Released: July 31, 2012. (will be using this to help guesstimate update times for people)
Edited: August 1, 2012 (Ver. 5)
Hello, hello! This "story" is here for my, Kriegmarine's (otherwise known as "FNG"), testing purposes. Seeing as I've never done anything like this before (publishing a story, anywhere), I'm using this to see how my stories will appear when I put them onto FF. Once I feel satisfied with the results of this trial, this paper will be promptly deleted within a week (lest otherwise desired by the readers) and I will likely begin writing/releasing my stories. Let the good times roll!
EDIT: Some people have asked that I keep this story up; so I will.
"Talking"
'Thinking'
"Demon talking/Jutsu"
'Demon thinking'
(Not exactly proper grammar, but helps discern what-is-what when reading)
FYI: My stories shall all be rated "M" for safety's sake. I nor FanFiction are, in any way, responsible for what you read. (cussing, violence, dark matter... all the tasty bits that make up stories will be in my stories.)
Disclaimer: You should all bow before my majestic self! (I will make it clear that I do not own Naruto or any of its characters, settings, and techniques save my own. If anyone spots a problem in my story that goes against this, do please let me know so that I may correct the issue.(I may mistakenly take and use techniques created by other authors without giving them credit. It is not that I don't want to credit them, but more because my memory is shit.))
Border Hunt
Once, in a land that time has long forgotten, there was a young boy. He was like every other child his age; tireless, curious, and rambunctious. One day, during a play session with his friends in the middle of his village's market, he bumped into a man on the vacant street he was running along. At first he was scared that he would be chastised by the man he ran into, but no rebuke came. Curious, the boy looked up to really take in the man's overall features, only to gasp and step back in trepidation.
The man was tall, standing a head above those from the boy's village. His clothing was a tattered, mottled assortment of greys, browns, and greens all worn under a green flak jacket. He proudly wore a 4' long Tachi strapped to his back and a headband around his left arm, a slash going through the symbols imprinted upon the steel plate. It was not these features that helped strike fear into the boy's heart, but the man's face.
It was a face that had seen much hardship. Scars were littered all across his chiseled features, some pink with relative "youth" while others had dulled with time. His leathery skin spoke of hard work under the sun while his scraggly beard gave him a weathered appearance. It was his eyes, though, that spoke the most to the boy; Eyes that had seen an unimaginable score of death and chaos pass before their wary gaze.
The man glanced down to see who had ran into him. "One should be more careful of where they are running, brat. They may hurt themselves in their rush if they are not paying close attention to their surroundings."
The boy lowered his gaze, both in embarrassment and fear. "I'm sorry, mister. I didn't mean to hit you or anything!"
The man chuckled in his grizzled voice, "Apology accepted, brat, but do be more careful in your travels in the future."
He expected the young boy to promptly run off, but the boy stood riveted in his spot, his face and eyes covered by an ominous shadow. "Is there something wrong, brat? Do you want something from me?" The man asked in his rumbling tone of voice.
The boy looked up to the man, tilted his head, and smirked, "Boom..."
The man's eye widened in that instant, but it was too late to try and escape the explosion.
When the nearby villagers ran up to see what could have caused an explosion, a debris cloud hung over the street. After a sizable crowd had gathered, the smoke from the blast cleared to reveal a ghastly sight; Blood was splattered everywhere. A crater, centered where the boy had stood, took up a fair portion of the street. The man's corpse could be seen near the rim of the crater, bereft of his limbs and head. The stench of burnt flesh pervaded the air like a foul miasma.
Upon taking in the breadth of the sight before them, many villagers ran in terror or emptied their bowels nearby. Others stood around at the site, a low murmuring emanating from the group.
"What could have done this?"
"How morbid..."
"Do you think ninjas did this?"
"We really ought to... clean this mess up... I don't want my wife or daughter to see this..."
In the darkness of a nearby alley, a shadow moved across the wall. As it came closer to the site of the explosion, it slowed its pace. Once it was close enough to the opening that led to the street, a head poked out; it was the boy from earlier. After taking in the sight before him, he stepped back into the shadows. Not a moment later, he walks back out, but he is no longer a young boy.
The man that took the boy's place is 5'11" tall. He wears a green flak jacket with a black shirt worn underneath. A shuriken holster is strapped to his right thigh over black pants. Ninja sandals protect his feet while a mask covering the lower half of his face protects his identity. The most defining features of the man are his forehead protector, worn in such a way to cover his left eye with a symbol of a leaf imprinted into its metal plate, and his gravity-defying silver hair that leaves many to question the laws of physics.
As he walks out into the crowded street, he checks one of his pockets. Finding that the scroll holding the man's head is still in place, he digs into his back pocket. Finding his mark, he pulls out a photograph; one of the deceased man before his untimely demise.
He glanced over the picture, unnoticed by the surrounding crowd. 'We finally got you, Kurhami Haji, Konoha's "Blade Storm". You really let yourself go over these last couple of years... or perhaps, I'm just that good. I can finally let the families of those ninja you murdered rest easy...' He looks away from the photo to quickly take in his surroundings. Satisfied, he returns to his musings. 'Now, with my business here done and the Academy graduation drawing closer, I do wonder who I will be teaching when I get back... hell, who am I kidding, I'll be drafted to teach the Last Uchiha, Sasuke, at the very least. Not because of my skills, that's just a bonus, but because of my... no... Obito's Sharingan." He finished his thought on a mournful note.
He reached back to pocket the photo...
'And now...'
.. And brought out a famous, or infamous (depending on who you spoke to), red book.
"... Some quality reading..." Upon opening to his previously earmarked page, a ray of light from above lit up the page as if it were a holy relic. He let out a high-pitched snort upon reading the first couple of lines from the page he opened to."... Oh Ami, you kinky little minx..." he giggled perversely, drawing shocked glances from those nearby.
Some of the villagers began to rush towards the man, having been identified by his headband to be a ninja, to question him over the explosion and what role he could have played in its making. Before they could get to him, though, he disappears in a swirl of leaves, leaving behind a confused group of villagers.
After treating the young boy whose identity he had borrowed for the last couple of days to a bowl of beef ramen, Hatake Kakashi left the small village on the border of Fire Country and Fang Country, once again hiding his pain and sense of past failure behind his hobby.
And that's all she wrote! Do please leave behind a review, whether it be a compliment or some advice on how I could improve, for both are Highly appreciated! (I urge you not to flame me... I don't respond well to fire and/or heat). Lastly, check out my profile! I have some of my story ideas posted up so others may view them and, if they so choose, write a story based on my ideas. They are long-winded descriptions and if anyone does need clarification on some things, do PM me and I'll try to clear things up! Thanks again for reading my first story published EVER!