～映画物語～
藤原のムラサキ
The searing heat from the smoldering landscape caused Murasaki's skin to prickle as she splashed through the rice paddy, the wound on her leg opening wider with each step she took. Crimson drops of blood splashed into the nearly boiling waters that swirled around her feet, her pants and sandals now thoroughly logged with water.
She and the rest of the Konoha shinobi that had been dispatched to the scene of the fight had been battling for three days with no rest. Those who hadn't died already were fatigued, as were the Iwa nin they were fighting against. It was an evenly matched battle, both sides deadlocked. Both parties had sent out a request for backup from their villages, and now the final outcome rested on who's shinobi were faster. Murasaki's sensor powers were on overdrive: it was up to her to notify her comrades as soon as reinforcements arrive, be it shinobi of Konoha coming, or shinobi of Iwa…
The War had allegedly been over for nearly four years, yet there were still pockets of resistance: small bands of fighters determined to keep their villages in business from the profits of war. The worst part was, it was an understandable cause: for the past decades, the shinobi world had been at war, punctuated every so often by a fragile, impermanent peace. For many, it was the only way they could make a living.
Behind her, Murasaki could hear the remnants of her team, once a team of four now reduced to two as they stumbled through the standing water and short growths of grain.
Spring in The Land of Rice Paddy's had been rumored to be beautiful once upon a time, but now it felt like the deepest pits of hell, drenched in fire and blood. The small, yet noble land was now the front lines of what the Hokage called a 'Conflict' between Iwagakure and Konohagakure.
Murasaki stole a quick glance at her remaining teammate, Sanjo, who's face was determined beneath his forehead protector. The slim Uchiha reached into his belt, whipping out a red paper mortar and shell, taking aim as if it were as natural as breathing.
"On the count of three." He snarled above the sound of a nearby blast that peppered the air with smoke and blood of both friend and foe. Murasaki nodded, beginning hand seals as she saw and felt Sanjo's katon technique flare behind her, followed by a fizzle and an ear-piercing blast that shook the ground as Murasaki charged forward, only seconds behind the ball of fire, moving with the searing wind itself. Over the sound of the mortar, Murasaki could barely make out the third count, but it didn't matter.
The fourteen year old chunnin drew her shiruken, rising above the fireball as it reached the previously unsuspecting enemy. She could see the faces of Konoha shinobi and kunoichi as they battled the last of the rebel faction head-on.
Spinning briefly in the air, Murasaki launched the weighted throwing stars moments before her olive vest was riddled with kunai and shiruken of Konoha and Iwa alike. She knew that this had to work: it was the last of her chakra before things got deadly and she exhausted it…
A senbon grazed her face, but she didn't relent, charging forward in the wake of the fireball and taking out those who were not killed or fatally injured in the blast. The rice paddy wreaked with the metallic smell of blood, the water crimson as bones and limbs stuck out at awkward, broken angles from the mire. The stench was repulsive, the coppery scent of blood permeating the air, yanking unmercifully at her gag reflexes.
Another blast resounded, and Murasaki barely had time to dodge, her sage-senses only newly tapped. She could feel the heat singe her hair as she rolled out of the way, landing hard in the mud and grass.
A slippery hand firmly grasped Murasaki's ankle, and she immediately begin to panic as a blood and mud drenched corpse rose from the depths of the mire, the man's eyes aflame with malice.
"Konoha scum!" He snapped as Murasaki reached for a kunai, finding none beneath her fingertips. Where had they gone? She'd had enough earlier…she had deliberately refrained from using them that day…
She twisted beneath him as he scraped and scratched to get to her, putting her weight on her hands and kicking him in the face only to bury both her arms deeply in the mud and filth. The kick only seemed to anger the fatally injured Iwa-nin, but she fought with all that she could, only burying herself deeper into the mud.
"Digging your own grave?" He snarled, leaning over her. Murasaki coughed and spluttered as she struggled to dig herself out, gasping for breath as she sunk further and further down. She heard him pulling out a paper bomb and arched her back, coiling her stomach muscles as she deliberately thrust herself into the mud, burying herself completely in hopes of minimizing the effects of the explosive tag. Murasaki felt the paper attach itself to her ankle moments before it slipped beneath the surface.
For a brief moment, all the blood rushed to Murasaki's head as she focused the last of her chakra on containing the explosion. She felt a ripping pain in her leg as she flew backwards through the air along with gobbets of flesh and mud. She slammed against the water, the surface tension knocking the wind out of her as she landed flat in the shallow field.
"I'm not going to die like this…" she thought as she sank, once again, into the mud under the shallow water. "Not here…I don't believe it's my fate…"
Murasaki fought against the mud and roots, clawing her way out of the bog, her muddy hair clinging to her face as she gasped for air, her olive green chunnin vest weighed down with water as she stumbled towards the banks, slipping on her injured ankle. The pain made her stomach churn, the rent skin floating loosely from her leg as she pushed herself to the bank.
Murasaki stumbled forward landing face-down on the prickly grass, pushing herself up onto her elbows and crawling for cover as another mortar was fired. She could feel and hear it coming towards her, rolling out of the way just as the mortar spattered the soft ground where she had just lain. Mud and water splattered all over her, and Murasaki lay still, her heart pounding in her ears as a chill ran down her spine.
It hadn't been an enemy mortar…it had been infused with Sanjo's chakra…had he misfired? It wasn't like Sanjo to do so…
Slowly, shaking, she glanced over her shoulder. Silhouetted against the line of burning trees that surrounded the paddy-turned-battlefield, she could make out Sanjo's form, his tattered trench coat swirling in the breeze caused by the heat of fires. He was staring right at her, too.
Murasaki slowly lowered her head, remaining motionless beneath the blazing cherry blossoms, the sounds of the battle raging behind her. A million thoughts took flight in her head as she lay perfectly still, trembling on the inside. She knew it was useless to try to fool a Sharingan user, but what else could she do? She couldn't move…
It was just an accident…it had to be…
Glancing back again, she saw a flash of crimson as his Sharingan activated. Murasaki took a deep breath, stiffening her resolve. She stood shakily, turning to face her teammate, her fingers twitching just above her empty weapons holster, careful not to look into his eyes.
Even if she had no weapons, no chakra left…she wasn't going to go out without a fight. She was Jiraiya's daughter, Fujiwara Murasaki!
Without any warning, a large black bulldog appeared by Murasaki's side, it's hackles raised, snarling at the Uchiha. Murasaki froze, looking down at the dog. It was obvious it was a nin-kin, wearing a vest that had hi-no-hi-no-mo-hi-ji emblazoned on the back, but Murasaki didn't know who it came from, just that it wore a Konoha hitae-ate on it's front left leg.
That was when she felt it, faint at first, but growing closer: A little over fifty Konoha shinobi headed straight for the battleground: re-enforcements had finally arrived after three days of violent insurrection.
Sanjo turned away, running back towards the heat of the battle just as a large explosion shook the ground, sending a fresh wave of mud and debris flying in all directions. The nin-kin stood there for a moment, it's snarling dying down as Sanjo disappeared. Murasaki stood, shaking, her body wracked with pain as the dog remained by her side.
The young girl collapsed backwards on the grass, landing hard on her sore back, the flesh exposed by the holes in her rent chunnin vest scraped by the bark of a scorched cherry tree. She could feel her eyes glazing over as she leaned back against the branches, letting out a soft sigh. The blazing branches above her mixed with the milky twilight of the spangled sky, shades of crimson and yellow against the deepest blue and purple…and the stars. They had never looked so bright and so clear as they did now. If this was death, it was so calm, so heartbreakingly beautiful.
"Here beneath a pyre of blossoms
Does the wisteria wither?
Can one think of a more beautiful death?"
Her voice was low and soft, the ashes of cherry blossoms falling around her. It brought back a recollection of the days before, the cherry-blossom viewing parties the Daimyo had had here…right here, on this spot…with the pink petals falling around them like the embers did now.
Why did one look at cherry blossoms? It was the fleeting beauty…born to flourish, then to die…the 'melancholic nature of life' that master Kenko had spoken of just a few years before…
Murasaki knit her bows, the dog shoving his hot, dry nose beneath her hand in a forced pet. The soft flock of the dogs sable fur seemed to crackle with electricity and Murasaki smiled, leaning her head back and closing her eyes against the heat.
"If in order to fall, the blossom must first flourish…then it is not my time, my friend."
"But even sometimes a blossom is blown from the tree before it's given a chance to bloom." She thought quietly, closing her stinging eyes from the smoke and embers that were surrounding her, jealously consuming her lungs as her eyes burned.
She was aware: aware of the dying throws of the battle, the 'heartbeat' of the earth below her, the dying trees behind her. She could feel the chakra of the dog beside her, of the Konoha nin coming closer. They were passing her now…one was hesitating, turning back…he was standing beside her now…
She smiled serenely, opening her eyes.
"Just in time." She whispered to the silver-haired ANBU captain.
XxX
Murasaki's leg was still tender even three days after Konoha's backup had arrived and quashed the rebellion in one fell swoop. She didn't complain, though. She was tougher than that, and there were people much worse-off than she.
The small band of survivors stood together in the Hokage's large office, the windows shut to the closing of the day. Though Sarutobi kept the office cool, the air felt heavy and close.
Murasaki could feel the weight of the others grief, magnifying her own state of despair. She was beyond tears as she stared blankly at the Hokage, flanked by two ANBU, an emissary form Iwagakure stood stiffly to his left. His face had taken on a hardness that he reserved only for times when he was pressed. All the survivors braced for the words they all knew would spill fort from the old man's mouth.
"For the sake of peace," Sarutobi began heavily, looking at each of them in turn. "This incident is going off the record. It never happened. Those were rebels you were fighting, those going against Iwaga-"
"I know what I saw out there! Those were no rebels!" A boy about three years younger than Murasaki snapped. "How can you let them get away with this?"
"Quite, Hideyori." Murasaki said, casting him a worried glance. She couldn't help but agree with him, but there was a game to be played, even now.
"My father and brother are dead because of them. Because-" Hideyori's sensei, Michiko, suddenly grabbed him, placing her hand over his mouth. The boy struggled in anger and frustration, which only resulted in him being dragged out. Murasaki felt immeasurable guilt, her eyes wet with tears as she watched him being dragged away, kicking and screaming. The emissary was not impressed, casting them all a smug smile. They must have appeared sloppy and undisciplined to him…
"Is this the captain?" The emissary asked, raising an eyebrow as he indicated Murasaki. Murasaki recognized him from a year before. He had been on of the lead interrogators when she was in the hands of Iwa. As she stared into his withered face, she could feel the scars on her back and legs sear as if they were still fresh.
"No, sir, I'm just a chunnin." She said softly, bowing her head politely. Her fingers twitched, her pulse boiling with anger. Was Sarutobi really just going to throw away the sacrifices of those who had died? And Iwa? Iwagakure wasn't even getting punished for breeching the treaty…they weren't even getting a slap on the wrist…
She took a deep breath, keeping her composure. Murasaki's eyes welled with tears of anger, which were thankfully mistaken for tears of grief.
"How nice." The emissary said almost snidely. Sarutobi cleared his throat, giving them one last warning before they left.
"As I said, if any one of you speaks of this incident to anyone outside of this office, you will be considered a traitor to the village and imprisoned."
"I'm surprised that you have to give your shinobi such a harsh warning. They seem so disciplined." The emissary said with cold amusement, his dark eyes agleam with glee. Sasrutobi's mouth became a thin, hard line, but he kept his composure.
"You are all dismissed." Sarutobi said stiffly.
XxX
Danzou glowered down at the report in his hand, the sounds of the young ROOT operatives training outside the open window filling his darkened office.
"Fujiwara Murasaki was part of the Iwa Conflict? And she survived?" He said, looking up at the ROOT member who stood in front of his desk. The ROOT member nodded stiffly without speaking, hollow black eyes watching the older man behind the desk.
"And you didn't stop her? You had the chance." Danzou said, tucking the report into a folder. "I'm not a forgiving man." he sighed, handing the ROOT member new papers. " You have one last chance to redeem yourself, but no more of your games. Fujiwara has to be silenced."
The ROOT member nodded, bowing before he left. Danzou sat back as the man closed the door. Had he only been in the area when the daimyo had chosen the Fourth's successor…he wouldn't have to worry about this…and Konoha wouldn't have grown so soft…
"01957." He called, the ROOT operative appearing before the older man had time to finish. "Bring me Megumi-san. I need a word with her father."
The ROOT member bowed obediently and vanished.
He sat back, rubbing the x-shaped scar on his chin, thinking deeply about what needed to be done in order to lay the tracks for himself becoming Hokage. All he needed was five minutes with Orochimaru in order to set his plan into motion.
XxX
A/N: Long dreaded, er, awaited...uh, yeah...you can thank Owl City and System Of A Down for this.
Maybe my attempts to de-suify her went awry...
Also, copypasta this into your browser, it's freaking awesome fan art!I had to put spaces in there, but it's AMAZING!
http : // gaarajamie88 . deviantart. com /art / Murasaki -and -Kakashi- 150188441