Warning: This story gets gory and gruesome. If you don't like that sort of stuff I suggest you don't read it. :)
Also I don't own Naruto, only Momo and the story line.
"Holy shit..." Pushing some branches aside she looked into the small clearing in the middle of the dense forest.
The copper smell permeated the air; there was blood everywhere. Laying in a puddle of the crimson liquid was a person,
or what was left of him. His right shoulder and attached limb were laying a few feet away. The sinews of his muscle were exposed;
the skin was ripped off his torso. His nasal bone was protruding from his face, the cartilage of his nose loosely hanging off to
the opposite side. His legs were mangled, laying twisted beneath him. She gagged, never once seeing something as horrible as this.
His eyes were missing. Quickly, she ran to him. He wasn't breathing. "Fuck." She was sure he was dead. She was too late.
No. Save him.
She screamed out in anguish as she went blind, the Voice of Fate was never an easy thing to endure. It was only a whisper,
but her ears began to bleed. In a few seconds the pain was over, as quickly as it had started. "That god damn priestess."
She muttered shaking her head. In that instant, she felt a faint flare of chakra radiating from him. She collected his body,
and with a sound like the flutter of wings they were gone.
After three full days of non-stop work she was almost done. She cried at the sight of his beautiful face.
Marred with two gaping holes where his eyes should have been, he was truly a sight to behold. She traced her hand
over the various scars of his body, which disappeared as soon as her pink colored chakra touched them. The
place where his shoulder had been torn off left no trace of any trauma, he was back to normal. Except for his eyes.
For some reason she wasn't able to bring herself to replace his eyes. She stared into his face, tears still silently
streaking down her face. Lifting his head up, she slowly wove a bandage around his head, hiding the monstrous wounds from view.
Sitting down on the bed, she absently ran her fingers through his hair.
You mustn't let him leave.
She fell off the bed, clutching her head.
You will make him despise you.
The pain was unbearable. She turned her head to vomit.
And he is not to know you love him.
She gasped for breath, the Voice had strangled her.
She woke up hours later. Her own bile crusted onto her face. She felt sick again, but she couldn't move.
She was still paralyzed. It was the only thing she could never do: fight the Voice. Almost instantly, she was normal again.
She laid still on the floor and wept to herself. Everything was gone. The only reminder of her struggle were the tears streaking down her face.
A blessing and a curse, the Voice was something she couldn't get rid of. She was destined, the chosen one. Her mother was killed as they ripped the fetus from her womb.
The priestess gave birth to the stolen child, the harbingers of fate blessing her with powers beyond imagination, but cursing her with the Voice.
She was a tool for fate, never questioning and never disobeying. It was useless. Fate was absolute, she had no other choice.
Picking herself up off the floor, she stared at him. Love? Him? I don't even know him. No problems there Fate.
Childishly she stuck out her tongue, and she felt Fate chuckle within her.
