Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING.
Author's Note: My personal thoughts have always been that I could never just write a one shot, it had to be a full blown story, so I gave myself a challenge. I would write my first one shot and make it to where I couldn't expand!
This is somewhat inspired by the song "The Night All Angels Cry" by Krypteria.
Mercy
Flames flickered on the black wicks of white candles sitting within a pool of melted wax in elegant golden bowls, slowly overflowing as more dripped from the fire's intense heat. Golden curtains covered the windows, sheltering the room from the light of the brutal desert sun. Crafted entirely from marble, the room stood as a magnificent edifice, condemning all who walk through its magnificent wooden doors to mere peons, daring to step through their master's door. A row of simplistically designed columns lined both sides of the room, a few feet from the walls. A single golden altar stood in the center of the room.
The altar served no individual purpose. It was built in honor of nothing. Many believed that the altar was created for a religious purpose, and others believed it to be the site of an ancient rite of passage. In more modern times, people have begun holding ceremonies in the room, viewing the altar as some sort of cultural landmark that the village was built around.
The sound of the heavy wooden doors closing rang through the marble room as a young woman walked slowly towards the altar, footsteps echoing with every step. Long, flowing hair of soft gold majestically fell about her petite form. She wore a long, white dress that shimmered in the candlelight, barely concealing her small-heeled white shoes. Loosely held in her hand, was a silver kunai with black ribbon tied tightly around the grip.
Her dress fanned around her as she kneeled down before the altar that drastically dwarfed her in size. Remnants of long burnt out candles lined the altar, save a single veteran candle that was still burning profusely, dripping wax along the sides. She fixed her gaze on the solitary candle as she raised the kunai and lightly held it in her hands. Looking down at her reflection on the mirror like steel, she thought she saw a glimpse of red and quickly examined the room, disappointed in finding it empty. Focusing her gaze on the flame again, she felt herself slip into a sort of a trance. Her gaze grew blurry as she remembered times long since past.
Sand colored the breeze as it gently swirled across the desert plains. She stood atop a cliff, hair blowing in the winds. Her dark blue ninja outfit contrasting with the light brown terrain. A tall figure approached her and affectionately placed an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer and softly kissing her cheek. A single tear fell, swept away by the sea of sand.
No words were spoken; both understood the pain the other felt. Soon, they would be separated. He chose the life of a criminal, but refused to allow her to follow him no matter how she begged. He would not allow her to get hurt because of him.
Swearing a vow to protect her from any who may bring her harm, he kissed her one last time before departing.
Tears streamed down her face as she remembered that day. She was locked in a daze, half gone, as she lifted the kunai and held it up to the candle, watching as flames danced across the reflection. She closed her eyes and breathed in a long, deep breath, preparing herself for what she was to do. Gripping the dagger in her right hand, she carefully made a deep cut along her left wrist watching as the crimson liquid flowed from her veins, staining the pure white of her dress. The blood-soaked kunai fell from her hand and landed on the edge of her dress, before the altar. Transparent, blue strings of chakra appeared on her arms and disappeared as they detached themselves, having served their purpose.
She collapsed to the floor, breathing raggedly. Through fading eyesight, she saw a figure slowly approach her. The figure kneeled down and slowly ran a hand through a few strands of her golden hair. She looked at the man through heavily lidded eyes, seeing the flaming red hair and deep brown eyes of her lover. He leaned down and softly kissed her forehead as she breathed her last breath.
The man stood and sadly looked at the woman he loved, forever staining the white marble with a deep crimson. He had fulfilled his promise to protect her from those that were coming. They would have tortured her in ways unimaginable to attain information about him and his whereabouts, inevitably resulting in a painful, merciless death.
A small tear escaped his eye as he slowly turned and walked away, forever leaving the blood-soaked altar behind.