The vivid memory of that night clouded my dreams and blocked my throat of every word pressing its way up. I wished my mind would tear the memories out like splinters and throw them away, forever to be lost. I opened my eyes slowly and let a huff of air escape through my slightly ajar mouth. The crickets played on as the orchestra of the night, their music serenely invading my ears. That's the one thing I didn't mind about this place, crickets always sound the same no matter where you go, it was like a piece of home. I sat up to inspect the night sky—a midnight blue hue filtered throughout. The moon was big, the clouds parted in avoidance as if afraid of its enormity, and the stars pulsed in a silent rhythm that matched the slow beating of my heart. Sometimes I felt like one of those stars—silent but watching, off in the distance, too far for anyone to touch. And eventually you forget that it's even there. I sighed at this thought and rested my head back on the thin pillow beneath me, letting the image of the stars blind reality and send me into my favorite feeling—unconsciousness.
Though it never seems to last long enough.
"Get up, Izumi." A voice pierced through my serenity and shattered the perfection of my dream world. I opened my eyes dully and peered over to the door where she was standing. I called her my mother but to me it was just another word without meaning. I once knew the meaning of mother but now it only remained in my thoughts and memories. Every day it became more difficult to remember.
She glared at me as I watched her face lifelessly, not bothering to move anything other than my eyes which remained flickering on her face.
"It's Sunday," she stated in a cold voice that no longer had an effect on me. I knew what Sunday meant—cleaning day. And me being the only daughter—only child—it was my duty to clean the house. Or at least, that was her explanation.
"You might as well get up and make yourself useful for once Izumi, it's not like you have anything better to do." She tapped the door frame with the palm of her hand softly as she pushed off and walked away, leaving me to get up and get dressed.
Like she would know if I had anything better to do, it's not like she ever pays attention to me. The only thing she notices is when I'm doing something wrong. I swung my feet over the side of my bed lazily, letting the tips of my toes brush against the cold wood floor, textured and weathered with age. Hazy rays of light pushed through the dirty window, revealing the dust that danced about the air in its own broken rhythm.
I pulled open my dresser drawer, revealing a few neatly folded garments lined up side by side. Grabbing whatever was on top, I tugged it over my head and pulled it down my stomach, taking a second to straighten it out. A plain black tee—I guessed it would match my hair and eyes well enough. Next came the pants, I stepped into a pair of baggy red sweats that ended just below the knee, and threw on some black sandals. Shutting the open drawers with my hip, I glided over to my bed, tugging the sheets back into place and re-fluffing my pillows.
"Izumi." Her boring voice sounded from down the hall in somewhat of a yell. I guessed she was in the living room and didn't feel like getting up. And she says I'm the lazy one.
I stepped quietly out into the hall, shutting the door behind me, and strode into the living room where—just as I figured—my mother sat lazily on the couch.
"I have a grocery list sitting on the counter," she nodded in the direction of the kitchen, "when you finish cleaning, head into town."
I nodded and retreated back into my room, the only bit of peace I ever had. It was small, but I didn't care, it was the only place I could call my own. My parents didn't really come in often, only if they needed me for something. Staring in the mirror, I examined my face in silence—strands of black hair tickled just past my shoulders while my obsidian eyes shown mysteriously back at myself as if holding in secrets. The skin laid soft on my face—untouched for so long—while my lips remained fragile and uncertain. A birds chirp from outside shattered the quiet that had settled comfortably in the room.
I was used to the quiet, in fact I preferred it.
Suddenly woken up from my slumber of thoughts, I sighed and turned from my mirror, heading out the door. Cleaning was long, boring, and tedious. Mother wanted everything perfect—how disappointed she must be in me. I tend to think that because I was not the perfect daughter she had hoped for, she tried to make everything else perfect, just to make up for it. I sighed and finished cleaning the house, my minds thoughts creating a blur of events that made it easy to lose track of time.
"Don't take too long Izumi, I need that food for dinner." She called out dryly when I grabbed the paper off the kitchen counter. I flashed the back of my hand as I walked out the door, the grocery list held in the other.
The town was busy that day. Dust flew from the ground in wake of peoples hurried feet. But everything was the same as it always was. I walked through the town like a ghost, unnoticed and uncaring. It wasn't long before I had everything on the list and found myself taking the scenic route back home. An earthy scent sat heavily in the air as I meandered through the woods. It was relaxing and peaceful. The trees seemed to sway in rhythm as if speaking with one another, which was probably true. I was sure of it as I had some sort of strange connection with nature.
The light breeze nipped at my heels the entire way home. Staring at the front door, I forced myself to climb the few stairs leading to it and quietly push it open. I stopped and stood still as I listened to the conversation occurring within.
I could always tell when she was talking about me, something about the tone of her voice. It was dead and spiteful, dripping with regret and detest.
"I just wanted a daughter—a normal one. Linnie was so perfect…" She trailed off as fathers voice droned on, spitting out cheap words of comfort I could find in any book.
Linnie was their first daughter, their blood daughter. I had seen pictures—in fact I saw them every day—as they were sprinkled gloomily throughout the house. The only room without some sort of memento was my own. She had been young when she died, about 6. It was winter and a lot of people were getting sick, I guess she was one of them.
"I'd rather have just the memory of a dead child than that thing, Izumi!" she spat my name as if it would leave a bad taste in her mouth.
I listened motionless—it used to hurt me when I heard her say things like that, after all, I was adopted shortly after Linnie's death. How could I replace such a perfect daughter? But I've grown numb to the feeling—to everything. They were mourning parents, grieving the loss of their only daughter, then I came along. No one knew where I was from or how I got there, but when mother and father saw me they immediately offered to take me as their own. I assumed it was to help ease the pain of their loss, or in other words, to replace what they lost.
"I know honey…" father grumbled, getting tired of saying the same old things to her.
"For heaven's sake! Give me a child with some life in her eyes! Who will speak once in a while!" her tone became somewhat hysterical. My lips curled slightly into a dull smile. Oh what it was to smile—not that I would know.
It's funny because everyone just thought that I was mute when I first arrived. They took me in all loving and caring, prepared to learn sign language. It was three weeks after I had lived with them that they found out I wasn't mute at all.
I remember it quite well actually.
We were all sitting at the dinner table, it was about three weeks after I had been found on the outskirts of town and taken in by mother and father. I ate silently while mother and father held a boring and mundane conversation.
"I want to be a ninja." I blurted out recklessly. Mother and father stared at me in awe.
"Izumi, you can speak?!" She was elated, looking as if she made some brilliant new discovery.
"I want to be a ninja." I repeated, my voice low and soft, yet stern and determined.
----------------
That was a really bad night for me. Let's just say I didn't get what I wanted, and for that, I haven't spoken to them since. It's their fault that I get no sleep, spending all my nights training by myself out in the woods.
Her spiteful voice brought me back to reality, muttering something about me being worthless. I didn't let it get to me because I knew that it was true. At that moment something hit me. It was like the fog lifted from my mind and for once, I knew exactly what to do. I set the bag of groceries down inside next to the door and stepped back outside, shutting the door behind me. That was the last time I would ever see my house.
It was like some heavy straining force was lifted from my chest. I felt free to do whatever I wanted, to live however I wanted. And the first order of business would be to find something I had been dreaming of ever since I left it—home.
The trees all began to look the same as I passed by them in a blur. Hours passed as memories flashed through my head, my mind desperately trying to figure out where home even was. How can I go somewhere without knowing where it is?
When I arrived in the village of Konoha, I was incredibly young and didn't even I know how I got there. I just know that something terrible happened in my home village and I was sent away from the massacre. My real parents were both dead, that I was sure of—just a feeling in my gut. But I knew that home still existed somewhere, I had such vivid memories of my life in the mountains—secluded from most civilization, but happy on our own. My people in the small village were strongly connected with nature, I guess you could say we had some sort of natural affinity with our surroundings.
My breath escaped me in ragged gasps and my feet pulled behind me as if chained to balls of iron. Maybe it was time for some rest, I had been running going on five hours at that point. Thirsty and tired with no clue where I was and no clue where I was going, I leaned against a rock and shut my eyes, listening to the sounds of the forest. Whispers fluttered in the trees as the wind told them secrets, crickets chirped in tune with the tree frogs, accompanied by a skittering of feet clambering up a tree. This was my Mozart, my Beethoven.
My eyes remained closed as my mind began to lull into a vacant lot, soon to be replaced with wild imagination that only sleep could produce. However my vacant lot wasn't so vacant after only a few moments. Footsteps echoed into my ears and drilled into my hollow mind.
Who is out walking at a time like this? It must be near midnight by now.
The distant voices grew nearer.
"How much further do we have to go, un?" One voice whined as his sandals scuffed through the dirt.
"How many times do you have to ask that? We're almost there." Another voice answered, dull and flat.
There were only two people from what I could hear. But why? Why were they out so late in the woods like this? If it was for travel or business purposes they would have taken a more direct route. I felt uneasy about the situation and decided to lay low. I sucked in a piece of the crisp coolness that floated in the air and held it as their footfalls drew near.