Thanks to Ezeakel for the plot of this fiction.

And, as needed on this site, general disclaimer of the characters.

He looked across a plain of stunted grass. Sand dunes had erupted in places, leaving small hills covered in spiky grey grass. The wind blew hot off of the desert, and it rustled up the sand, shoving it into his eyes and mouth. A part of him knew that the sand should be more controlled, not so chaotic.

There were many things wrong about the world right now. It was too quiet, only the whistle of wind and the crackle of sand disturbed the silence. It should be filled with people, filled with conversation, shouts, yells, tears, anything but this oppressive silence. The world looked dim, too. Like all the color had been taken out, turned off, toned down. Grey overpowered the scene, making the grass look dead, making the sky look black, making the sand look like white hills against shadowed trees. Even the full moon in the night sky seemed to be turned on low, the amount of light sent off was barely a flicker. But the worst wrong was the giant beast that was plopped in the middle of the desert.

It was enormous. It scaled into the sky like a mountain. A mountain made of wood and stone. Those ten tails would have looked like pillars, blocking out the moon in some spiritual sense. It would have looked like a building, some temple, if the beast stopped thrashing around.

He thought he could see the eye from here. The cyclopic monstrosity that sat in the middle of the beast's face over its gaping maw. He wondered if he could see the color from here. The grey and purple, still bright in the dimness, the rings, spinning in concert with each other, lulling the world into silence.

He knew he would have to seal it into himself. He knew that it was the only way to make it mortal, to trap the chakra that was brushing up the wind and making the trees sway. It was only when he had it trapped within himself would it release its grip on the world.

And then he would have to die.

It was the only way to get rid of the creature for certain. He wasn't sure if he would be able to kill himself, or if he would bank on the hope that someone under the jutsu would be able to break free enough to kill him before he started to lose control.

He closed his eyes as another gust of sand whipped up and into his face. It was as chaotic as his thoughts, as turbulent as his feelings. He wanted to do what was right, protect those who had never protected him. But he also wanted to live. He wanted to go home, talk to the family that he created from scratch. He wanted to live his life.

He took a breath.

Shi-Woon opened his eyes. He lay in his small room, the sun painting patterns through the shades and across his face. He sat up slowly, his mind still on the dream that lingered at the edge of his conscious. He had that dream since he was 9 years old, and he could never figure out the deeper questions to it.

Where was he? Why was he fighting this monster? What does the beast want? What happened to the world? Why does he have to do it?

Every time, Shi-Woon can only think that he needs to take on the beast and kill himself. It left him feeling annoyed, on edge, uncomfortable, lonely…. sad.

Shi-Woon groaned as he slowly crawled from his bed and started to get ready for school. Usually, whenever he had that dream, the rest of the day would be a mess of calamity. He would lose things, or forget homework, or get water splashed on him by a bus. In middle school it would predict when he would get beat up by his neighborhood bullies. But now that had became so often that Shi-Woon would probably be better off believing that these dreams predicted when he wouldn't be attacked.

Shi-Woon pulled his baggy school uniform on with another sigh, before walking into the kitchen. He grabbed a hardboiled egg from the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of water. He needed to leave for school early today, and he didn't have time for a big breakfast. He sat at the empty table, the sunlight streaming through a window in the hallway barely illuminating the dingy kitchen.

The sophomore in highschool ate in silence, his mind muggy and slow. He didn't want to go to school today. He didn't want to anything, really. It all felt like too much effort. And yet he wanted something to fill the silence around him. He wanted to be moving and active. He wanted to want to do something.

Shi-Woon finished off the egg, and stood to leave, placing the halfway empty glass of water in the sink. His mother would wash it when she woke up for work.

Shi-Woon glanced at the note and money on the table, the money for his lunch. He grabbed the money, ignoring the note. It was always the same. Same message, same apology, same reminder. Shi-Woon was tired of communicating with his only family through a piece of paper forgotten on a kitchen table.

Shi-Woon's hand crumpled the bills together, a small shake beginning to appear. Uncoordinated, Shi-Woon pulled out his wallet, stuffing the bills inside. There was about 20000 won *.

It wouldn't be enough.

He walked slowly towards the front door, his steps slow, even as his hands started to shake harder. Maybe… maybe he would be there early enough.

His high school was a few blocks from his apartment. He needed to take the 175 bus to get there. His mother had wanted to move to this neighborhood, she had thought that it would be a good placement for Shi-Woon, with a good high school and middle school nearby and a safe neighborhood. Shi-Woon always had to grit his teeth when his mother bragged about her decision. If she only listened to what he told her. If only she had time to listen…

Shi-Woon blinked into the garish half dimmed light of the street. The buildings blocked the sun from reaching the street, giving the place a cold and damp feeling. Shi-Woon slouched down the steps of his apartment building, feeling groggy and drained. Like he did every day.

He stumbled his way to the bus stop, stepping onto the early bus, and hoping that he had planned it right.

He had planned to get there early so that he could hide in the classroom.

The fist hit his stomach, making him cough on his breath.

He had thought that they wouldn't come until much later.

Hands shoved him up against rough concrete, holding his collar in place.

He didn't think about the fact that now he had an hour of undivided attention with the nightmare of his high school.

"What are you lookin' at, dweeb?!" Spittle flicked across Shi-Woon's face, making him flinch into the unforgiving wall. He tried to look somewhere else, away from his tormentor, but the only other things he could look at were the other bullies that ranged behind the high-schooler. He couldn't get away from the boy in front of him and he wouldn't be able to escape if he did.

"What. You just gonna stand there, idiot?" A hand grabbed at his hair, shoving his face into cold, dry concrete.

There were four boys in total, standing and watching as Shi-Woon was kicked around. Some leaned against walls or stood slouched in the back alley that went behind their school. They all looked similar to each other, the nonchalant way that they stood, the looks of mild amusement as the watched someone smaller and younger get beaten up in front of them. It left a coldness in the twists of their lips and a darkness at the back of their eyes. But there was one boy who was different from the rest.

Chang-Ho was like the leader of the group. He sprawled out with more confidence. He walked with more aggression. Even his looks made him stick out from the group. His bald head was stark compared to his counterparts' short black hair.

They treated him like they saw him. They spread out along the alley, but they all seemed to be connected to him, to have some awareness of his placement. It was like a cape made of people. They were a part of the entity of Chang-Ho. He told them what to do, who to go after, what to take.

And unlike the other boys, when Shi-Woon looked into Chang-Ho's eyes, all he saw… was hatred.

It glimmered in his irises, like a frozen fire. It was deep and dark, it reminded Shi-Woon of – red with swirling black. Unmeasurable hatred that had been slowly cultivated over years. – a deep lake. The center unreachable, and black at its center.

A deep, cold lake.

Shi-Woon's knees collapsed as he was shoved to the floor.

"Oh, come on, you wimp! Stand up!" The teenager yelled.

Shi-Woon stumbled to his feet, keeping his eyes down, afraid that if he looked up it would be seen as defiance.

"Remember the 60,000 won for tomorrow! Got it?"

Hands grasped at his shirt again, threatening violence, but the school bell rung out, signaling the end of Shi-Woon's torment.

The junior in front of Shi-Woon glanced away from him, distracted. The call of society broke through his violent haze. The shove he gave Shi-Woon as he turned to go was gentle in comparison, even if it still drove the breath from Shi-Woon's body as he hit the concrete wall once more.

Shi-Woon glanced up to watch the group wander away, all of them returning to some sort of "normality" as the bell called them to their first class. Chang-Ho's dark eyes pinned Shi-Woon in place as he stared at the sophmore from the corner of his eye. Unlike the rest, he seemed to wear his normality like a wolf wears sheepskin, his nature never truly changed, just covered. The eyes flicked away at last, turning back to the rest of the group.

As the group walked away, the rising sun pressed their retreating shadows into the pavement, none of them reaching Shi-Woon's feet, leaving him stranded. The lonliness set in once more.

Shi-Woon didn't know why he was the one who was chosen. Why he was the one who was left alone to fend for himself. It just happened. Slowly, over time, he was isolated, left alone, rejected. Elementary to middle school, middle school to high school. He was the one on the fringes of the school, never quite being able to create that stable place for himself. And when he reached middle school, when the students started to separate themselves, find closed off pods, filter out to there separate personalities, Shi-Woon found who else lived on the fringe of the school. Those who weren't rejected, but rejected others. Those who weren't a part of the groups, because they were above the groups. And as he saw them, they saw him.

It was horrid to feel this outright hate directed at him. He just – felt small. Like a child. He was alone, without anyone to hold his hand. He was crying, trying to gain some sympathy from the watching crowd. But they looked on in utter disgust. He just wanted them to like him! He just – wanted to feel like he belonged.

Shi-Woon bit back a sniffle, a rising sob. He reached up to touch his face.

"Wooh! I'm sure glad that's over, that was quite the bad atmosphere!" A cheery voice rang from above him.

Shi-Woon jumped, glancing up at the six foot wall.

A man crouched on the edge, a flashy, purple shirt pulled open to show a silver chained necklace hanging freely. Aviator glasses covered his eyes, their mirror reflection, shimmering in the sun. He held a cigarette carelessly and his smile was wide and wicked.

Shi-Woon stumbled from the wall, some small part of pride pulling his back straight, trying to hide his pain and fear.

"This is Koo Ryong highschool, right?"

Shi-Woon tried not to stumble as he craned his neck (and stomach) to look up at the stranger. A small nod bobbled Shi-Woon's head, even as shame and confusion wracked his brain.

The man jumped down from the wall like he stepped off of a curb. The movement was so graceful looking to Shi-Woon, and a part of him felt nostalgic at the elegance.

The stranger pulled off his glasses slowly as he glanced around the small back corner of the school. "Good thing I'm not too late!" A sardonic twinge followed the upbeat words, as the strange man glanced at his watch.

He looked like a model, or a host of some kind. His hair was pulled back from his face, showing off clever eyes over a small nose. His slim cheekbones gave him a softer look, but the muscles that strained the shirt, more than made up for any femininity in his face. He looked surprisingly handsome.

The quick eyes caught Shi-Woon's bemused stare, and a quick closed eyed smile was shot at the sophomore. "Don't worry, I'm not a suspicious person!" A hand was waved in Shi-Woon's direction as if it would remove any doubt from the boy's mind.

"But I do have to go to the school office, so I'll be off."

The man took two steps away from the baffled teen before glancing back over at the boy. "You got pretty beat up there. You weren't going to fight back at all?"

The question shocked Shi-Woon, and he could only open his mouth in stunned silence.

The man plowed on. "I guess that's because you're a coward." The matter of fact tone was offset by the man's mocking eyes and grin. "I guess you'll just have to think of that as your destiny, or maybe you'll become like Buddha." The man's hands clapped in front of his body, imitating a monk. The eyes stayed locked on Shi-Woon, darkening in distaste. The smirk tightened at the corners of his mouth as if he tasted something bitter.

There was a beat before the man shrugged and turned away, sending a wave over his shoulder.

Shi-Woon stood stunned in the back alley. Those eyes had been cold. Cold like a lake.

Shi-Woon grit his teeth as he glared at the floor, his hands fisting over his stomach and crushing the front of his shirt. The anguish was physical in a way that Shi-Woon hadn't felt since – he was sitting on a swing, watching the rest of the children go home with their families. Watching them have their happy lives, with their happy parents. He- walked home to an empty house. For the fifth time in a week.

Shi-Woon shook off the feelings as another warning bell rang. He stumbled off to his homeroom not realizing that events had been set in motion, and his dreams were going to become a part of his reality.

*20000 won= about 20 US dollars

**60000 won= about 50 US dollars

Thank you for reading the first chapter of this new story. I have never written anything like this, with an interrupting side monologue. I always liked the type of set up, but I was never confident in writing that way. I hope you think my effort is okay, but I would love any and all feedback. I will answer all questions in the next update.

I would also like to thank Ezeakel once more. Most of what I am writing was heavily influenced by Eazekel's idea and plot planning. I couldn't have done this without them!

I am hoping to update every other week on Wednesday. However... I have never stuck to a writing schedule very well. I tend to move through bursts of passion. I will attempt my best, and will try to stick to any sort of schedule.