A/N: Hello all! This will be my first story on here, so be gentle!
I've had this plot bunny in my head for a long time now (three years), but I've finally found the time to sit down and start typing it out. It'll be a long story, if I end up posting the whole thing (that depends on how well received it is), so please bare with me. And, as indicated, this is a romance, but it's slow burn—an extremely slow burn. So if that's not your thing, or you're looking for romance within the first ten chapters, I would recommend looking elsewhere.
This story also has dark tones. There will be the usual humor that is in the anime/manga, but the general tone of it is pretty morbid (in all honesty, I wasn't really in a good place when I concocted this story).
And a further warning, because I know it's something that irritates people on here—my OC is strong. She has weaknesses, both physically and mentally, but she is powerful and can do things that no other character in Naruto can. I feel like that's okay because, if you look at the characters in the actual anime/manga, nearly all of the characters are strong. But if you find characters like that too Mary-Sue-ish, I would also recommend not reading this.
But if you're okay with those things, please enjoy!
What happens when a saint becomes a sinner?
This question had been rolling around in her thoughts for days, ever since that man presented her with her latest orders. He was never satisfied with the fact that her body was his to command, although he derived a sick kind of pleasure from it. He wanted control over her mind as well, and so he took every opportunity to flaunt his influence over her. It was often subtle enough to get his point across while, at the same time, diving her further into madness.
Because she had been a saint once. Not in the sanctified sense of humanity, no, but an actual saint—an angel, or so the humans called them. A completely pure creation dedicated to the continuity of life. She had once been a protector, a guardian. She had taken an oath to watch over the best of humanity and to act as their defense during times of war or civil unrest. She had pledged never to take an innocent life. She had pledged to kill only out of necessity. Yet here she was, bare feet soaked in a still growing puddle of warm blood as she stood over the mutilated corpse of a simple innkeeper. His family—a wife and two young children—were scattered about the room in similar states.
Her hand clenched uneasily around the hilt of a blood-drenched kunai.
She stood there in her usual dress—a black shirt and black pants with a ripped and tattered black cape—and stared at the bodies through the slits of a featureless porcelain mask.
She stood there the personification of death.
Even as hot tears streamed down her face at having committed such an atrocious act, her heart heavy with guilt, she saw herself as nothing but a monster. It did not matter that these orders were forced upon her by that man. It did not matter that she had no way of disobeying. It did not matter that, every time a life was dealt its end at her hand, her heart shattered into smaller pieces. All that mattered was that she would find herself killing again soon.
What happens when a saint becomes a sinner? The soul of that saint dies and they become a mere shell.
Growing up, she heard stories of a technique which the humans had created. It allowed them to summon souls from the Lands of Purity. The souls became tied to a sacrificial body and were forced to perform as the summoner commanded.
She had heard the stories, but she never thought that she would become one of these creatures.
Of course, it was not the same. Her body was still her own, the same one that she was born into. Her soul had yet to travel beyond the realm of the living. But it was the same conclusion.
Her hand, which had long since become stained red, rose to the black leather collar around her neck.
As long as she wore this collar, she was but a mere weapon, a tool with which he could do whatever he so wished. A blade with which he could cut down any who sought to go against him. A puppet with which he could act out any play.
She gave the room one last tear-filled glance before turning to the inn door. She snapped her blood-slicked fingers as she passed by the front desk, upon which a candelabra with six lit candles sat. At the sound of her snap, the once tame flames leapt into the air, merging into a raging fire which spread to swallow the room and the bodies held within, creating a waft of a familiarly nauseating scent which she quickly closed the door against.
Now safe from that particular odor, she turned to watch as the inn was consumed. She did not look away even at the soft padding of feet coming up beside her.
"Was the fire necessary?"
The voice that spoke was deep with a growl which almost seemed to drown out the words. It was only thanks to her familiarity with the voice that she was able to determine what he said without effort.
"He said there were documents," was her simple reply, her own voice completely toneless.
Although it had been years since her voice had taken on this quality, the sound of it in her ears gave her just a moment's pause. Had there not been a time when she had spoken with passion? With emotion? When she had been full of love and a thirst for life?
It felt like so long ago...
"Then why not just burn them?"
"I could not find them." She continued to stare into the fire for just a moment longer before she turned to the creature standing at her side—a large, black furred wolf with crimson eyes and a slanting scar on the right side of its face. A fitting companion for death. "We should leave."
"Right."
The two turned as one from the burning inn and disappeared into the darkness.
By the time the villagers had discovered and extinguished the fire, the two dark figures were already deep within the forest.
She was cleaning herself up in a small stream, trying not to watch the once clear water turn a deeper and deeper red as she washed away the blood of her latest victims. She could not count the number of times that she had witnessed such a sight, but it was still as stomach turning now as it had been the first time. She was in a way thankful that her stomach had grown strong enough over the years that she no longer became ill at the sight.
Her partner laid curled up at the base of a nearby tree, relaxing until it was time to get back on the road.
This kill had been a last minute order. Since she already would have had to stop at the village while on this journey, that man had decided to have her take care of a little nuisance.
She had long since become accustomed to such orders, but the innkeeper and his family had been kind. Even when she had come to them with little money to her name, they had given her a bed, saying it was not right for a young woman to sleep on the streets. They had been kind, and that was what got them killed. All because he had stayed at their inn one too many times. All because they had learned who he was and, being the kind people that they were, reported his continued appearance to the authorities.
She should have told them to run. She should have helped them find a place to hide. Instead, she had broken their bones and slit their throats.
She started to scrub more furiously now, desperate to wash away the proof of her sins. She continued to scrub even after the blood was gone and her normally pale skin had become an angry red.
"It's Konoha next, yes?" her companion suddenly asked, his voice startling her.
She stopped, staring down into the stream.
"You've been there before, haven't you?" he continued.
"Yes, once," she said, tone still the same.
It had taken her a long time to learn how to keep emotion out of her voice. In the beginning, it had been about keeping that man from the satisfaction of seeing how much everything affected her. Now, she did it to keep everyone else from seeing the pain.
She pulled her hands from the water and turned her attention to her blood caked feet. "It was a long time ago," she murmured.
"How much do you remember?" he wondered.
"Very little," she admitted. "I mostly remember the people."
"Like that team you told me about?"
She nodded.
"Do you think he'll remember you?"
She paused at the question. Would he remember her? It had been eighteen years. Granted he and his friends had made quite the impression on her, but she wondered how much of an impression she had made on him.
Not much of one, she was sure.
Then again, she knew that she had been the first guardian that he had met. His teammates had been so amazed by her abilities, and amused by her lack of understanding of their world. They had been kind enough to teach her about their culture and included her in their activities. When the day came when she had to return to her clan, they had even come to see her off and presented her with gifts.
So perhaps he did remember her. She suspected that it was difficult to forget meeting a species such as hers for the first time. But even if he did…
Her gaze shifted to her reflection. She had removed the mask, so she could see the pitch black hair and narrowed amber eyes which made up the features of her clan. In the past, when she had looked at her reflection, her eyes had been so animated. Her father always used to joke that looking into her eyes was like looking into her thoughts. But now they were dull, lifeless, even with the tear stains on her cheeks.
Even if he did remember her, she was sure that he would not recognize her.
She moved her feet out of the water, corrupting the image. She felt eyes on her as she stood, grabbing the cape and mask that she had set upon the streamside. She pulled the cape back in place around her shoulders and affixed the mask to her weapon pouch.
"Yumi-hime?" her partner questioned.
"It is late," she pointed out rather unnecessarily, turning to him. "We should find a place to rest for the night."
"I thought you wanted to go a little further."
"I am tired."
The wolf stared at her for what felt like an eternity. Although she could not see his eyes through the darkness, she could feel the concern rolling off of him.
She no longer allowed her emotions to reflect in her eyes or upon her face, but he was still always able to see right through her. But she supposed that was what happened when you were with someone every day for thirteen years. It gets to the point where they are able to tell what you are thinking no matter what face you show them.
"We'll find someone," he affirmed softly.
She averted her gaze.
He had made such a vow many times over the years that they had spent together. For a while, she had believed him. But then reality had set in and now she had little hope that she would ever escape from that man. And what if she did? It was not as if she could return home. That man had seen to it that she did not have a home or a clan to return to, or rather had made sure that she herself had seen to it.
All she had anymore was this wolf, Akira, who had become her one and only friend in the world.
Perhaps, in the past, she could have returned to her mission as a guardian, but it was impossible now. To try to go back after having taken so many innocent lives… She was not worthy of the title. She was not even worthy of the sacred chakra flowing through her body. She had half expected it to disappear after her first kill, much like the scar that had once decorated the palm of her left hand, the scar which had been tied to the oath that she had taken. But, instead, it remained, becoming a curse and a constant reminder of what she once was and could never be again.
As devastating as it was, she no longer held a place in the world outside of that man's control. Even if she did someday find someone willing to rid her of that accursed collar, she would not know what to do with herself.
She closed her eyes, forcing such thoughts away. "There is a cave not far from here," she informed her friend before turning and starting off towards the south.
There was a light shuffling before Akira came trotting up, falling into step with her.
It did not take long to find the cave and she soon found herself sitting against the stone wall, her fingers running idly through the coarse fur of her companion as he lay fast asleep at her side. She had forgone the comforts of a fire, which left her with a distinct chill in the air. But Akira had always run at an unnaturally warm temperature. Just having him so close was enough to chase away the cold.
She allowed her head to fall back against the wall as she looked to the ceiling of the cave.
She was not looking forward to what morning would bring. They were only a five hour walk away from Konohagakure, which meant that the start of her mission was close at hand. She never looked forward to any of her missions, but this one was…
She raised her right hand above her head so that she could see the horizontal scar on her palm, faint but very much present. Much like her chakra, it was yet another reminder of what her life had been like before. The memory of how she had procured it rose unwelcome to the forefront of her mind and, for a moment, she could hear the voice of her childhood speaking from the distant past.
"Have you heard of a blood oath?"
"Of course I have. It's a promise made in blood."
This voice was deeper than her own, but still higher in pitch than she guessed it would be now, eighteen years later.
"Blood oaths are sacred to my people. That is why we only make them when we have no intention of ever breaking them. That being said, I make this oath to you now. No matter how far apart we are, no matter how much time passes—I will forever be your friend."
"Forever…"
This word echoed in her mind, spoken softly by that deeper voice, until she could take it no longer and closed her hand into a fist, obstructing her view of the scar.
This pledge, at least, she had not yet broken. But it was only a matter of time. Soon, she would complete her mission, and this scar too would disappear just as the one on her left hand had.
She wondered what it would do her. She was already so broken, so misshapen, that she no longer resembled the person that she had been before that man. Would the disappearance of this last tie to her past break her completely? Would she shatter—mind, body, and soul? What would that look like, she wondered? Would that man finally get what he has wanted since the moment he bound her?
She closed her eyes with a soft sigh.
There was no point in all this self-contemplation. After all, there was nothing that she could do to change anything, no matter how much she wished that she could.
Her eyes opened, narrowed slightly.
Well, there was one thing, but she wondered how much good it would do for the people of Konoha. Surely that man would see to it that the mission succeeded even if she did it. There were others who would be more than willing to do his bidding, and they would not care how many innocents died in the process. No, it was better that she be the one. At least that way she could have a say in how many died, no matter how small it was.
It was the least that she could do for the people who had once accepted her so easily.
She settled further against the stone, allowing herself to get comfortable. She closed her eyes again as she focused on the soothing sound of Akira breathing next to her, allowing it to lull her toward sleep.
As she drifted, a thought ran unbidden through her mind: if only she would not wake…