Surprise! Not only have I updated I gave it somewhat full attention! (Thus the longer word count! (And constantly changing style…and Flashception :3 (flashback within a flashback) whoops, it's anotha 15)) Laissez-faire's just way too draining so here this is! Ah, feels good to fall back into this format. A new day, a new duo of quotes. Let's dive in, shall we!
(ps-I'm ssssooooo sorry it takes Menma one paragraph what it took another fic over fifteen chapters to do! I'm sorry-my fingers just moved across the keyboard on their own! XD It bled but not in a bad way! I hope…)
Oh-happy October! I wrote a very haunting prologue to this chapter for ya guys and this month. So if you're reading and going okay, what the heck is this? It's just because that. I'm just in a horror mood. So…yeah. Horror mood…
CULTURAL NOTICE! : This is the last thing! I promise! Any references to hell or demons are based off not the western world's interpretations (where I'm assuming my readers come from) but the traditional Japanese ones! Just a quick FYI! They're (or whatever the heck they are-they certainly ain't no sexy Sebastians!) pictured in a traditional art book I have as green or red, ragged, pitiful lumpy things. And they're activities…yeesh. More ramblings on this subject after this chapter's end!
Oh-and because it's been so long since I wrote this and I seriously hate most of it by now I might…tend to summarize ^.^
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vis[it[ant
n.
1 a visitor, esp. one from a strange or foreign place
2 a supernatural visitor; ghost, phantom, etc.
adj.
[Archaic] paying a visit
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Chapter 8: VISITANT-The Other Man in the Mask
"Madness need not be all breakdown. It may also be breakthrough. It is potentially liberation and renewal as well as enslavement and existential death."-R.D. Laing, The Politics of Experience
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He had a vivid dream that night. Nightmare really. Of course it wasn't the first one he had since his plight began, but it was the strongest, unforgettable, and bathed more than ever before by the faint violet glow of the dark chakra's influence. The moment he started using dark chakra it immersed itself in his body; resting within seemingly mildly, and calmed in the recesses of his being until summoned under his complete and utter control; all the while secretly seething with dictation in his mind when he was weak in will or while he slept.
Sleeping, the seething chakra would further corrode the thin barrier between it and his being, it would move and often in doing so stir up the chemicals and memories within his mind, like a soupy mixture being churned by the masters hand, until it played out in livid images, transforming his dreams into grotesque nightmares, further spiked by the hatred coiled within the spirit of the Dark Nine-Tails through the incomplete seal they shared.
The first thing that he realizes is how marred his vision is. Crimson, white, and the faintest hint of violet line the edges of his sight hauntingly, and his surroundings wave back and forth as if seen within smoke that is rising from the ground in wispy tendrils. So much so it is as if hell itself has opened up from below the cracked earth, goblins and demons emerging from, desiring to devour souls they catch wandering above. He has no fear of the green-skinned ghouls though. He feels nothing. Let the monsters of his childhood come.
Painted colors, verdant and crimson. White beady eyes and fires with steaming pots filled with gore: human arms and legs, boiling amongst the red waters. His small finger traces across the poignant image coating the ancient page, marveling the colors and shapes contained within. What's that? he asks.
The old man, worn by years of exposure, smiles and does not answer for a minute. Then says: something you don't need to know about, really. But I will say this; at least, it's what we fight everyday in those who stray too far. It's a reminder to remember what's important in the light.
Walking. He is walking. He can't tell where he is, though, and in sickening apprehension he realizes he is lost in the unknown. It matters not how many steps his feet move him; nothing can be recognized, or becomes clear and nothing changes.
Fog smothers the world into a stifled bleakness. Breaking through the morose gray, trees surround him in all directions, endless, and muddled by the red and smoke that tries to devour the life forms in hot wisps. Expanding in fume and range, the fire grows all around. They are burning so intensely he cannot pry his eyes away from the unquenchable fires or their blackening victims.
Crunch. He raises his foot, to find he has stepped on a skull that is now broken and in pieces beneath his sandals. Disgusting. He kicks it away, only for the bone to hit something hard with a hollow thud like stone to shell. Curiosity rose, he sees it has landed against another dirtied skull, laying on the ground, its face upward and watching him with empty blank eyes. Its bottom jaw is protruding from its top row of teeth making it look like it is cackling with sick humor like a deceased fool hell-bent to have the last laugh before inevitable damnation.
He does not wish to be here any longer, caught in their empty eyes, or mocking broken grins. He runs , but the more he does the more bone fragments he finds, soon followed by entire skeletons and eventually bodies, some not having reached the point in their decomposition where they are nothing but barren bone. They litter the ground in heaps, some hang from the trees. Many in different pieces, as if their limbs or head have been severed on a great battlefield of butchery and it is only after pausing to examine a ring one bore on their finger he realizes it is his battlefield. They were all people he had felled in a too one-sided battle.
The earth is soaked in their blood. It collects into a ravine and flows like a dark crimson stream. Most of which is pooling freshly from a single cracked tree….
Memories of the day before play out around him like flickering ghost among the foliage, an ominous wind blowing through them as easily as through pages of a book laid open. Pages bare. A story cut short. Wincing, he closes his eyes to shut out the image that is worse than any Genjutsu conjured up for it is his own inescapable and unchangeable memories, but finds he cannot. He is at the mercy of his mind's hallucination and it will not grant him the respite of darkness.
He covers his ears but the sounds of crunching, hissing, and wails won't mute, and pulling his hands down from his ears and aching head, he is reminded of the red coating his fingers like gnarled pink tissue stuck to bone. He rubs them against his coat but the liquid won't be removed. It drips and slides down his skin, its form shiny and dark in contrast to his pale tone. Vivid and disgusting.
Horror pricks at him as he futilely scrubs his hands until they feel raw. Nonononono! Finally he can no longer take it. Anger rises up inside him, darkness coiling around it like smoke to fire, and he slams his fists into the ground, yelling. It was just a dream and dreams weren't real!
The image shattered from the impact, dark chakra raging and ringing in his ears vociferously, and he awoke, gasping and drenched in hot sweat.
His plight had cost him unhaunting dreams. Impassive or not, the image of death was strong, and stuck to memory like leech to blood, steadfast and latched, sucking the nutrients and very life-force right out…
Exhaling slowly, he sat up from his pallet that was situated in a very plain room in the Training Caves, containing only his clothes and equipment. His fingers rubbed his head tiredly from his taxed sleep. Besides a brief feeling of nausea that passed from moving there was a dull ache in his head, not exactly painful but there nonetheless, and he could feel it damper his already foul mood. He felt parched and his body like lead. Moving just his hand alone was an effort that irritated him.
In fact, he couldn't recall ever feeling something like this. It wasn't a tiredness that was a result of hard training but something else... He then wondered if this was what it was like to feel a water downed hangover. With such vast chakra flowing through him, constantly healing him, he couldn't exactly get to feel the real deal in all its complete nauseating form.
He could think of a good number of teammates who would be jealous of that. Shikamaru for example. Or, he suspected at least, Hinata. Crazy Iruka, definitely.
'Yet another thing to be grateful to me for.'
'Shut up.'
The voice inside him that spoke more and more with each day was not helping the subtle pain in his head that, like Kurama's regular grating voice, remained constant. So irritating-ugh. Groaning, he wormed his way from the sheets and made his way to the shower. He had one last night to wash the blood and grime off acquired from the previous day's events but even so, he felt he needed another one for good measure. Blood had appallingly found a way to remain under his nails, lining the edges.
Once done, he began getting dress. His coat and gear wasn't in their designated spots and it took him a while to recall why that was, and why he was in the state he was in now. The night before and everything that had happened during was foggy, and he had to concentrate just to remember specific events. Taking a seat he rubbed his fingers to his temple again and focused. Let's see…He remembered…he remembered the hunt for the scroll and…he had let the fox take over and…after that he faintly remembered getting a drink. Some guy bugging him for a bit. After that point, the fire and then….
He gasped. That man…
The whole place was on fire. The body he was dragging heavier than he, and marred from their short battle. Then…a voice: Bloodline limits and secret techniques.
He turns, the body dropping from his fingertips unto the dirt. There is no reverence towards the fresh carcass. No honor, respect. Nothing.
Collecting strength and hoping to control the ninja world, the strange masked figure speaks. Such an easy-to-understand ambition.
He looks carefully at the stranger who has a powerful yet translucent appearance; the flares from the fire below the hill are visible through his clouded cloak. He does not strike him as someone stupid but as too much at ease to feel in danger approaching him which is an idiotic and dangerous notion. Especially when he is pissed, and right now he is. He is very pissed off. The figure must not know who he is…and curiouser yet, he has a Sharingan.
That truth alone has many implications.
You have too much ego to be a ghost. Who are you?
It doesn't matter. I'm here to help you.
After that point…
It was practically blank. Only wisps of recollection remained in dim flashes of tainted memory. A shower, pink watery blood running down the rusted metal of the silver drain…then the morbid fog of the nightmare.
'Our new friend is outside waiting for you,' the fox reminded, almost chidingly.
He breathed out slowly, fingers perfunctorily continuing his morning routine of dressing as he slipped on his mask and tied the knot from the band tightly. 'New friend? I still don't know anything about who or what he is.' Another moment and the last strap around his sandal was tightened securely. 'Can we trust him?'
The fox hummed impatiently in response.
Through the mask's eyeholes he glanced at a scroll that was besides his pallet. Seeing the ancient article he was reminded of another scene from that night. Consider this a gift…And assurance that you can trust me, the figure had said. Menma had obviously not read it last night but he didn't have to even open it up now to know that it was a forbidden scroll, stolen from the Mist, and very valuable in information. Information that would further his growth. He had actually set his sight on it a few days back but remembering how he had promised to stay off Haku's "turf" not given into the temptation of retrieving it.
'That scroll and his abilities are only proof that there's something about him…Besides if he had wanted to do you harm he would have already done so.' He had a point there. Kami knows he left himself vulnerable the moment he took a sip and passed out later last night with the stranger in his hideout. 'And if he's willing to help let's see what he's got, he can prove very useful to you. You aren't perfect, Menma. Good, yes, but not perfect. You lack direction, and the mere mortal cannot provide what you need. Wherefore I am beyond mortal I cannot guide you from the outside, but it's possible he can. Besides, the intangible form he's in now…'
'Neither of us can harm the other,' Menma finished, thinking back to the man's ghost like appearance that objects moved through as if he wasn't there at all, but he was, and not only that but he was here, inside Menma's personal hideout. Even though his senses were dull in his grogginess, and dead feeling, Menma could detect his presence in the main area, waiting for him with all his strange chakra… 'Again, what the hell is he? Why's he interested in me?'
'Instead of wasting time talking get out and find out.'
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His fingers clenched around the hilt of a kunai hidden in his pocket as he walked to the main part of the training caves, eyes carefully scanning around for any sign of danger. The wooden passage was well lit, he noticed. The sun had already risen-a sign of how late he had just abnormally slept in-and shone through the hallway through the wide breaks in the red beams. Just how late was it? His feet paused their trek when an aroma came to his nose…It smelled something like coffee but was scented heavily with a sweet scent that Menma couldn't identify.
Puzzled, he continued on and once inside the main area, past the violet carpet that led to his sitting area, he found the man waiting, a steaming mug resting on the arm of the chair beside him. The orange of his mask moved as he lifted his head in acknowledgement to Menma's presence. "You're awake. Good," the masked man spoke pleasantly, nodding to Menma as the boy took a seat. "I took the liberty of making this for you." He gestured to the mug that had produced the smell and just the sight of it tempted Menma who was, besides nauseas, feeling extremely thirsty. "It should help you," he commented further, not bothering to mention what it would help.
'Kurama…' Menma automatically prodded. 'Is it safe?'
'Even if it wasn't, and was poisoned, the dark chakra would automatically neutralize the danger.'
'Yeah,' Menma mentally retorted, his voice laced with annoyed sarcasm. 'Just like it did Haku's poison.'
'You forget you have evolved and your control of it's better than it was that day. At this point it will do it automatically.'
'Right….'
Eyes not leaving the other masked figure Menma took the mug, and swirled it a bit, testing it. A quick glance revealed no bubbles or otherwise fizzling evidence of a drug…Then lifted his mask just enough that he could drink. The liquid was warm and as it went down his throat he could feel its healing effects almost instantly. His mind fastened from it's slowed groggy pace, his headache disappeared, and his thirst quenched.
He had just drunken a super remedy.
"I don't usually…." He didn't finish.
The masked man said nothing. He didn't speak of the night before, or bring up what Menma had done. There was nothing, and Menma appreciated his silence. He set the mug down, nodding his head as way of thanks.
"Yesterday was really long for me," he finally said. "But that doesn't mean I'm any less weary of…questionable attention."
The masked man chuckled. "To one as sharp as you and who has spent so long alone I understand why you consider me questionable, in fact it makes you all the more wiser, but I assure you, I'm only here to help..."
His tone was pleasant. Too pleasant. There was artificiality to it, a pleasant fakeness that was on par with the art of acting.
"Why?" he asked bluntly.
The man glanced at Menma carefully, the eye visible through his spiraling orange mask anything but hostile. There was absolutely no malice to it, his eye was the only thing that was truly genuine so it gave pause to Menma's irritation at the man's scripted attitude. He gave a slight shrug of his shoulders before he activated some ocular jutsu, the black tomoe in his crimson eye-already activated, in fact, Menma had yet to see him turn his Sharingan off-spinning into a new version of Mangekyou that Menma wasn't sure if he had seen it before or not. It seemed familiar at least, and its abilities instantly struck him as both curious and similar to something he already knew as the mug disappeared, swirling into nothing, its form and smell completely gone. It sent the hair on his head standing on end.
Just what was this guy?
What secretes was he hiding behind that mask? Menma himself wore a face covering to hide his identity and give him an edge but it didn't make this visitant's effects any less questionable. If anything, it made him even more suspicious of a character. Then there was his attire to put into consideration. He wore an Akatsuki cloak…
The Akatsuki were a group of mercenaries in a set number. A number, Menma knew for a fact, was limited and did not include this man. Was it possible he was a new member? Then why approach Menma who would no doubt become a target to them? Was he attempting to assassinate or spy on him under the ruse of a friend?
No. He would have ditched the obvious telltale cloak then, Menma thought. Another possibility was that he was new and planned to double cross the Akatsuki using Menma somehow. Menma's lip twitched. He was no man's pawn. The fox growled in frustration. 'He is more than the Akatsuki. You must sense this…'
Unfazed by Menma's obvious uneasiness the man spoke. "I have spent a life time doing what you're only just now beginning to do…but unlike you I'm unable to tap in…to your specific resources."
Menma's eyes narrowed. What did he mean by that? Specific resources?
"I am not new to the world of shinobi secretes," the man continued. "And I am not new to the knowledge of dark chakra…or tailed beasts, the ninth specifically. Both of which reside in you and only you."
Menma felt his heart stop beating in surprise. Not only was he an enigma but he was a seemingly all-knowing one. "H-How do you know about me?"
"Don't worry; it wasn't you who clued me on or anything you did that revealed your secret. I just happen to be a man who knows things…And has a keen sense of things…Just as I can sense the dark chakra inside you I also sense that it is incomplete. You have not reached its full potential yet. If you let me, I wish to coach you on how to."
"What's in it for you?"
Just what kind of price was he expecting? Some partnership in some long goal to dominate a village perhaps? The list was endless.
The man chuckled. "Me? Well, while you will only get stronger and eventually surpass even the Kage, I wish only for security and one of the nine tailed beast. The rest can be all yours. And that is it, I assure you."
The fox inside him chuckled in dark delight, obviously enjoying the idea of besting the other beasts. Menma arched an eyebrow. "Other tailed beasts?"
"Why don't you let yours fill you in so you know I'm not lying?"
This guy was really serious about wanting Menma's trust….
'Remember how I told you there are other beasts? And our rank in tails shows our rank in strength? This man speaks the truth, and he seems to know a lot, Menma. Perhaps different things than I do…Try him.'
'What happened to you always snapping 'kill them' the moment I see someone, huh? Why the sudden change in attitude? Is it that you're…interested in him as well?'
'Can you not sense his chakra? You nor I have ever been in the presence of such potential! He is thousands of times more acidic than Haku! He's powerful, and with his help you will only gain more. Besides should he become an enemy it would be wise to have studied him beforehand. Do not you humans always say keep the enemy closer than friends?'
'Aye…speaking of which, catch that jutsu of his? Doesn't it remind you of-wait. You haven't seen it but I'm sure it's connected…in fact…'
Menma scanned what else was visible of the man's natural features again with the idea in mind he knew this figure. His eye and hair-his eye proof of the fact he was an Uchiha-just an unrecognizable one. Being a teammate of an Uchiha he had gotten to see the clan on more than one occasion yet never had he met this one, nor was his short spiky hair of their usual style, but it did trigger a response from his memory. In the deepest recesses he thought back to his sensei's history….And how ironic that, like the silver-headed Jounin, he also only showed a single eye, it was even his opposite.
It couldn't be mere coincidence.
A dark chuckled slithered out his mask and into the air like a raven's cry in the night, breaking the silence. "So you're still alive after all these years, huh?" He cocked his head to the side, satisfyingly smiling. He had the upper hand now.
The man remained completely unfazed and smiled back. "I should have known you wouldn't be fooled," he uttered coolly. "But for your and my own protection you can just refer to me as Madara….Namikaze."
SHIT!
'Just how the hell does he know my name?!'
'Calm down, Menma. You both are still equal in standings! He dare not utter your name and you his, understand?'
'Yeah, but…I've never…dealt with someone whose...not a complete idiot.'
'All the more experience, now find out his strength now you know of his wit.'
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When his body was found collapsed among the bloody foliage the news spread fast across the land of the hero's death. From the Hokage office in the eyes of the silent Anbu to the thrust of her arm to which the messenger hawk flew, the news traveled and reached even the River Country as the man and his wife made their way home, oblivious to the sadness that had transpired while they had spoken with the Kazekage.
"That's strange," he muttered clicking his tongue to the bird. Minato quickly freed the scroll from its leg before sending it back off. It flew off without as much as a sound other than the flap of its long graceful wings, and disappeared behind the trees as suddenly as it had speedily came with its parchment. "This must be some really urgent message to be sent while we're still on the mission…"
Kushina nodded her head in agreement. "Yeah. I think it's even the first time for us, ya know."
Minato quickly tore the seal off and rolled the paper out, letting his eyes follow the rough writing as he read its morbid news. The smile that had been on his face dropped almost instantly and he let in a sharp breath. Seeing her husband's reaction Kushina instantly became worried.
"What is it?" He didn't answer but kept his eyes glued to the paper, his eyelids wide open in a look of horror. Swallowing hard she gave his shoulder a little shake, crying "What is it? Please! What's happened!?"
After a moment he finally spoke, his voice strained. "Jiraiya-sensei…he's dead."
She gasped, her mind unable to comprehend the news. "What do you mean he's dead? That's impossible!"
The man squeezed his eyes shut with a wince. "It's not impossible Kushina. We all knew this day would come…" He bit his lip, nodding, as if trying to reconfirm something or reason with himself, as he spoke more to himself rather than her. "He was bent on not letting his old age be the one to take him but to have a death of a hero. He….He got it. Died trying to stop the Masked Man."
He was trying to be cool and collected but Kushina could see how hard he was trying to not cry. His hands were quivering and he tried to hide it by digging them in his pockets. She looked down sadly. Jiraiya had been like a father to him. He practically raised him. He was there for him when he lost most of his team to death, they had only been children and it left Minato devastated for weeks. He had been there when Menma was born-Kushina literally broke his arm during her contractions-and most of all he had been there for Menma every step of the way. His first word, his first step, his first time out of the village. He was there, his big shoulder vast and arms wide open.
"Minato," she said slowly. "You need to let it all out of your system before we get home-I don't want Menma to see you upset. Okay? When we get home I want you to be alright. So...Do what you got to do."
He shook his head, eyes still closed. "No-I knew this would happen. I'm fine…It's…the fate of all…shinobi."
"Minato…" Any other situation her voice would be rich in crimson anger and it would be surrounding her in a visible aura but this was not the time. She spoke with a soft voice, her touch just as gentle. "Please," she whispered.
Finally he wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her shoulder. She pulled in closer and held him, her hand going up and down his back comfortingly. "It's okay," she whispered. "Get it all out."
He didn't break down and sob, just stood there, his eyes closed, no doubt lost in a world of memories filled with loss…his family, his young team…and now his sensei…But, then there were still the blessings of what he had left. They couldn't replace all of those dear who were lost…but they outnumbered them. "You still had our young family. Our village…" Kushina continued to whisper such into his ear until he opened his eyes and nodded.
Finally he pulled away. "Thank you, Kushina." His voice was quiet and after exhaling slowly he tilted his head up and smiled softly. "I mean it. I love you."
She nodded. "All right. Now let's get back to our son-and I meant it. Don't upset him with this."
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"EH!? HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW WHO I AM!?" A voice could be heard screaming shrilly through the entire village, loudest in the market streets followed by the twilight of a neighborhood, smaller-but homier-than most. Sasuke Uchiha, heir to the Konoha's entertainment district's popular host business and clubs cringed. There was nothing more unattractive than a guy raising his voice like that.
With distaste he saw the little amount of young women there was around shuttle away from the obnoxious speaker. Great. Just great. He had been hoping to buy a few of them some ramen at Ichiraku, too. Nothing fancy this time around-he'd save that for tomorrow night…If his teammate would just stop acting obnoxious and scaring the damsels away that is….
"Dammit," he muttered. Squaring his shoulders he made his way to the ramen bar. Sitting on a stool yelling at the old man was his teammate. The symbol of the leaf was shining on his forehead and holding his blond bangs back from his whiskered face that was nearly red at this point. He was huffing from yelling. The scene was strange. Stuck up Menma Namikaze, had never been seen yelling or arguing with adults…until now.
"I'm sorry-I just get so many customers," the old man, Teuchi Ichiraku, cried, "I can't remember all the names and faces!"
"So I mean NOTHING to you, huh!?" The blond groaned in frustration. "Of all the people I thought you would be normal!"
"Normal? What're you talking ab-"
The teen interrupted the old man, slamming his fist into the wooden counter, and screamed, " You're friggen weird!"
The last word was loud and echoed through the bar. It became dead silent. Other customers who hadn't already stopped eating now did and stared at the blond with their mouths dropped wide open. Ichiraku had fierce pride: no one dissed him or his ramen-especially him…You could literally see a vein in the old man's head bulge.
Howling, he snatched onto the blond's ear and pulled it with enough force that the blond was pulled out of the stool. "Now you listen 'ere, you brat! I tried to be nice and ignore you unreasonableness but I will not tolerate you disrespecting me! This is my ramen bar and I do what the fuck I want and I say if you don't scat I'll chop you up and use you for my next dish, you little pissant!"
The blond recoiled back, his face twisted in hurt. Then, apparently anger spiked and he too pissed to handle it, he rolled up his sleeves in challenge. "You wanna piece of me, HUH?! I'll beat the weirdness right out of you and everyone else here!"
Goodness, was he drunk or something? On drugs? Whatever it was liberating him from his usual stoic personality Sasuke wanted it….Then again who knows if it was even a result from what boring adults referred to as shinobi sins. With all that hard core training he could have just hit his head or something like that. Sighing, Sasuke made his way to him and pulled him by the arm away from the bar and threw a wad of cash to Ichiraku-a little incentive to forget the incident. "So not hot," he hissed into his teammate's ear once they were far enough. "So not. You want to be labeled unapproachable by girls your entire life or something?"
"You let go of me, bigger weirdo!" He yelled giving Sasuke a push. Sasuke rolled his eyes and let him go. Hey-he wasn't going to get in a fight with him.
"You've been acting real weird tonight, Menma," he said, brushing his arm off. "Since when do you harass poor old men like Ichiraku? Huh?" His dark eyes gazed back up to meet Menma who had his bright blue eyes cast down in anger.
"That ain't no Ichiraku," he said, bitterly. "No way."
Ain't? Did he just say ain't? Sasuke's eyebrow rose. Something was definitely up here.
Putting the strangeness aside he cleared his throat. "Hey, if you're hungry let's go to Shushuya. We need to have a chat about something anyways."
Menma's eyes widened. "That place is expensive."
Again Sasuke rolled his eyes and pulled out a huge wad of cash from his pocket. He held it up with two fingers coolly and smirked. "Since when was money an issue, bro? I'm the richest sonuvabitch in all of Konoha!"
Right on cue a few girls looked his way and giggled. He flashed them a shining smile and they squealed. Kami, he loved being an Uchiha.
Menma, on the other hand, had his mouth hanging down dumbly and a mystified expression on his face. "What?" Sasuke asked, almost defensively. "My standards don't meet with yours? We had that established since day one."
The teen shook his head. "Um, okay. Never mind. Let's just go…get some food."
Um?
The food joint was only somewhat busy, not too much so, which disappointed Sasuke. There were less girls to choose from. Then again he never just sat with just one. The more the merrier…but the ones in the restaurant seemed too plain from his quick glance. Ugh. Oh well. He had more important girls to go for. Which is why he needed Menma. Both boys sat down at the table across from each other in front of the window. The street and all the people passing by were visible from it.
Popping some candy in his mouth he dove right into the matter. "So…Menma, it's been over a year since you and Hinata have been…a thing."
Menma set his chopsticks down. "A thing?" he asked with his mouthful.
Ew, I'm going to ignore that. After a second Sasuke nodded. "But it's slower than my granny. I mean she obviously has the hots for you but I've yet to see you even acknowledge her for what her body's made for, you know?"
The blond made a disturbed expression as he finished chewing. "Huh?" He swallowed hard. " What are you saying, exactly?"
"I'm saying…You might as well break up with her and let other guys have a chance and…hang on." A waitress was walking their way. Sasuke underhanded her a wad of bills, whispering, "Go to the bar down the street and get me a martini, will you, doll?"
"Yes-Uchiha-sama!" She nodded and ran off, her pocket bulging in paper galore. Again, Menma watched, captivated. Seriously, what was wrong with him? Then again he hardly went out for anything but training.
Finally the blond shook his head, getting his mind back to the conversation and stated, "Oh you can have her all right. She scares me."
Sasuke let out a chuckle. "She's feisty, I'll say that. But that ass-"
"Don't talk like that!" He exclaimed suddenly, causing the Uchiha to jump.
"What?" he said innocently.
"You know what I mean, ya big pervert! You just don't talk like that!" Menma slouched his shoulders, as if disappointed in something.
"Talk like what?"
He rolled his eyes. "And you always called me dumb."
Actually, Sasuke had never ever thought of his teammate as dumb. He was intelligent…on everything but what it meant to be a teen. Sasuke again cleared his throat. "So…dibs on Hinata…What about Sakura? Oh-something seems wrong with her lately. Do you know what?"
In fact, both of them were acting weird. Was it just Sakura he would expect it was due because a certain time of month but then he remembered he bought her a shipment of chocolates two weeks ago so that wasn't it…Were they secretly having an affair or something? Was Menma finally growing up from a boring ninja into a young man of love? Getting some? Kami knew he needed to get laid. Sasuke smirked. He'd finally have competition should Menma treat his affairs with as much effort as he did training.
It takes hard work to get yourself at the point where Sasuke is now. Now all it takes him is a smile and some money. Menma did have muscles, though…or least he did. Sasuke eyes narrowed as he took note of how Menma seemed…well smaller, but with his jacket he couldn't quite tell.
"S-S-Sakura!" Menma stuttered. "First it was Hinata, then Sakura! Just how many girls do you need?! Gwah-you're such a friggen playboy!"
Friggen? Just what was up with the lingo? Sasuke rolled his eyes at how energetic Menma was and how weird he was acting and talking…in fact…
"Hey, Menma…"
"Huh?"
"Your mother's pretty hot, too."
"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MA LIKE THAT!"
"Ah-ha!" Sasuke exclaimed. "You haven't referred to your parents as anything but 'father' and 'mother' like some commando since you turned twelve! You're finally lightening up, aren't you?"
Menma's shocked reply was cut short when glass shattered behind them and screaming broke out. It became loud, glass clanging against the tables and floor, people screaming in surprise. "Catch him!" a voice cried. "Who!?" one screamed. "Shit!" said Sasuke.
A figure sailed towards them, or rather just Menma. As the dust and debris cleared the assailant became clear enough to reveal the grey flash of color that was Iruka flying towards the blond in his prison clothes with a crowbar in hands. Menma fumbled out of seat in the nick of time before the man landed on the table, breaking it in half. Gasping he rolled out of the way of another attack and brought his hands together into a cross. "Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
In a poof of smoke another Naruto was revealed. But Sasuke didn't have time to sit there and gawk. Fearful of the violence he dashed in the corner of the restaurant and hid under the table…He wasn't the only one. A girl was curled up in a ball with tears coming from her eyes. Well…he would have to fix that. He flashed her a smile. "See, my partner?" he said. "He's got this." She nodded, her eye big in fright of the lunatic of Konoha.
"RASENGAN!" With a thrust of his and his clone's hand the teacher was sent flying back with a long string of colorful curses that could paint the entire city in all its color. Coughing up blood the man stood. "You got some new tricks, huh, Namikaze?" He said, cocking his head. "You were always a fucking show off-showing me up in my fucking classroom!." He laughed maniacally and Sasuke could see Menma wince.
"Well now you die for putting me in that hellhole!" With a snarl he rushed towards Menma. A third person intervened, though, and sent his face to the ground with a swift kick. In a matter of a half-second they were on top of him clapping his wrists in iron and hitting him hard enough on the back of the neck that he was knocked out.
All became still and quiet as the Anbu, for that was the third person was, stood up. Their cat mask covered their face. "My apologies…" Slowly the people came out of their shells of fear and hiding spots and gathered around the Anbu like moths to light.
"What was that!?" the owner of the shop demanded, entering from the backroom. "I thought that freak was punished for his stunt last Halloween!"
She turned toward him with a bow. "Because his years of service Lady Tsunade spared his life but it turns out that was a mistake. He escaped from solitary confinement only fifteen minutes ago by determination alone. And madness…" She gave a tired sigh then turned to Menma, her head still bowed. "My deepest condolences…Menma Namikaze."
"Uh," he mumbled, still trying to catch up.
She removed her mask and hood to reveal Sharingan eyes and a long black tail of black hair. She tried to give him a smile, but it was grimmer than anything. "It's ironic; we meet again a little more than a year later. With Iruka, no less. I'm glad to see you're alright, Mr. Reaper. And that jutsu. New?"
"Uh…No, same old same old…Um, reaper? Uh…Have we met?"
She nodded, her eyebrows drown down. "Yes, the party. Cinderella?"
He shook his head, and she seemed perplexed.
After a long awkward moment she sighed. "It's no matter. I'm just glad to see that you are unharmed."
Sasuke got out from where he'd been hiding and wrapped his arm around her shoulder playfully. "Hey, like five-times-removed cooooouuusin," he drawled in her ear. "I think he hit his head in the caves-he's been real stupid lately." She pushed him away, her expression scornful, no doubt disappointed in him at his inability to act in a crisis as a shinobi. He wasn't fazed or offended in the least. "How's life outside the estate gates?"
"Bug off."
He smiled and gave them space-needed to talk to that girl under the table anyways.
Menma looked down at the teacher at their feet. "Um, Iruka…" His expression was contorted to one of hurt. "That's bad….I can't believe it."
"It is a shame," she agreed. "Now if you'll excuse me I must return him back to where he belongs. He won't be able to return to try to hurt you or anyone again-I swear."
With a point of her two forefingers she and the ex-teacher disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving nothing but a dry leaf, floating down to the wooden floorboards.
Outside the restaurant Menma walked beside Sasuke with his face cast down. Occasionally he ventured a gaze at the raven-haired playboy. "So," he said slowly, his face brightening up ever so slightly with hopeful anticipation. "Um, since we're both here…wanna spar?"
Why did the idea of sparring make him so darn happy?
Sasuke let out a loud laugh. "Spar? You know I don't fight. My skills are with the wooing of ladies."
He grinned at Menma's scowl. (Now that's more like him.)
He could have sworn he heard Menma mumble under his breath in a furious whisper, "Man, I wish the real one could see himself right now. He'd totally slug himself too!"
Sasuke rolled his eyes and made his way to the flower shop. Sakura had looked like she could use a rose earlier. Tsk tsk, he would just have to fix that.
_-xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx-_
The stranger, "Madara" as he was told to call him, had also gotten breakfast for him, and as much as Menma needed the cooked food-he literally couldn't even remember the last time he had eaten any- he was tempted to believe the man to be a kissass…until Madara kicked his ass in a sparring match. Or really bested him as much as he could in the form he was in. Had he been tangible Menma would have been killed from his well planned strike.
To further get an idea of Menma's current level the man had requested to see him in action. So they danced in a spar of silent air moves, the goal: don't let either gloved hand reach his body. Both overcame the awkwardness of the untouching battle rather quickly, fists flew at each other in a series of well practiced movements: kicks, and hits, retaliation and defense followed up with counter-attacks with fighting styles not only from Konoha but all major cultures of the Elemental Nations as both had traveled everywhere in search of abilities and knowledge.
The battle ended when after bending backwards to evade a strike from the man's palm he lashed a ghostly chain across the ground, tripping Menma, and sending him over the edge of the floor and falling toward the spikes on the lower levels. He instinctively sent chakra to his feet and skidded across the wall where the masked man caught up with him with a stutter of his jutsu. Not being given time to recover and roll from danger his neck was met with a fist hovering inches above it. He gulped.
He had been bested.
"Well done." He jumped down from the wall into a crouch on the floor, away from the death traps. "A chain is an interesting weapon choice," he said sourly, getting up from his crouch.
The man chuckled and appeared in front of him in a black and red swirl. "I admit it isn't common but I find them useful for multiple things. It's been a long time since I've fought with one." He seemed nostalgic for a moment. "You are very skilled in Taijutsu. I already know your Ninjutsu is equally as good. Evidence of that is in the names crossed out in Bingo books across this continent…"
He's doing it again…Menma's eyes narrowed, his emotions becoming irked at his defeat and the utter coolness of the man who could not be fazed. And his ear tickling that deep down Menma didn't mind…
Madara started walking and motioned Menma over to a stack of scrolls that he hadn't noticed before. "I think these will be of further use to you," he said. "They are all very rare and at one point in time they were nearly destroyed for their secrets regarding the dark chakra…."
Menma leaned down to examine them. They were coated in dust and some of the writings on the seals binding them he couldn't even translate. The man crouched down next to him, his finger tracing over the relics in the air. "This speaks of taboo," he said. "Danger to he who opens it and whatnot."
Menma smirked. "Shall we?"
The figure turned toward him, his eyes upturned in a smile. "Anxious. That's very good. You remind me of my younger years."
He tore the seal off. "How so?"
The man tilted his head back thoughtfully. "Back in the day, war waged on our lands. No one was ever the same again, especially me and I was forced to leave the village…"
Menma nodded. "But then?"
"My eyes were opened. You see, the confines of the village is so limiting! There is so much more out there…."
Menma's hands paused midway, the scroll he had been unrolling halted.
"Yes, I'm sure you have already realized this. I was even younger than you when it came my time and not once have I ever gone back nor wanted to. And it's because my time out here I've learned all I have, most of which the Kage in their foolishness regard it as forbidden."
"There should be no forbidden jutsu," Menma stated quietly. "Why should anyone be stopped from progress? Natural selection worms out the weak anyways."
Madara chuckled. "It does, does it not? And when nature won't, man must in its place. I believe you are that force of selection….You come from such a limiting village-many of those who are blessed to be born with talents and Kekkei Genkai throw them away for life unfitting for shinobi while you forge your own way there through hard work."
Menma glanced down at the scroll, the acknowledgement making him feel…pleased, he couldn't really describe it. This was the first time someone had acknowledged him since hit plight began…
He began reading the scroll, Madara, an unscornful guide, beside him translating what he could not. Diving into secretes well into the night and slowly evolving his arsenal of abilities and strength of dark chakra. The more he did the more he started to like Madara, the figure so much like himself…
Around the midnight hour Madara spoke of the tailed beasts. "At this point surely you can defeat a tailed beast…just imagine it. All the villages fight to take control of the different beasts only to seal them inside humans as sacrifices and use them as weapons. Surely the day for that is over…should you will it. Think you can bring them down one by one? Seal them in the Gedo statue until you have all and the greatest weapon ever? The greatest power!"
Menma's ears perked. "Surely. I've faced one before."
'Oh, Menma, Menma, that doesn't count. You can't call that pitiful attempt a fight.'
"So," Menma stated ignoring the voice in him, "If you believe I'm ready should I start off with the lesser tails? One? Where is it?"
"I'm not so sure about that one. I recommend going after the second first. The two tails…Well I won't spoil it for you but she's quite feisty. She resides in the Cloud Village"
_-xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx-_
Sand moved across the floor like a string of marching ants, warmly and smooth. The woman glanced at the line and shivered. Carefully, so as not to disturb the Kazekage, she made her way from the bed, grabbing a blanket and crept across the floor, following the sand. Swallowing nervously, she tied the blanket around her to cover herself as she was stark naked and Leader would be displeased if she wasted time wrestling around for clothes and even wake the Kazekage in the process. Besides it's not like he had never seen her before.
She found him shrouded by the darkness. A hood hiding his already darkened features in the night lighting. He sat coolly in the Kazekage's throne, his fingers tapping against the marble impatiently.
"Momo," he stated his voice low and smooth as his sand and smile, though there was an edge to it that foreshadowed the trouble before a storm. "I hear…my father met with some visitors today…"
The woman nodded solemnly and sat on his lap. He rested one hand on her shoulder, and brushed her hair from her face with the other. "Yes, he originally declined but they were more convincing…."
"Damn it." She could feel his gaze on her and she felt both fear and longing. Fear of his power and longing for it. "Leader-sama, I regret to inform you he told of you…Oh, he was tempted so…"
She puckered her lips and leaned against his chest. She could feel and hear him growl in frustration.
"That pathetic shit. He never could resist a woman." His hands traveled up her arm, his fingers tips tracing against her skin. "Where were these messengers from?" He asked.
"Konoha, sir."
He chuckled, his voice pleasing her ears. "Konoha? Then I need not fear. What little talent in that village that stands a remote chance of slowing our plans means nothing. The Uchiha waste their name on sex, and the Hyuuga have long abandoned their post of being protectors of the village to that of stuck up pampered royalty who waste away their potential." He smiled, amused with his tale. "Land of Fire-the so called biggest threat is just a zero. They're shinobi stupid…Then those who do possess power, with the exception of a very select few, always leave that pathetic clown village. People like Itachi Uchiha…Orochimaru, and even our head leader…."
"No one can stand in our way," she beamed hugging him. "We're gonna be the greatest! Now, if you don't mind me asking…Were you able to recruit that new guy?"
He sighed. "No. It wasn't the right time…"
"But it will be soon…" She moved in to kiss him but he stopped her lips, his fingers pressed against them. He leaned in closely, his own lips millimeters from her ears and his breath hot. "Your mouth is tainted," he whispered, and she shuddered in fear.
"Please don't kill me," she begged.
"Oh darling, I would never kill a lady, whore or not, in fact, I never kill anybody."
She smiled with relief and he smiled back, cocking his head before finishing, "Directly that is."
Her smile dropped, and she backed away in fright. He chuckled darkly. "Enjoy your night. You never know when it's your last." He laughed again. "Let's see, there's numerous ways…poison…an assassin…So many ways and I don't even have to worry about my hands getting dirty."
She was gone before he even finished and he smiled in sardonic merriment.
_-xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx-_
"Reality can destroy the dream, why shouldn't the dream destroy reality?"-George Moore, The George Moore Calendar
_-xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx-_
SUPER RAMBLING NO JUTSU!
THE ART BOOK Continued: Unfortunately in the art book I looked off for the quick reference where the brutes are cooking up some human I cannot for the life of me find the title to these works. I just know it list it as "The descent of wicked souls into hell; makimano (roll) in transparent watercolor and body color and silk tissue on rough paper." The book is Dover's publication of George Ashdown Audsley's The Ornamental Arts of Japan. I really wanted to reference some traditional art piece from ancient Japan (which Naruto is SUSPOSED to be based off…) at least once. I feel like I've always failed in that department!
THE MOVIE'S RELEASE: Oh yeah-so they're gonna release Road to Ninja on Blu-Ray (two disks) and DVD (one) November 25th! I just wish Americans got the cool muti-disk edition the Japanese got. Look it up on Amazon. :3 It includes a whole bunch of fun stuff in it! I mean like the first movie it was shown in US theaters so you'd think they'd at least attempt to poop a special edition out like they did with the really cute first….Sorry for rambling. I like special editions…
THE HANGOVER: Oh. I've obviously have never experienced a hangover so I naturally wouldn't know how to describe it so I tried my best with my limited resources! XD Kami there's so much drinking and women in this! Gwah! NO MORE! Imma gurl for Kami's sake…
THE APPERANCE OF THE BLOND: I loved using him to lighten this mess up…LOL he can just can't ever catch a break, can he? XD (I'm starting to dislike my Menma…No wonder I stopped writing this XD But if I hurry up and end it I can hurry up and fix him!) Naruto's my favorite idiot who if you notice I've never used his name within this story-author's notes excluded. Notice that? :3 I wanted to do that right from the very beginning to make his exclamation of "My name is Naruto!" to be more dramatic. Gosh, I can't believe this is over a year old…I'm so terrible!(what's even more amazing is not only did I keep remembering to stick to that plan I also wanted the differences between Menma's speech and Naruto's to be constant as I pointed out in Sasuke's scene.) I promise to try to finish it-but at the same time I don't want to rush. I want to improve like I started to before I got so lazy. OH! So know how some people were disappointed in the fact Naru didn't show off his chakra mode in the new movie? Well the freedom of fan fiction is that I can do whatever the hell I want so brace yourselves for a longer and more dramatic fight…the 10th chapter! Whoop!
THE UPDATE ON SEQUEL: Because I'm so focused on wanting jump into the chaos of To Start a War by Shogi's 1 year anniversary and finish I decided Menma would only get one single sequel instead of two as I had originally mused over a year ago. Meaning I want to have this done by December and both sequels running at same time by January or February and finished before the one year mark. I know for a fact both stories will not only be much shorter and to the point than their predecessors but they will also be vastly different, older perhaps, (not to mention have a lot more Minato and MC together :3 (sspppooooooilerrr XP)) and above all I might connect it with the Future (as in BUTCHERED BANGS *cries like the pathetic gurl she is*) since the series is…ending. Onward and forward! It's fan terrain and time to conjure the future now, bitch!
Oh I have a funny story about me seeing Road to Ninja in the movie theater-but I'll save it for another time…it's embarrassing and funny at same time. Waaaaaaaaay nother time XD Like the last page of Menma I'll confess up :)
Oh I apologize for Ichiraku. Poor guy…and Iruka. It's just they're so nice so I completely reversed that…and last Halloween I had Iruka crash the party and I was like I need to have that chick in here, too….so Iruka's return was the only way I could bring The-not-the-Reaper and Cinderella together ^.^
Yeah Kitty Nameless is scheduled in sequel if you can't tell by me constantly referencing her and laying the foundation down for Roots like I did in the Momo and Sandman scene…heehee. He's pretty sadistic and doesn't get his hands dirty. Directly. Not this universe….
Oh I type oh a lot.
NEXT TIME: CHAPTER 9-DESTUCTION (or 'holocaust'-I'd much rather have that as a title but time has ruined the line I love in the Great Gatsby so much and now days when that word is used people think of the German tragedy….DAMN YOU HITLER!) The Two-Tail's downfall, Sakura's capture (tee hee-DUMP) and the atomic power of the dark chakra…The end is nigh….