Isolation
He doesn’t remember what happened before he woke up from his tent. Groggy eyed and confused, he had crawled his way out of the cloth and tarp to find himself in konahagakure’s forest. Or at least what was supposed to be Konahagakure’s forest, but something was wrong, warped. The air had a bizarrely pink shimmer to it and tasted, tasted like something sweet? He wasn’t sure how he would describe it otherwise, it almost like the aftertaste sitting on the back of his tongue; like when Hashirama convinced him to try one of the sweets someone had given him. He would never admit it, but he had treasured it; and not for the reasons one would think. He ignored the ping he felt from the memory, there was much more to worry about.
Scouting around the area, revealed little. Though the escapade aloud his head to clear from the fogginess that had ensnared him when he woke up. He vaguely remembers taking the mission to find out what was in the middle of a pink sphere, numbly following other nin that had volunteered to enter as well. He remembers stopping before it, wondering if this was the best course of action, but he had already made his decision to take the mission and he wouldn’t back down. Whatever awaited him inside was a far better fate than that he would leave or so he told himself.
There wasn’t a trace of the other nin that had been with him at the start, so instead he plans for his next course in action; he tries to make a clone to send back, to perhaps report what has happened or look for the others, though there’s a creeping sensation in this spine whispering that it’s a lost cause. At first it works, the shadow giving him a nod before something bizarre happens. One second it’s staring at him the next it’s almost as if the clone is dissolving, it looks panicked before disappearing. He never receives the chakra back from it; he decides to abandon the idea completely.
It’s mid day, by the time he’s packed up the tent and the gear nearby. He hadn’t walked in with any and it would be a waste not to take it with him, especially with the owner long gone. He doesn’t recognize it belonging with the group he had been with; the tent an olive green made of waterproof fabric, a black bag packed with dried fruits, nuts, and some hard thin crackers, and some other various supplies like a compass and flint to start a fire. He would’ve scoffed at even touching it before now but a gut feeling told him it would be better to not even attempt any jutsus while here.
He pulls out the compass after attempting to sense any chakra but the whole forest scrambles all types of sensory abilities might of used. The compass unhelpfully spins in circles, spinning one way then doing a quick switch to spin the other way. He wants to let out a frustrated sigh but instead looks to the sky radiating pink. The sun is a big white spot shining brightly but oddly doesn’t hurt to look directly at it. He chalks it up to be the dome refracting light; perhaps refracting chakra. Turning the compass till it faces east towards the sun, he orientates himself to face what must be north or south and starts walking.
It’s nearly nightfall when he spots a structure in the dying pink rays, almost as if it’s on fire. Stepping closer, he realizes it’s a little shack, perhaps once a home, but now half of its structure crumbling to the ground with winding colorful flowers attempting suffocate it. The flowers themselves are gorgeous, sporting a variety of shapes and forms, a myriad of the rainbow; he gently lets a little white bloom rest on his black glove. Though it was different, it’s similar to the flower a little girl had given to Hashirama months ago. The flower tucked behind his ear, Hashirama,himself smiling at him, gently taking him by the wrist pulling him to the next destination. He lets the flower drop. The memory hurts.
Night has fallen by the time he’s started a small fire within the structure; the smoke curling, twisting out of the collapsed roof. His tent sits little aways, it’s opening facing the collapsed side and single doorway he entered through earlier. It's back and side to the most stable of the walls. He places another berry into his mouth, savoring the taste, watching the sky above. The dome shimmers a warm blue, specs of it almost twinkling like itself had stars. A hazy white orb hangs high, the phase of the moon unknown, glittering as if it was a precious stone than rock. Little noise comes from the surrounding area, only the crackling of boiled water in wood, some might find it eerie, he finds it soothing.
Darkness had swallowed the area when he wakes up outside of his tent, beside the dead fire. Slowly rising he turns towards open area, letting his eyes to focus on the the dark blue shades of the plants and trees. A wave of sleepiness fogs his mind, something whispering in the back of his mind to sleep once more. Laying down once again, his head pillowing against his hair and bag, he stares up again at the sky, smiling. If later he imagines a warm hand softly carding through his hair, he’ll relax into it before drifting back to slumber.
It’s mid morning when the streams of light hit his face, making his nose and eyes twitch at the brightness before turning away. Slipping open, his eyes lock onto a few long blades of grass near one of the walls, the fungus a bright orange and white contrasting with the peeling of plaster and dark wood. He gives it a few blinks before picking himself off the ground, feeling oddly rested despite having only his bag and hair as comforts. Dusting himself and his bag off, he pulls out some thin crackers nibbling on them. A sweet tangy taste clings to them, much like the air.
Concluding his breakfast, he turns back to his tent, only to find a multitude of lichen covers it, almost as if it were a large fuzzy blanket. Closer inspection reveals the inside is over run by bushels of green leafy plants and blooming flowers that appear to be different but grow on the same stem. Sighing he leans away, claiming it for a lost cause when he notices a blank spot obscured by some plants. Pushing them aside reveals a hand shaped area. A slithering cold spikes down his spine as he mindlessly hovers his hand over the area revealing the shape to be indeed a shape of a hand.
He quickly turns expecting someone or something to be behind him, only to see the area empty. Not a sound comes from inside or out, the forest quiet as if holding its breath. Something cold grips his lungs, not letting him to breath as he attempts to hear for something, anything. Nothing comes though. All is quiet till the woods breath again, the trees sashaying in the wind. Nothing else though. As if the wood only contained plants themselves and nothing more. Eventually his breathing calms much like the forest.
Glancing back at the print, he notes the hand is larger in width than his, the fingers stumpier than his long thin ones. The ground reveals more. Expecting footprints, he finds none than his own, but a thick line of sprouts leading to the tent. He follows it as it leads down to the spot he fell asleep. A wide ring of Sagisō had started to bloom. A sick feeling washes over him, remembering the soothing touch carding through his hair the night before.
Hesitantly he brings his hand to the spot he first felt it, unsure what he would find. Taking a breath he gently touches the area, touching something smooth, petal like. Carefully he grabs it, feeling as it’s stem slide across his ear till it was loose. Bringing it forth tells it to be a white Gardenia. The same flower the girl had given to Hashirama. Numbly he lets it fall to the ground.