days before he was finally able to find the wayward warrior's soul amongst the sea of countless others and regurgitate him into the barren wastes of Yuki no Kuni.

Kouketsu's Rinnegan seemed to be burning with an intensity that, as a survivor of the assault on Konohagakure, Ryuusuke would remember all too well. "I don't recall giving you permission to die, Ryuusuke." Slightly tilting his head, and crossing his arms once more, his expression remained dull. "And until I do, you will remain alive."

Glancing off to the West, his eyes pierced the veil of snow, darkness and distance. "You're far too important to my son to foolishly throw your life away like that," he continued to say. "You're more of a father to Ashura then I ever was, or can be. I passed that charge to you a long time ago, Ryuusuke; the day that they were born." Slowly, Kouketsu's gaze fell back to the debilitated body before him.

"I don't expect we'll be meeting like this again." Kneeling down, Kouketsu forcibly grabbed Ryuusuke's face. While he would not feel any drastic changes, or immediate alterations, they happened. Pushing him back by his head, Kouketsu stood. "A gift."

With a burst of wind and snow, he vanished. But in his stead were a full pair of clothes, and sandals. Ryuusuke would have to find his own way back home, to his son.

[Trigga]

And as If he never existed, Kōketsu- the man that had caused the boy such pain and heartache—yet giving him a single and worthwhile happiness, ceased to stand in presence. Eyes weakly opening to peer into a blanket of white that ascended even into the heavens, The Uchiha struggled to take a full stand. His legs wobbled, buckling before collapsing into the snow, he winced. It’s like I have to reteach myself how to walk, he thought to himself aimlessly lost in his own cognition as his eyes burned holes into the bed of snow he was rested in. Palms clenching at the white particles as if reclaiming feeling in his limbs, he smiled weakly.

Standing, stretching each individual toe as they dug into the cradle beneath, his arms soon followed suit. Looking over to his side, at the pile of clothing and accessories let behind by his savior of sorts, he grinned. Allowing his bearings to once again find sanction beneath warm embraces, he garbed himself and new-found warmth tainted his senses.

“You couldn’t have given me anything valued more than that boy, Kōketsu.” Whatever it was, this gift the man without a new title had instilled into the Uchiha, Ashura was worth infinitely more. And with that in mind, he knew what he had to do. Someone was—albeit ignorantly—waiting for him.

Sighing to himself, he gathered his thoughts and made haste—at least in the direction he felt he the right way. “I’m coming home, Ashura.” He spoke modestly in tone as he trekked through the ocean of white and into the distance. Hopefully he found find himself along the way, as well as the child he had raised and cared for.