AN: So I'm not sure why this turned out the way it did. I wrote it originally because of procrastination, but then it spanned after I ate some pudding. Who knew pudding could be a source of inspiration?
Disclaimers: I own nothing except my OC. Because Getsugakure (The Village Hidden under the Moon) has virtually nothing known about it, I decided to give it some history.
Tree branches whipped across her skin, scraping her flesh open with a pull like a thousand needles. Thorns and twigs bit into her arms and legs as she ran blindly through the dense forest. Droplets of ruby blood spattered on the foliage, leaving a trail of crimson liquid that shone with a metallic hue in the bright sunshine.
The sight almost made her sick. But her stomach had grown strong over the years, and she was used to it.
The ground underneath her ragged sandals, newly softened by the recent rain, sucked the soles of her shoes downward, and with every step a loud squelch was emitted. She felt like she was being dragged underneath the soil. Every stride was heavy, laden by mud and sorrow and fear.
She hit a leftover puddle and splashed straight through it, sending sprays of brackish water in every direction. Emerald grass crumpled under the miniature tide, already weighed down by fresh dew. Cold water filled her shoes, and within minutes her feet turned numb. She bumped against a fallen oak limb and stumbled forward, tripping over her feet. She struggled to keep her composure and maintain what little balance she had left.
She had to keep running. She had to keep going. She wasn't sure what would happen to her if she stopped.
She didn't particularly want to know either.
In the distance, sharp ears caught the baying of hounds. The very noise sent trembles down her spine. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up straight. Sweat began to form on her palms, hidden by black fingerless gloves.
She increased her speed.
She kept moving for several minutes, wary of the fact that the trees were starting to thin and the ground was getting sandier with every meter left behind.
As a jonin jumped in front of her, arms spread wide with a menacing grin that filled her to the very brim with horror, she came to a stuttering halt. Her heat pounded in her head. Chest heaving, gasping for breath, she drew a kunai from her pocket.
"Little Tora," the man stated as he, too, drew his weapon. "Sweet little Tora."
They heard the words of a long-lost leader echo in their heads.
As a ninja of the Village Hidden under the Moon, you are given but one name at birth. Thus, you are differentiated from everyone else. However, this name is never to be used because the system that we have here makes everyone the same: emotionless, stoic machines, bred to kill before bred to speak, numbers instead of lives. Names are things never to be known, never to be told.
Not unless you break the laws we've worked so hard to uphold. Not unless you want to die.
The girl did not reply in words. Instead, she glared at the man and snarled.
He sighed, smiling. "You've committed the deadliest of sins. You've broken all the rules." He held his katana out for her to see, running a bandaged finger over it with pride. He licked his chapped lips, a hungry gleam in his piercing stare. "You have disgraced our village."
He took a step forward, sword raised. He swung at her and she launched herself backwards in an erratic flip. He acted as though she had not moved.
"You're not fit to walk this earth. Scum," he spat. "What a desolate and violate creature you are."
He burst out laughing, head leaned back, eyes rolling into his head. The noise traveled loud enough that a murder of crows took of in flight, leaving nothing behind but a spray of feathers. She flew at him, aiming to strike. He blocked her thrust without second thought.
"Of course, I suppose you're not that desolate," he mused as he advanced, coiled tight. Every step was precise, every move had meaning. He scuttled sideways, twisting and winding. Light glinted off of his hitai-ate, black and dented. In the center the image of a crescent moon rested.
The girl's forehead carried the same headband.
"After all, you did abandon our village's stoicism. After all, it was you fell in love!" he cried, his blade digging into her shoulder. She gasped, shocked at how fast he moved.
"Time to repent 492!" Manically, he lunged at her.
She backed up as fast she was able. Though she was injured, she threw her knife. It hit its mark, slamming the man though the heart.
The last words she heard before she continued her sprinted journey were "You've failed Getsugakure, Tora."
Trees fell lower and lower to the ground; dirt dissolved and turned to sand. She hit the edge of the beach, the tang of salt threatening to overpower her. Crystalline waves broke high on the shore, dragging hunks of coral and shell out into the ocean.
The noise of the rabid, angry dogs made her eardrums hurt.
There was nowhere left to run.