A simple, feelsy kinda flashback/back story thing I felt like doing for my Naruto OC, Nyatta. Enjoy.
An Oath
A Unique Kunoichi
"Nyatta-chan?" The familiar voice, accompanied by a knock at her door roused the brunette. Rubbing her eyes, she rolled out of bed and onto her feet, tying her hair in a quick ponytail.
"Yumi-san." She offered what she hoped to be a convincing, warm smile upon answering the door.
In return, she found herself met with a deep frown. "No offense, Nyatta-chan, but...you don't look so great. Are you all right? You look so tired, and you weren't at training today; I was worri-"
"Yumi-san." She was pale and her eyes sported visible bags; nonetheless, her smile remained. "I appreciate your concern, but I will be fine."
"Will...be?" Yumi's frown deepened further. "But that implies that you aren't okay! Have you been eating enough? Three balanced meals a day are important! And so are eight hours of sleep! Maybe I should find the village elder, I'm sure she-"
A sigh from Nyatta interrupted her yet again. "Please, do not." She exerted the majority of her patience with being as polite as possible. "Thank you for caring, but for now, I feel that what I need the most is to be alone."
"...Oh." She could see the hurt in Yumi's eyes even as she smiled. "Well, all right! But please try to feel better soon, okay? We're all worried about you. I mean, I can't imagine what it'd be like if both of my parents were- what I mean to say is..." She gave an embarrassed grin and rubbed the back of her head. "Don't hesitate if you need anything. Please?"
Nyatta laughed to herself, though the sound was hollow. "Thank you, Yumi-san. If I do, you will be the first to know." After exchanging goodbyes, she closed the door and slumped against it with a sigh.
She meant well. Yumi was a bit behind and too blunt sometimes, but she meant well. That was what Nyatta told herself as she stayed slumped against the wood door of her home. Everyone in her village who came forth to pay their condolences meant well. Yet...
All she felt was numb.
Arms that lay languid at her sides clenched hands into fists. Her jaw clenched, an attempt to ward off the sensation spreading through her spine. It was warm, prickled along her being, and she knew it well. More than anger. Rage.
But there was more behind that rage. There was sorrow, resentment, frustration. She was eighteen, and both of her parents were gone. One died serving Konoha. The other, at the news of her deceased husband.
Love. Love was what had killed her mother. The emotion they needed to use when it came to their healing techniques...
Had killed her.
Love had sent her into a spiral of depression unlike anything Nyatta had ever seen. The news that he'd died in the midst of a mission left her bedridden. She refused to bathe, dress, and eat, so those were things Nyatta did for her. Every day it was the same routine. She wouldn't have minded if it wasn't her mother, growing paler, sicker, wasting away. It would have been more bearable, had it been anyone else.
The healer slouched forward more, an anguished cry parting fair lips. Her fingertips massaged her temples, while a faint green glow emanated from her body. That sensation was growing stronger. If she didn't regain control soon, things could get ugly, fast.
Four deep breaths, Nyatta reminded herself. Four deep breaths reset the pre-frontal cortex. Her eyes closed in the same moment she inhaled...and exhaled.
Inhaled...and exhaled.
Inhaled...and exhaled.
Inhaled...and exhaled.
In the span of time it took to take four deep breaths, her body had relaxed. The prickling sensation and green emanating from her body, too, had begun to wane. It felt like a fog had lifted from her head.
But she was crying.
Not sobbing.
Crying.
The brunette's breath hitched now and again. Tears stung her eyes, blurring her vision, and her nose twitched with each sniffle.
Sure, she could think in a clearer manner, but doing so shed light on a new realization.
If she wanted to stay alive, she couldn't wind up the same way.
A hand rose to wipe her tears before she collected herself and got to her feet. She was still shaking, but she was steadier. Stronger. Because in some corner of her mind, Nyatta had come to realize that she was on her own. That morning, in that same instant, she made a promise to herself.
If she valued not only her life, but her future as well, she could never, ever, love.