The Koorikage of the Village Hidden in the Frost

By A Clockwork Pumelo

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I don't own any of the characters from Naruto, not that any of them show up in this... but the concept is based off what belongs to Massahi Kishimoto, so I'll just be safe.

...And this is why I love this place... my own village, finally after all these years...

The soft scrunch of snow was the only sound that announced her descent, down the kilometers of snaking, narrow stone steps that hugged the steep rock face of the Shimogakure cliffs, her cliffs. She knew she could have taken the new lift for an easy, two-minute descent into the lush, green valleys of medicinal herbs below, but that thing gave her vertigo. She was loathe to use it, unless she needed to get down to the herbal fields and back urgently, like when she had been dealing with the wounded during the founding of her village, during the massacre... only those few short weeks ago...

The ground seemed to lurch under her feet, as she sank back against the comfortingly solid cliff, heather and sage already beginning to sprout anew in every crevice that could capture soil. The alpine plants seemed to welcome her, cushioning her back against the cold of the rock, their concern almost palpable as frost-tipped leaves rustled against the smooth, heavy robe the young Kage wore. Her feet, bare and smooth, yet tougher than the soles of any boots, peeked out over the edge of the landing as her mind struggled not to think, not to relive the horrors she had seen...


Eight of them, the blood already caked and frozen on their faces... faces so badly mangled, nearly unidentifiable, except for the eyes. Eyes, unseeing, frozen and dead, but still able, even in death to bear witness for their departed owners. Her eldest nephew, lips split from his very face, the shattered teeth and bones as pearly white as his eyes, accented with dull red. Her former teammates, back from the days when they were mist village genin. Both had loved one another so much, always shared everything with each other, always risked their lives for each other in missions, always helped her with her healing when her sensei was busy. How ironic, that in death they were still bound together, not so much by the cords, buried inches into their throats, tangled together, but by the ice that cemented their arms around each other, that closed their lips together still, in the last kiss they would ever share, never enjoy. Even the frozen blood now melted, dripped off their cheeks, mocking the many tears they would never have a chance to shed...



Bitterly, the young Kage clutched at the stiff brim of her hat, leaving dents where shaking fingers tried to release some of the pain that coursed through her like poison. A single tear rolled from each eye and tumbled down the thin, white lines of scar tissue that bore witness to the death of the person who had been most precious to her. More tears raced to follow the first two, like lost souls seeking oblivion. Each tear froze, slowly as it hit the ground, counting, remembering, mourning for each and every one of her brave shinobi who had given their lives to further her dream.


...His fingers were white, cold as the snow he'd been dumped in, unconscious, only to be found so much later. There were two stab wounds, one on his shoulder, one through his side, both still frozen shut. His ears, nose, eyelids, even lips glistened with a dead, frozen whiteness. He was coming around now, groaning, trying to move, still laying in the inch or so of rust colored water that had melted off his body since they brought him in... his frozen lips stretched, cracked, trying to smile, and he opened his eyes. It was Yukime Hyuuga, my half brother, his pearly white byakugan eyes piercing into my heart, my mind, seeing what he already knew. He had no chance of recovery, even with my healing skills. Even so, I leaned over him, gently moving the blood-matted locks of black hair out of his eyes. His eyes were all I wanted to see right now, they were almost all that was left of my dear half brother, glowing with life in the frozen, dead face. I took a breath, and placing my hands on his already warming temples, forced the last of my fading green chakra into his battered body. A small bead of sweat rolled off my brow, stinging in the many small cuts I had yet to even heal. All my chakra had gone into the battered shinobi that lay quietly around us. I felt his forehead, noting that he was already too warm...



Her back crushed against the heather as the leader of Hidden Frost gave herself over to the memories, if only for a little while. It never paid to hold anything in for too long, especially trauma.


Yukime, eyes half lidded, glittering with the madness that fever brought. Yukime, eyes wide and madly rolling, body seizing, his spine a taught bow arching off the sweat soaked bed as she clutched his forearms, practically laying across the man as she forced the last of her chakra up through the frostbitten wrists her fingernails dug into. Up the arms, to his tortured, overheated brain in one last effort to keep the madness, the fire, from consuming all of him that was left. Yukime, eyes closed, only his lips moving, telling her what to do, how far the damage had really spread. Yukime, pearl drop eyes clear and calm as he told her that what she had done was just a temporary measure, that he would still die no matter how many food pills she took to boost her dangerously depleted and unstable chakra. Yukime, eyes kind, placing no blame upon her for what she could not do, could not even see.


The young Kage stilled, breath caught in small, slow sobs as she traced thin inscisions on her eyelids. The still tender skin twitched ever so slightly above the opalescent irises that had once belonged to her dear half brother, wet with tears.


Yukime, eyes gentle, telling her how much he cared for her, his little half sister. Whispering now, about how sorry he was that she didn't have his byakugan, or else she might have seen the damage the cold had done, and been able to move on to help those precious people she could have done something for, besides wait for death.


The eyes blinked, opened a sliver wider, but still saw nothing, save for the memories etched indelibly into her mind.


Yukime, eyes sincere as he told her that he wanted her to have his eyes, that he knew from her lineage, that her body could accept and use his byakugan, as well, if not better than his own.


The eyes closed again, scrunching up the white scar tissue and etching lines of sorrow upon the young, smooth face.


Yukime, eyes pleading, chest rising and falling rapidly with the effort to prolong his fading life. Yukime, eyes staring hungry and sad at his half sister, the last thing he would ever see, the last precious person he would ever know. I could almost feel his last thoughts. 'She's an angel, sent from above to save me from myself... always has been, always will be. Even when we were in ANBU, she never killed if she could help it. But now that I'm gone, she'll have to be someone else's angel... the only thing I can do now is to give her the gift to be able to see those she will bring to salvation...' Yukime, eyes closing for the last time as the needle slid into a pale vein in his arm, as I kissed his burning forehead, and slid another, smaller needle into my own arm, knowing I would have less than a minute to get what needed to be done done, and myself onto the operating table beside him and say good bye...


Long, delicate fingers brushed traces of moisture from long lashes...


Yukime, blurred and distorted through his own eyes, a look of utter peace on his broken, lifeless visage. His eyes observed their previous owner, sending information to a new mind, adjusting to a new set of neurons and impulses. My fingers brushed sleepily over freshly healed incisions, as my own chakra, restored by the anesthetic slumber, coated the new organs, reshaping and settling them to be mine. No, not mine, ours. We had sacrificed ourselves for the village, we had done our best to hold onto our dreams....


The pure white Kage hat again took it's place upon the head, now tilted up instead of down, as the small frame rose slowly from the steps, adjusting the heavy robe and brushing off flecks of dirt and heather. "Our dreams..." the light, almost androgynous voice proclaimed. Bare feet resumed their trek down the steps, sure and purposeful. She would never, if she could possibly help it, let another person die like that. Her ragtag village full of medical ninja, some her former teachers, some her students, would never turn away anyone who came peacefully for aid. Never. Her lands, the snow capped peaks, the glaciers, the alpine valleys teeming with green life, the beautiful rocky cliffs, would always be known from now on as a haven for anyone, ninja or commoner, who needed help. She had founded this village on the belief that one's life was the most precious thing one could have, and there was no way that anybody was going to tear that away from her. She was Koorikage, and this was her village, and she was going to protect every bit of it.