Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto
There will be some hints later on in the future, I hope you are interested in reading!
Chapter 1: A Past Not Forgotten
There is an old tale from long ago, of how the people of this land under treason were captured. Their bodies were dissected and drained into watery, black liquid, while their flesh was pulled into thin, fine paper. On its own accord, the ink of the dammed flitted to the papers, their soul used as the binding to create the wondrous and amazingly detailed books—of their lives, loves, family, dreams and hopes—stories of the criminals.
And then, they were burned.
They say that not all the books were destroyed—even the charred ones—that they are preserved, hidden like treasures over the course of a lifetime.
That those once human can be revived.
Though, that's only the myths.
Would you like to know the truth?
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Down the darkened street lined numerous apartments with few lights flickering in and out as many members of the city slowly shifted to sleep. Street lights came to life. The little orbs dimmed like candles, shifting and dwindling to those who passed underneath them. Beneath the gaze of the makeshift light, was a young girl rushing quickly to one of the houses down the road.
Her jeweled eyes were bright, glossy and shiny like emeralds and her lips were cracked wide as she hurried home. She ran all the way from the library, down in the center of town. The bus would have been too slow for her. Like a rabbit she leapt from spotlight to spotlight, eagerly looking for her apartment with the small reddish roof.
Her hair was wild and mussed, splaying around her like a halo. Pale, dainty hands balled in tight fists as she continued jogging, the moon, as well as the stars, brightly lightened her view to the familiar path as the lamp lights died a few feet away. With each hurried step her mouth gasped out for air until sucking in the sweet taste of the rose bushes that overflowed her neighbor's fence. The girl didn't bother to look back, hearing her own footsteps as her exercise finally slowed to long strides, coming up past the bushel of flowers. Within moments, she stood in front of her door.
"I'm home!" The rise and fall of her escalated breathing was the only sound to greet her ears in the silence.
Before her were three levels of her home. To the right was the kitchen-and she hoped that there would be a smell of food in the air, and was rather dejected to whiff nothing but the old wood of her house. However the sight of the lights remaining on even as she peered in the door made her smile even wider. "Okaa-san! Otou-san!" She beamed, closing the door behind her and kicking off her boots. Quickly her legs moved her to the kitchen, eyes lighting up for a brief moment to see her beloved mother.
However as she looked passed the small overhang of the door, no one was in the small, comfy kitchen, causing her brows to furrow. "Okaa-san?" She looked over down the hall, tilting her head slightly at the stairs proceeding to their bedrooms. "Otou-san?" She mumbled, looking up to the flight of stairs. "Are you guy's even home?" the young woman bitterly looked around the interior.
She searched up the stairs, in their room—which was clearly empty—the restroom, even her own room. Her eyes furrowed as she receded back down, checking the living area that was in the right of the hall, before going back to the corridor that she started at.
Her green eyes then noticed the small red dot blinking eagerly at her.
Beep.
"Sakura-chan!" Was the first words of a woman's happy chirp. Static clung to the voice for a moment, before silencing itself throughout the conversation. "Sorry—we're not home yet—we know how much you wanted us to be home today. Something came up—something bad." Sakura, said woman then rolled her eyes, hands curled into fists. "Your father...well...he's sick. We're in Kumo at the moment, you should really see it! Ah…but maybe next time." The mother tuned down her happy conversation a little. The notion of her voice made it seemed as though she was upset that her daughter wasn't with them. Her voice turned from it's petty disappointment, before she spoke much happier.
The news already bogged down her excitement. Her arms crossed over one another the same moment her teeth grinded against each other.
"Get to the point!" Sakura growled down to the contraption, hardened eyes piercing, hoping to break the red flash with her gaze.
As if on cue, the receiver continued. "We left a card for you on the kitchen table before we left. I think it's a good thing we did, you would've probably been hungry…ahaha…" They continued, mumbling over to her father. It was silent for a few moments, Sakura taking that time to look over to the kitchen door to indeed see a blue plastic card.
"Sakura! Sorry we won't be able to make it." A new voice spoke up, the man's voice grainy and winded. Her eyes only softened at the worry for her father's health, turning her attention back to the hall. "Your old man had to go and eat some of the puffer fish here…and they said it was completely…safe…" there was another silence, before the woman stood in front of the receiver again. "We'll be home in a little while. Kumo's locals here are celebrating one of their festivals, we won't be able to head back until it's over."
She wasn't exactly sure if they were upset over that. It sounded fun—besides being stuck in another country—and getting to celebrate a festival. Since when did Konoha ever have one of those?
"We love you, Sakura-chan." They said. Just as Sakura reached for the button to delete the message, her fingers froze above the machine. Her brows furrowed, and teeth dug into her bottom lip.
"Happy Birthday."
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"What dicks! You'd think they'd think more for their daughter and at least attempt to head back home—sickness be damned!" Sakura snarled, looking into the mirror of her bathroom and glaring hard to her reflection. "It's not fair—it's my sixteenth birthday!" she hissed to herself, seeing her face quickly go through numerous emotions.
How frustrating, and she honestly believed them when they said they would only be gone for a few days. They sounded so sincere she completely forgot how well they could be in tardiness. Her parents were supposed to be home today! She gave an indignant huff, storming to the tub, and finally relinquishing her anger as she sunk into the warm water.
Her green irises glared up at the ceiling, sinking her head further into the water. Thoughts slowly drifting to her parents.
It was obvious they didn't really care much for her. She only ever got by with their constant "I love you's" and gifts for forgiveness. They seemed to accept her as a member of the family, but that's it. Conversations were rare. Chores were mundane and mandatory. Business trips were imminent.
She felt like she was living with guests rather than a family. Even though they held a façade before her she could easily distinguish their masks. There was a time when they weren't so faked. What time was that back then?
In no way were they a lost cause, however.
The rose-haired girl planned on changing that.
"Ahhh. One day we'll be a good, true Natsuno family."
She looked down idly to her fingers in a shift of thought, only to come to another. The small, red marks looked to glow daintily underneath her gaze. Sakura couldn't help but begin frowning at the scars across each digit. Curled around her fingers, were the faded marks of something-if only she remembered-that signified pain. They never seemed to go under her notice until just a few years ago. Her right thumb held a small bite mark atop of itself. "I should get to have these surgically removed...so hideous." the woman sighed, tearing her gaze away from her horrible hands and looking back to the ceiling. With a blink, there was once more a groan as she resigned to what she dreaded.
"Guess I'll celebrate my birthday by myself tomorrow."
As the minutes slowly ticked by, Sakura hummed sweetly to herself, now feeling her anger washing away at her parents, and her heart became light again. They'd redeemed themselves sooner or later, she was sure. Despite even her "spitfire" temper as friends referred to it as, she never liked being angry. It muddled her emotions, toiling and digging under her skin painfully and staying there. With the thoughts easing out of her mind, she enjoyed her bath, soaking in the warmth of the water as she closed her eyes. A pale hand rested against her abdomen, circling the other scar near her stomach. Her voice was airy and light as Sakura continued to hum peacefully. Nice and easy, she enjoyed and relaxed in the bathtub for only a little longer, before taking notice of the wrinkles forming on her skin.
Getting up, she reached for her fluffy, pink towel to drape around her, and began preparing for the night. Shuffling into her room, her hands reached for her big gray shirt on top of her covers to toss across her frame. After pulling her long wet locks up into a bun, the girl finally glanced around the room.
The room was small and cluttered, with clothes from the previous day scattered across her floor. A small flatscreen was hooked up across of her bed, a clear view to her drawer underneath it. She had a window beside her desk and a mirror atop of it, with scratches and chipped paint across the furnishings. What irritated her line of sight the most was the multitudes of paper stacked on top of her desk. Being the honor student she was, with high-grade class courses her parents insisted her on taking, she had forgotten all about the work that needed to be done since her parents departed for Kumo.
Mostly because the sight of doing work that was half-done was distressing, and so she deliberately slept in her parent's room when they had left.
And here she was, returning back to her hellish living quarters, papers not only on her table-as she walked slowly past her bed to inspect the work needed to be done-but also on the floor. Numbers and equations flitted through her gaze, and she snarled at the statistics lining each piece of paper. "This is the worst." the woman looked at her desk, close enough to drag her hands across and just toss the pile to the floor, if it weren't for a certain stack of nicely aligned leaf-noted paper. A pink square attached to the top.
Sakura. Finished the second chapter - please review and see if it would work into the first one, alright? Thank you. -M
"Oh...shit." When did she overlook this? It could have been when her friend stopped by to drop it off, along with the numerous essays and mathematical quotas that needed to be addressed. If Sakura had known the story had been within those papers she would have been more than happy to fulfill her companion's request.
Sakura lifted up the stack, taking a once over before taking a corner of the signature of papers and flipping through. A whistle dignified its gracious amount of ink on both the front and back. "You really outdid yourself Mikoto-chan." she grinned to herself, emerald eyes lightening up as she looked over to the clock. "And I'll be sure to drop it off later."
She gingerly placed the pile onto her mattress, before disappearing to prepare herself for the night.
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The room was well lit, enough for her to see the pages clearly as she skimmed through them with curiosity in her jaded eyes. The novel her dear friend was making was quite a spectacle, and her perception only widened marginally as she noticed the familiar words scribbled into the lined paper.
"Sakura's smiles always seemed to warm his heart. Like the cherry blossoms in spring, the feelings of his unrequited love blossomed and scattered around him. Driving him deeper to his ambition of keeping her close to him."
"Ohhh, Mikoto is good." she snickered, reading along the lines of the name of the boy. "It fits well in the story, I guess...She could even make this part a whole new novel..." Though it would be odd to have her friend write a love story with her as the center interest. Still, to be honored into the text-happy and loved by others-made butterflies flutter in her stomach. The chapter would definitely transition well into the story.
A few minutes well spent, and Sakura tumbled into her bed with a sigh. Now that she had washed up, done fuming and stomping angrily around the house, and finished at least one of her many chores-reading counted, after all those science notes that were crammed before finals-her body was aching for some good nocturnal rest. Especially after literally jogging up from the center of the city straight to her apartment, sleeping quickly was going to hit her like a brick.
Flicking the lights off, and placing the file onto the nightstand the rosette blinked and succumbed into her sheets, letting the warmth subdue her into a good night's sleep.
Or so she thought.
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"Do you remember the story?"
"Which?"
"I remember! I always remember."
"Oh, that story..."
"I love that one."
"Ah, it'd be nice to indulge in a good tale."
"Please, do tell us once more, Haruno."
Chatter bubbled around her, charming and sweet like honey, as she looked around to her friends in mirth. There were only few who opened their mouths, their voices in one unison tone. Aside from them, bundled like children, were many others. Faces of new identities strewn around and patiently they waited for her call as though she were the Goddess blessing them with her voice.
She giggled, looking around to the never-ending encompass of white above them. Despite the blinding light it had given a healthy glow amongst them all. Almost as though halos were surrounding their entire being. "A tale...?" She mused. Her lips parted slowly, and the chatter ceased like a flame snubbed out by fingertips.
"I remember the story." The woman looked around, her hand brushing back stray strawberry locks, before peering into the eyes of every-what looked to be thousands—single person within her line of sight. "I remember very well." She smiled.
"Once upon a time, lived many nations blossomed in their youth." Someone's eyes alighted brightly, she noticed, behind a few hundreds of others. She giggled as a pause. "There were scours of young warriors sought to protect what they love. The nation of their ancestors."
Her voice enraptured many of them as she looked on with soft, jade eyes. "They were proud, they were strong and they were the warriors of the nations." And suddenly, the smiles in their faces-her people's faces-diminished to an unhealthy darkness. The whiteness of their realm grew to gray.
"And then, there were those with malice."
Almost every eye in her world shifted in union. Slowly the heads of the people turned behind one another, turning and turning, pairs of malicious pupils settling onto a figure-figures-at where she believed the masses had ended. Even though she could faintly make out their forms, multitudes of piercing red, black, even golden eyes, shifted steadily onto her. The grayness of the world grew darker in magnitude, and the base of pitch black merged with those deathly glares.
It didn't waver her form. Her heart, however, stuttered a step in its beat, her breath hitched. That moment of faultiness was easily caught by narrowing bloody orbs. Licking her lips, the Goddess of her story parted her mouth once more.
"Selfish, arrogant, they wished for what they already have; power. More and more, they wished to become what they would never reach."
There was a tense pause.
"An immortal God."
Like children, they gasped. And looking once more to every eye, she flickered back to the strange, black blurs now tainting her precious serenity.
Like heathens from hell, their shadowy figures were cloaked in black; demonic eyes seeking her form. She shuddered, an instant of weakness presenting itself. As though the darkness was a second skin, the world was growing far too dark to her liking.
The people continued staring, transfixed onto her like a spell.
"And so, the warriors stood forth, hands with weapons in the air, and waged war with those heathens! To dare lay a hand on their precious, proud countries. Their will grew bright like fire!"
"Their Will of Fire." a voice echoed.
Her mantra began. "They fought, fought until their very souls were ripped apart from their bodies. Warriors proud even in death, they were given a second chance at life. Reborn! Reborn again!" She crowed on, her voice like a spark and soon there was no longer a grayish haze over them. It was black against white. Unisonous roars of the faces of many agreed, like spirits uplifting her voice.
If only it were better.
"And then, like water to a roaring fire, it was put out." her eyes cracked, pink strands blocking her view, head drooping down to her feet. Suddenly, she no longer was with her warmth-her friends and comrades-and instead, the ground beneath her grew black.
It became eerily quiet as she continued.
"Warriors-those who never gave in, who tried to live and fight on, were captured." Her voice broke like glass, shattering truths of her story into the night-induced realm. "Malicious heathens trapped many warriors, creating a vicious, horrible spell onto them."
She saw those eyes of horror widen, her heart leapt out to the vastness of her people, her friends. "Each was a cruel, unforgiving fate. Their blood was dripped out of them, creating ink. Their skin shredded and pulped, into fine, thin fragments of paper. Their souls-their very souls-caught and torn, forced to rewrite their stories from the moment they could start to breathe, from the beginning. From the beginning." Her arms stretched out, as if wishing to give an embrace of her love to each of her friends, her warriors, her fighters.
Something akin to horror still froze on their faces.
"And pressed together, thinly pressed, became their life-story."
Burning, she realized. Smoke dark as the flames themselves surrounded her. Wisps of pure black licked at her ankles, skimming her calves.
"And all in one, they began to be burned. The pungent smell of flesh vaporizing into the villages, clearly showing its citizens what the final outcome of the war had become."
And the blackness slowly enveloped her.
"Even other heathens-those who were deemed too powerful for the makeshift God—received the same fate. Cursed for being an ally, they were torn into their own, pathetic life." She hissed, and then, her gaze lowered to the few surrounding her very feet. It didn't stop her as she looked overhead.
"Like relics, treasures to thieves. Those with a desire for money and greed didn't know any better." Her voice caught on to the people like a gust of wind, and once more, shoved the flames and the smoke aside. Hair blowing as though she commanded some sort of nature, her voice roared with anger, her deep eyes piercing into those of red. "They dug into the masses of burning flesh! Their hands grabbed at the books-the lives-and saved them! Treasured them as though they were of the utmost value!" Lips curling up, her voice protruding and breaking down the blackness, the woman took a daring step forward. "Many warriors, to this world, still live! They fight, wishing to break free of their curse-to be reborn from their stories-to seek vengeance of those unforgiving heathens!"
Her friends rose up their fists, roaring in unity with her as though she was like a wave crashing onto rocks. Pulling away whatever she could from the boulders, weakening them slowly over time.
"We'll be saved one day! And when that day comes..." her voice shouted amongst them all. Quietly she wondered when this no longer became a story. Her eyes still stared deeply across from what seemed like endless miles into those bloody orbs. She could see the tomoes spinning lazily into her gaze. His lips parted, and his voice remained hidden under the commotion. Despite this, she knew what he had said.
"When that day comes."
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It was the middle of the night when she woke up, her body suddenly sagging and too heavy for even herself to move. Her mouth felt dry, and opening up to take a huff was a challenge in itself. Her voice was lost as though she had screamed at the top of her lungs.
Her eyes darted up at the ceiling, frantic and rapidly looking around the room.
It was only a dream, she cooed to her mind, her heart slowly settling back to its normal tempo. Within minutes Sakura felt her hands gain mobility, hoisting herself up and then over the bed.
Quickly though she teetered over the edge as though her head was ten times heavier than her body, before shooting her gaze up to the wall. "A drink…" She mumbled coarsely, standing up with a wobble, and leaving for the bathroom.
She dipped her hands into the water, taking a sip from the faucet before she finally felt better.
"Ugh, hate those…" dreams like those—where she always seemed to be mistaken—were the worst. She wasn't some Haru—what was it—Haru, something. People even in her dreams seem to think she was someone else. Her gaze was greeted with curious green ones as she tried to think back the best she could.
What was her dream about, again?
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Lying back in bed, she stared up at the ceiling, thinking of nothing but the oddness of how much darker her room had become. Almost black.
The darkness eased her back to rest, lulling her with sleepy eyes as she pulled the sheets back over her, and once more began to sleep peacefully again.
Tomorrow will bring a new day.
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Koucha here.
Natsuno 夏野 なつの: Summer Fields
This was originally 16 pages long with a 6,539 word count. I only cut it to 9 pages...chapter two will be a continuation of the first!
This is an old fanfiction that I found in my files (and on a previous FF account, but I'm too embarrassed to share that) that was over five years old. I love it still, and so I want to be able to at least finish this one story before moving on. Pokemon and Soul Eater have seemed to die down a long time ago, but Naruto has always been my favorite since I was a young(er) kid.
Please review, and tell me what you think!
