Disclaimer: I do NOT own Naruto, or any other copyrighted things
Title: She's Come Undone
Rating: T
Synopsis: When the citizens of Suna revolt, the very fabric of ninja existence is threatened. In order to protect her way of life, Temari must side with the very people she vowed to kill, Akatsuki, while disregarding the repercussions.
Pairings: Itachi X Temari
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Prologue: 'God Save The Kage'
"Those who make peaceful revolution impossible will make violent revolution inevitable." -John F. Kennedy, In a speech at the White House, 1962
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I cannot turn away; my dark, garnet eyes fixated on the guillotine, it's blood-splattered blade reflecting the mid-afternoon sun. In the surrounding area, a crowd has gathered; anxiously waiting for the gruesome spectacle. Of course, I have come here for an entirely different purpose; politics. The same politics that led to this uprising in the first place.
"If your father had still been in power, this situation would have never gone this far," mused the spectator beside me. In an uncharacteristic move, I keep my lips tightly shut; refusing to respond with the slightest quip. I wouldn't want to contribute to the anarchy, now would I? Though, I must admit, the man has a point. My father would've never let the Revolutionaries drag things out to such extremes; he'd have them extinguished before such ideals could be fantasized. In a way, I debate whether my father had the right idea.
"Good afternoon, madame. Such lovely weather; might you agree?" To be honest, It's a few clouds short of an overcast; but I give the gentleman credit for having the nerve to strike up a conversation. "Of course." As my mouth forms a polite smile, I pretend to be on my way, but my right hand is stopped by an urgent pull. "You're not like the others," The bystander speaks; I can hear his voice cracking. "In more ways than you can imagine..." Pushing my way through the crowd; I purposely make sure I'm far from the gentleman's peripheral. There's too much at stake for leisure; I need to get my priorities straight.
As I continue maneuvering to the front of the crowd, I feel a light tug at the edge of my sari. It was a little girl. "Miss, I'm lost," Her voice quivers; her eyes damp with tears. Kneeling down, I make myself level with the girl's height. "Dear, it's alright; I'll help you find your mother," I promise, trying my best to comfort her. "You must be thirsty," Her tiny head nods, and I quickly unfasten the canteen worn around my neck. Handing her the drink, as the girl lifts it up for a sip, a strong determined hand knocks the plastic container to the ground. Water drips down the cobblestone, like blood, staining the sand.
At first the girl winces, but as she looks up at the woman who'd assaulted the canteen, her wet eyes widen with recognition. "Mommy!" The woman quickly brings her daughter into a tight embrace, holding the girl while narrowing her eyes in my direction. "I...I know who you are, what you're capable of. I bet that was poison," Her voice was sharp and malicious, on par with a commanding Jonin. "You'll be next," Were her final words.
Doesn't she think I've already realized my fate? If only my dear brother could have caught on as quickly as I did. Now look at the mess he's caught up in. Some say it was unavoidable, just look at history, but I blame ignorance. After all, it is the cause of all the world's evils.
"Attention!" The crowd settles as the executioner brings out the political prisoner. The prisoner looks down, lacking the courage to face the crowd; the very people he once vowed to protect. Not that he would recognize me. During these past few months I've changed; most likely for the worst.
The executioner led the prisoner up the pedestal to the awaiting guillotine, created for this exact purpose centuries ago. "Any last words?" The executioner asks, as if the prisoner had written out a parting speech. "Every man is guilty for all the good he didn't do," the prisoner quoted Voltaire, one of his favorites. It's a simple farewell, but the prisoner hates fuss, I know him all too well; after all, we share the same blood. The same blood the saturated the guillotine's blades, which fell in a matter of seconds.
Some view him as a martyr; others, the catalyst needed for change. But you wanna know my opinion? How'about I show you?
With the agility only a highly trained ninja could possess, I materialized onto the platform, still freshly drenching in my own brother's blood. "What is the meaning of this?" Shouted the executioner, while raising his right hand, that held a regal, out of date sword. With a swift kick, I remove the weapon from his grasp and bring it to my own; in the distance the crowd gasps.
"What are you doing?" The executioner asks, desperately trying to avoid the weapon. My lips form a sadistic smile. "Finishing what you've started," With a grin still on my face, I change the direction of the sword, impaling the blade into my very chest.
If only death were the end...
