Summary: In an effort to fix a future with no positive out comes, he goes back in time. Nothing goes right from the start, but as far as he's concerned, that's the story of his life. Now? Now he's not going to take anyone's shit, not even if it's huge red and fluffy.
Warnings: Blood and Gore, excessive cussing and name calling
Pairings: None so far, but always a chance of slash
P.S.:I thought I would have this posted yesterday...meh, it's here now so what'ev's. Hope you all enjoy, next chapter should be up soon!
Blood Stained Jester
-Ciel Leon-
Laughing Skulls
It's with eyes wide open that he stares out at the desolate landscape.
It's not 'pretty' in any sense of the word, the bodies splayed across the field, weapons abandoned, some left sticking out of parts of their wielders' former foes, blood paints the ground like a thick coverage of moss and the stench in the air is foul and coiling enough to cling to his skin, permeating what is left of his clothing with the scent of blood, death, and sweat.
He's not the last to survive, but he is the only one standing in this battlefield.
There are so many other places like this one scattered throughout the Shinobi World, several within Earth country, a scattered few in both Water and Wind country, and many amongst the border of Lightening.
Fire Country, the Village Hidden in the Leaves, had originally been the most war torn, battle sites spanned from the gates of Konahgakure to the most distant village that lay only five miles from the border of Fire Country.
The Leaf hadn't been the first to fall, no, that status belonged to the Waterfall, Grass and Rain Villages which had lain between Iwa and Konoha.
Suna hadn't come into the picture until much later on, its communications disabled by various undercover Iwa nin, a crisis that also left it prey for the Sound, who were eager to take advantage of the fresh wound in the Sand Village's defenses.
Suna fell shortly afterwards, Sound overwhelming the village even as what forces Konoha could spare where sent to aid their allies.
The Leaf Village had been at war for seven months before they received word that Mist had joined in, sending its forces into three of the four Ninja Villages left standing.
Reminiscent of their title, the shinobi of the Bloody Mist ripped apart the foundations that held what was left of the three countries together.
Surprisingly, Mist sent its military force in the direction of Iwa first, demolishing the Hidden Village which had its defenses weakened due to the vast number of shinobi out of its borders.
After Iwa, Mist decimated the forces of both Leaf and Sound at once, knocking back the struggling militaries with relatively new troops.
The few left untouched by the war was Lightning Country, whose shinobi had gone to ground before attacking Mist with deadly accuracy via guerilla warfare tactics, and the Akutski themselves.
Until he had killed all of those in the criminals in the organization that is.
Not that such a thing mattered now, Cloud was the only surviving Hidden Village aside from the few rouge ninjas that had managed to flee battle before everything had gone to hell.
The battlefield he stood in the center of was the last one to have been fought on Leaf soil, and really, it displayed all that was left of his home, something he could not condone.
The destruction and carnage surrounding him was a mockery of the once beautiful grove surrounded aged trees, just like how he himself was a mockery of everything he had been.
It was that realization that had struck him the hardest, the realization that he had failed, and failed horribly.
The struggle to live through the times before the War of the End was pathetic in comparison to what it took to survive each battle let alone be able to stand like he was now.
His hand shook slightly as it descended to reach into the pouch strapped to his thigh.
There was nothing for it, this world would not be allowed to exist, he would twist everything from before in order to avoid this scenario, anything, everything, but no matter what, this mockery of what was once the prospering Shinobi World would never be allowed to happen.
He would change it all.
He took out a scroll from the pouch, holding it carefully within the palm of his right hand, even as he turned to scour the battlefield for one of the few things he needed to make what he desired possible.
Each step he took sent echoes of pain through every nerve of his body but he refused to rest, continuing to search through the carnage of bodies.
He found what he was looking after two and a half hours of searching, it sat, perched upon a short flat rock southwest of his original position. The item itself was covered in blood stains but free of any flesh and it stared at him accusingly with empty eye sockets.
"Sorry Sasuke."
Gripping the skull in his left hand, he made his way back to the center of the field before dropping the scroll he still held onto the stained grass, causing the tattered parchment and fabric incasing the Shinobi Worlds only salvation to roll partially open to display a fragment of the inked design on the stiff material.
He ignored all this, raising the skull in order to examine it.
The blood stains decorated the bone forebodingly, even as eyes stared into empty eye sockets, it appeared that the main damage to the skull was the large crack spider-webbing across the top as well as the missing lower jaw.
"For all the trouble it caused, you faired startlingly well."
Shaking himself free of his morbid thoughts, the man nudged the scroll open farther with his foot before carefully squatting down to set the skull in the center of the foreign design.
He turned his gaze to the field again, scanning it quickly for any unwelcome presence before returning his gaze to the skull and scroll.
Everything would be different this time around.
Withdrawing his very last kunai from the pouch, he used it to create a wide bleeding cut across his palm before holding it over the top of the skull.
The blood from the open wound flowed freely downwards, drawn by gravity, to land atop the skull before trickling down the sides to soak into the parchment.
The man grinned wryly at the morbid image he had created.
"That's all for now I guess."
Within moments, the field was enveloped in a chaotic mix of yellow and black chakra that dispersed into the surroundings not long afterwards.
The man was no longer in the field, and neither were the skull or scroll.