A/N: This story is written largely in the first person POV—specifically that of my OC who is the main narrator in the story. It closely follows the canon. Though it has the least amount of reviews, I feel this story reflects my best work. And, to be honest, the reviews I have received for it are some that I value the most. If you are looking for something different, I suggest you give it a try. And if you don't believe me, then read the opinions of the people who did.
Summary: Aian, one of the mysterious and nomadic blood users known as the Seikatsu, is thrown into total disarray after the murder of her clan. Having wandered for the majority of her life, the stationary idea of 'home' in Konoha is almost overwhelming, until she meets someone carrying a very similar burden. Uchiha Itachi, a quiet and determined prodigy, is facing a choice that threatens to destroy everything he ever loved. Unsurprisingly, the two form a friendship—one that remains throughout the years—as they battle their inner demons and the pain that comes from making sacrifices.
Chapter One
My breathing refused to steady as I inhaled the icy air in quick sharp gasps. The rigid stone behind me cut into my back with ample force, but I wouldn't yield. I couldn't. Not with a Daraku shinobi hunting me. With quivering hands, frozen by the chill in the wind, I raised my kanon and gripped the hilt of the weapon with what little strength remained in my body. One shot left in the krystak. I can't afford to miss. The little tube inserted into the magazine had enough of my blood to form a bullet of just enough power to penetrate my enemy's shield, but if I should fail, it would be the end of the hunt.
He was drawing nearer; the closer he came, the weaker I felt. Focus, you fool! I struggled to shield myself. If I didn't feed him, he couldn't use my weakness to fuel his power. "Come now Seikatsu. What use is there in running? Have you not lost everything already?"
The cruel bastard. I struggled to block the painful reminders of the past fortnight. When one loses her history, her future, and her way of life, she is left with very little hope. Such was my predicament. However, despite my circumstances, I was not about to yield to my enemy. I would pierce my own heart with my darya before I dared allow this malevolent beast such glorifying satisfaction.
A flash of light was the only warning I received before the boulder at my back exploded into millions of pebbles. I rolled away from the rain of stone daggers and cursed as my leg refused to cooperate. The pain in my calf and the warm trickle of blood was enough evidence of my wound. Stubbornly, I tried to rise, forcing my useless leg to follow the rest of me as I half staggered, half dragged myself to the shelter of another stone. I had to feel along the way, as my eyes could hardly see two feet in any one direction. The last thing I wanted was to topple off the ledge and into the canyon. The fall was far enough that I would have plenty of time to think about my mistakes. If only you were here, Devi, Nemain.
But they were dead and I would join them if I couldn't find a way to outwit my pursuer.
I braced myself against the ledge and tuned out my surroundings, willing myself to focus. I searched for a spark of life in the bitter gray, a chakra that only the Daraku possessed. If I could find that link, I could find my opponent. My muddled brain fought against my attempts to concentrate, but I held fast, and as seconds passed I felt the tension in my limbs loosen and the agonizing sense of self-failure slowly fade into the shadows. This was my battle and I would retaliate.
A glow in the distance gave me the information I needed. He was forming seals, calling his power. I could not see his body, but the light of his chakra was the only guide I required. Now that I was heeding my surroundings, I could feel him chant the necessary words of calling. There was not a doubt in my mind that I would die if he completed it.
The weapon in my hand felt heavy, but I lifted it once again and pointed it in the direction of the chakra presence. I felt my kanon pulse in response, my blood seethed within the krystak, begging for release. There would be no other opportunity and with little thought, I pulled the trigger and watched as the silver bullet, created from my blood, gleamed in the air and broke through the Daraku's barrier with an explosion of such magnitude that one might think a star had fallen from the sky.
It was the last thing I remember before I fell into a dreamy blackness.
Uchiha Itachi stiffened as another wave of snow descended from the sky and settled on his cloak. They were finally at the base of the mountains. With a stroke of his gloved hand, he brushed the flakes away before raising it, signaling his teammates to halt. The change in terrain called for an adjustment in the strategy. Hunting a person on his home turf was a prominent disadvantage, and if Itachi wasn't careful, a single mistake could jeopardize his task.
His three other team members were all wrapped in cloaks to fight the bitter weather, their identities a mystery because of the porcelain animal masks they wore to conceal their features. This mission was given to them by the Hokage to carry out in the utmost secrecy, and as members of ANBU, they were some of the most qualified Shinobi in the entire village to complete this task. However, it was the sixth day of the mission and they were no closer to zeroing in on their target than they had been back in the greener, and much warmer, climate of the Fire Country.
He considered Sandaime's orders.
"There is a group of wandering shinobi known as the Seikatsu who currently reside in the Snow Country. For generations they have fought against the Daraku, a clan of ninja with a terrifying bloodline limit." The old man spoke gravely, worry etched into the worn lines of his face.
"Bloodline limit?" Bloodline limits were powers or characteristics passed down through lineage. Itachi knew of a few, including his own Sharingan eyes, but bloodline limits were rare and it was always intriguing to learn of new ones.
"It is said that the Daraku have the ability to halt the flow of time. They temporarily paralyze their enemies and use their opponents' chakra against them. They essentially have the ability to turn one against oneself."
Itachi was momentarily puzzled though it surfaced as a mere frown, "It is not genjutsu?"
"There are few that have seen a Daraku and even fewer that have lived to tell the tale. But according to their stories, the Daraku bloodline limit does not capture the opponent in illusion."
"And what of the clan that hunts them? The Seikatsu?"
Sarutobi sighed, removing his pipe from his mouth and holding it while a steady stream of smoke escaped his lips. "The Seikatsu are even more of a mystery. They do not associate themselves with any of the five shinobi nations or the smaller countries. I myself know no more than the basics."
"However, recently we received an anonymous avian message asking for assistance in the Snow Country. I believe it is from the leader of the Seikatsu." He paused, calmly analyzing the masked sharingan user with a troubled expression. "And this is where your mission begins. I want you and three other ANBU members to travel to the Snow Country and attempt to seek out the Seikatsu. Be wary though, Itachi. Not many know the nature of either of these clans. This could very well be a trap."
Itachi was curious to meet the fabled feuding clans and since this was his first mission in another country as an ANBU captain, he was determined to succeed. But things weren't boding well. The further his team went into the Snow Country, the worse the weather was becoming. He doubted things would improve when they reached the mountains, but something urged him onwards. If he were part of a blood feud, surely he would take advantage of the rocky terrain and shelter offered by the giant peaks and steep slopes.
"Let's split up and meet back here at sundown." He finally stated after a moment of contemplation, withdrawing a kunai and firmly implanting it into the trunk of the nearest tree. "Confirm the location of our target but do not engage in battle. Understood?"
His three team members nodded and bounded off in opposite directions. Itachi could hear their responses carrying quietly in the wind. He hesitated a moment before moving off, ascertaining his surroundings wholly before attempting to progress further into the unknown. Feeling safer on higher ground, Itachi leapt up onto the branch of the nearest tree, using the elevation to keep an eye out below. His breath came out in icy soft spurts as it escaped the confines of his mask. At least consistent movement kept him thawed.
Progress was slow at first. Climbing mountains in a blizzard was proving difficult as he attempted to find the safest routes up the ledges. Several times he paused to listen, but the only sound the mountain had to offer was the steady groan of wind as it ripped malevolently past him. He focused chakra in his hands and feet to provide enough stability while he leapt up the side. If this was the worst of his mission, he decided, he was going to be lucky.
"Is she dead?" The shallow echo of a man's voice resonated in my head, but I could hardly register his words. "Jirou, go and investigate."
"I will return in a moment, Katsuro-sama." There was unmasked hesitance in the response and I noted the sluggishness of his footsteps. Clearly this man feared the thing he approached.
I attempted to sort out my thoughts. Where was I? Where were Devi and Nemain? And why was I so damn cold? With a bit of effort, I commanded my hand to move a bit, but a shooting pain throughout my fingers forced me to stop. The footsteps drew nearer and it dawned on me that perhaps I was the object of the man's fear. A man? Suddenly, the memories returned in a burst of recognition and my eyes shot open in a surge of terror. These men were my enemies.
The footsteps halted a few feet away but I didn't dare move. Let him believe me dead… I willed my body still and fought to keep my hand from reaching my kanon buried beneath a layer of snow, only to remember that I had used up all the blood in the krystak against the last Daraku. There was no time to make another batch of ammunition, not in my current state. I hardly had the strength to move, let alone form the necessary seals to imbue my blood. Perhaps it wouldn't be so hard to convince them of my death; if I looked as bad as I felt, I doubted any there would debate whether I still walked with the living.
"She looks to be dead, my lord." Jirou spoke from where he last halted, not having dared to tread closer. "It looks like she and Mei finished one another off."
"Tell me, Jirou, how is it possible to proclaim her dead, if you have not stepped within five feet of her body?" The man's tone was laced in arrogance and filled with irritation. If conditions were different, I might have laughed at such a nature. And then I would have embedded a bullet in his head.
The man opened his mouth to protest; I could hear him searching for words, but he wisely decided against it, and with pursed lips, he moved closer. I bit my lip to refrain from moving away. The vile stench of this man filled my nostrils and the aura of danger increased the speed of my racing heart. It was a wonder that he couldn't hear it beating. The air was still, the surrounding mountainous woods silent. For a moment, I felt suspended in time and I thought he might walk away, but then he placed a shaking hand on my wrist to feel for a pulse and I jerked in response. My wrists were always tender to touch for they bore the marks of my battle.
I heard him curse and retreat back a few paces in fright. "Katsuro-sama!"
In the span of a breath, I ejected the krystak and opened the tube while reaching for my darya, the knife every Seikatsu shinobi used to break the skin. I drew it across my left wrist, piercing my own flesh, and felt the familiar sensation of untainted power as blood, silver as the swords the men wielded, trickled steadily into the tube. Seikatsu have an extra vein connected to the chakra circulatory system that enables us to use our blood as a weapon. Or at least, in my case, that was my primary use for it at that moment.
I don't remember standing, but somehow I ended up on my two feet, supporting myself by bracing my shoulder against the nearest rocky ledge. This was dangerous terrain to fight and with the canyon at my back, I was in the worse position. The former wound in my calf began to bleed again, the frozen scab ripped open by my erratic movements. It was soaking through my already damp pants, melting the ice accumulated from my unconscious slumber, until a mixture of blood and snow turned the frozen ground a rusty color.
It took one glance at each of my opponents to note I was sorely outnumbered. There were four of them, all dressed in the traditional white and gray garments worn by Daraku shinobi. Their cloaks bended brilliantly in the snow swept landscape and I felt anger replacing my bitterness.
"Come without a fight Seikatsu and it will be more pleasant for you." The arrogant man was watching me with subdued curiosity, the amber eyes of his clan running along the lines of my face as he demanded I understand. Though clearly he expected some obeisance, I did not remove my gaze nor did I submit.
My body was trembling and I didn't dare think it was because of the cold. I was exhausted in every aspect and I could hardly hold my kanon straight. The world was beginning to spin but I clung to consciousness as a child clings to her mother during a storm. Too weak . . . I'm too weak. Seikatsu were not trained to fight alone; the battles we fought were too taxing to attempt such a feat. I learned the hard way why one never ventured into battle without her partners, and because of my great foolishness, I was in my current predicament and my friends were dead. Dead because I was too proud.
The men were moving closer and I backed away, trying to shake the ethereal sensations invading my mind. All but their leader trudged after me, forming the seals I'd come to know by heart. On an ordinary day, I could put up a decent fight against these men. Not all of them would have the legendary power associated with the Daraku. And Nemain would have created a shield that no sword forged of man could penetrate—a shield capable of rendering the bloodline limit of the Daraku useless against me.
"Get away from me." My voice came out in a mere whisper as I snarled in unsuppressed rage. The strenuous effects of the past two weeks were slowly caving in on me and in blind fury, I released a round of krynura, the bullets forged of my blood, and watched with grim satisfaction as two of my supposed captors squirmed in agony until breathing their last. Krynura, though causing little bleeding, invaded the bloodstream of my enemies and directly attacked the heart. It was a poison capable of stealing their lives in a matter of heartbeats.
Normally I would have felt some guilt as I watched blood bubble from their lips in spurts, but my heart was as numb as the rest of my body. And my soul was frozen like the mountains of this country, hardened and crystallized from witnessing the devastation of a clan that did not deserve such an end.
Jirou and his master were the only two remaining and I was not in a mood to feel merciful. Kill or be killed seemed the only viable option, and despite my desire to join my partners, I would not be so selfish. My kanon glowed momentarily before I released two more krynura. The silver bullets broke from the barrel in a whistle of glee and charged obediently towards their targets. I waited for the sound of impact, the hum of the krynura as it seared through flesh, but it never came.
Surprised, I narrowed my eyes, willing myself to see the unseen. The gray sky and steady flakes of snow hid the shield of chakra surrounding my enemies, but the ripple created from my bullet when it struck the surface alerted me to its presence. Damn it! The krynura I created were a low level since I lacked the strength to make stronger ones. Daraku generally traveled in groups of two, thus I had hoped that maybe these were the weaker members of the clan. In my rage, I didn't notice the third addition to the remaining group.
From behind the horses stepped a man swathed in a hooded cloak of dark gray that blended wonderfully with the bleak environment. He turned to the human aboard the horse, the same man who condescendingly ordered me earlier, "Her bullets are not strong enough to pierce through my shield, but should I drop it, you would be as dead as the rest of your comrades."
"Can you defeat her Takuma-sama?" It was the first humility I'd yet to see in the one titled Katsurou.
"I can, but I won't. She has reached her limit. Such an endeavor would be a pointless waste of my power. I will, however, bind her so that she will no longer pose a threat." His voice was confident and commanding; I did not have to guess who was truly in charge. Then his attention fell on me and I shrunk back in revulsion. Filth, such filth. My mind reeled in frustration, sorrow, and self-loathing. I watched helplessly as he formed the seals of the jutsu known only by his clan, but I could not retaliate. I had nothing left with which to fight.
For the first time in a fortnight, I acknowledged defeat. My kanon thudded to the rocky ground once my fingers refused to grip the handle any longer and I sank to my knees. I could not tell if it was my own weakness or the time halting power of the shinobi, but my body would no longer move. With little caution and an air of assurance, the hooded Daraku walked until he was standing directly in front of me. I did not glance up; I would not look at him, even as he knelt down to eye level. The fire of my rebelling spirit was finally quenched by the winter.
He touched each of my wrists, mumbled words I did not recognize, and it was then I felt the bindings. It started to spread through my entire body as the enchantment followed the vein I used to create my krynura. The two separate vein networks in a Seikatsu are highly specialized; one contains the blood we use for battles and the other that we use to sustain our own lives. The Daraku was binding my power, building an impenetrable barrier around the vein that would prevent it from molding with my chakra circulatory system. So this was how they defeated my kind? To die was one thing, but to live powerless was another. For the first time, I feared living more than dying.
This fear spurned one last rebellious idea into my head. I took note that his concentration was not on holding the Jikan no Jutsu and I reached for my darya, gripped its smooth handle, and with great ferocity plunged it towards my heart, determined this time, to snuff out my last spark of life.
Dictionary: For Current and Future Word Reference
-Seikatsu: A wandering clan currently residing in the Snow Country with a bloodline limit. Their extra vein, linked to an extra chamber in the heart, connects to the chakra circulatory system allowing them to imbue their blood with chakra to perform ninjutsu, create barriers, or heal. It is most obviously noted for the silver coloring of the chakra infused blood.
-Daraku: Another wandering clan that also possesses a bloodline limit, which enables them to manipulate time. They are the sworn enemies of the Seikatsu.
-Kanon: The chosen weapons of the fighting Seikatsu. It is closely related to a modern day pistol in appearance and function.
-Krynura: The name for the chakra bullet shot from the kanon. It is created from the blood of the Seikatsu.
-Krystak: The name for the magazine of the kanon. It contains the blood once it has been imbued with a certain amount of chakra.
-Darya: The knife that every Seikatsu carries, which is used to break the skin.
-Jikan no Jutsu: The primary attack of the Daraku which halts the flow of time.
-Vashna: A team of three Seikatsu, consisting of one person who acts as the primary fighter, one who creates the shields to provide the defense, and a third person whose primary occupation is to heal. Due to the nature of Seikatsu abilities, it is generally too tiring for one Seikatsu to do all three jobs alone.