The Downward Spiral
Chapter One
Mr. Self Destruct
I speak religion's message clear . . . and I control you
I am denial guilt and fear . . . and I control you
I am the prayers of the naive . . . and I control you
I am the lie that you believe . . . and I control you
-Nine Inch Nails
Right now, it was so dark, she could barely make out the contour of Choji'd body as he lay face down in the beautiful blue water that was beginning to look like wine. He had not cried out, even now as the sickle that had stole from him floated by his still beating heart. Bubbles popped beside his cheeks. His hands dug into the pebbles below. And as he struggled to roll himself over, Ino felt herself moving toward the water's edge. Gravel and mud swallowed her knees, calves, and wrists as she scrapped along. The wind beat against her wet clothes, pushing her forward and nearly throwing her headlong into the shallow water. Her hair flew about her face, sticking to her cheeks and cutting into her eyes. Tears streaked through the sheets of blood and sweat that marred her beauty.
Choji sat up, pale, bruised, and blank. He felt around in the water by his knees, and slowly felt of the mush beneath his palm. His face puckered and his eyes followed the ever spreading blood. His legs were at opposite ends of the stream. One lay against the stone below him and to the right, the small waves knocking it gently. The other bled out into the grass, just out of his reach. He drew in a ragged breath and let himself fall back into the water. His hands straight by his sides grasping just below his knees.
Behind them, the chilling laughter of their attacker resonated throughout the forest. The laugh of two men trapped in one body. The leaves blew hard, bringing the laugh closer, mingling it with rustling and the rumbling thunder. Above, the sky cried out for vengeance, darkening still to mimic the hopelessness of this war.
As Ino let her upper body into the water, reaching out for Choji, black boots stepped close to her hip. The ball in her throat burst. Sobs racked her body as she slid further in, her muddy legs all that remained on land. Her arms encircled Choji's thigh, and she opened her mouth to cry out for his forgiveness. God—this was all her fault! Choji's eyes looked down at her, slanted. He breathed heavy, as if he were nauseated. A quick hand flew out, burrowing into her hair. Ino moaned, grimacing as she struggled to keep a hold on Choji. The attacker ripped her from the water and slung her against a nearby bush. All while laughing. The man spoke to himself as he stomped towards her. The plant around his head wiggled.
Eyes trained on her fallen friend and his outstretched hand, Ino kept a quivering face and reached into the pouch by the small of her back. Still sobbing as she reached inside. It was empty.
"Aww," the man placated, "What's wrong? Missing something?" One side of his face smiled while the other licked its chops.
Ino's hands, laying limply behind her now, twitched. They ached. This man, she thought, had no idea about her family jutsu. If he would step a little more to the left, so that she could make out his eyes through her blurred vision—her head pounded, and she felt blood mixing with the sweat on the back of her neck. Her head had struck too hard against this tree.
He stepped in front of her and knelt down, smiling fully now with wicked eyes. Grasping her shoulders, he raised a lip and leaned down. Ino flung herself forward, her own hands gripped his. His nails bit into the flesh at the bend on her neck, breaking it open. It stung. But before she had time to consider the pain, the man made his move. Growing, he head-butted Ino. At least she had tried, she thought as she beat her fists against her attacker's chest. He stood with fists full of her shirt, and Ino looked down at her feet as they lifted off the ground. This man, he chuckled and licked the sweat from Ino's chin. He tore at the cloth between her legs and she opened her mouth to scream out. A blade ripped at her thigh, and it took a minute—her dropping hard against her back—before Ino realized that the blade had not belonged to the Akatsuki member. As she starred up at the grey sky and it began to rain once more, Ino laughed. Her laugh was barely a whisper. Bitter. But she laughed despite herself and the situation. She dared not move as a maroon cloth flapped overtop of her. So others were still alive. It didn't matter. Even if this person saved her, Shikamaru was dead, Choji was bleeding out, and they had still lost. But her apparent savior stepping in was a commendable act, to say the least. Even if nothing mattered. Tears dripped as she continued laughing, her eyes now squeezed shut. She heard the men fighting, and she stopped laughing. They were stopping?
Ino dug her heels into the ground and pushed herself back to the tree. She reached up and pulled herself to a sitting position. Splinters pricked at her open palms. Her eyes fixed on the two before her. They were chatting. Her face quivered with dark anticipation. Until she recognized the man nearest her. His maroon jacket now lay in pieces at her attacker's feet. Some of the cloth was between the Akatsuki's teeth.
"Well, you just won't stay dead, will you, Kazekage," the two faced man spat the authoritative titled as if it were laced with acrid sugar. "How's that brother of yours?"
What was his name, Ino asked herself. Her mind raced to say it. Gaara, Suna's Kazekage. Ino wondered if this boy was in shape enough to hold his own against this member of death. Gaara looked ravaged by battle. He stood now in only a tattered long-sleeve mesh top, half of his blue armor, and pants with no shoes. His gourd was nowhere Ino could spot. And the way Gaara's side bled, it was obvious that he was without his sand armor. Could he fight without sand? He looked at the other man with angry disgust and determination. But Ino sensed his nerves. He wasn't certain that he was capable of killing this psychopath, she could tell.
"Please God," Ino sobbed quietly, "Kill him." She gasped when Gaara's bottomless eyes—bleak like her own—looked behind him to acknowledge her. They went back just as quickly, leaving her with a stunning sense of being alone. Has she not lost all hope after all, she pondered, as Gaara tilted his head and twitched his lips.
"I think she doesn't like you very much, Zetsu," Gaara chimed. Ino liked how calm he sounded.
The Akatsuki man laughed and Gaara closed his eyes, grinning peacefully before joining the opponent in laughter. Confused, Ino averted her stare back to Choji, who was now dapped with his upper body out of the water. The voices of the others seemed distant as Ino looked at her friend, wondering. And just as quickly as a breath, the talking ceased. She heard the villain cry out a curse. Her head jerked back. Zetsu ripped a kunai out of his neck and Gaara rushed him. Dropping the blade, Zetsu met the Kazekage halfway. They clashed, and Ino watched, terrified as, like a wild beast, Gaara tore into Zetsu's abdomen with fingers like knives. Zetsu tried to pull away, but Gaara pulled his hand out fast, and with it, chunks of meat. Zetsu fell back. He stopped stumbling and lurched forward, head hanging. He disappeared in a puff of smoke, and Ino heard his laughter withing the forest just as Gaara began a hand sign for a shadow clone. Her head spun and throbbed. She looked at her hand and willed it behind her head. Pulling it away, she smelled her fresh blood before she saw it. Her head had split slightly. Her vision steadily grew worse. She saw Choji now through a haze. And Gaara's voice as he spat curses of anger and pain sounded further and further from her. Everything faded. Everything went away.
–
Gaara's breathing was labored. He allowed himself a cough as he stood, or rather, stooped against the tree branch wedged between his ribcage. The pain was hot. Blood began pooling at his feet as it poured from the wound and made tracks down his body, pulling his pants against it. The smell of the rain forest danced up his nose. He smelled the storm. It was still raining, but now the lightning had picked back up. He used to like rain because he saw it so rarely. Now it only served to remind him of where he stood—overtop the corpse of a man who had thrown in one last fatal blow before dying. The tree branch had fallen from Zetsu's open palm seconds ago, but Gaara remained stooped, gripping with both hands the part molded into his torso. His hands were stained red, and his blood was coagulating. If he moved, he would puncture a lung.
Carefully, he looked behind him. She, the leaf ninja, was fine from what he could see. But her head was bleeding. Gaara could tell because her pale hair was turning magenta.
"Hey," he chocked. "If you're alive, move something." Her lack of response worried him. His face bunched and he opened his mouth to speak again, when blood dribbled from his lips down his chin. "Please move," he coughed. "I need you to—" Another cough sent gobs of blood down his neck. He couldn't stop hacking.
The sound of his dying stirred something in the bushes, and as his body gave way and fell further onto the branch, a figure fell from the tree above him.
—
Withered hands worked his torso, hot against his ripped flesh. From her place near Choji's crying form, Ino watched the elderly Mist ninja heal the Kazekage. She, this mysterious woman, had been at this for at least three hours. First Choji—sealing leg wounds and rousing him, then Ino—healing the gash on the back of her head. Now Gaara, who looked dead, save for the bloody bubbles coming from his nostrils.
"Who are you?" Ino asked as she stroked Choji's hair, his head in her lap. Her voice was rough and strained. Her throat, raw.
"Bachika," the old woman said, wiping the sweat from her face with the back of her arm, yet smearing Gaara's blood like war paint. Fitting. "This one will take the longest."
Tada!
This idea has been eating at me for weeks now. I've actually been working on something entirely different, but this tale of love on the battlefield would not hush. So here it is begun. Let me know what you think. Critique is welcome, but flames are not.
I have a hard time finding free space in a day to write unless I sit at the park. And the neighborhood I live in is kind of. . .uh. So I don't sit down there alone often, which means updates will be slightly slow. But I promise at least once a month to update. Comment to keep my mojo going?