A ghostly silence suffocated the room as the figures shuffled in, their steps soundless, their breathing mute.
Shinobi.
I shrunk back fearful as the towering shadows flickered past, their restless stares raking the room, features set in a hard scowl. Sometimes their eyes, would flash a menacing red like a drop of blood in the sea of darkness.
Of the last to enter, a tall man, his features dark, his face set in an icy stillness, my father. He cast his eyes on me for a second, cold and empty, before his brow twisted into a slight frown. The second was drawn out, into minutes and days, what seemed like years of torturous suspense, before he turned, disappearing into the small room.
The cold air struck me in the face as I remembered how to breathe.
The last to enter was a young girl, not quite yet a woman, in whose weary amber eyes I sought security and comfort. Onee sama. My sister. She moved silently like the rest of them, each step calculated, each breath timed. A beauty and a wisdom far beyond her years and a burden that seemed to drain her day by day. She did not meet my eyes.
The door shut with a eerie creak, sawing through the morbid silence.
I stood for a moment in the darkness, staring blankly at the closed door, contemplating the unspoken secrets shut away, and with them, my beloved sister.
The time we spent together was growing more and more scarce, a thick wall of duty and conspiracy stretching the distance between us. But I dared not ask. Authority was never questioned and her missions were always confidential. Often she would disappear in the night, gone without a trace, only to return days later, her eyes dull and weary. No one ever asks. Authority was never questioned. The only thing that followed her was the mask, a noble fox, features lined with scarlet paint, blood red tendrils winding around each other, encasing and binding. A badge of honor that she wore each day, a glorified curse dragging her down to hell.
It was killing her day by day.
The afternoon light cast shadows across the bare walls, flickering and fading, like spirits singing of the judgement day. Something was going to happen.
The third bedroom on the right in the narrow hallway of the second floor. A stark white door revealing nothing of the person who lived inside.
My dear sister'sroom.
For a second, a deep curiosity gripped me and before I understood what I was doing, the door opened with a frightening creak, as if to forewarn me of the dangers from which I was being protected. I took a step back in guilt, unprepared for the scene that lay before me. Paperwork and mission reports, littered the room, some scattered across the floor, while others, hung stiffly from the war, pinned by kunai knives. Shards of broken glass and porcelain shone, reflecting the afternoon sunlight that leaked through the half drawn curtains, each dangerously sharp and threatening.
In a dumbfounded stupor my body moved, navigating the minefield, searching instinctively for an explanation. A familiar mask. A fox shaped design streaked artistically crimson, I had seen it many times before in the past. A frown fell over my features as my eyes traced the cracks spider webbing through the mask, the same deep ridges crawling up the cracked wall. She had thrown it. Hard.
The crisp click of a lock indicated the meeting was over, waking me from my trance like state as I came to my senses abruptly.
We never ask.
Authority is never questioned.
I turned the corner frantically, my heart pounding in my head, forgetting the staircase in my panic. Before I realised what was happening, I was already tipping forward, the ground drawing closer with promises of hostility and pain. But the impact never came. Opening my eyes, I look up, only to find myself encased in the warmth and security of onee sama's arms. The room was still deathly silent, despite the masses beginning to file out the meeting room. The sound of my stuttered breathing filled the stale air, dozens of eyes turning in curiosity and scorn. I pushed my head into her embrace, a dark flush climbing up my neck as I hid myself in shame. I could already sense father's irritated glare.
As if sensing my discomfort she stood, adjusting me in her arms, unfazed by the weight and began to ascend the staircase with silent grace. A collective of low hisses made me jump with a start as onee sama paused slightly, turning her head. I snuck a glance over her shoulder to see a youth, onyx eyes and raven hair, following us up the stairs. Behind him, the burning glares of disapproval of his clansmen.
"Itachi."
Her gaze softened as she acknowledged him, weary gratitude glazing her tone, too expressive in the tense silence. He met her eyes with equal heaviness, ignoring the hostility gathering at the base of the staircase.
I watched her features carefully as we passed her room, door ajar, searching her clouded eyes for a reaction. Something akin to realisation seemed to pass her features, resignation seeped in grief, but she did not utter a word.
As we reached my room, the adrenaline and fear subsided, a dull stinging taking its place, blooming at the base of my right foot. I grimaced as she set me on the bed, the boy closing the door soundlessly behind her. I watched, my stomach twisting with guilt as onee sama knelt before me, her palm flickering a pale green, a brow knotted as if in some deep contemplation. I winced slightly at the intrusive energy, but relaxed as a familiar warmth and security washed over me. Everything was going to be okay. As if coming to some sort of conclusion, she looked up as she worked, meeting my eyes with a clouded gaze. A gaze of great tenderness, tainted by deep sorrow. Clouded grey eyes, looking piercingly at me, yet fixed on some far away distance.
"Shikon, you have to learn to take care of yourself."
I blinked at her words, world weary, yet steeled with a determination I did not understand. Soft, yet not at all comforting.
"I can't take care of you forever."
Something was wrong.
From behind her, the boy from before reached forward and with momentary hesitation, placed his hand on her shoulder. In the short span of time her gaze was torn away from my confounded form, as if some sort of message had been silently exchanged she stood abruptly, without another word or look, left me dumbstruck in my room.
I stared at the empty doorway as the boy began to follow her. Before he left, he turned toward me, his lips parting to form simple words with a heart wrenching sincerity.
"I'm sorry."
and it was almost as if onee sama herself were saying those words.
I sat alone in the room, a tingling warmth at the base of my sole and a growing hollowness spreading in my chest.
Something was going to happen.