Chapter 1 – Crossed Paths
"Regular Speaking"
"Kanashi Speaking"
This story is going through a full rewrite, and certain details will change and rearrange. As it stands, I am currently working on the second chapter, and here is the prologue.
There is a poll up on my profile of if Minato will become Hokage again or not. Please vote so that I can have a precise direction to go with that and so that I may put up the next poll.
Ja ne, and please enjoy this new installment of Shadow of the Dragon!
At any other time, she supposed the sky would have comforted her.
Dark and cloudless and teaming with stars, the full moon high overhead. So calm and serene, usually giving her a sense of peace when everything around her began falling apart.
But that time was over.
The stars no longer comforted her. The moon reminded her too much of what she was now.
Alone.
The ground was blackened and bloody from the battle that had raged around her only yesterday. Her form wasn't any better, covered in oozing wounds that bled with the silver of her blood and bruises that wouldn't give her any reprieve even with her regenerative abilities. Her mind wasn't spared from wounds either.
She'd seen their faces and had fought side by side in a war that ravaged their world despite her attempts to stop it before it began. She was there every step, fighting and killing and praying she could win. She fought with the people who had become her home, giving it her all in the hopes they would all make it against the people who wanted them all to burn.
And then she watched as every single one of them died.
Her father: so strong and yet so broken, building himself up from hardship upon hardship through his long life. He'd died keeping his grandfather from killing his wife and mate.
Her mother: fury blazing in her eyes and magic roaring around her in a brilliant final stand that greatly weakened but did not kill the beast that had taken her love. She had died collapsed over her mate from using too much, a forlorn picture around them as she paid the price that magic demanded.
Her uncle and aunt: raging over the loss of their brother and his beloved as their own fought beside them. Killed with the combined might of Hebiko's forces, but taking most of them with them in a ferocious final stand.
Her brothers: fighting side by side and dwindling the armies down to the last, until Hebiko had destroyed them with hellfire and celestial blood combined with the stolen blood of her child.
Her friends: the ones who had stood with her through hell and had marched with her into this war to defend all she and they cared for. Only to die as her great grandfather turned his fury upon them, wiping out his own forces with them
Her beloved: fighting a losing battle with hellfire to save their children as she rushed to save him, only to howl in agony and despair as they all burned in her trapped gaze. There was no body for any, and no time to grieve as she turned her fury and pain to the battle.
And her sister. Her sister: who had been hiding in the enemy's forces pretending to be dead, to protect them. She had died as she lived. Protecting. Protecting the island, protecting their forces, protecting her as their great grandfather met a fiery end at the hands of a sister so filled with pain and rage and vengeance that it boiled hot enough to burn even hellfire. A sister who had succumbed to her terrible wounds in the end after enacting the vengeance for all those who were lost and who had lost in this damned war. A sister who's love she had never believed until that moment, a moment too late to apologize for useless doubts
And then, it was down to two: her and Hebiko. Fighting, striking, aiming to kill; crossing over to a world not their own and forcing their bodies past exhaustion to allow one more blow.
And that final moment that she lost everything.
In the end, standing over his beaten form as she forced the darkness from his body, Hebiko had begged for death, regret and torment in his eyes for all he'd been forced to do while corrupted and driven insane.
And she had allowed him that. She had given him salvation for his sins, freeing him from the body that had caused so much pain and agony with a mind twisted by something not his own.
And then she was alone.
Her thoughts are not kind.
They rage about how she could have done more, moved differently, faster, saved a life, ended a life. They rage over her cowardice and weakness years before when she chose to leave Hebiko alive, how weak she had been that she couldn't stop him from taking the gem..
And then they despair.
Over loss. Loss of hope. Loss of family and friends.
Loss of a future, because she knows she will not be able to continue if all she has left is this scarred battlefield with the cold body a few inches away and a world beyond where another battlefield lays with only death among the soil and rage and pain and despair to keep her company for all that she has lost.
And she fights to keep herself blank, because despair is so much worse than rage and rage will keep her standing, keep her moving and able to continue if she is only willing to, keep her from…
From crying.
And, in the end, her tears win, cascading down her face in twin rivers as her face crumbles, her body collapsing as a sob wrenches from her breast.
Soon, she's gasping and crying and sobbing loudly into the night, venting her sorrow and rage and a pain so deep it taints her soul so that she can find some semblance of numbness on the morrow before her life ends by her own doing.
She had believed she'd faced loss before, before the youngest of her brothers was returned to her after his death. But now, after gaining so much- family, friends, a home- now it was lost to her, and she could find no reprieve. There was no hope left, for she knew what was given would eventually be taken.
And that is when she feels them.
Hands.
The ghost of a touch on her face, so familiar and welcome that her sobs break and crack enough to hurt her bruised and broken ribs.
The steady hand on her back, lending her strength where she held none, keeping her on her knees even if all she wants is to fall fully to the ground and waste away like pitiful vermin.
The heat of two hands over her chest, giving her warmth where a cold numbness had begun to flow.
The flowing hand sliding along her sides in an attempted comfort that only made her sob harder.
And the fleeting touch on her face and knees and hands and in her hair.
And she looks up and finds them:
The Souls.
Her beloved Kaze, mask set aside to reveal a porcelain face that speaks of so much concern, it's form phasing from solid to see through, but it's touch soft and strong on her face.
Haku's Natura, her form twisting with twigs and flowers and her hand a steady weight on her back to keep her from breaking.
Seiko's adored Henya-wa-sei, two impassioned figured lending her heart the warmth she needs to stay away from the darkness that threatens to overwhelm and defeat.
Kunoshi's treasured Aquara, their form shifting constantly between as they help her adjust to this sudden and unwelcome change.
And Raiga, his form sparking and shifting constantly as he tried to distract her thoughts with fleeting touches and attempts at smiles.
And the pain that stabs her is pure heartbreak and desolation.
Because she can feel what they've done, what they forced onto her. She can feel what those selfish (But oh she knows, she knows it's selfless), idiotic (brave), infuriatingly self-sacrificing people she called family had done; what they had given her at the very last moment before they died.
She can feel her life stretch further than she's ever known. Can here the whispers of all that surrounds her, instead of only the wind. Her magic, the deep warmth that swells within her has grown and increased in strength, so much so that she knows she needs to retrain it.
And, overwhelmed and heartbroken and so full of pain and love and loss so keen she can't handle it anymore, she allows the blackness to wrap around her, her body dropping into waiting arms as she allows herself to fall with the realization that she is not alone, that she still has someone beside her.
Her family gave her their last hope:
That she would continue to live at least one more day.
She is not conscious when the Souls agree to lock her away, to let her sleep away her pain and anguish until a time comes when her heart can be healed. So gentle are their touch that she does not stir, even as the darkness surround her and momentary peace is given to her.
In time, she will learn to either despise that peace, or welcome it.
Centuries later...
Some say that Death is like falling asleep. That it gives a weightlessness and senses of peace to ease a troubled soul into the next life.
Minato thought it was overrated bullshit.
His chest felt heavy with regret and sorrow, trapped in a never-ending limbo with only his thoughts to torture him.
His memories were clear though, and that made it all the worse. Growing up, every beautiful moment with his beloved Red Death, his son- his son who he had turned into a Jinchuuriki. His son, who he had condemned to that hell.
He was a naive fool, hoping in that moment that the villagers would abide his wishes and see Naruto as a hero after his death, for protecting them from Kyuubi. But, logic overruled optimism. Humans were selfish. They felt pain and took that pain out on other in a never-ending cycle because they simply refused to find another way.
The realization that he had willingly condemned his son to that life repulsed him. The wish that he could make up for his sins was fervent, but unheeded as he wasted away in this blankness. He knew there was no forgiveness for what he'd done, and he didn't want it if there were. He deserved the harshest punishment the Shinigami would bestow upon him, and hoped that at least one person would care for his son, but knew such a wish would go unheard if he were the one to ask it.
"...So much self-hate and cynicism, for one so young."
His mind snapped to Shinobi mode instantly, ice blue eyes searching the darkness quickly but knowing it would only end up being futile. "..It is within reason...I didn't think Death was talkative.." He stated carefully, his voice level. Minato didn't know how long he had spent in this darkness alone, with only his thoughts to accompany him; not a very nice thing when his mind was filled with his regrets and self-loathing. But it surely wouldn't have been hard to notice a presence appearing, or even being there before he arrived...Unless it was something that did not wish to be found.
"...Call it boredom, Minato Namikaze."
A shiver passed through him, though he knew he shouldn't be surprised. Death was, after all, supposed to know the names of those it took. Listening to it closely though, now that he knew it was there, Minato recognized a female voice, raising an eyebrow. "..Boredom?" He asked, curiosity taking over as he tried to pierce the black that surrounded him, with no luck, searching for the entity.
"It's been a few millennia since I've had another to speak to. You have come to be stuck with me. I suppose I could ask for worse company."
That made his eyebrow raise further. "...A rather high...compliment... I suppose even the dead need conversation?"
"It would seem so. But, then again-"
He felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder with a bruising grip, a shock shooting through him and somehow forcing his body into absolute stillness. The hand squeezed before roughly pulling him sharply to the side, the darkness doing little to help him regain equilibrium. The last thing he heard before reality faded only caused a weak flicker of shock and confusion. And then he is taken through blinding light with pain unlike anything he's ever felt shooting through his body, the world collapsing from beneath him as the hand shoves him into another.
"I'm not dead."