After trial and tribulation, I decide to take this story again and fix it, making it my pet project. I will slave on this damn thing till it's done. Not in Kiri anymore, and certaintly a hell of a lot different from my marysue first chapter. Happy New Years,
The Missing-Nin Program
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Mono is greeted by red, all sticky with broken placenta and blood.
She is the horrible outcome of an emergency casearean section by a ninja. Her mother is writhing under her and the squelch of her stomach is prominent as they cut the umbilical cord. There is screaming and crying all around.
As the newborn baby utters nothing, she is born into a time of tragedy.
The crushing of Uzushio.
.
Skirmishes in Ame.
Hanzo.
The economic collapse of Kiri.
Uzushio.
Death, death and death.
This is what Mono hears as her other brother, older than her is crying.
He cries for days.
He only stops crying to beg for food village to village. They climb onto farmer carts, and sleep next to vegetables and fruits and rice. Somehow, Tomoe always finds swaddling cloth to keep his little sister warm. She never questions it. It's not like she could,
When her eyes gain vision, he's the first thing she sees. He's all chubby, like he's never seen the war until now. His hair is a vivid red, and his eyes are the prettiest green. Is he Irish? She can't tell, his tears are too muddled in his eyes to point the color out.
All Tomoe knows is that his mother is dead, a corpse struck by jutsu and marred with the poor, jagged cut of kunai.
And what came out of that cut was strange.
Mono is so small.
As he dully watches the road, she weighs in his arms. Mono hardly makes a sound, and she coos when he cries. Tomoe wants to put her back in his mother's belly and tell his father to take the two far, far away.
But his father is dead, as is his mother.
The last thing his father said to Tomoe was that his sister was disfigured. That she wouldn't survive the shinobi world. That she would die as soon as she was hit with the air, the oxygen and the noise.
But she didn't.
Mono was still gurgling happily as he fed her stolen milk, even as he begged and people were disgusted by Mono's appearance.
Tomoe knew that Mono was alive.
.
Mono was disformed, in vanity.
A black, inky patch stretched from her right collarbone to cover her one brown eye.
It was like a disease that never spread.
It carried her to Kiri, where Tomoe was nearly 13 and Mono was three.
Mono had messy, irritating hair and always wore next to nothing when she forced him to drag her around. Tomoe tried to pose as a farmers child, instead of a beggar. He dressed his sister's long hair tight, and made sure she could carry more than one thing in her backpack.
To carry trading goods and luxury, sparse but enough to make profit. He had even paid someone with broken kunai and chaste kisses to create papers for them.
They approached the border, where venemous shinobi monitored sharply.
Kiri was at a heightened security during this time, and they were even wary at the mere thought of two young children appearing before them. They were not kind to their ranks, and even worse to their civilians.
The two children were towered over by the ninja as they handed the papers in. They are tentative, almost forboding as they examined the paper. Tomoe held his breath. Mono did too, and held close to her brother's hand.
The border shinobi handed their papers back, and they were free to go. But where?
Mono pauses as Tomoe steps forward. The shinobi is quick, quicker than any Olympic track star, quicker than any karate movie.
He pops off the two buttons of Tomoe's shirt and finds binding.
"You were lying about your gender in the papers." He says very simply. Then he has his kunai in Mono's big brother— no, big sister's arm, and Tomoe is screaming as he rips her arm off.
Mono is strangled with fear, and she rushes to her sisters side. Her peasant shirt and thick pants are laden with blood, that grows deep in color.
Short breaths, clammy skin and tired eyes.
And Tomoe is pale. She looks more like a woman than a boy or a girl, and her long eyelashes are beginning to flutter shut. She was growing unconscious because of blood loss.
She'd die.
The other shinobi knew it too, because the girl was not a shinobi. She would die of blood loss at the border of Kiri, starving with hunger and lack of attention. She would die alone, with a fake sister in an unknown world.
Tomoe's eyes flutter shut and she can strangely hear familiar cooing, of Mono's shuddering lungs letting out sobs in English,
Funny, she can't recall bringing anyone with her.
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Mono sits very still, as Tomoe dies on the cold ground. She doesn't dare to look at the shinobi,
They are fools. Utter pigs. They've gone and killed a little girl, nabbed her of her life and stripped her to the barest being.
Her corpse is on the floor, Mono wails inwardly. Her sad, pathetic little body is void of a soul and the glassy look in Tomoe's eyes shows that the person inside it is gone. There is no more begging for Tomoe. There is no selling her affections. No warm, spindly arms around Mono's torso.
Mono picks up the papers, but only the ones pertaining her. She picks up her trading goods and weighs them onto her tiny frame. And suddenly she crying, it is ugly and terrible. She is not sad for Tomoe, she is sad for herself.
She still sees the body, broken on the floor. And she cries harder as she wills her legs to move,
Its strained and selfish, and the shinobi watch her leave: the trapped soul in a weak body.
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Mono wanders. She eats tree bark and drinks from the stream. It makes her sick and dizzy, and she doesn't know where she is going.
She walks and walks with her farmer sandals, and even grows so hungry as to gnaw on the fabric in her pack. Her feet break and bleed upon the ground, and her skin grows hard and icy.
She doesn't know what to think—she had plans.
Tomoe would be alive, and they'd live in some farming village and cultivate rice. They'd breed sheep and shave them and bathe them. Of course, she had never told Tomoe this. She'd just babble about stupid things like candy and she would never say thank you or I love you.
Mono regrets a lot of things, and thinks she's taken a lot of things for granted. She's taken death for granted, her connections for granted, and the intimacy of family is lost to her.
She lost so much, she ponders. But for the life of her, she can't tell what she misses. She only sees Tomoe in her family, her red hair and green eyes that she never got to know truly. After all, everything that came out of that mouth was a lie.
But Tomoe loved her. Which was Mono's true loss.
She had lost her sister, and an example of love.
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She stops at the edge of another village, where the scent of soap lingers thickly and steam permeates the atmosphere.
It suffocates Mono as she grips thin fingers over her trading papers. She just hopes these will work.
As she nears the village, she feels a rather ominous presence foreign at her spine. A blade is placed at her back, and she hears the chirpy voice of a cursing child.
"Yah better fuckin' keep quiet, if yah know what's good for ya. It's my second sacrifice, so I'll be quick."
Mono registers the knife that pierces her back, and silver hair,
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Preview: "You aren't dead? What the hell? Are yah' one of Jashin's members?"
A/N: So I'm off that darned hiatus and changing the story entirely. Welcome to the crap hole that is a new year. I may seemed detached in my writing LOl but its SaD