Author's Note: No one get mad! I'm sorry. It's another story! But this one has been stuck in my head for a long time! Forgive me! x.x Anyway, most of these kids are made up, but the others are cannon, okay? I don't want to hear about how that kid doesn't exist, okie doki? Let me know what you think, if I should continue or not! I have a feeling this will be a good one! Enjoy!
Warnings: Nothing really, just language maybe.
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Not even most of the OCs. My brother made most of them.
Word Count: 2,983
A young, thirteen year old girl, stands before her full-body length mirror. She runs her plain blue brush through shoulder length dark brown hair. She does it with a monotonous repetition and without any pride. She wasn't the type of person that cared much for her looks. She stares into her own dark brown eyes, watching her black pupils adjusting a bit in the morning light. At this close, she's able to see all of her features pretty well, but glancing at the window behind her, the tree that stretches up just beyond, is blurry.
With a long winded sigh, she turns and grabs red-rimmed glasses, putting them on and slipping them up her nose. She tries to tuck the bangs that were all pushed to the left side behind her ear but it's not long enough and easily slips back into place. She tries two more times with no better results than the first time.
Another sigh. The girl turns and heads to the door, leaving her simple room filled with a bed, dresser, mirror, nightstand with a red lamp and a single picture upon it with a younger version of the girl standing beside an older girl and two brothers, identical twins and the oldest of the four of them. Four siblings.
The young girl heads down the stairs to see her mother drinking coffee while reading the morning paper. She doesn't look up when the girl walks in.
"Morning, Mom," the young girl says, walking over to the fridge, grabbing out an orange before closing the door and sitting down at the other end of the table, beginning to peal it.
The woman finally looks up. "Sarada," the woman says, laying down her mug, "use a paper towel or plate, please."
The young girl, Sarada, looks up at her mom, frowning. "I won't make a mess."
The woman brushes her long dark brown hair over her shoulder and raising an eyebrow, looking mildly amused. "I know. You're a lot better than Daiachi, I'll give you that, but I just cleaned the house and I don't want to have to clean up again. Please, for me?"
Sarada sighs, nodding. She stands up and grabs a napkin, laying it down under the orange before continuing to peal it.
A moment later a young man appeared, bouncing into the room with a jubilant look on his face, humming an out-of-tune melody of a song under his breath. The same song that could be heard being sung extra loudly a few hours earlier in the bathroom while the shower was running. It sounded about as good as his humming does now.
"Speak the devil's name and he shall appear," Sarada mumbles, still pealing her orange.
Daiachi pauses, looking down at Sarada curiously while their mother smiles around the rim of her coffee mug. Daichi, with similar dark brown hair and dark brown eyes as Sarada, reaches down and puts his hands heavily upon his little sister's shoulders. He squeezes them tightly. "What are you trying to say, little sister? Got someone on your mind, do you?" He leans down close Sarada's ear.
Sarada glares over her shoulder at her older brother. "You know, for being the eldest of us, you are probably the most childish. Are we sure Sanada isn't the eldest?"
"No, sorry," their mom says with mirth, "My cute little Sanada was born second."
"That was because the greatest portion of the womb was taken up by his fat ass," a soft, smooth voice says in the doorway.
"Sanada!" Daiachi says excitedly, turning to his twin brother who was the exact same in almost every way except hair style and Sanada had a slightly skinnier face. Both had long, dark brown hair, pulled up into a single pony tail at the back of their heads with bangs hanging in their faces. Daiachi's bangs frame his face on either side about his jaw length while Sanada's stomps at his eyebrows, covering his forehead. "Don't be mean! I wasn't fat," the eldest twin says, pouting.
Sanada rolls his own dark brown eyes. "You were almost eight pounds while I was barely six. I think that qualifies you being a fat ass."
Their mother chokes on her drink, coughing a bit. "Sanada," she says through her coughs, "not in front of your sister, please."
"My apologies, mother," Sanada says, sounding anything but. Sarada rolls her eyes. She may be only eight, but she had heard a lot worse than that. It's just because she's the youngest that her mom and dad both think that she needs to be coddled. She wasn't a baby and hated that she was always being treated like she was. Sarada and Sanada both lock eyes and he winks, as if able to read her mind.
Daiachi looks insulted. "I don't have to stay here and take this! I'm heading to school. At least there people respect me."
"Sorry, baby," their mother says playfully. "I love you."
"Yeah, thanks, mom," Daiachi says, leaning down and patting Sarada's shoulder before flying out the door. "Bye! See you at school, Sanada!" He didn't even wait for a response before he was skipping down the sidewalk.
"Bye," Sanada says even though his brother is long gone, then looks to their mom. "Where is Madonna?"
"She went to school early to be with Ria," Sarada says, looking up at her brother. "You know how she loves him."
Sanada frowns. "She's fifteen years old and Ria is sixteen. They don't know what love is."
"But an eighteen year old does?" Sarada asks, looking at her older brother coyly eating her orange. "Daiachi seems to think he's in love with that Ashton, girl."
"Daiachi is a moron and he's only thinking with his-"
"Sanada!" Their mom snaps, eyebrows raised. "Deter from your line of thought immediately." She gives him a look of warning.
Sanada shakes his head. "Whatever. The point is, you're my good little sister. Stay away from boys. They're no good." He sighs, glaring at their mom when she giggles at his protectiveness, green eyes bright. He looks back over at Sarada. "I will walk you to school in Madonna's stead. Hurry up so we aren't late."
"I don't need a babysitter," Sarada says, but does as she's told. She cleans up her mess and finishes eating her orange before grabbing her backpack and waving goodbye to her mom and following Sanada out the door. They live in a town of about almost a thousand people. It's a harbor city, pretty remote, but the schools are good and it's all Sarada's ever known.
"Is dad coming home for dinner tonight?" Sarada asks, looking up at her brother.
It's a nice morning. A bit chilly with the wind but the sun is beating down on them. The morning is quiet, even though people are already up and about getting ready for work and school. The town is small enough that for the most part anywhere in it can be reached by walking. There was one school in the entire town that held the students from all grades, that's where they were heading.
He shrugs. "He's the mayor of our little town, I would like to assume he'd try," Sanada says simply, but doesn't appear to be too optimistic. "Philip's got a job to do," he says bit a bitter undertone.
"Why do you call dad that?" Sarada asks, waving at some classmates also walking to school.
Sanada shrugs. "Same reason Madonna calls mom Janice. I can't stand him and she can't stand her. That's just the world we live in."
Sarada doesn't say anything for a long time. They wait until the light turns green with the walking person on it before crossing the street. Once they reach the other side, she finally says, "I don't think she likes me. Mom, I mean."
Sanada doesn't say anything, just puts his arm around her shoulders. After they get close to the k-12 school that they all attend, Sanada looks down at Sarada with large, dark brown eyes.
"I don't think they wanted any of us. Dad's always working and mom seems..." he looked at a loss for words.
"Biding her time?" Sarada guesses, pushing her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. Sanada nods, frowning deeper.
"Just don't think about it. In just a few short years, we will all be graduated and out on our own and then we won't have to worry about it anymore. Alright?" He pushes her bangs out of her eyes. Sarada nods, sighing for what feels like the hundredth time this morning.
"Sarada!"
The two siblings turn to see a large, dark skinned girl with light brown hair and eyes. She waves frantically to get the other girl's attention.
"Bye, Sanada," Sarada says, walking over to her best friend. "Hey, Chocho, how was your morning?"
"Yeah, how about you?" Chocho says, half her hair pulled up into it's usual two pony tails. She reaches up to make sure they are still in place, before swinging her arms back and forth.
The two walk into the school together, entering the crowded halls, heading for their lockers, which were next to each other. They put their back packs into their lockers and grab out all of their supplies before shutting their lockers and heading to their class. They are a bit early. They have about twenty minutes before class starts but Sarada's an early bird. They get to their class and pretty much everyone is already there, all around the classroom talking to one another, joking and playing around. Their teacher isn't there yet.
"So, guess what I heard we're suppose to learn about today?" Chocho says, sitting in her seat behind Sarada's. Sarada turns around to face her.
"What?"
Chocho smiles, playfully. "You have to guess, silly."
"Supposedly we are going to learn about the Bermuda Triangle War," a boy next to Sarada says, turning to them. It's a blond haired, blue eyed boy named Boruto. He was one of the fastest kids in class so everyone called him Bolt.
"Thanks a lot, Bolt, I was trying to get Sarada to guess, not have you answer for her," Chocho says, rolls her eyes playfully, not seeming upset. She leans back in her chair and crosses her arms over her chest. She shrugs her shoulders again.
Boruto smiles sheepishly. "Sorry. I thought that was an open ended question."
The boy behind him, Shikadai, a boy with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail with dark green eyes, leans his right cheek heavily upon his hand. His face is drooped with a look of complete boredom. "The Bermuda Triangle War is all over the news all the time. If you pay attention to the news then you'd already be up to date on current facts. This is all just about the discovery of the people beyond, I'm sure."
Chocho leans forward again. "But don't you think that's like... I don't know, really graphic for us?"
"Where these people come from," Inojin, a scary pale boy with blond hair pulled back into a ponytail with his eyebrow length bangs left unbound and green eyes, says from in front of Boruto, "children our age would have already had our first kill."
"That's right," Boruto says wearily, "they graduate school at our age and set out to start killing each other."
"That doesn't sound so bad," Shikadai mutters."
"Shikadai!" Chocho says, eyes wide. "What are you saying?"
Shikadai blinks rapidly, wondering why everyone was giving him a weird look. Inojin, the only one with a stoic face, says, "That's fucked up, dude."
Shikadai raises an eyebrow. "No, I mean graduating at our age. We still got five years to go. Dear god, I'm not a lunatic. Why the hell are all of you staring at me like that?" He rolls his eyes, looking even more bored than before.
"Thank god," Boruto says, laughing. "I thought we had lost you to the dark side."
The lazy boy grunts, laying his head down onto his desk.
Sarada huffs under her breath, leaning back in her chair. "Interesting..." She murmurs, more to herself than anyone.
It's at that moment that the teacher walks in, ordering all the kids to return to their seats. She stops by her desk and goes through role call. Once it's done, everyone was there, she begins with the lesson.
"Alright class," she says, turning to look at all the students, "today we are going to learn about the Bermuda Triangle War, or as it is starting to be called, The Ideology War. Almost twenty years ago, we finally had the technology needed to enter the Bermuda Triangle. As we covered last week, the Bermuda Triangle has claimed many lives in years passed. Amelia Earhart, USS Cyclops, Carroll A. Deering, the likes. But once we were finally able to make it into the Bermuda Triangle we discovered three large continents along with a bunch of small islands within it. These continents and islands are too big and too numerous to somehow fit into this small space in the sea. There are no current theories on how this is even possible.
"On these continents," their teacher continues, "we came across other human beings. They were vastly different from us. They had modern enough technology for computers and modern medical machines, but fought using swords and old style muskets. These people recognize themselves, as Shinobi. A Japanese term for ninja and spoke in a similar language to Japanese." Their teacher pauses, looking around the class with serious eyes. "These people, turned out to be monsters."
A beautiful young lady, stood unmoving on a train. People kept a respectful distance from her. It was still early morning but she wore thick black glasses and had a stick in her hand to signify a blind person. A foolish young man, thinking that he would be able to pull a fast one on the blind woman, steps only a bit closer and leaned forward to reach into the small purse she had hanging over her shoulder.
As his hand drew near, hers shot back and wrapped around his wrist in a vice grip, the rest of her body remaining unmoving. The man lets out a yelp of pain at the surprising strength in the short blind woman.
"Are you trying to steal from me, sir?" The woman asks in a soft voice, but it's loud enough to draw the attention of nearby passengers. "I would advise against that, sir."
"I-I wasn't trying to do anything," the guy says quickly, trying to pull his hand back from her grip, but her hand closes tighter in warning.
"I'm happy to hear that," she says, still not turning to look at him. "Then why were you reaching toward my purse? Is something hanging out of it? No, it shouldn't matter. There is no reason for you to be reaching toward my person unless you have... less favorable ideas in mind." The young woman finally turns toward the young man. "So, what is it?"
"Excuse me, miss," another gentleman walks over to them, looking at their joined hands, "is this man causing some problems for you?"
The young woman, a light purple sun hat adorning the top of her head, smiles lightly. "Yes, sir. But it appears as though this young man has learned his lesson, yes? Slippery fingers against whom you perceive as unsuspecting..." she trails off for a moment, tilting her head a bit, "may not be the smartest course. Don't you agree, young man?"
"Y-Yes ma'am. I-I'm sorry, ma'am." The young woman releases his hand right as the train stops. The young man rubs his aching wrist, looking down at the young lady in a mixture of surprise and fear.
"Good, don't forget that," the woman says before turning around and walking out of the train, using her stick to guide her. The young man raced away, wanting to avoid any sort of altercation with any of the people on the subway giving him the evil eye. She walks out of the subway and up the stairs. She patiently hails a taxi and climbs in, giving the address.
"That's a bit out of the city, ma'am, are you sure this is the right address?" the taxi driver asks. He has a thick accent that the young woman is unfamiliar with. But he doesn't sound unkind.
"It is," she says softly, tucking a strand of long black hair behind her ear.
The driver takes off and they drive in silence for a while before the older man looks up at the young woman, sitting cross legged, smoothing out her knee length purple dress, in his rearview mirror.
"Are you visiting family out there, miss? Or is it for work, if you don't mind me asking."
"Family," the woman says softly, turning her face toward the window. "I have children in that city."