Categories > Anime/Manga > Naruto > The Moonlight Clan
The End part II
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I resurface as the memory cuts off. Raising my eyes, I see the moon above me has changed position. With an expression somewhere between a grin and a grimace, my spirit body leaps up and disappears from my mindscape, throwing me back into the real world.
Ack! I try and hold back the coughs that start up once I’m back in the present, cursing ever having trusted that damned messenger that showed up this morning. Bastard had opened that scroll right in my face and the dust that came out must have been poisoned. I resist the overwhelming urge to bang my head against the floor, at least that explains why I had been practically comatose when those traitorous guards stormed in.
Ignoring my protesting body and muttering several choice words, I drag myself to my knees before pushing onto my feet. Okay, so that took more energy and effort than it should have, but it’s not the time to let it bother me. A wobbly glance out the window shows that time has indeed past, but not enough time.
Sigh. I suppose my internal clock is still set for Kirigakure, since I had returned from that diplomatic mission only three days ago. God. Only three days when it feels as though years have passed. No, focus.
Setting my jaw, I force my un-cooperative body to twist towards the door so that I can concentrate my weakened energies. My aura was still working on breaking down the poison (never trusting a messenger ever again!) so I only had less than half my normal power and I can’t use it perfectly because of that damnitable poison. All meaning anything I try to do is going to be difficult…and probably painful. I feel the soft growl that leaves my throat is warranted.
First things first, a sloppy pulse of energy shows me that Akio-san is indeed locked up, but other than that has only a few bruises for his troubles. Good. I realize I had been worried about him, so the knowledge that he’s all right lifts a small weight from my shoulders. I can also see that the guards are still there, though since I’m using aura and not chakra they can’t sense me, and there is another guard next to Akio-san’s door.
I had originally though it odd that they would use these rooms in the south wing of the Kazekage building, but now I realize the rooms here are perfect for holding incapacitated prisoners without letting anyone else know they were there.
This part of the building hasn’t been in regular use in years, the previous Kazekage having no use for it at the end of his reign and the present one avoiding it like the plague for his own reasons.
Great, just great.
And from what I understand of the whole situation, practically all of Suna’s shinobi are out looking for/rescuing the current Kazekage, so there was no help coming for a good long time.
That’s just perfect.
Unfortunately, at this point my legs seem to give up the farce of keeping me standing and I get a chance to reacquaint myself with the floor. Blowing a strand of hair from my face, I try to get up again but a shooting pain in my head stops that action. Ugh. Okay, looks like I’m staying grounded. Angry and just a little desperate, I glare kunai at the ceiling until finally the strain gets to be too much and I sag onto the hard floor.
With little else to do (as I was in no condition to sneak past any guards at the moment), I push myself up, scoot backwards with my hands until my back rests against the wall just under the window, and let my eyes close.
Sinking back into my mindscape, I take a moment to enjoy the silence before dipping my hand into the silvery energies again. It’s just as the memory takes hold that I realize that going through my past might not have been the best decision ever.
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“Come ooooon ZuZu-chaaaaan, why can’t I sleep more than four hours at a time? You know I’m always up late!”
“Becauuuuuse TsuTsu-chaaaaan,” she mocked, “you never want to go anywhere fun in the mornings, and unless I wake you up, you won’t get up at all!”
“But that’s not the point!”
Ah yes, the ever present argument between the two Light Clans. It really was their only disagreement, so I guess we should count ourselves lucky (though it’s hard to see the bright side of anything at five AM). We continued to fight, though it was merely to pass the time now as I had already gotten up and started to get dressed. Kaachan didn’t even try and separate us as we nearly came to blows over breakfast, nor did Father say anything as he walked with us to school on his way to the Main Hall, where many of the Clan Leaders spent their days. It wasn’t until we entered the school that anyone took any interest.
“Just because you get some freakish energy from the friggin sun, doesn’t mean I can just pop out of bed at dawn!” I glared at her, though held back any chakra.
“Oh! And how do you think I feel when you keep me up all night watching the friggin moon and stars!”
“You don’t even watch! You fall asleep anyway!”
“Then stop staying up so late!”
“Sure, if you stop waking up so early!”
We both noticed someone had approached us, and good thing too since all that lighting was about to burn down the school. Both of us glance up, shaken from our thoughts, and to see that it’s that man from Suna. Baki-Sensei was looking at us with a mixture of surprise, interest, and confusion in his aura, though his face betrayed nothing.
Point to me. Tsuki 2 Baki-Sensei 0.
A small sound of amusement from sensei brought me back to Earth.
“Is there a problem here, ladies?” Ohhh, minus point for Sensei for mocking our gender. I feel Mizu start to swell with Righteous Female Furry, so I figure it’s time to get a handle on the situation.
“N-no sir, we were simply having a…d-disagreement. P-please excuse us if we were being t-too loud.” I dip into small bow as Kaachan taught me, keeping my annoyance in with a little difficulty. My violent tendencies have really come to the front now that Mizu and I were in Third year, which was really our fourth year of shinobi training since there’s the Beginning Class that all students must take.
“You two will be late for class soon,” he finally growls out, though it was more that his voice just sounds that way. I thank him before dragging Mizu down the hallway.
“You, with the eyes, what is your name?” His voice stops me before I fully comprehend his words. I glance back at him, confused, he wants to know so that he can check what bloodline I have. Wait, how did I know that? Shaking my head in annoyance (I still can’t control that damn mind-reading!), I decide it would be better to ignore him altogether and continue dragging Mizu to class. She just sticks out her tongue at Baki and pulls down her eye-lid.
“You really know how to spoil an effect, you know that?” I murmur back to her and she just grins at me.
I wait out the rest of the school day, the lessons being ones I either already knew or were easy to pick up on, leaving me suffering from that all-too-common school-induced disease. Boredom.
Now, it is a well-known fact to anyone who has ever dealt with children that a bored child is a dangerous and highly destructive force. Add to that the fact that said child is a shinobi-in-training and has a kekki genkai allowing them to move objects. Yes, one can now deduce that being within such a child’s line of sight is incredibly stupid and probably life threatening. Poor, poor Teme-sensei.
I glanced around for something to entertain myself with. Pull a chair? No, too unoriginal. Books? Not subtle enough. My eyes drifted back to Teme-sensei, who was writing a series of field-scenarios on the board. It was the chalk in his hand that held my attention and I felt the evil grin on my face grow before I wiped the emotion from my face.
I wait until Sensei starts a new line and then activate my bloodline. Focusing on the chalk in his hand, I stretch my Outer Energies towards it, dispersing the energy so I can grab hold of the object while it’s moving. With a small smirk I latch on, careful not to let Sensei feel any change. I wait until I’m sure I have enough control and then-
“-nemy has two kunai and three smoke bombs left, and may have more hidden weapons. You have…”
Sensei continues to talk as he writes out the scenario. I try and control my expression as I carefully guide the chalk, ignoring the snort of surprise that comes from Mizu’s seat. Slowly, one student nudges another, and soon everyone is paying rapt attention to the board. Mizu twists in her seat to look at me, and I know she noticed the slight glow of my eyes even though I ducked my head so that my hair hides them. With a flourish, Sensei puts down the chalk and turns back to us, a bit surprised to see the entire class staring intently at him.
Of course, that’s when most of the others lose it. I release the energy as the entire room rings with laughter.
“Nice!” I hear Mizu whisper to me and I respond with an innocent grin before looking over my work, quite please with myself. Instead of the battle scenario, the board now read:
Please call me by my title, Angsty-Teme, at all times. Do not mention that I shouted so loud and so often, Kirigakure banished me for deafening their Kage, as I am a very sensitive -woman- man. I am also very susceptible to pranks, so feel free to help me practice and hone my -lacking- skills. Class dismissed.
I can’t hold back the laughter anymore as Teme-Sensei finally turns, his face fire-engine-red with anger, to see what we found so funny. Mizu, Robin, and I watched from the doorway as he spluttered for a moment before turning to the class.
“WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?” he roared. Sadly for him, his impressive outburst was lost on the empty desks and chairs, the rest of the students having bolted when his back was turned, all taking the last part of the message to heart.
The three of us ducked back into the hallway before the enraged teacher noticed us and rushed out the front doors. I clutched my sides as we tumbled into the grass, laughing so hard they hurt. The others weren’t any better. Once we could breath, though still giggling, Mizu and I said goodbye to Robin and raced off down the street toward our compounds, grinning at the prospect of the rest of the day off from school.
When we reached the part where the paths split, each going to our respective compounds, we agreed to put our books away and meet at the lake. With a quick wave, I moved up the walkway to clan’s home, thoughts of spitting-mad sensei’s and water fights twirling around my head.
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I tried to pull my spirit body back, the knowledge of what came next making panic well up in my chest. I didn’t want to see it! Didn’t want to relive it! Once was more than enough! I pushed energies at the memory, but it refused to budge, the power feeding it more vast than those contained within my inner-self. The watery image of my past-self made me push harder against what was coming.
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The breeze tugged at my long, ink-black hair, soft against my hand as I brushed my bangs from my face. An odd smell reached my nose, and I sniffed the air again. I kinda smelled like the dojo does when father and Niisan clean the weapons and armor, like a metallic, sting-y smell that burned. A grin crossed my face and I sped up, hoping they would let me help. I loved to polish the kantana and armor pieces until I could see my face in the mirror-like finish.
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No! Stop! Don’t go up there! Gods, this was like some fucked up horror movie. I couldn’t stop the panicked thoughts, shouting them at the memory as though I could change the past with my will. If only, if only this was some shitty movie with fake actors and that weird ketchup blood that never splashes the same way the real stuff does. At least then I could close my eyes and duck into the pillow or laugh as the main character was ‘surprised’ by a too-slow moving guy with a chainsaw.
My eyes stayed on the memory even as my mind tried to wander way. My past self was still moving and right now all I wanted was to scream so loud and so hard I would see nothing but the red haze of blood as it shot to my brain. STOP!
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My steps were quite, almost silent, on the stone-path, even at home my ninja-training showed. Pulling out my biggest grin, I duck through the door to the dojo and skid to a stop.
“Papa! Niisan! Can I h-….help?” the last part slipped out quietly.
I glanced around, confused. The dojo was empty and the armor and such still hung on the walls in neat rows and racks. I sniffed again and found the sent stronger, so strong I could taste it. It reminded me of the time I had bit my tongue a few years ago. I had tripped and my teeth had cut deep, bleeding enough to make mother get that worried look. The iron taste, both from the present and the past, made me gag and I rushed of the dojo in an attempt to escape.
But outside, I could still smell it. Turning, I trotted up the path to the house, passing by the small trails that led to my relatives’ homes within the compound. With every step I took, the smell got stronger, more iron-y, and I spit to get it out of my mouth. Ick! Maybe Kaachan will make me some cookies to chase away the taste! My trot turns into a run. With a grin, I round the corner and leap onto the front walkway.
“Mommmaaaa! Faaaaaatherrrrrrr! Guess what! Sensei let us out early! Do you have cookies?” I shout, bouncing through the front door. Silence greeted me. I felt the frown on my face. Where was Kaachan? She was always in the kitchen the few times I had come home for lunch during school. Niisan was still in class no doubt. And father, well father might not be home from…wherever it is father goes during the day. But still…ah! That’s right, the garden! Kaachan’s always in her garden!
Glad I had figured out the mystery, I slip off my shoes and scurried across the floor, a happiness bubbling up inside me at the thought of maybe helping Kaachan with her flowers. I can still smell that strange iron, but my senses are slowly getting used to it. With a small grunt, I slide open the back screen…
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…and then screamed.
It was a short scream, one that was more out of reflex than actual fear. Without my consent, my feet carried me into the garden towards the section Kaachan had set aside for her favorite flowers. On the narrow stone path that wound its way through the flowers, there so that observers could look at each bloom without disturbing the others, lay my mother’s body.
Her head was twisted, facing me so that her blank, empty, pain filled eyes watched me as I approached. Her body was tilted, her back to me, with her legs tucked together and her arms above her head. I could hear splashes of water the sound seemingly too far away to pinpoint its source. I never looked away from her eyes.
The once dancing silver-blue orbs were now blank and white, as though the color had been drained out from the inside. With a jolt I realized I was standing above her, my short body throwing a dark shadow across her middle. I starred at her, my brain telling me over and over, ‘She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. Momma is dead.’
I don’t know how long I stood there, but eventually, I picked up my head and looked around. The beautiful purple flowers were now splashed with blood, little drops of the liquid sliding off the petals. I had already seen the gash in my bother stomach where she had been nearly cleaved in two, had seen the puddle of congealed blood that surrounded the body. That’s what my mother was now. A body. A dead thing.
Father.
Niisan.
My body jerked and I heard the water again. Father. Niisan. Where were they? Did they know about mother? She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. Momma is dead. With an energy borne of desperation, I was on my feet and racing towards the house. The splashing water was louder now and I looked down, only to freeze. My feet were red, the sticky substance making a slapping sound against the stone. The splashed were from my feet, my feet, walking through my mother’s blood.
I couldn’t breathe. Her blood. Her blood. Her blood. She’s dead. Momma’s dead. I run to the door and scrambled for the handle. My eyes are burning and my breaths are quickly turning to aching, dry sobs. Even as my fingers find the handle, I feel a drop of water fall on my head. Oh god, it’s raining. It’ll rain on momma. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. Momma’s dead. Her blood. I walked in her blood.
I can’t look back, I can’t, because even now I know what I will see. I can’t see it again. Not again. Another drop, but I can’t, because I’ll see her.
Another wet drop hits me and this time slides down my forehead, low enough to tickle my nose. My chest is heaving and I can’t get air and it burns, oh god it burns and I wipe the drop because it’s raining on momma and…
My thought process grinds to a halt as I stare at the back of my hand. The pale skin has been tinted red. One drop, then another hits my forehead as I look up into the eyes of my brother.
And finally I scream. So loud and for so long my voice gives out and I’m left silently screaming into the face of my dead brother. Nailed to the roof overhang by dozens of kunai, a shirikin between the eyes, his left arm nearly separated from his body. He’s missing a few teeth and his numerous wounds are all slowly dripping onto the wooden deck. Some drops land on me, my hair, my face, my hands as they reach up to him as though to pull him down and, in doing so, force life back into him.
That’s where father finds me, my feet stained red in my mother’s blood, and my hands and face stained in my brother’s. I turn to him as he moves towards me from the doorway, his hair windblown from sprinting up the path the moment he had smelt the blood, his hands shaking, his eyes wide and questioning. He looks at me, and I see in his eyes a tiny child, coated in the blood of her family, two thin lines of clean skin on her face where her tears spill down and her eyes so wide and so scarred he knows there is nothing that can fix the damage done.
It’s his voice that breaks the silence.
“Tsuki.”
It shatters the fragile shield that had has held my emotions at bay all this time and I scream again, the sound mangled in my abused throat. His arms wrap around me as he kneels down to my level, into the blood, into the pain. His body is locked, his arms strong even now. He doesn’t shake, he doesn’t scream, he doesn’t even cry, but that’s okay.
I do enough of them all for the two of us.
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I resurface as the memory cuts off. Raising my eyes, I see the moon above me has changed position. With an expression somewhere between a grin and a grimace, my spirit body leaps up and disappears from my mindscape, throwing me back into the real world.
Ack! I try and hold back the coughs that start up once I’m back in the present, cursing ever having trusted that damned messenger that showed up this morning. Bastard had opened that scroll right in my face and the dust that came out must have been poisoned. I resist the overwhelming urge to bang my head against the floor, at least that explains why I had been practically comatose when those traitorous guards stormed in.
Ignoring my protesting body and muttering several choice words, I drag myself to my knees before pushing onto my feet. Okay, so that took more energy and effort than it should have, but it’s not the time to let it bother me. A wobbly glance out the window shows that time has indeed past, but not enough time.
Sigh. I suppose my internal clock is still set for Kirigakure, since I had returned from that diplomatic mission only three days ago. God. Only three days when it feels as though years have passed. No, focus.
Setting my jaw, I force my un-cooperative body to twist towards the door so that I can concentrate my weakened energies. My aura was still working on breaking down the poison (never trusting a messenger ever again!) so I only had less than half my normal power and I can’t use it perfectly because of that damnitable poison. All meaning anything I try to do is going to be difficult…and probably painful. I feel the soft growl that leaves my throat is warranted.
First things first, a sloppy pulse of energy shows me that Akio-san is indeed locked up, but other than that has only a few bruises for his troubles. Good. I realize I had been worried about him, so the knowledge that he’s all right lifts a small weight from my shoulders. I can also see that the guards are still there, though since I’m using aura and not chakra they can’t sense me, and there is another guard next to Akio-san’s door.
I had originally though it odd that they would use these rooms in the south wing of the Kazekage building, but now I realize the rooms here are perfect for holding incapacitated prisoners without letting anyone else know they were there.
This part of the building hasn’t been in regular use in years, the previous Kazekage having no use for it at the end of his reign and the present one avoiding it like the plague for his own reasons.
Great, just great.
And from what I understand of the whole situation, practically all of Suna’s shinobi are out looking for/rescuing the current Kazekage, so there was no help coming for a good long time.
That’s just perfect.
Unfortunately, at this point my legs seem to give up the farce of keeping me standing and I get a chance to reacquaint myself with the floor. Blowing a strand of hair from my face, I try to get up again but a shooting pain in my head stops that action. Ugh. Okay, looks like I’m staying grounded. Angry and just a little desperate, I glare kunai at the ceiling until finally the strain gets to be too much and I sag onto the hard floor.
With little else to do (as I was in no condition to sneak past any guards at the moment), I push myself up, scoot backwards with my hands until my back rests against the wall just under the window, and let my eyes close.
Sinking back into my mindscape, I take a moment to enjoy the silence before dipping my hand into the silvery energies again. It’s just as the memory takes hold that I realize that going through my past might not have been the best decision ever.
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“Come ooooon ZuZu-chaaaaan, why can’t I sleep more than four hours at a time? You know I’m always up late!”
“Becauuuuuse TsuTsu-chaaaaan,” she mocked, “you never want to go anywhere fun in the mornings, and unless I wake you up, you won’t get up at all!”
“But that’s not the point!”
Ah yes, the ever present argument between the two Light Clans. It really was their only disagreement, so I guess we should count ourselves lucky (though it’s hard to see the bright side of anything at five AM). We continued to fight, though it was merely to pass the time now as I had already gotten up and started to get dressed. Kaachan didn’t even try and separate us as we nearly came to blows over breakfast, nor did Father say anything as he walked with us to school on his way to the Main Hall, where many of the Clan Leaders spent their days. It wasn’t until we entered the school that anyone took any interest.
“Just because you get some freakish energy from the friggin sun, doesn’t mean I can just pop out of bed at dawn!” I glared at her, though held back any chakra.
“Oh! And how do you think I feel when you keep me up all night watching the friggin moon and stars!”
“You don’t even watch! You fall asleep anyway!”
“Then stop staying up so late!”
“Sure, if you stop waking up so early!”
We both noticed someone had approached us, and good thing too since all that lighting was about to burn down the school. Both of us glance up, shaken from our thoughts, and to see that it’s that man from Suna. Baki-Sensei was looking at us with a mixture of surprise, interest, and confusion in his aura, though his face betrayed nothing.
Point to me. Tsuki 2 Baki-Sensei 0.
A small sound of amusement from sensei brought me back to Earth.
“Is there a problem here, ladies?” Ohhh, minus point for Sensei for mocking our gender. I feel Mizu start to swell with Righteous Female Furry, so I figure it’s time to get a handle on the situation.
“N-no sir, we were simply having a…d-disagreement. P-please excuse us if we were being t-too loud.” I dip into small bow as Kaachan taught me, keeping my annoyance in with a little difficulty. My violent tendencies have really come to the front now that Mizu and I were in Third year, which was really our fourth year of shinobi training since there’s the Beginning Class that all students must take.
“You two will be late for class soon,” he finally growls out, though it was more that his voice just sounds that way. I thank him before dragging Mizu down the hallway.
“You, with the eyes, what is your name?” His voice stops me before I fully comprehend his words. I glance back at him, confused, he wants to know so that he can check what bloodline I have. Wait, how did I know that? Shaking my head in annoyance (I still can’t control that damn mind-reading!), I decide it would be better to ignore him altogether and continue dragging Mizu to class. She just sticks out her tongue at Baki and pulls down her eye-lid.
“You really know how to spoil an effect, you know that?” I murmur back to her and she just grins at me.
I wait out the rest of the school day, the lessons being ones I either already knew or were easy to pick up on, leaving me suffering from that all-too-common school-induced disease. Boredom.
Now, it is a well-known fact to anyone who has ever dealt with children that a bored child is a dangerous and highly destructive force. Add to that the fact that said child is a shinobi-in-training and has a kekki genkai allowing them to move objects. Yes, one can now deduce that being within such a child’s line of sight is incredibly stupid and probably life threatening. Poor, poor Teme-sensei.
I glanced around for something to entertain myself with. Pull a chair? No, too unoriginal. Books? Not subtle enough. My eyes drifted back to Teme-sensei, who was writing a series of field-scenarios on the board. It was the chalk in his hand that held my attention and I felt the evil grin on my face grow before I wiped the emotion from my face.
I wait until Sensei starts a new line and then activate my bloodline. Focusing on the chalk in his hand, I stretch my Outer Energies towards it, dispersing the energy so I can grab hold of the object while it’s moving. With a small smirk I latch on, careful not to let Sensei feel any change. I wait until I’m sure I have enough control and then-
“-nemy has two kunai and three smoke bombs left, and may have more hidden weapons. You have…”
Sensei continues to talk as he writes out the scenario. I try and control my expression as I carefully guide the chalk, ignoring the snort of surprise that comes from Mizu’s seat. Slowly, one student nudges another, and soon everyone is paying rapt attention to the board. Mizu twists in her seat to look at me, and I know she noticed the slight glow of my eyes even though I ducked my head so that my hair hides them. With a flourish, Sensei puts down the chalk and turns back to us, a bit surprised to see the entire class staring intently at him.
Of course, that’s when most of the others lose it. I release the energy as the entire room rings with laughter.
“Nice!” I hear Mizu whisper to me and I respond with an innocent grin before looking over my work, quite please with myself. Instead of the battle scenario, the board now read:
Please call me by my title, Angsty-Teme, at all times. Do not mention that I shouted so loud and so often, Kirigakure banished me for deafening their Kage, as I am a very sensitive -woman- man. I am also very susceptible to pranks, so feel free to help me practice and hone my -lacking- skills. Class dismissed.
I can’t hold back the laughter anymore as Teme-Sensei finally turns, his face fire-engine-red with anger, to see what we found so funny. Mizu, Robin, and I watched from the doorway as he spluttered for a moment before turning to the class.
“WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?” he roared. Sadly for him, his impressive outburst was lost on the empty desks and chairs, the rest of the students having bolted when his back was turned, all taking the last part of the message to heart.
The three of us ducked back into the hallway before the enraged teacher noticed us and rushed out the front doors. I clutched my sides as we tumbled into the grass, laughing so hard they hurt. The others weren’t any better. Once we could breath, though still giggling, Mizu and I said goodbye to Robin and raced off down the street toward our compounds, grinning at the prospect of the rest of the day off from school.
When we reached the part where the paths split, each going to our respective compounds, we agreed to put our books away and meet at the lake. With a quick wave, I moved up the walkway to clan’s home, thoughts of spitting-mad sensei’s and water fights twirling around my head.
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I tried to pull my spirit body back, the knowledge of what came next making panic well up in my chest. I didn’t want to see it! Didn’t want to relive it! Once was more than enough! I pushed energies at the memory, but it refused to budge, the power feeding it more vast than those contained within my inner-self. The watery image of my past-self made me push harder against what was coming.
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The breeze tugged at my long, ink-black hair, soft against my hand as I brushed my bangs from my face. An odd smell reached my nose, and I sniffed the air again. I kinda smelled like the dojo does when father and Niisan clean the weapons and armor, like a metallic, sting-y smell that burned. A grin crossed my face and I sped up, hoping they would let me help. I loved to polish the kantana and armor pieces until I could see my face in the mirror-like finish.
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No! Stop! Don’t go up there! Gods, this was like some fucked up horror movie. I couldn’t stop the panicked thoughts, shouting them at the memory as though I could change the past with my will. If only, if only this was some shitty movie with fake actors and that weird ketchup blood that never splashes the same way the real stuff does. At least then I could close my eyes and duck into the pillow or laugh as the main character was ‘surprised’ by a too-slow moving guy with a chainsaw.
My eyes stayed on the memory even as my mind tried to wander way. My past self was still moving and right now all I wanted was to scream so loud and so hard I would see nothing but the red haze of blood as it shot to my brain. STOP!
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My steps were quite, almost silent, on the stone-path, even at home my ninja-training showed. Pulling out my biggest grin, I duck through the door to the dojo and skid to a stop.
“Papa! Niisan! Can I h-….help?” the last part slipped out quietly.
I glanced around, confused. The dojo was empty and the armor and such still hung on the walls in neat rows and racks. I sniffed again and found the sent stronger, so strong I could taste it. It reminded me of the time I had bit my tongue a few years ago. I had tripped and my teeth had cut deep, bleeding enough to make mother get that worried look. The iron taste, both from the present and the past, made me gag and I rushed of the dojo in an attempt to escape.
But outside, I could still smell it. Turning, I trotted up the path to the house, passing by the small trails that led to my relatives’ homes within the compound. With every step I took, the smell got stronger, more iron-y, and I spit to get it out of my mouth. Ick! Maybe Kaachan will make me some cookies to chase away the taste! My trot turns into a run. With a grin, I round the corner and leap onto the front walkway.
“Mommmaaaa! Faaaaaatherrrrrrr! Guess what! Sensei let us out early! Do you have cookies?” I shout, bouncing through the front door. Silence greeted me. I felt the frown on my face. Where was Kaachan? She was always in the kitchen the few times I had come home for lunch during school. Niisan was still in class no doubt. And father, well father might not be home from…wherever it is father goes during the day. But still…ah! That’s right, the garden! Kaachan’s always in her garden!
Glad I had figured out the mystery, I slip off my shoes and scurried across the floor, a happiness bubbling up inside me at the thought of maybe helping Kaachan with her flowers. I can still smell that strange iron, but my senses are slowly getting used to it. With a small grunt, I slide open the back screen…
…
…
…and then screamed.
It was a short scream, one that was more out of reflex than actual fear. Without my consent, my feet carried me into the garden towards the section Kaachan had set aside for her favorite flowers. On the narrow stone path that wound its way through the flowers, there so that observers could look at each bloom without disturbing the others, lay my mother’s body.
Her head was twisted, facing me so that her blank, empty, pain filled eyes watched me as I approached. Her body was tilted, her back to me, with her legs tucked together and her arms above her head. I could hear splashes of water the sound seemingly too far away to pinpoint its source. I never looked away from her eyes.
The once dancing silver-blue orbs were now blank and white, as though the color had been drained out from the inside. With a jolt I realized I was standing above her, my short body throwing a dark shadow across her middle. I starred at her, my brain telling me over and over, ‘She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. Momma is dead.’
I don’t know how long I stood there, but eventually, I picked up my head and looked around. The beautiful purple flowers were now splashed with blood, little drops of the liquid sliding off the petals. I had already seen the gash in my bother stomach where she had been nearly cleaved in two, had seen the puddle of congealed blood that surrounded the body. That’s what my mother was now. A body. A dead thing.
Father.
Niisan.
My body jerked and I heard the water again. Father. Niisan. Where were they? Did they know about mother? She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. Momma is dead. With an energy borne of desperation, I was on my feet and racing towards the house. The splashing water was louder now and I looked down, only to freeze. My feet were red, the sticky substance making a slapping sound against the stone. The splashed were from my feet, my feet, walking through my mother’s blood.
I couldn’t breathe. Her blood. Her blood. Her blood. She’s dead. Momma’s dead. I run to the door and scrambled for the handle. My eyes are burning and my breaths are quickly turning to aching, dry sobs. Even as my fingers find the handle, I feel a drop of water fall on my head. Oh god, it’s raining. It’ll rain on momma. She’s dead. She’s dead. She’s dead. Momma’s dead. Her blood. I walked in her blood.
I can’t look back, I can’t, because even now I know what I will see. I can’t see it again. Not again. Another drop, but I can’t, because I’ll see her.
Another wet drop hits me and this time slides down my forehead, low enough to tickle my nose. My chest is heaving and I can’t get air and it burns, oh god it burns and I wipe the drop because it’s raining on momma and…
My thought process grinds to a halt as I stare at the back of my hand. The pale skin has been tinted red. One drop, then another hits my forehead as I look up into the eyes of my brother.
And finally I scream. So loud and for so long my voice gives out and I’m left silently screaming into the face of my dead brother. Nailed to the roof overhang by dozens of kunai, a shirikin between the eyes, his left arm nearly separated from his body. He’s missing a few teeth and his numerous wounds are all slowly dripping onto the wooden deck. Some drops land on me, my hair, my face, my hands as they reach up to him as though to pull him down and, in doing so, force life back into him.
That’s where father finds me, my feet stained red in my mother’s blood, and my hands and face stained in my brother’s. I turn to him as he moves towards me from the doorway, his hair windblown from sprinting up the path the moment he had smelt the blood, his hands shaking, his eyes wide and questioning. He looks at me, and I see in his eyes a tiny child, coated in the blood of her family, two thin lines of clean skin on her face where her tears spill down and her eyes so wide and so scarred he knows there is nothing that can fix the damage done.
It’s his voice that breaks the silence.
“Tsuki.”
It shatters the fragile shield that had has held my emotions at bay all this time and I scream again, the sound mangled in my abused throat. His arms wrap around me as he kneels down to my level, into the blood, into the pain. His body is locked, his arms strong even now. He doesn’t shake, he doesn’t scream, he doesn’t even cry, but that’s okay.
I do enough of them all for the two of us.
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