Seven seconds

Shouto's birthday arrives on January 11th.

There's no party to celebrate, no balloons or fancy invitations, and the day seems as ordinary as any.

But there's only one difference today: Shouto wasn't dragged into the training room. No, Touya is the one taken in his place.

Shoto doesn't know if he should thank for it. Probably not. But when Endeavor doesn't show up at his bedroom door, yelling and hustling him to the training room, he feels relieved.

But when Touya comes back, he's stumbling and limping, covered in the smell of burning skin and with a dark bruise on his cheek. Shouto feels guilty.

Despite everything, the sound of footsteps against the wood of the closet is there, at the same time as usual. Ren seems to be in the middle of an argument, arguing something like "not having bad taste", "bad temper" and "stress".

Shouto doesn't understand anything about the argument itself, but who can understand Ren after all?

The discussion ended as quickly as it started. Ren approaches him, happy, and shows him the little box in his hands.

"Is that a bow?" Touya whispers, missing the Uchihas' comments, some of them unpleasant, others more amusing.

There is no real meanness in their words.

"It has a special meaning for him." Fumikage whispers back. Dark Shadow looks again at something its owner couldn't see.

"It's not that bad." The shadow says, and the Tokoyami agrees.

The phrase was not for him, however.

Only a month passes, and Shouto cries in his room.

It was a cold night, and Touya did his best to sneak into his brother's room without alerting anyone. Touya comforted him, hugged him tightly and stroked his hair. It was really cold...

He tried to ignore it as much as possible, but it was the undeniable truth, the truth so bitter he didn't want to swallow it: A thin layer of ice was beginning to cover his arm, enveloping his bandages and freezing his burns.

He remained silent, letting himself be frozen until Shouto realized for himself what was happening.

Touya looks at his hand. This hand could only bring fire, but can never bring ice. And that's why Enji no longer sees him as worthy of his time.

But that must be normal, right? The world has never been fair to him, never.

• • •

"I can't remember the last time I went to a market alone." Ren comments, placing the saltine cracker inside the blue basket. "It's something liberating, isn't it? Being able to walk freely through the corridors, without having to follow anyone..."

"You say that because you never ran free among the trees of a forest", Madara says with a smile, not as convinced as he intended; there is some affection hidden in his voice, "if one day you get enough chakra or train enough, you can do it."

"Ooooh, I can't wait for this!!"

Ren stands on tiptoe to push the nearly empty basket to the cashier. The attendant looks bored, passing the items through the scanner in a programmed movement, Ren couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes and the man's pale face.

He looks like a ghost.

"Excuse me." The older one stares at him, hands still running the items through the scanner.

"Hmm?"

"Have you been getting enough sleep the last few days?" His curiosity is sincere, and the attendant, faced with such a strange and sudden question, just blinks slowly and passes another item through the scanner.

"Excuse me?"

Madara just sighs.

"I thought it was important to ask, as you don't look very healthy. You have two very dark circles under your eyes, right here, and your skin is very pale."

"Oh, yeah... I haven't had a decent sleep in a while."

"This is very worrying!

You should try hard to sleep, you see, Madara sleeps very rarely and he's always grumpy, it would be terrible if you ended up like him."

"Now you little—"

"I have no idea who Madara is, but I will try to take your advice, little one." The young man offers her a polite smile.

"Thank you for listening to my words, I hope they do you good!"

A pleasant atmosphere remained between the two (not so pleasant for what was used as an example, he suddenly felt like sleeping), and the last item has been put in its place. The boy rests one hand over the other on the counter. The two face each other.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"... Hm... are your parents coming, little one?"

"I don't have parents."

"Oh... so... hm... ?"

"I'm not expecting anyone, I came alone."

"Oh yeah, I see... uh... in total it was thirty-"

"Uuuuh... what is this box? How beautiful~"

"Ren! What do you think you're doing? Get down there already!!!" Madara tries, in vain, to stop the boy was almost climbing the bench, his eyes fixed on the colored box near the attendant's feet.

"Hm? This? It's a box of tricks." He answers, bending down to pick it up. "I bought it last month."

"Trick box? Really? I've never seen one before!! It looks so cool!!!" Humming, still ignoring Madara in his natural state (angry to hell).

The boy seems to understand and appreciate the heartfelt animation. He looks around, smiling to see that Ren was the only one in line.

Opening the lid of the box, he takes out three cards from a perfectly arranged deck. The cards slide gracefully through the fingers, their painted sides facing the enchanted little boy.

"Would you like to see a magic trick?"

• • •

Sasuke felt dizzy when he woke up in his own bed.

He only realizes that this is reality when he sees his team.

Sakura apologizes for her messy appearance as she lets Naruto out of her choke. Together, the three walk towards the Ninja Academy.

Several people crowd in front of one of the rooms, curses, and whispers being uttered by the genin trying to get past the two boys who bar the door.

Sasuke claps Naruto on the shoulder before the idiot threw himself into the crowd. "This way."

And without saying anything else, he takes the left path. Naruto, confused, looks at Sakura; she, however, doesn't seem to share the confusion.

"Come on," she says, "this is not the right classroom."

• • •

Madara is not sure how he ended up having to stay inside that market for hours.

Well, Madara doesn't know a lot of things since he came to this world, so this isn't a new thing.

Ren has been on his little stool of honor ever since he became the spectator and number one fan of the great magician Sako.

"Amazing! Incredible! Magnificent!!" The boy cheers happily, clapping his hands as the water bottle disappears right in front of his eyes.

No, Madara has no idea how he ended up in this situation, but what he's left with now is to try to sleep and forget that the world exists.

• • •

"Fight me!" The boy in the green jumpsuit talks, almost screams. He ignores the shock on Sakura and Naruto's faces, his gaze still fixed on Sasuke. "My name is Rock Lee! And I want to fight you to test my techniques against this clan of genius ninjas!"

"What?" Sakura is the first to react, taking a step forward. "But why?!"

"I want to prove that hard work trumps natural gift!"

Sasuke almost lets out a laugh.

Training against natural gift? 'Training against natural gift?'

Sasuke remembers when he was little, his happy days, his golden days. He remembers when he was four years old, trying to follow the hand seals shown by his father, of the sensation of chakra being kneaded and molded for the first time, of the fire coming out of his mouth with a breath, of his tongue and fingers burning.

He did it again, and again, and again…but all he could see in his father's eyes was disappointment.

He wasn't like Itachi.

Sasuke trained, trained, trained. His body would cross boundaries and he would wake up in his bed, tired, achy and with Itachi beside him to comfort him. He could see his father's eyes peering at him through a crack in the half-open door. He looked worried. He looked guilty.

He remembers Shisui, how his smile was bright and his words radiated warmth, how he bent down beside him, explaining how to throw the kunai, and he succeeded. Shisui and Itachi were almost always together, watching him train, he was so cheerful, so contagious, so loving-

Then Shisui died.

Dad was angry, and Itachi was distraught at being named as a suspect in Shisui's death. So Dad took him to train.

He remembers, chakra draining, ankle-twisting, sweat dripping, breath gasping, limbs shaking...

At the end of the day, he couldn't look his father in the eye, and the two of them walked home in silence.

He wasn't like Itachi.

Sasuke trained as hard as he could, just to see the sincere pride in his father's eyes, that pride Mom said he felt. Sasuke did everything he could to be like Itachi.

And then, Itachi betrayed them.

"Don't speak like that to Sasuke-kun!" Sakura protests.

His sharingan, his cherished natural gift, preserved the image of the corpses strewn across the street. As beautiful as a camera flash, the single tomoe swiveled through the red and caught the blood dripping from the hole in Mom and Dad's chests.

His eyes were half-open as he entered, but the only ones that still had life were Itachi's.

He was looking deep into his soul.

The sharingan lights up scarlet red as he cries, one of his fingernails falls off as he tries to rip off the bloody tatami, and the tomoe spins and spins gracefully, capturing every drop of blood.

But no matter how much time passes, he never wakes up from this nightmare. He never wakes up from this eternal genjutsu.

The moon glows red outside.

'Do you want me to join you, Mom? Dad?'

So tired... so exhausted... he barely has the strength to shove the kunai down his throat as Itachi looks at him...

Just a natural gift.

"Let's get this over with quickly."

In the end, no one cares what he's feeling, and he's too exhausted to try to put those pains into words that make sense.

The world was never fair to him, after all.

• • •

Between one trick and another, a customer arrives and the show is interrupted. Not everyone appreciates magic, and not everyone shows up in a good mood to take their groceries to the checkout.

It's exhausting work. There are so many rude and impatient people that Ren got tired of counting; it seemed like a kind of sacrifice to give the attendant a polite smile.

Madara on the other hand counted all forty-eight grumpy amidst his incredible boredom; he wasn't like Ren, far from it actually, and he didn't lose count once.

The tricks were too simple, too silly. Madara was not a child, his eyes, trained from the cradle to the battlefields, could not be deceived by simple nimble hands. Even so, he was prevented from meditating because of an insistent child.

Just pitiful.

But being prevented from meditating was not a waste of time, at least not completely. Madara noticed the objects being turned into small gems, and without a doubt, that was linked to Atsuhiro's Quirk.

It's been a while since he's seen an interesting quirk...

"Next time I'll bring my friends with me!" Ren speaks while saying goodbye. "I'm sure they'll love it!"

"I will be waiting, then."

• • •

The first phase of the chunin exam had been…acceptable. A written exam, and Sasuke felt Naruto's despair from beginning to end.

But he passed, they passed. Now... the second phase shows its claws.

It is only during the night that the three find an opportunity to rest.

The hiding place is an old tree with rotten roots. They tear off the bark with the help of a blade and insects crawl out or climb inside. It's not spacious or comfortable, just... usable.

Sakura cowers in the left corner. It's where there are fewer insects, and also where you have a good view of the outside through the crack in the entrance. She tries her best not to look at Sasuke.

She fails many times, and whenever she fails, she trembles.

Naruto is also quiet, pulling out a piece of the rotten bark and burying the scroll there, it's easy to take out but hard to find, looks good enough. He is between the two teammates, and he moves uncomfortably now and then.

He doesn't look to the right.

Sasuke doesn't have the best view of where he is, but it still makes his other senses alert. Madara's sensory training was torture, and it remains difficult to feel the environment with just chakra. He tries his best anyway.

'Sasuke is still covered in blood, splattered on his bracelets, spurted on his shirt, made the soles of his feet sticky against his sandal. Two shallow cuts mark his cheek on the right side, but nothing more.

Sasuke killed him, the intruder who used the Transformation Jutsu to disguise himself as Naruto. When he insisted on following them, Sasuke shoved the kunai into his neck and blood spurted out of him like a red fountain.

Sasuke clutches the kunai in his hand, it's still covered in blood, but he, for some reason, can't let go. He clings to the kunai as if his life depended on it, and they ran through the Forest until nightfall.

That was his first murder, and his hands refuse to shake.'

"I think they stopped following us," Naruto whispers, "I'll keep watch first."

And with a brief nod from his friends, he's gone, the sound of his shadow clones coming from just above.

Silence returns, and there's a tense moment where they try to hear any wrong move coming from outside as if Naruto and his clones could be neutralized by their pursuers at any second.

... Nothing happens.

"Rest," Sasuke interrupts what Sakura was about to say, "we'll have to switch places to watch for the night."

"... Right."

Sasuke leans against the moss and, in the silence, falls asleep.

• • •

Just as promised, Ren took Fumikage and the Todoroki brothers to the market (and this time he gave a brief warning before taking them, and yes, Madara is considering this as a breakthrough).

But it wasn't until he noticed the magician's individuality that he stopped pretending disinterest and began to pay close attention.

"What are they saying?" Fumikage whispers as his friend turns to see the invisible friends once more.

"They're arguing about how Atsuhiro's Quirk works." And the two don't even bother to scold him for his gossipy attitude.

"Oh... I see..." And Fumikage seems to notice that Ren called the man by his first name with great joy.

Apparently, people with magic tricks up their sleeves have some favoritism here.

Shoto's eyes shine like beacons under the tricks, no matter how simple were.

Atsuhiro seems to enjoy the gasps of admiration and all the attention he's getting from the kids. They are a great audience.

And the manager... is glaring at them several times, but we can save that problem for later.

• • •

"Listen carefully, Ren," Madara begins, sitting on the floor with his legs crossed, his spine very straight, "It's something important, so don't get distracted. Come, sit down, save this book of yours for later."

Ren does as he is asked, sitting across from the Uchiha and putting on the most polite posture possible. "I'm listening, go ahead!"

"It's been a while since we came to this place..." He stops, thinks about something, then corrects himself: "Since we were brought to this place without our permission, and you still haven't made any progress in sending us back home, or am I wrong?"

"No, you're right..." He admits with the calm of a monk. "But I've been researching a lot of things during this time, you know?"

"Something about our situation, I hope."

"It is! To be more precise, I was looking for some way to give you a body that can interact with this world, so that you are no longer ghosts." Madara puts his hand to his chin as he hears it.

"Well... can't say this is a bad idea, I'm tired of being just a... ghost." For one more life.

"Oh, I've been researching other things too!" He opens the panel and, for a small second, forgets that the Uchiha couldn't see it. "It's about your world!"

"And what would that be?"

"I was reading the story there, I mean... the story described in the archives follows a protagonist, whose name is Naruto." Madara gives a slight nod to show he's been listening, and Ren notices his interest judging by his sudden mood. "And the story tells about you too!"

"Oh, really?" He asks, sarcastic. "Let me guess... does history say I'm a villain? A madman? A cold-blooded killer who doesn't care about anything or anyone?"

"Yeah, that too." Ren is immune to any drop of this sarcasm, however. "But it says something about the Eye of the Moon Plan, way back at the end of the story... what is it?"

A serious and grim expression covers Madara's face. "Listen up, brat, you shouldn't mention this around Sasuke, not yet, got it?"

Ren nods vigorously.

• • •

Sasuke heard someone calling his name that morning.

A distant whisper, as if coming from the surface of a lake while he himself was deep. It echoed in his head again, the beautiful sight of the white clouds against the sunny sky rippled, rippled, rippled...

"Teme, come on, wake up, it's your turn!" And he wakes up.

Sasuke can see Naruto's blue eyes staring back at him in the darkness, and as he moves out of hiding, he grips the bloodied kunai tighter.

• • •

"Sounds like a…complex idea." It was Ren's final comment as he finished reading the character line file. "But tell me…are you sure this would work?"

"Yes", Madara responds instantly, "this is the only way to bring peace to the world!"

"Hmm...see, I'm not very smart..." Ren closes the panel, turning slowly to the Uchiha. "But... I don't think this idea is a very good one... I mean... If all bodies were trapped in Tsukuyomi and all people living in the dream world... then wouldn't there come a day when all bodies would die and humanity would be extinct?"

"Hm, this is a problem to be solved." Madara confesses, and he, for some reason that torments him, has no trouble accepting it.

'There is no longer that voice whispering about the Infinite Tsukuyomi all the time in his mind.'

"Also... if Tsukuyomi is linked to the moon, then a part of the world would be beyond the reach of hypnosis, and your world seems pretty hostile, doesn't it? Couldn't other countries take advantage of the situation? With everyone asleep?" Ren suddenly seems very interested in finding trouble with that supposedly perfect plan. "And from what I could see... there was a big twist at the end of the story involving your plan, what was the name again? Plot? Plot twist? I think this is the correct name... but I still need to read a lot of battle descriptions to get to this part..." He then watches Madara more closely and with a twinge of curiosity. "One of the most detailed battles is yours!"

"That's natural," Madara says, that same lack of need to silence the voice of one who criticizes the moon plan covering him as a whole. It's weird and liberating at the same time. "You have no idea how powerful I am on the battlefield."

"You're right, but I think I can see some recordings and images… anyway, would you like to tell me yourself?"

• • •

Half a year passes. Trees and flowers color the city with the arrival of spring. Half a year passes. Trees and flowers color the city with the arrival of spring. Madara feels relieved that winter is over, even though he can't really feel the cold of the snow. And Sasuke... well, he looks agitated.

He... they passed the second phase of the chunin exam. Orochimaru almost branded him with the cursed seal. His body still aches from the memory of being thrown against the rocks, and his blood still boils at how weak he feels.

Then the third phase began. The battle against Yoroi... was acceptable, he thinks. His anger moved along with the chakra, and his enemy's hot blood fell again under his kunai blade...

This time he didn't kill.

Now he should train, there was a month before the next battle. And Madara will train him for it... Kakashi too.

• • •

If Kakashi had seemed suspicious of him before, then now he was about to pull him into any corner and interrogate him.

"How did you feel at that time?" Kakashi asks once the two are alone. "When you killed him."

It was… a surprise to learn that Kakashi cared about that. An even bigger surprise when the advice came from someone so... broken?

Ren is uninterested in Sasuke's personal affairs, at least for the moment.

"You look beautiful!" He responds, touching the perfectly arranged curls with his tiny hands. "As beautiful as the little flower that grows in the backyard!"

Rosita laughs at his comment, stroking Ren's hair. "Thanks, little one, it took a lot of work to leave it like this."

Rosita's hair was short, barely reaching her shoulders. She cut it off a year ago, "I don't have time to take care of longer hair," she explained when Kiki looked shocked to see her without her usual ponytail.

Ren was fine with that, still the same amazing and hardworking Rosita!

"Will you go somewhere?" Kiki approaches too, very carefully touching the soft curls of her hair.

He doesn't seem bothered anymore to have Ren by his side.

"Yes... I was thinking..." she pauses for a moment, looking at the floor. "I was thinking about… going to visit my family."

"... Oh." Ren blinks. "Well, I hope it all works out!"

"Of course it will work!" Kiki exclaims with a pout. "Rosi is amazing, there's no way anyone can't love her! And if they don't, I'm going to go there and kick their ass!"

"Kids..." Madara mumbles, shaking his head. Sasuke says nothing, but seems to share Kiki's spirit.

Rosita just laughs and strokes the boy's hair, taking the beret aside for a moment.

"I'm leaving early because of this, so if you can't find me, don't worry."

"What time?"

"Hm... I think ten at night."

"That's pretty late!" Ren comments, and the boy next to him agrees.

"Yeah, it's a little. But what about you, Ren? Are you going to be out late today? I don't think it's much use for me to tell you to come back early..."

"I'm sorry, but yes. Today is my birthday, and I'd like to take my friends to a very special place!"

"Oh yes, I almost forgot!"

"Birthday?" Kiki looks between the two, confused. "But wasn't your birthday in August?!"

"No, they put the wrong date for my birthday in this place! Rosita, Kiki... would you like to come with me? Just like I told you, the place I'm going is really beautiful!"

"I can't," she says regretfully, "I have to tidy up the rooms and take care of the kids."

"And I will help!" Kiki announced, hugging Rosita's arm.

"Yeah, next time we'll go and we'll have a lot of fun, okay?" Kiki agrees with her with a nod.

As he walks away, Ren sees Nekko scowling at his cell phone: "He's called me forty-seven times since this morning, forty-seven times!"

"Block his number," the cook replies with a frown.

"I already blocked it! But he always comes back with a new one!"

"Then turn off your cell!"

"What an insufferable guy! My phone will be useless because of this bastard!"

"It's not always that cell phone is a good thing..." Ren whispers to the Uchihas watching the scene, "but most of the time it's amazing, you know?"

As he closes the door, he gets the last glimpse of Rosita walking around the room. She still looks a little nervous, but Kiki is bouncy as he walks beside her, humming and talking to her.

They look happy together.

Maybe Rosita could adopt Kiki... and if she was willing to put up with Ren too, then... then...

It would be amazing.

• • •

"Your birthday is today, isn't it?" Fumikage sits on the smooth stone.

"Yes, at eleven o'clock at night!!" Ren smiles softly, seeing a beautiful red flower fall from its branch and gently walk towards him.

"Oh, we should do something special." Shouto comments, still standing in his seat.

"We're already doing something special, we're in this beautiful place! Oh, hello!!" He waves to the blond boy who was spying on them from behind the fence of one of the houses, and with a brief smile, he dares to wave back, then quickly flees in the opposite direction. Ren lets out a long breath, turning back to look at his friends. "That's quite a breakthrough, isn't it? Before he just ran away, now he waves and runs away! Soon we can be friends!"

"...Why does the way you said it seems ironic?" Sasuke asks with the purest of curiosity.

It's a blessing that Shouto and Fumikage have noted the special date on their calendars on Autumn's day, as the way things were going, Ren would spend another year without notifying them beforehand.

The three talk about this very topic for twenty minutes, and pressure Ren into a little celebration (which would come a day late) for this very important thing: His six-year-old birthday!

"Fumikage will bring the apple pie... Shouto will bring the lasagna..." Ren meditates aloud, already leaving the square and walking along the beautiful orange path that led to the orphanage. "And I'll have to take the juice, right?"

"Yea." Sasuke is being very helpful as a living list. "And it must be more than a jar."

"Oh... I wasn't really thinking about how I could actually do that, you know? Where am I supposed to find money to buy fruit to make the juice? Rosita can't lend it to me again, it would bother her..."

"Don't you have that powdered juice thing? Isn't that the same thing?" Madara comments, sincerely trying to get interested in that birthday thing.

He's failed at that for the last few years. He will do his best on this one.

"Yes, yes... but the powdered juice is in the kitchen, and the kitchen is locked! I could buy the juice at the store, but I don't have any more money... oh, life is so complicated!"

"If you tell Sako it's your birthday, he can give you the powdered juice." Sasuke wisely suggests. "The way he is, he might even get you some candy."

"Ooooh! Yeah, that's a great idea! I'll go first thing in the morning!"

Today had been a long and tiring day because of all the little "party" planning, but still, it was fun.

As he ran hurriedly on his short legs towards his house (if that place could be called that), a trail lay behind, with the separate leaves tracing a path. He couldn't be more grateful to Fuyumi, who took the time to buy him these amazing winter boots for his last birthday; his feet stayed warm inside his soft furry inner boots, which looked a lot like the furry leather of a fluffy dog (even though Fuyumi confirmed that this wasn't coming from a dog, she was shocked when she heard this from Ren, actually).

Winter seemed to have come earlier this year, and when he looked up at the sky, he mistook the tiny snowflakes for the stars.

They were few, but they were cold and majestic, falling with a grace that made Madara's heartthrob with cruel memories.

But Ren? He was enchanted again, enchanted by the beauty in the moonlight reflecting off those little snowflakes that fell among the orange leaves.

But his childish, smiling face twisted in disgust when he saw the commotion in front of the orphanage. Cars and more cars were there, there are also a lot of people, some wearing police uniforms; farther away, inquisitive neighbors craned their necks out of windows or sauntered blatantly closer to the commotion to find out what was going on.

Sasuke slowly counts how many vehicles there were, one, two, three...seven police cars, and two ambulances.

Ren, with his small body and even smaller size, slipped between the policemen's legs with a long-running practice, his footsteps muffled by his light manner; it was already nine o'clock, and the only light came from the bright, blaring sirens of police cars that made loud noises that bothered the child's sensitive ears.

Covering the entire area were tapes of bright yellow with black stripes, keeping the curious away and preventing anyone without authorization from advancing. It would take long legs to climb over these tapes, which stretched out and reached the orange cones or wrapped around some of the old fence boards, or some minimal experience jumping over fences without spearing the ends of them.

But Ren wasn't an adult, he was a child. His size was helping him once more as he just bent down and slipped under the two tapes that were stretched out in an 'X' shape, the leg passing through the third that was almost glued to the floor and the hand pushing any one of them that was above the head.

'Force of habit', he thought as he took the first step on the smooth stone road before Madara and Sasuke could say anything about him going through places he obviously shouldn't.

"I feel… something terrible is going to happen…" Sasuke mutters, not with ordinary dismay, but with worry and the feeling of having a ton lodged in his chest.

Still with hurried and distracted steps, he walked along the cobblestone path. It looked as if it had just been swept away, as did the grass, which was always yellow and brown; there were very few dry leaves, which were smart enough to stay out of the sweeping eyes, or which were blown away by the wind and ended up landing there.

Halfway there, he took the old silver key out of his pocket, the little thing flew sideways at the movement coming from Ren's bouncy gait and came back, crashing into the ducky keyring that had been painted black. It caused a low noise, but still louder than his footsteps were being, maybe the soles of his boots were soft and had this silent effect?

This sound, however, was enough to catch the attention of a man next door.

Ren stood on tiptoe, and with an expert flick of his fingers, slipped the key into the lock, turning it and then pulling it out, disappointed that the door was already unlocked, which made the key not turn all the way around. That had been simply unsatisfactory!

He did all of that, and only in the first second.

Because the next, the door was being opened.

Ren could feel everything. He could feel the tiny teeth of the key pressing against his skin, making him itch. He felt the black duckling moving and tapping lightly against his wrist. He felt how time seemed to freeze along with the snowflakes that were still falling.

The man who heard him widened his tired black eyes; his skin, which was already pale for some reason (cold? Afraid? Some scare that came before his arrival? Ren wouldn't know, much less now, that he hadn't noticed yet) turned even whiter.

"Oy! Don't come in!" His voice called out with undisguised panic, his hand, covered by the black fingerless glove, was lifting towards him.

In the third second, the man next to him was at the start of a fast run, his black hair, which had already reached a few inches below his shoulders and flowed wavy down the ribbons around his neck (ribbons that looked a lot like the scarf Shoto wore last week, apart from the fact that this one was clearly not knitted), now were flying backward because of the sudden movement. Some police and curious eyes were turning to him, trying to understand what was going on.

The frown on Madara's face was getting even deeper into his face. Sasuke was tense, the bad feeling invading his body, making his stomach turn in terrible nausea and his heart pounding, the worst thing: it was a familiar feeling.

And as the fourth second began, the man was only two steps away from reaching the little boy, but he struggled to narrow that distance to just one step as he pushed forward.

"Stop!" He said it out loud, but Ren happily ignored him. His mind was far, far away from this door and this backyard, parked next to Fumikage's promise to bring him a caramel apple pie. And even if he understood the words, he wouldn't take them seriously, for there were too many people in this place, why would the man be speaking fair to him, someone so easily forgettable, silly, and ignorant? Puff! Bullshit!

The cops and heroes around, with quicker minds than the civilians, finally noticed what was happening and started moving too. Sasuke reached into the pocket of his shorts, near his right knee, and withdrew a kunai; his body was moving with his instincts, completely forgetting that he was now a ghost and could do nothing.

Fifth second.

The door was wide open.

And Ren gazes at the view of the living room.

Red. An endless expanse of crimson red.

Two people down, a man and a woman. Two people he noticed in the first instant. It was Rosita, Ren knew from her hair, her curls were simple but beautiful and lovely, she'd done it this morning, he'd helped her with that, he'd touched the curls after they were done. The man was the receptionist (Grenn was his name?), he knew by his face, cut in half and covered in dark liquid, the only eye in sight open and glazed in his direction, the blue ocean from before turning dull, gray.

And there's blood everywhere.

There is blood in Rosita's hair. There's blood on Grenn's shoes. There's blood on the beret that Kiki always kept close to him, no matter the situation (and it was red now, not navy blue, but he recognized it anyway). There is blood on the stairs and on the banister, on the walls, on the rug, in the hallway that leads to the kitchen, towards the newly opened door. There's a pool of blood right in the middle of the living room where the bodies are.

It's everywhere.

In the sixth second, Ren notices the fingers, dismembered and separated from the hands, of different sizes and scattered across the floor. There is a foot that no one knows who owns it next to Rosita's beautiful curls. There's something like a forearm next to Grenn's head (or what's left of it). There's a stray, lone hand near the stairs, lying on the third step as there's blood and more blood pouring out of it and around it. And there is mud. Something disgusting that was wet by the red, mixing in the liquid with such a characteristic smell, but it's mud, Ren knows, for there's a lot of him alone by the nightstand, where the blue vase that housed the field flowers picked two days ago had fallen, shattering on the ground, leaving the white petals smeared with this mud in the form of footprints.

There are too many limbs and blood to be just two people.

A corpse's legs are at the entrance to the kitchen.

Chaos ensues at the entrance of every room.

Ren feels a hand holding him, pulling him to the side, then his feet are leaving the ground, and he drifts away, reality rippling, rippling, rippling...

The man with the long, white bandages around his neck had managed to take the other necessary step.

The world spins, Ren realizes, spins to the left, but that's not right; Ren is nineteen years old, fourteen in the other life and five in this one, twenty, if he counted his birthday that it would be in a few hours, at eleven at night, and in all these twenty years the Earth has turned discreetly, never letting its inhabitants notice any difference. So maybe he was the one turning, with the man carrying him quickly and pushing him away from the door.

He catches a glimpse of Rosita's face now that he's in a higher position. It's only a moment, and she seems to be watching him, seems to be looking deep inside him. There is no shine, there is no life, there is nothing.

She seemed happy with Kiki earlier.

As the seventh second arrives, the man turns his whole body in a quick maneuver, burying the child's face against his chest, where his warm, cinnamon-tea-scented black coat greeted him, blocking the view between him and the living room.

There are voices, the man holding him is saying something too, but Ren doesn't understand them very well. Seconds ago, the only red in his thoughts was far away, parked on Fumikage's promise, it was the innocent red of the apples that would come in the caramel pie, with the refreshment he would take, maybe cherry or strawberry. But now… it was dark, slimy, a puddle of it that spread everywhere inside the orphanage, forming a river that reflected the image of the corpses.

Madara pulls the gunbai from his back, perhaps he has also forgotten that he is a ghost and is only moving by instinct or force of habit from a lifetime within the war in the previous world. A hand is stroking Ren's back, most likely from the man holding him, as the cops haven't gotten to him yet, the closest one still needs a step to do so. Sasuke is tenser than ever, taking a step back and almost falling, as if the sight reminds him of something...

It was seven seconds, exactly seven seconds, and Ren is pretty sure he saw the hellish picture of the living room to the last thousandth of it.

'Maybe Rosita could adopt Kiki... and if she was willing to put up with Ren too, then... then...

It would be amazing.'

Seven seconds, just seven seconds for his whole life to burn like hell.