It's kind of odd how the greatest of changes can happen with the smallest of instances. Instances like the comings and goings of merchants, wanderers, ninja, and so on and so forth, through the great gates of Konoha. Instances like the changing of winds, or the decision to go left or right. Little things. Insignificant things. Unimportant things. Simple things. All played a part in the greatest of changes. All of them. Only a fool discounts the little details in life. Odd, isn't it, that such a little things could change something so big, but that's how it always begins. With one little thing.
Shisui was never the most observant of ninja, nor was he the most powerful, or even the most intellectual. In fact, Shisui was rather normal, by all accounts. However, even the dullest of blades knew trouble when it came up and slapped him in the face. However, much like an average shinobi, Shisui had an average amount of courage in him. Which wasn't much. And even though he knew this character just screamed "problem" it really wasn't his job to worry about that. After all, it's not like the village could have too much trouble with just one man, right?
Absolutely, the small man conceded, and so he let the stranger waltz past him, figuring he was someone else's problem, really. He was only supposed to stop criminals and the like anyway, as if any ever came by. This man didn't look like a criminal. No sir, he didn't, Shisui decided, and that was the end of that. Sort of. Anyway, he had already passed, and so Shisui went back to watching for criminals. After all, it wasn't his problem anymore.
000
Like a ghost, the visitor drifted through the streets of Konoha, his loose hakama wafting through the wind, his zori making a light, soft clacking noise every time he stepped, breaking the deafening silence that seemed to pervade everywhere that he went. His drifting, aimless in it's intent, random at first glance, took him to many places. The ramen shop, the book store, the Hokage Tower, the training grounds, the monument, and all alleys and streets in-between, the sprawling city drifting by as he wandered. Everywhere, people turned to stare, to gape, or to gawk at the stranger, his unusual appearance staining their eyes in the light of the afternoon sky.
After all, it wasn't every day that someone carrying a sword longer than it's wielder wandered by, especially in Konoha. Though, it really wasn't all that out of place, as much of the city was considered "unsafe" anyway, what with the fact that they were still repairing the wall of wooden spikes around Konoha. Something many people tended to forget was that no, 200 foot tall oak trees weren't all that common, even in a massive forest like Konoha, much less ones that met the criteria that made them acceptable for use in the defensive wall around the hidden village. Regardless, it wasn't uncommon for visitors and locals alike to wander around armed. That being said, no, the man's blade wasn't why he attracted attention to himself. Well, not completely anyway.
It really had something to do with the distinct lack of certain body parts that did. Seeing a heavily scarred man didn't attract attention so much as a heavily scarred man missing an arm. His right, to be precise, along with his right eye and right ear, all replaced by scarring that seemed to match that of an animal's claws. It was odd to see such a wound, and brought back memories of the demon Kyuubi and his newborn host. It had been a year since the beast ravaged Konoha, but the wounds were still too fresh. They could be seen everywhere, from the people to the village itself. Many had assumed that this was another of those cases, and the man had been subject to much sympathy. This would have made the swordsman in question annoyed, if he could find it in himself to care.
But he couldn't. He was far too old and far too jaded to waste energy on something so ridiculous as annoyance, especially at those who were far too ignorant to understand exactly what he was. Though he really wasn't surprised by the emotions directed towards him, considering his appearance in a dirty hakama, old zori, unshaven face and his old straw gasa hanging low on his head. He looked more like a homeless man than the samurai he was, really, which could be attributed to his lack of limb and eye. But, like many things, the condition of his clothing didn't bother him. As long as it didn't smell and covered him up for the most part, it would do.
However, he wouldn't be the first to admit to wanting to avoid villages, and people in general, for this very reason. However, the circumstances dictated that he be here, and that he stay until what had to be done was taken care of. This was, of course, assuming that he could find what he was looking for, or more precisely, who he was looking for. He had a purpose here, something that desperately needed doing, as more a favor to a dead friend than an order from a long since gone superior. So he wandered, looking for information, playing the sympathy card he had with the people around him, gathering up what seemed like harmless little tidbits from hushed conversations or scraps from what the people who he spoke managed to whisper out, as if it were forbidden knowledge.
In fact, that was how most of his day went. It wasn't hard finding the information he wanted, but sorting out the truth from the lies had been difficult, as an understatement. The process required much more time and patience than the swordsman had thought. Apparently much of this village was filled with people ignorant and hateful enough to come up with lies and half-truths about his subject of query. He didn't blame them, of course, as they had all lost something in the incident, though he had long since moved beyond the need for such sentimental values such as friends, family, and history. But then again, not many were like him. He simply adjusted enough so that his cool demeanor wouldn't counteract what he wished to accomplish.
From what he could gather, his subject was indeed here, which brought no little amount of relief to the weathered man. He'd been running across the continent for the better part of a year trying to find out what he now knew. He had been running thin on hope that the purpose of his search still lived, in any capacity, and yet here, in this village, not only was his target alive, but well, too. How long that would last, however, was always uncertain. He would have to act quickly. Children, after all, were like newborn cubs. Weak, vulnerable, and most importantly, helpless.
000
The night was warm, in his opinion. Too warm, really. Uncomfortably so, and the humidity was nothing short of hellish. The sky was blotted out behind the clouds, the moon and stars hidden from view, bathing the world in total darkness. There was rain coming, it's flavor permeating the air, filling it with the scent of stagnant water and rot. It was a perfect night for what he was about to do.
A figure melted from the shadows, his eyes drifting up towards the Hokage Tower, knowing the one he had come to collect resided here. A frown graced his lips, spotting several ANBU hiding in the outcroppings of the massive structure. It's giant doors were sealed, as were it's windows and vents, making infiltration all but impossible. Any opening that hadn't been totally secured was no doubt ridden with traps and alarms. The floors themselves were most likely lined with any number of proximity-set jutsus that did no little amount of damage to whomever was unfortunate enough to make it so far, not to mention the sheer number of innate defenses that he had no knowledge of.
He was too close to back down now, no matter how much he wanted too. It was... troublesome, this honor that he coveted so much. It would be easy to turn around, to walk away, and forget about his troubles. To go back to his home in the mountains and live out his days in peace. But he had made a promise, something he held above even his own life. Sacred in it's intensity, and binding in his death. He sighed. Being human, having such feelings, so troublesome, so annoying, so like him. His face fell blank as he realized that no peace would ever come to him with a stain on the only thing he'd ever valued. Life, property, skill, all things he saw as a means to an ultimate end. What that end was, he had yet to learn, however he knew it was coming, sooner and sooner, faster and faster. He had much to do yet, before he could peacefully rest. Much to do, and so little time.
And so he stepped from the shadows. Immediately he felt a dozen eyes on him, following him as he walked towards the gate, the ANBU standing point there watching him like a hawk. He strode forward calmly, as if all was well, misleading the poor fool. He made it farther than he had thought he would, before the masked ninja made any move to stop him, appearing before him in a way that only the ANBU could, in a cloud of smoke and leaves. Gensai had to refrain himself from rolling his eyes at the wasteful technique. Stupidity wasn't worth the effort.
"I think you may be a little lost, oyaji." The ANBU stated in a bit of a humorous tone. He was young, tall, and lanky, letting him tower over Gensai's five and a half foot frame. The swordsman frowned slightly.
"This is the Hokage Tower, is it not?" The question seemed to wave the young ninja for a moment, as if he didn't believe he'd just been asked that. He stared hard at the man through the eyeholes in his mask.
"It is, but we're closed. Come back in the morning. We can't allow someone of your condition to sleep on the steps, after all." Gensai looked at the young man for a moment, and turned, giving the man a passing glance. The ANBU seemed to be smirking at him. It was rather sad how these Leaf ninja seemed to be unable to recognize their betters.
The boy didn't even see it coming. All he knew was pain and silence, as Gensai's open palm struck him cleanly in the mask, pushing the ceramic material into his face, most likely shattering more than a few teeth and his nose if the amount of blood leaking through the bottom of the covering was any indication. He fell like a bag of rocks.
And the night was silent for all of a moment before he heard the first alarms. Gensai's lips pulled into a tight frown. It was going to get a little tricky here. ANBU were much easier to take out alone, when they can't rely on backup to catch them when they fall, much like this poor fool. He would live, but he would be hurting for some time afterwards. Perhaps he would learn a valuable lesson in all of this. That being old doesn't necessarily mean one is weak.
If anything, Gensai would prove this. He knew there was no easier way into the tower than through the front, and though time was short, he figured that he could make it into the compound before the security alerts brought the building under lockdown. But he had to shave as much time off as possible. Scaling the wall was out of the question, and the door was thick, strong. Too strong to easily cut. Most likely made of oak, and at least three inches thick at it's thinnest.
However, just because the door was strong, didn't mean the hinges and bolts were. At best, they were brass or copper, as steel was too difficult to fix into the shape of tiny gears and catches. The solution was obvious. Gensai reached into his hakama and drew a small knife, not even a tanto, it being little more than a pocket knife, and slipped it into the keyhole of the structure. He had to be careful. If he stressed the blade too much it would snap, and if he didn't stress it enough, it wouldn't remove the catches keeping the handle from spinning.
A moment passed, and then, with a deft, sharp twist, the swordsman destroyed the lock. The small knife was a bit mangled, so much so that he couldn't remove it from the hole, but the handle swung freely, the catches no longer stopping the bolt as it turned. He opened the thick door a crack, before sending it wide with a swift kick. The slam was echoic, bouncing through the courtyard. If there was anyone out there, they knew he was here. It wasn't subtle, but it was better than him slowly opening the door and having someone kick it shut in his face.
He shot through the opening, body crouched low, making himself as little a target as he could should the men on guard decide to try to make him into a pin cushion. Which they did. He could hear the nearly silent whistle of kunai and shuriken as they passed by him, trying to catch his swift form as it waved it's way across the ground. He winced, feeling pointed tips and edges grazing by his skin, leaving nicks and cuts to bleed out, marking his every narrow miss. He ran on.
He cursed those who struck at him from a distance, he himself being a melee fighter, and ill equipped to challenge someone who could plink at him from a distance. In an ideal world, this wouldn't be a problem, but here, even though his ability was formidable, he was at a major disadvantage. On top of that, he knew that he wouldn't have the opportunity to open the door before him, unless he resorted to a more violent, tactless solution. One that could very well damage his sword in the process, but it was a risk he'd have to take. There was no other option, as the ANBU taking shots at him would easily take him out if he stood still.
His left hand, his only hand, fell to his katana, his fingers wrapping around the worn cloth of the handle. He drew closer to the door, meters, feet, inches, before he called upon the Musashi. With an audible shink, the blade left it's sheathe, leaving an afterimage of itself in it's wake. The edged weapon flew forth at an impossible speed, finding air, and then resistance, as it's blade met the oak frame of the door. It was over in less than a second, but the result was most definitely noticeable. The top half of the door was blown open, with Gensai's figure following in it's wake. Behind him the air filled with bladed weapons, but it was far too late. He had penetrated the stronghold.
What awaited him was nothing short of depressing. Several ANBU, each with their ninja-to in one hand and a kunai in the other, all ready to fight and subdue him. From his crouched position on the floor, the man in question could only sigh. His katana rested lightly in his only hand, his one eye watching the faceless figures before him. He brought the blade up and let it rest on his shoulder.
"Would you move if I just asked you to?" he asked, his voice a mix of boredom and exhaustion, with a bit of annoyance mixed in. It hid his worry well, really. Fear was weakness in their eyes, and weaknesses meant to be exploited. Gensai wouldn't allow for that.
"You must be joking. Surrender now, and we'll let you live, oyaji. You don't need to die here." said the ANBU in the center of the group, he himself wearing a wolf mask, compared to the eagle, tiger and raccoon masks of his colleagues. Gensai could only begin to assume he was in charge.
"We all die sometime, boy. It's all a question of when and how, and to be honest, I'd rather not die in a prison or one of your torture chambers." the swordsman replied, pulling his blade from his shoulder and falling into a ready stance. He loved those who liked to chat with him, rather than try to kill him outright. If gave his old bones a chance to rest.
"I suppose so. Oh well, so be it." The wolf moved forward, the eagle and the tiger following suit, leaving the Raccoon to cover from a distance. Gensai met them, his sword flashing in the harsh artificial light of the main foyer. His blade touched the wolf's, and all hell broke loose.
Old or not, none could say Kawakami Gensai was frail, even with the years piled on behind him. His blade slipped around the wolf's, sending it's tip into the ground while Gensai was left an opening to deliver a devastating slash to the ANBU's face, only to have the strike blocked by his kunai, and then being forced back by the wolf's cohorts as they tried to scissor him between their blades. Gensai frowned. He had to get around their team tactics. He flipped back, trying to get some room to breathe, but only found himself being shot at by the raccoon in the background. It seemed like he would have no choice.
As soon as he stopped, the three ANBU were upon him again. So close were they that he could see their eyes, clouded and secretive, knowing they took no pleasure in killing, and that they only followed orders. A sigh escaped his lips as his blade drifted between theirs, the clashes and sparks ringing through the room. It was unfortunate, but unavoidable, as time was so short. He would have to be... rough... with them.
He closed his eyes a moment, an action that could be seen as suicidal in one point of view, and nothing less than foolhardy in all others. The three ANBU took it as a sign of surrender, but it was far too late, as they had already dedicated themselves to their attack. The blades drifted closer, as if through slow motion. All other sounds were silenced, and time itself seemed to stand still. And a flash. Blood. Shock. Then the three ANBU fell to the ground. Their blades fell to the earth with them, no longer held tightly in their hands, as their fingers were no longer attached to the bleeding stumps.
It happened so fast, that the raccoon could only stare in shock, frozen by the impossibility of what had just happened. He saw them move in for the kill, them being his fellow ANBU, and he saw their swords pass right through the man, which should have been the end of him. But it wasn't. He just wasn't there any more. No signs of movement, no flaring of chakra, no hand signs, no nothing. He was just... gone. And then he saw six flashes. Just flashes. No sounds of any sort, no signals, no nothing. A flash. And his allies were all down. They still drew breath, but blood pooled below them. They were still alive. Barely, but they still had the spark in them.
The man was gone. Shock settled into the ANBU. Shock, and fear. Where had that ghost gone? Out through the door he had come from, or down the hall behind him? He glanced back, and came face to face with the razor edged tip of a sword aimed right between his eyes. He almost fainted at that. The man behind the sword, one armed but far beyond the ANBU he faced, had his face turned away, down the hall. All the raccoon could make out was the edge of his face. He didn't think the man could see him, but fear of death froze him in place.
"Do not follow in your friends' footsteps. Place all of your weapons on the ground and go to them. They will bleed out shortly, and I think your superiors would rather you saved their lives than died with them in a hopeless battle." And that's exactly what the ANBU did. He made no move to try and escape the blade, as the tip followed his face wherever it went, to the left, the right, back, forth, everything. He didn't dare try to subdue this man in such a position.
Gensai looked directly into his opponent's eyes, seeing the fear in them. He knew he had nothing to worry about, as the ANBU did exactly as he was told. One could never be too careful, but he wasn't about to panic himself over a single enemy. Especially one whom was disarmed. Gensai pushed at the raccoon's forehead slightly with his weapon, an unsaid sign for him to go to his comrades. He did so, and once he was well away from his discarded arms, Gensai sheathed his blade and walked down the hall.
His eyes drifted to a map resting on a cork board, complete with a "You Are Here" marker, and looked for anything that could be seen as a nursery. From what he had gathered earlier, the boy was kept safe in this tower due to his rather dubious social status. There had been more than a few attempts to take his life, apparently, if the rumor mills were true. He couldn't grasp the idea of killing an innocent infant, especially one charged with the task of keeping a Spirit Lord in him. It was repugnant to him, and just another reason he needed to get the child out of there. Growing up in such a place would drive even the strongest to insanity.
Gensai memorized the map, pushing such thoughts from his head. The room marked "Nursery" was just a floor under the Hokage's personal office, which was undoubtedly guarded heavily. Lucky for him, he doubted that the room was secured nearly as well. The amount of hatred the village felt for the boy would undoubtedly seep into the ninja corps, making them less than willing to guard the child in times of emergency, much rather favoring the more important areas such as the Vault and the Hokage's offices. He was headed to neither, so that wasn't an issue.
The nearest staircase was down the hall and to the left, some ways from where he was, but better than having to go to the back of the building for the other. Crouching low once more, sword sheathed, he sprinted his way down the empty hallways. Nothing but wind and emptiness passed by the swordsman, right up until he reached the apex of the hall, where it intersected with three others. Immediately he spotted another team of ANBU, a lion, a squirrel, a kunoichi fox and a canary. He sighed in distinct annoyance. Another group to deal with.
His hand drifted to his sword, drawing it slowly. The four ANBU wasted no time and began to form hand seals. Gensai hated this particular talent that all ninjas seemed to possess, as there really was no effective counter. Well, no nonlethal effective counter, anyway. His best option was to take them out now, quickly, before they could finish. This wasn't an option though. He was still slightly tired from the last usage of that technique. Another use would knock him unsteady.
But there were always options, if one had the sense to look for them. Gensai was once such person. All he needed to do was cross the short distance between them, but that in and of itself needed a plan. And he was out of time. With a yell, the four ANBU released what looked like a wall of fire, rolling it's way towards him at an incredible speed. He hastily reached into his hakama, feeling for a certain item that he desperately needed if he was going to survive this.
He almost gave a cry of success upon wrapping his fingers around one of the small balls that he carried, each packed with exploding powder. A flick of the wrist sent one directly into the oncoming blaze. The blast destroyed what little chakra the fire needed to maintain it's shape, and nothing more than a warm breeze passed by the one armed blademaster. The second, slightly larger than the first, followed, with a lit fuse, through the now empty hallway. The ANBU whom had begun to form a second set of seals scattered. Apparently the bomb was more than enough to spook them into action, but with the slight crack of the ball hitting the tiled floor, the fuse went out, marking the explosive as a dud. The ninja shared a look and turned to the man, but found him gone. This realization shook them, but their reaction was far too late, as he had already come upon them like a hawk from above.
Moments later, four unconscious, slightly battered and bleeding ANBU hit the floor, and Gensai continued onwards and up the stairs, making his way up to the fourth level of the structure, and exactly where he needed to be.
000
Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, A.K.A. the Sandaime, sat and patiently waited for the intruder to make his way to the nursery. It wasn't so much a surprise that he was there, as the Sandaime was never one to be oblivious to exactly who and what wanted the boy sleeping soundly not three feet from him, but rather, how long it had taken for this particular individual to make his way here. He'd been expected several months earlier, from what the Third understood, according to the instructions the Fourth left for him. The old man could only wonder why.
He knew exactly who it was that had come, as he was considered one of the best fighters alive, even after the loss of his arm and eye. After all, you didn't earn so powerful a name as Kawakami Gensai for being weak or incompetent. He was a samurai, one of the last of a dying breed, as most of the samurai in this day and age were all just glorified thugs, who still practiced Bushido, and the Way of the Sword. The man was honorable, brilliant, and unwavering, even if he wished it wasn't so. Sarutobi could only grin at some of the conversations he'd had with Gensai, back when he was still a member of Leaf's small but skilled samurai brigades.
He definitely was a man whom the Sandaime could put his faith in, assuming he could rip out a few promises from the man before he took the boy. If push came to shove, even with Gensai's disability, he would be more than a match for the Sandaime. Sarutobi was wise, and prideful, but he wasn't stupid. He knew that Gensai, if he wanted to, could kill off half the village before being taken down, ANBU and Hokage included. However, he knew that the samurai wouldn't do that. Even though he hadn't seen the man in almost two decades, from what Gensai's brother had told him, he was still as driven and firm as he always had been. That alone was why Sarutobi had made the decision he had.
With that thought in mind, Sarutobi sat, and waited patiently for the swordsman to make his way to the Nursery. He couldn't help but smirk at seeing the boy again. If anything, it would be interesting.
000
Gensai slid the door to the fourth level open, sword sheathed, but clothes slightly bloodied nonetheless. Behind him lie several bleeding but alive ninja, a testament to his decision not to kill any of them. It hadn't been easy, though. Preserving life was difficult, far more so than taking it. Both of which were trying on him, but the former proved to be far more consuming, and he wasn't getting any younger. Damn ninja anyway, he thought, as they just don't know how to stay down. He sighed, more out of annoyance than anything, as he walked down the hallway that lead to his destination.
Coming upon the room, he found that the door wasn't locked, something in and of itself odd. But then again, from the lack of security here, he had to assume that they either didn't think he would come here, or didn't care. Either way, it was good for him. He wasn't about to complain about his job being made easier.
The room itself was decorated like any other nursery, even though it was a bit shoddy, per say. The walls were a soft blue, covered in small animals and whatnot. In the corner was a toy box, one that seemed somewhat empty, and a dresser, which, like the toy box, seemed a bit sparse. The crib was in a corner by the window, with a small figure sleeping soundly under a set of soft cotton covers. It was the boy. Gensai moved slowly, quietly, not wanting to wake the sleeping child, and possibly bringing down some unwanted attention upon himself. Fighting ANBU was one thing, but fighting ANBU while trying to keep a defenseless charge safe was definitely another.
He didn't make it farther than a step before he knew he wasn't alone. His hand drifted from to the hilt of his blade, but something caused him to hesitate when it came to drawing his sword. It was a familiar presence that he hadn't felt in ages, something that calmed him, assured him, and relaxed him. Only two people on this earth could do that, and one of them had long since passed on. That left only one. Gensai turned to an old man resting peacefully in a rocking chair across the room, and let a small smile grace his lips.
"It's been quite a while, hasn't it, Sarutobi-sensei?" Gensai asked with a kind of nostalgia that only two old men whom hadn't seen each other in decades could muster.
"That is has, Gen-san. That it has." The Third said, his voice tired, old, but for once, happy, and calm. This certainly was an unexpectedly warm reunion, one he wouldn't give for anything. Looking over the man he'd once seen as a charge, as much as his brother was during his time under the old man, he couldn't help but wince. Gensai was only in his mid forties, but he moved and looked as if he were twice that age. The Sandaime couldn't help but wince as he saw the empty sleeve on Gensai's right, and at the scarred over right eye that marred the man's face. Sarutobi sighed.
"I take it you're here for the boy, then?" The Hokage asked, some trepidation in his voice. Gensai nodded slightly, his face falling neutral.
"His father made me swear I would train him. I wouldn't break that promise to him. I owe him far too much." Gensai said, his eyes growing unfocused at he thought back to that day. It was over in a moment, and the swordsman looked at his former mentor with a kind of tenseness that spoke volumes.
"I wouldn't try to stop you, you know. I know what your word means to you. However, you must understand, I'm a bit iffy when it comes to letting his legacy out of the village. He is a hero, even if the people here don't see it." Sarutobi looked at his former student with a tired look in his eye. They spoke of pain and misunderstandings. They spoke of sorrow and rage. They told many things to the one armed man.
"I know, but it's for the best. This place would break him. It would create the monster they all fear, I suspect. I can't leave him here." The blademaster said, his voice ringing with conviction.
"As much as I would like to disagree, your words have quite a bit of truth to them. I had thought, with some hope, that the villagers would see the boy for the hero he is, rather than as the demon's container. It was vain, I'll admit, but still there. Unfortunately, it's not to be. There is much anger here. Too much. There's no way that they would accept the child as he is, as much as it pains me to say." Sarutobi sighed, his shoulders slumped.
"So you would allow me to take the boy, with no trouble?" Gensai wondered. Sarutobi only nodded a yes. Gensai made his way over to the crib, not missing the weak genjutsu that kept the child asleep.
"I would like to ask you a favor though." That caught the samurai's attention. He glanced at the old man, and tilted his head in question.
"Which is?" asked Gensai, curious as to what his brother's old teacher might want.
"Bring him back here, once he is ready. His father wanted him to join the ranks of Konoha shinobi. I think you know this as well as I do." Said Sarutobi as he glanced at the swordsman. Gensai only nodded once, but the Third knew it to be as good as if he had sworn it on his honor. Gensai never broke an oath. Never.
And with that, the swordsman lifted the sleeping child from his crib and leapt out the window. The third walked to the now open portal, and glanced down. The man had already made his way into the night, clearing the wall around the compound with a single, solid leap. It wasn't lost on him that the ANBU no longer attempted to pursue the one armed man, knowing wholly that it was because of his own order. They were not to touch the man once he left, only to try and stop him from entering and getting the boy. He couldn't, after all, let the legacy of the Fourth fall into incapable hands. He'd had no doubt Gensai would make it to the boy, but still, he couldn't rely on reputation alone.
That was just foolish, after all. Sarutobi chuckled slightly, wishing the samurai luck. He knew the man would take care of the child, as he'd promised the Yondaime all those years ago. Though, all things considered, he wondered what Naruto would be like when he returned.
The old man smiled, and thought only that time would tell.
END
AN: I know. Holy crap. He posted something! Long time, eh? Before you get all excited, I'm here to say this: I'm not updating any of my older stuff. I just don't like it. The writing is god aweful, the plot is weak, assuming there was one, and it wasn't up to snuff at all. Now, this, I might be inclined to update, and maybe even finish. I like it. I think my writing has improved dramatically over the last few years (obviously a lie) and I actually enjoyed writing this story. As for where I'm going to go? Who knows. We'll see what the next chapter holds, eh?
Peace.