Rapture Of Hearts: Existence

My name is Hatsuyo Hajime. That name may for now mean nothing to you, but trust me, after hearing my story, it will suddenly mean a lot more.

One could say at first glance there's nothing special about me. My hair is golden brown, resting on my shoulders casually, with bangs pushed off to the side as to show my forehead, which was of medium size, and a little bit of tuff hanging down in the middle between my two bangs.

My eyes are blue in color, but the emotion standing in them is very unusual. My friends say to let my smile reach my eyes, because they always pointed out my eyes had a puppy-dog look to them, sad and lonely, just begging to be loved and cared for. But perhaps that what I internally wanted for myself. Maybe my eyes reflected my soul's desire.

Anyway, my shinobi uniform is simple, a light brown hoodie with only one sleeve, leaving my left arm bare and exposed. Underneath is a black sleeveless top, black shorts, and skin-tight navy leggings that go to my knees. My feet and ankles are bandaged, along with my nose for sport, and my headband, the symbol of my alliance to a certain village, was pulled upward, pulling all my hair but my bangs and tuff back. The only body markings on me that are visible are two bandage-size green stripes on my cheeks.

To most, I'm pretty normal looking. But to those dear to me, they know my life was far from normal.

I was born into a doomed existence, a cursed destiny. My existence was always hanging in the balance, life and death always around the corner. My heart rate was always up, my eyes always dilated, my ears always picking up the slightest of noises.

My superiors could end my life with the snap of the finger. But they didn't take my existence yet, feeling I was of some use to them.

They gave me assignments to do, some simple, some hard, but it made no difference. As long as I did what I was told, I had a reason to exist. They would let me keep my thoughts, my memories . . . my dreams.

My hope for the future . . . There was only one. To be free. To have my existence. To be me. I wasn't allowed freedom. I was a slave to my destiny. Every waking moment I was fighting for myself, and only myself. My only desire was to live, to exist.

To not disappear.

To better put things, I should probably explain my background.

I come from an ancient clan that was believed to have gone extinct long ago, believed to have been interbred so much that we simply faded away. I possess a unique Kekkei Genkai, called the Ko Ryuu Kame. Basically, it just means I have no chakra networks in my body, and I have the ability to instead breathe in chakra through the pores of my skin. It is both a gift and a curse. Because of this rare but effective stature, my clan was always able to do and perform better than other clans. We could manipulate the elements to our will. We can shape chakra into any form we please. We had the ability to read people's emotions and thoughts. We could heal ourselves rapidly. We could adapt to any and every environment. We had an endless supply of chakra. But because of our lack of networks, our chakra flows freely throughout our bodies, making it impossible for my clan to perform normal jutsu like everyone else. We hold zero chakra within our bodies, just having it flow freely in and out, like air. We had to create our own type of jutsu, one of the more violent types. It allowed us to concentrate our chakra to a point before violently erupting and destroying everything nearby, or if controlled, perform a special jutsu. We as the Hajime Clan must be careful when performing our jutsu. That's one of the curses my clan must carry. The burden of worrying if we might hurt our teammates. The fear that something might go horribly, horribly wrong. But that wasn't the worst.

Like I mentioned before, my existence is always at stake. Not because of jutsu gone wrong, but of what the elites of my clan will do to me like they did my brethren. A horrid mind sealing jutsu that blocks off all thoughts and emotions. They literally become walking, talking machines. No soul.

No life.

No existence.

The elite hold all the cards. They order everyone around. Even my village, the Village hidden in a Storm, is fearful of them. I was no exception.

They told me to do this. They told me to do that. I said yessir, yes ma'am. I never said no. I never protested. I never tried to fight back. They had control over my destiny, over me.

Then everything changed.

It happened at the Chunin exams. I, a mere Genin, along with my teammates and close friends Kaishi Okomiza and Nao Ran, entered the exams to be promoted to Chunin level ninja. But I wasn't there for the rank. I was there for existence. The elite told me to go.

Unfortunately, he was there. Him, the only who forever will change my life, my way of existence. The elite saw him as a figure of strength, as something of a threat. They feared him.

They ordered me to kill him. In exchange for my total liberation of their influence, to be in control of my existence.

At first, I thought it was a joke. They had to be, because murdering him . . . it was unthinkable. He was the most powerful Sand ninja there was. Even his own siblings had once regarded him with fear. His villagers still did.

But the elite were serious. They gave me a deadline. A count down to destruction.

Of either mine or his.

My existence relied on the death of another.

My life was at stake of the destruction of a boy.

Gaara of the Sand.

I had to kill him in order to live.

But I couldn't.

People say that love cannot occur at first sight. But for us, it did. It happened in the classroom. I looked up. He looked back. We met eyes. We blushed.

We looked away.

We were connected suddenly, tied together by a thin piece of string.

We were destined to be with each other.

Unfortunately, my destiny was to kill him.

During the first part of the Chunin exams, I saw little of Gaara. He did his thing, I did mine. But I liked it that way. I felt that somewhere inside, I was happy he wasn't nearby. He didn't give me a chance to kill him. To complete my destiny. To be free.

I had always fought for myself, always lived for myself. I hated my life, my existence. I wasn't like that inside. I didn't want to hurt people. But I still wanted to live.

Kaishi must have felt something wrong with me, because the next thing I knew, when I had opened my door to answer the knocking the night before the final part of the exams, he was standing there.

Gaara.

Right in front of me.

Alone.

My first reaction was joy. It was the very first emotion I had felt when I first saw him. I liked the way he looked at me, liked the way his eyes had that far-off adoring look. I liked his company. I loved his crimson red hair, all jotted out in so many ways. I loved his dark rings around his eyes. I even loved that tattoo on his forehead saying, "Love."

My second emotion was fear, panic. I was scared to have him so close to me. He had himself in a perfect opportune moment. I could kill him and no one would stop me. His gourd wasn't with him. He wasn't armed. It was perfect.

With all the tag-a-warring emotions going on in my head, it was hard to think. All I could do was mumble a greeting, waiting for him to speak. He did, actually, which slightly caught me off guard. He asked me if I wanted to step outside, to talk.

My head was arguing with itself again. One side was yelling to kill him now and be over with it. The other side commanded me not to lift a finger at him. I loved him, that side said. Love doesn't matter, the other side said. Only existence does.

I followed him anyway.

When we were sitting on the roof, looking up at the stars and the moon, Gaara began to talk. He explained why he came to me at such a late hour. He said one of my teammates was growing more and more concerned about my wellbeing and had come personally to him and his siblings. Kaishi's name wasn't mentioned, but Gaara kept saying she so I already guessed who.

Gaara told of Kaishi demanding to see Gaara, to speak with him. She broke down in tears and told the Sand Siblings everything.

Everything.

My clan. My life.

My purpose.

Gaara automatically left once Kaishi had stopped talking, though she was still in tears, kneeling on the ground. Gaara didn't need to hear anymore. He already knew what to do.

To help me.

At first, I tried to remain cool and collected. I never showed much emotion, but I often encouraged others to express themselves more. Gaara saw right through it, though. He told his story of how he lived, and I was surprised to hear what he had been through.

We had similar lives.

We had both been pushed into corner, with no where else to go.

Many against us.

Few for us.

Gaara then told me I didn't have to go on like this alone. I could turn around right now, change my ways, live for more than myself.

I couldn't take it anymore.

I was frustrated. My mind was mush. My heart was torn in half. My anger boiled to the surface.

Gaara, this was probably the only time I ever yelled at you like that. You were brave, to keep that straight face on, despite the fact I was spitting fire at your very soul.

I told him he didn't understand. I said he would never understand. I told him of my existence, of how I was. I didn't like hurting people. He did, back then. I was made to do things. He had a choice.

I was a slave.

He was a free man.

I then told him, commanded him to never again compare the two of us. We were very different from each other. Something snapped.

While I yelled, I attacked him with a kunai knife. I wanted to kill him, to make him stop comparing our destinies. I wanted him to go away, to leave me alone.

He stopped the kunai before it hit his heart. I collapsed in exhaustion.

In his arms.

I sobbed on his shoulder, welcoming his embrace. The kunai fell from my hand, forgotten.

I was scared.

I was alone.

I was hurting.

And yet, despite what I said, I knew that Gaara was right. We had similar lives. Maybe not to the letter, but we both had to fight for our existence. We were fighters, us against the world.

Gaara was patient with me, letting me weep my heart out as he held me close to him. When I had at least some control over my crying, I fell even deeper into his hold, wrapping my own arms around him.

That moment lasted for what seemed to be like hours. We just stood there, holding each other, silent. I would never forget that moment.

Days would go by, and still, that thought that came to me that night still stood.

I would no longer fight for myself only.

Now I'm fighting for him.