A/N: Just got done going to my uncle's funeral. God that was hard...Well, putting that behind me, I've written a little something to comemorate him
Here it is, and thank you all for your support in this hard time! Its been really hard with my uncle having died; I knew him ever since I was little and the thought of him being gone like that...by his own hand no less...it makes me wonder if I really knew him at all. So once again, thank you for all the support.
I love you guys so, soooo much! *Cries*
I suppose I'm writing this as a result of his death. My uncle never really had many friends you see, and sometimes I wonder if just one would've changed that. It was either continue writing what I'd initially started with this little fic, or drown my sorrows in alchohol. And as much as a might enjoy the occasional beer, I'd much rather pour out my grief into something productive, that will hopefully make me feel better, rather than get drunk and angry. Now, without further adeu, an idea in the making...
...here we are!
"Remember, remember...
~?
Vendetta
Pain.
So much pain. Everywhere. Everything. Do you know how it feels to burn alive? To have your every cell burn, your skill peel away, regenerate, and burn again? To have your regeneration taxed to the utmost, so much so that it breaks? That something inside you dies? To know that you can never heal again? To become so broken, your chakra coils so soulessly savaged, that even the most henge causes you mind-numbing pain?
I do.
Because I was betrayed.
A series of individuals conspired to ensure that I was brought low, a conspiracy of cruel contenders sought to silence the protests that I would have offered. My crime? Loyalty. Not to my village, but to the principles for which it once stood; peace justice, and freedom. Before Danzo rose to power. Before Sasuke. Before the power-mongering, right-stripping festering postule that my village has become. Before. Before it was decided the only way to preserve peace was to kill off the remaining jinchuuriki completely.
What might the the punishment be for my loyalty to these most virtuous of virtues, you ask? Fire. Burned at the stake. Consumed in a cacophony of fire untiil death became me, and I it. Ah but death, she could not slow me. The loss of chakra, it cannot stop me. Their flames were but an impediment, a powerless precursor to the rapturous ruin which I shall most viciously visit upon this vindictive village after all these yearning years.
Yes, the only verdict is vengeance. A vendetta, held as a votive, not in vain.
A...
...Vendetta.
The soft, hurried footfalls of a lone woman resounded through the streets of Konoha. The hour was late and the day later still, yet
Because she'd broken curfew.
Yamanaka Ino was beginning to regret her decision to venture out beyond the walls this late; she knew she shouldn't have, but the notion of spending another minute inside these god-forsaken barriers was too much to bear even for her. All she'd wanted was a little fresh air, a chance to breath fresh air, away from the smog of the village. Danzou's expansion into other lands had turned their once idyllic home into a place of progress-a land where shinobi were still used wholescale but slowly falling to the wayside in lieu of more technological advancements. Not even the occasional mission could alleviate the anxiety she felt just by living here nowaday-the stress that came with serving a man bent on war and expansionist tendencies.
Ah, there it was, the root of the problem.
Danzou.
The old warhawk -though no one would dare say such a thing anymore- had been swift and brutal in his takeover after he'd defeated the last Uchiha; breaking him so thoroughly that nothing but an empty, soulless void remained. When Tsunade had passed-poisoned?-he had officially assumed the title of Rokudaime, promising to usher in a new peace for the citizens of Konoha. All he asked was their quiet, obedient consent. Everything had changed so rapidly after that. Laws were passed, democracy died, freedom as they knew it slowly and soulessly stripped away layer by living layer.
Those who'd dared to protest simply dissapeared. No one knew what happened to them but Ino could speculate their fate; the ultimate ened, Sakura, Hinata, Lee, Shikamaru and so many the others. But it seemed that everyone who dared to speak up against Danzo's radical regime was irrevocably silenced forever more. All thanks to the man's infamous ROOT-
"Going somewhere, miss?"
Ino started as she came face to face with an Anbu himself, a big brute of man wearing the traditional armor, his visage obscured by a mask bearing the likeness of an ox. She had nearly collided with him in her haste to get home. Ice ran up Ino's spine to the base of her skull when he moved to bar her path. Oh dear. She stammered hopelessly, knowing how this must seem.
"I...ah...
"Its past curfew." he rumbled.
"Isn't it?"
She nearly started as another came up behind her, his weasel-mask serving only to make his nasally voice all the more loathsome.
"I was...ah, just visiting my sick uncle?"
"Maybe you could take care of us, then?" A third, eagle-masked man took hold of her by the waist, tugging her toward the wall despite her best efforts to resist. "You see, we've got a real bad case of the blues...
"Really troublesome, ya see...
Now a snake of dread was knotting in the Yamanaka's stomach, a snake of losing everything she'd ever known. Now, she was no stranger when it came to sex, not by any means but she had no desire for these men to touch her; had no desire to feel their cold, clammy hands roami across her flesh. She began
"No! Let go of me! I won't do it again, I swear!" Ino may be a kunoichi, but her skills did not lay in the realm of taijutsu; she was all but helpless as the stronger, burlier men wrestled her to the ground. Desperate, she called out again, her voice ringing shrilly in the night.
"Please!"
"And the multiplying villainies of nature do swarm upon thee."
At first, all she saw was his shadow.
He dropped from the roof like a wraith in the night, a demon dressed in scarlet descending to the ground below with a solid thud. Her aggressor's turned, baffled by the sudden sight. A mask concealed his face, similair to those worn by the Anbu themselves yet larger. Thicker. Heavier. One need not look to know that it was surely made of sterner stuff but one did wonder why he saw fit to dress like that, his crimson hat serving to try and obscure his long, blond hair, yet failing utterly as those straight, straw-colored tresses peked out around the corners of his rimmed headwear and mask.
When he spoke anew his words reverberated through the thick facade, rumbling deeply into the alleway.
"Good evening, gentlemen." he called, the words ringing merrily across the alley. "Might I ask you to step away from that one, please?"
One of her opressors growled and zipped up his pants with one hand, reaching for his badge of office with the other.
"We're Anbu, pal-
His words trailed off into a wet gurgle as that badge, and the arm attached to it, dropped wetly to the ground.
"Bloody hell-!"
Whatever else he might have said died in that instant with him, perishing as his mask shattered into shards of porcelain, his thick throat opening in a spray of bloody viscera. Fumbling fingers clutched at the wound in a vain and desperate attempt to staunch the incessant flow of his life's liquids but to no avail. He collapsed in a quivering heep, bleeding out even as the man stepped over him.
Behind that maddened mask-beneath the cruel, cackling visage of a kitsune, the man offered a soft chuckle of his own, bleak in its amusement. He turned from the hypnotic blackness of the alley to face his quarry once more. A lone knife twirled lazily in his hand, the kunai still wet with blood. Ino shivered. There could be no knowing of the expression lurking beyond that mask, but just staring at the gory facade was enough to cause a painful scar to form in her psyche. And then he spoke:
"No," he began judaciously, "What you lot are is corpses; walking sacks of flesh still living, yet unaware of their own imminent demise." He cocked his head to address the remaining as though contemplating. "And I do believe that corpses such as yourself have no business in violating such a vivacious beauty such as that one. I say again, step away, would you kindly?"
When they made no move to do so he swarmed them in a blur of red and black. Ino yelped as he grabbed the one holding her and ripped him away, simply hauling her oppressor from his feet and tossing him away into the wall with a dull crunch that set her nerves on end. The last of them whirled away from her and drew a sword, brandishing the blade menaicingly. A laugh greeted his efforts as they circled one another neither willing to relinquish the tentative advantage that the first strike afforded. Words trickled out behind the masked man's facade, mocking his equally obscured opponent.
"We're oft to blame, and this is too much proved, that with devotion's visage and pious action we do sugar on the devil himself."
"The hell does that mean?!" the captain growled.
Another laugh was his answer.
"Spare the rod."
Sparks skittered as their weapons clashed, cloak and dagger whirling in a brief and deadly dance, a brief and transient scuffled as fleeting as it was fierce.
The first punch came at the Anbu Captain sideways, spinning his upper body around with the force of the impact and driving him back half a step before he fully recovered his equilibrium. Somewhere under his feet the earth seemed shiver and quake, threatening to give way. He lifted his mask, spat out a tooth and wiped away the blood, grimacing angrily as he whirled to face the masked man.
"Is that all you-
-got?"
The word ended in a dry wheeze, punctuated by the knife now sticking through his chest. He glanced up in disbelief, gurgling and choking on his own blood. In a swift practiced movement, the man withdrew his weapon and whirled away, slamming it into his sheathe even as his body toppled to the wet cobblestones below. Ino scrambled backwards like a drunken spider and reached for a weapon of her owns-her own kunai holster nigh but forgotten in the chaos of the slaughter. Whomever this man was, he was good. She felt no chakra within him, and yet he'd just slain three elite ROOT as though they were naught but children! Oh godd.
He'd just murdered Danzou's Anbu! And she'd stood by and done nothing!
"W-What have you done?!"
"Done? I do believe I just saved you from a very...unpleasant experience at the hands of those cretins." He began the painstaing proccess of cleaning his blade, yet that mask seemed to stare into her very soul. "Would you rather I'd allowed them to have your way with you?"
Ino colored.
"Erm...thank you for that-
"You're quite welcome." he added primly.
"But are you?" she demanded to know.
"Who?" a chuckle. "Who is but the form following the function of what, and what I am is a man in a mask." the stranger replied glibly.
"Well I can see that."
"Of course you can. I'm not questioning your powers of observation, I'm merely remarking upon the paradox of asking a masked man who he is. But, in lieu of this verbosity, let me simply add that it is my very good honor to meet you and you may call me," Pausing on a sudden he spun toward the wall and lashed out with his knife, a swift flick of his wrists cast a shower of smoldering sparks, carving the likeness of a single letter into the unyielding brick wall. "N." An exagerrate bow finished his little performance. "Pleased to meet you once more, oh vision of beauty."
Despite herself, Ino felt her cheeks color at his words. Flatterer, this one. And yet, something seemed off about him.
"Are you...insane?"
"I'm quite sure they will say so." N mused merrily. "But whom might you be? You strike me as someone I've met before."
Never in her twenty years had Ino recalled meeting someone like this.
"I'm...Ino."
"I-no." he dragged out the syllables of her name slowly, sounding quite pleased with himself. Perhaps he was, perchance. "Of course you are."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that I, like God, do not play with dice and do not believe in coincidence. Are you hurt?" A gloved hand was offered. Tentatively, she accepted, allowing her to be hoisted to her feet. When next he spoke, she could only cock her head in bafflement.
"Do you like music, Ino?"
A/N: And I'm back at last! With a vengeance! Not really much to say this time just a wild little idea that I got from watching V for Vendetta; not sure if anyone else has done this-so I decided to try my hand at adapting it to the Narutoverse as a whole. Naruto is not V, his simply N instead. I hope I succeeded in capturing your attention, dear readers!
So...in the Immortal Words of Atlas...
...Review...Would You Kindly? This sad, sorry soul would certainly appreciate it! And of course, enjoy the preview!
(Preview)
The masked madman grinned, staring down at his next victim.
"Please, mercy!" they begged.
"Oh, not tonight, Jonin. Not tonight!"
R&R! =D