Prologue: An Impure World Made Pure Pt. 2

You see, you don't have to be in direct contact to influence something. You simply need to change the world, or reality, or whatever the hell you change, and it creates a domino effect. Harry was influenced by the simple thought that echoed from a man's head in a completely different universe. His desire simply opened the door to let the power of betrayal in. This same desire changed the poison in his body. Just as he was about to die, his mind seemed to go back in time.

To the life of one Sesshomaru Inutaisho.

The poison reacted with his will and pushed Harry into another life, which he lived and breathed from. Suddenly, he knew everything. About that particular life, I mean.

A dog of poison and acid, eh? That may prove to be useful. You can almost imagine the level meter jumping up a good thirty in a pokemon-esque style. The blue gauge just skyrocketed. Good luck, Kabuto, you're going to need it.

Harry broke through the sand with a little too much strength, and made quite the pillar to showcase his power. He made hand seals. He ended the hand seals. His black jacket with red lining and red highlights overtop of his reinforced armor and boots swooshed in the breeze. Sand and grit flew through the air from what was once a whirlwind of power.

Kabuto turned as fast as he humanly could. When he gazed upon Harry, he began to fear. He didn't know what it was, but something about the boy just instilled him with fear. Harry stalked out of the hole. Harry suddenly disappeared. The combination of a demon's speed and the shinobi's chakra pushed him to literally cut through time and allowed Harry to walk in a timeless space. A feat only accomplished by that world's Yondaime Hokage with the aid of seals and the clan bloodline of an impossibly strong body.

Soon three other people will achieve this speed, though not as natural speed like Harry's. One will achieve it through lightning, another through light, and the last through power over time itself.

Harry walked towards a motionless Kabuto, over a timeless expanse where nothing moved and all was silent. The silence was almost deafening. It was much louder than the army, much louder than the insidious Kabuto. The noise of nothing far outweighed the noise of something.

He finally called the name of his ninja technique.

And Kabuto burned. He burned and burned and burned. It was a raging inferno that acted like the one that covered his house the day he was born. Kabuto was dead, and the ninja world was doomed to forever fight the zombies of their loved ones. Harry didn't care. He just wanted to go home.

The technique he used was called

Midnight fire style: Crimson Black Cremation.

It took fire and gave it the unlimited property of darkness. As in, it doesn't stop burning until there is nothing left.

And, as if heeding his call, his sharingan activated the powers over reality and light, using one of his ocular abilities to burn existence and force his way into his own world.

A problem, though, was because of his lack of control, Gaara was taken with him.

Harry dropped back into his decrepit clearing with the redhead landing somewhat next to him, still unconscious. Harry fell unconscious, as well, from the strain of gathering new knowledge and power. He would wake up in his reletive's house with Gaara tied up and his aunt screaming at Vernon to untie the redheaded boy.

I think we should jump back to Ron and Arthur to see how he's doing.

His father was just getting home from his 'work' meeting. Arthur had deactivated his eyes a while back. He uses them to keep up appearances and help keep his true identity secret. His eyes are useful for making people exceedingly disorganized. Not very useful for manipulating anything. But, he's pretty good at fighting. The main thing he lacks is speed and strength. He never thought to ever get better at any of that, and it has stunted his growth in power and his ability to bring peace upon this planet. But, that can be fixed.

Arthur also knew that he had a strange energy somewhat like magic that he could use, as could some of the people in the organization he ran. He had the resident scientist do testing on it, while others practiced it in practical theory. So far he has discovered the ability to manipulate the elements to a very small degree, and stick to solid objects. The tests showed that the energy was made up of both physical and mental energy, like wizards used magic as a spiritual aspect. The use of magic makes wizards stronger, while exercise and knowledge made this newly dubbed 'chakra' stronger.

So, when he had free time, he practiced in a lot out in the forest next to their house unknowingly passing his son's training each day without realizing it. He knew the heartless were dangerous, but he knew the holy spells to defend against them. And chakra was surprisingly effective when used to fight. He would charge it into his muscles and punch the black things and they would disappear in about three or four hits.

And train, he did. The heartless made great targets to practice on, and there were a great many of them. While he was training, so was his son. And that fateful day, a new kind of heartless appeared when Harry passed out. You see, the darkness reacts to Harry's emotional state, health, and many more things. When he passed out, the soldier heartless made its debut. They came with their armored helmets and sharp red claws and terrible dancing. They came, and came, and came. Not as many as the shadows, but enough.

And when more heartless come, they will spread into their own sectors unless called upon by Harry.

It will also draw father and son together in a fateful dance of concealed hate and unknowing loss.

Arthur will lose a son and Ron will lose a father.

That is the difference between demons and humans.

That is what will make them the same.

Hate.

Introducing Neji Hyuuga as: American born and French raised martial artist Juan Erikson.

He is known as number 15 of the order of Akatsuki. He is 18 years old, and ever since he was 11 he learned he could do some unnatural things.

Such as see through solid objects.

He stands at a 5 foot 4 inches and has beautiful shoulder length black hair. The strangest things are his eyes. They make him look blind, but he, in fact can see perfectly.

Another thing he can do is see almost 360 degrees around and above him.

He wore the usual blue jeans and preferred white shirts to anything else. He grew up in what could be considered a loving family. But, he knew better. He sees through the facades that they put up. One is a drug dealer. The father, Eric Erikson, was the one who decided to move when the police began to monitor him. He was a known convict who got out of prison early for good behavior. He only acted nice to fool everybody. He even fooled the mother.

The mother. She was a whore. Literally. She had had 5 children before and murdered every one of them, supposedly. That's what was suspected on the police reports that he saw when she was caught after murdering the fifth. The father thought the last was only a bad birth. The others were before Juan. She was a dirty woman.

That was why Juan wanted to bring peace to the corruption of the planet. He had learned his native language in school and his parents. He ran away and learned martial arts. He competed for several years until he was 17 years old, when he was found by Arthur Weasley who unlocked the door of peace. Juan Believed that it was up to him to open the door fully. It was, after all, his fate.

Next, we have Genesis Rhapsodos as: Arthur's son, Percy Weasley.

As number 14, nobody knows who he really is. He puts in contacts to change his eye color and always wears a hood. He goes by an alias.

Genesis.

Quite the name, right?

He found his calling in swordsmanship and elemental magic. While he is in school, he reads up on complicated elemental spells to use and even acquired a large rapier that can channel magic. He feels as if he hasn't achieved his full potential, though. Like he's missing a piece of his power.

The funny part, though, is that he doesn't know that his father is the leader, and his father him, likewise. He was simply influenced by his father's sense of right and wrong when he was talking about the corrupt governments of the world. Percy took it to heart.

At the current time, he can be found researching small marbles that he found around the forests of his house. They seemed to call to him, like they need him. When he first touched them, there was a surge of power, but nothing after that. He would finally figure out the mystery of the marbles in three years when he turns 16.

Until then, he'll plan the overthrow of the world systems and get more powerful.

Number 13 is somebody who is known to be nigh immortal.

He created his own religion to follow, and claims that the religion is what makes him powerful. He proved his point by cutting his own head off and having number 11 sew it back on. He goes by the name 13, in honor of the position. He has no name other than that, to the best of his knowledge.

The religion: Jashinism.

It involves blood. A lot of it.

Arthur didn't know what to do when he first saw the man, age 24, two years before the current date of this timeline. He was standing, watching as the man now known as 13 ripped another man apart and started praying. But, when Arthur thought about it, he decided that the man with silver, ragged hair and black, thin robes, could be of some use before being disposed of if not converted to a less bloody religion.

The man didn't have a past. He was what could be considered a ghost. He didn't exist in society. Nobody knew where he came from, even himself. He promised to do whatever Arthur said as long as he was able to kill in the name of the great lord Jashin. No more convincing was needed. No money was wanted. It was that simple.

And since then, the man had somehow acquired a black scythe. He complained and whined for a week because he couldn't find a red one to symbolize blood, because Jashin was the god of blood, but it passed. "At least it wasn't white or silver" he concluded.

Number 12 was some witch that was found off the streets and happened to have several powers, but was ultimately killed in action, disobeying a direct order. The position was still open.

That's enough of the Akatsuki for now. We'll get back to them later. When they start to show up and attack. And don't worry about number 12, that position will be filled once again in a few years. I don't want to spoil everything, now, do I?

Getting back to Harry, when he woke up, yes, there was a lot of yelling. Yes, Gaara was still asleep, and yes Aunt Petunia was pissed. That woman that only cared for Harry out of recompense for her sister. Petunia didn't care for Harry in actuality. But, she had to make up to her sister. She wouldn't let herself get thrown into hell for what she did to her sister.

And then, Harry sat up in his bedroom, taking notice of two swords. They were both swords from his memories. They were both swords of incredible power, but they were somewhat different. As if his soul changed their construct, and they adapted to fit the wielder.

Interesting swords.

Tenseiga

Bakusaiga.

The sword of healing and the sword of destruction.

Harry got up and placed the swords on his side. He got out of the blue bedroom (seriously, it was almost entirely blue, and it drove Harry nuts, but he went with it. Had to show his courtesy). Stepping out into the hall, he paced down the ebony staircase, admiring once again the rich engravings on the wall he had Vernon and Dudley do. Swirls and curves in very delicate manners that it would seem the two oafs couldn't hope to do.

There was one recurring design, though. They all had the shape of his eye. His sharingan eye.

It wasn't intentional, though. It just sort of happened. It seemed, through many trials, that once somebody was affected by the sharingan, they would constantly see the eye's design everywhere they looked. And the result was the design going into whatever they did, unconsciously.

It wasn't that big of a problem, but you can never be too careful. Caution was always important. And the patterns went all the way around the house in the brush strokes of painting and even planting flowers. It all came back to that design.

Petunia thought it was an obsession. But soon she would realize that no obsession did exist. She would realize that before she forced herself to stop breathing. Then, Harry would get the eyes. Then, Harry could get some allies without worrying about any accidental relationships. Then, he could get powerful.

He made it downstairs as Vernon began to restrain Petunia. Harry walked up to her, slowly, calculating. He looked into her eyes. He said two words.

"Die…goodbye."

He said the second word almost as an afterthough. She wasn't really a friend, but she was the closest thing to one Harry had. The other two were slaves to do his bidding. He didn't go to school, because he learned everything instantly from what Petunia and Vernon told him, and from what Dudley brought home. Petunia bought it from the excuse of 'homeschooling.' He was technically in 12th grade at this point. He would forgo college to train more extensively. It would work.

Vernon let go of Petunia, and she languidly slugged herself forwards to the kitchen, finally realizing the importance of the pictures. But she couldn't do anything about it. What she was about to do felt right, even if she knew it was wrong. She picked up a knife, longer than most and relatively thin; just right for carving detailed pictures. The blade scraped against the wood as she unsheathed it from the holster. The knife drew closer to the flesh of her neck.

She drew blood. The knife dug in and she found herself at a loss of breath. She continued to cut. One curve there, and a circle here. She was trying to recreate the sharingan on her silky skin. One more curve here and the picture will be completed in its grotesque glory. And she fell, a soft image remaining incomplete.

Vernon walked over, mindlessly, and picked up the knife. He put the last mark on to complete the picture and walked away. The room was beginning to smell like iron. It would soon smell like death.

Harry burned her body before falling over as his eyes bled pain. They bled agony. They bred misery.

But most of all, they fueled desire.