(Don't) Forget

by Swissed Toast

I didn't want to die; didn't want to forget. I feared becoming a nobody. So then, wasn't it ironic that I'd be reborn into a world where I'd likely die as a nobody — just one body in a sea of corpses. If I want even a small chance of avoiding that fate, there was really only one option for me. OC Self-insert.

13. Genin: Chapter 12

Naruto © Masashi Kishimoto

A/N: I will just say this now; if you're angry I didn't change the plot or remove certain scenes/write them differently/add in x, then please, I am begging you; don't do what you did last time (if those people are even still around). I never replied, just deleted the DMs, and I'll do the same if it happens again, but I can't unread or undo the effect it had on me. And if anyone who hasn't read this part feels the same, I request the same as above.

And I'll say it now: If this, or anything I write angers you so much that you want to send me hate—leave. If you dislike something I've written feel free to tell me, but don't bully me; concrit is fine, but those DMs were not concrit. If you really, really hate how where this chapter brought the plot to such a large extent, you probably won't like future chapters either, because this chapter is pivotal.

Much longer note at the bottom as not to clog up the intro. Also to note: This is just what was cut out in terms of anything major (with minor/fluff being elaborated more), and it ends the same way it did pre-cut.

---

There's a light drizzle by mid afternoon, but it doesn't progress any further that night. The next morning it's the same, and it stays that way for the two days afterwards; a sign that we're approaching the Land of Rivers, probably.

Steadily, though, over the six days of traversing the flatland, it grows heavier; our cloaks shield us and the men manning the caravan from most of the rain, not nearly enough to stop a chill from running down my back, and as a result our pace has been gradually decreasing. There are no large clusters of trees for us to take cover under; no reprieve from the rain and wind that cuts at our cheeks and rivers that run down our faces, and with the increasingly poor visibility I can't help but feel even more on edge.

I swear it's a miracle that we hit the outpost just as night is settling in.

"Credentials and papers?" The on duty shinobi requests. We hand them over and he barely so much as glances at them before returning our IDs and mission report back to us. "Heavy storm's settling in; you'd best stay here for the night." He glances over at the caravans, taking note of the horses, and tells us, "There's a place for those, too."

"Thank you for your hospitality," sensei says politely, despite the fact that it's completely unnecessary. We're Konoha shinobi, and this is a Konoha outpost. On-duty shrugs it off, offering vague instructions on where to place the caravan and where the sleeping quarters are in response, and she nods before proceeding to split our group up; the three of us, plus Momo and Rukia, head towards the sleeping quarters, while she accompanies the rest of the group and caravans to whatever location on-duty had pointed them towards.

There are a total of three rooms—one of which is already locked when we arrive—, each containing five standard beds, and although it's never really discussed, Momo and Rukia separate into one of the rooms while we take another. Assuming the locked room is for those shinobi stationed at this base, it's likely that the excess rooms and beds are in preparation for situations similar to the one we have now or wartime.

"D'ya think the storm's gonna let up by tomorrow?" Takumi asks, as he hangs his cloak to dry. Souta and I follow suit, and in my case I also wring out the excess water from my hair, feeling only slight guilty about the fact that I'm getting the floor wet. "If we have to travel the rest of the trip in this weather it's gonna suck."

I glance out the window and grimace. The storm has only worsened since we arrived, and it's barely been twenty minutes. "I doubt it." We settle our stuff down and I look over at the window once more; on-duty had claimed there was a place to put the horses and caravan, but I didn't spot anything capable of such a task during our walk to the barracks. Still, there has to be somewhere; any animal left outside, in this weather, is more likely to get sick and die than survive, and that's not even taking into account the caravan itself. "It really is gonna suck."

Souta sighs, sliding out of his sandals and grimacing as he begins the process of drying off his legs and feet. "It's at times like this that I wish I wore boots …"

"Tell me about it," I mumble, dropping back on the bed and beginning the painstaking process of unwrapping the soaked bandages from my calves.

In response to our complaints, Takumi grins and motions at the mesh covering his legs. "Nagicchi, you sure got it rough. Long hair, sandals, and wrappings; didn't'cha ever think about what would happen if you got stuck traveling in these conditions?"

"Shut up," I grumble, having to shove the ends of my pants up to my thigh to finish unwrapping them, and once I've got both off I start to wring the water out of them. I'll have to clean it up later. "You aren't exactly wearing boots either, and we're all wet. So who cares?"

Takumi snickers and, although he doesn't outright laugh, I see Souta grin as well. "Hey—they've got showers here, right?" Takumi asks suddenly, as Souta is removing his jacket. "Aren't we allowed to use them?"

"Uh … I think so? It'd be weird if they didn't; can't you get stationed here for up to three months?" I question, hanging the wrappings beside my cloak. Takumi shrugs, removing his headband and running his palm across the skin. "I'm sure if you walk around enough you'll find it."

He sighs and begins to strip out of his overcoat, struggling for a moment to get the collar over his head—and I'm about to ask if he needs help when he finally gets his head through the hole, leaving him in just a standard shirt and shinobi pants. "I wonder if there's a bath …"

Madoka-sensei returns at that point, knocking three times to alert us before entering. "I see you three have settled in," she notes. "Arakawa-san has informed me that the bathing facilities are in the westernmost building on the south end."

I pause, trying to visualize the camp again. "Isn't that where we are?"

Her lips quirk. "Yes."

"Ah—great!" Takumi exclaims. "Are they actual baths? Or just showers? My body hurts from all the walking," he admits, rubbing his calf. I don't say anything, but can't help but agree with him.

"From what I'm aware, this outpost is only equipped with standard showers." His shoulders slump. Sensei motions at the two boys and says, "Go and wash up."

A pit drops in my stomach. Being singled out by Madoka-sensei, in my case, is generally not a good thing. It means she's going to talk about the genjutsu, or at least something related to it, and—

I haven't had to lie, yet, outside that first time right after we'd left the village. Although all three of us had expected her to keep us doing some kind of training like we'd do back in the village, she instead left it up to the three of us; and while we've kept up our pretend training sessions, it doesn't make me feel any better about the thought.

If she questions me about it now, I can't guarantee I'll be able to push it back until Ko no Kuni like I'd planned; if I have to admit I lied, that I withheld information from my sensei—my superior officer, well …

While Madoka-sensei is unlikely to care to such an extreme extent, it won't make me look any better in her eyes.

"Relax," she says, once my friends have left the room, moving from her place by the door to one of the adjacent beds. Her own cloak is nowhere in sight, oddly enough, but I don't question it. "I have said this before, but there is no need to be so tense around me; you may relax as you wish."

"Sorry," I mutter, forcing myself to continue the process of changing out of my wet clothes and ignore the discomfort. Madoka-sensei may be a female, but she's a woman, my teacher—she's matured. Fully developed and built like a proper soldier, while I'm still a child.

A scrawny—albeit, not nearly to the extent I'd been upon graduation—eleven year old with only the basics of muscle definition beginning to form. I haven't even hit puberty yet; not in this world, at least.

Not in this life. Only in their life.

I grit my teeth and force myself through the process. She doesn't watch, politely averting her gaze as if she just knows about my discomfort, and it's only when I'm completely changed and my clothes are hung up to dry that her gaze returns to me. "… Madoka-sensei?" I begin, hovering at the side of my bed, "I—um. Sorry, but—what … what do you need?"

Technically, I have no right to ask her that. She's my sensei; my superior officer. A jonin. I'm leagues below her, ranking wise—and power wise. It's almost infuriating, knowing just how easily she could crush me; how easily she could take me down, if she wanted. If she needed.

I'm helpless. I have to get better, I can't fail anymore; failure is not an option.

She hums softly, still fully dressed in her jonin wear despite the obvious dampness, as if it doesn't even bother her.

It probably doesn't.

"I simply came to check in," is all she says, and I have to avert my eyes when she goes to meet mine.

" … On me?"

"Perhaps, but not entirely so," she replies, shifting slightly. "Room assignments have been changed." I blink, waiting expectantly for her to tell me them. "Momo-san and Rukia-san will be taking my place in here. I will be with the remaining adults for tonight."

I blink again. "Why?"

She inclines her head but says nothing, giving me time to think of the answer on my own, and I grimace. I hate when she does this. It's become more common, these days, especially since we left for this mission, for her to leave us to figure out the reasons for things.

Souta and Takumi are only mildly annoyed at times, but I hate it. The thought of guessing wrong, of failing at something that I'm expected to know makes me want to scream.

All the children and women, besides sensei, in one room. All the adult men and sensei in another. The men, the adults—

"Because of Suzaku-san?" I guess, and when sensei nods I breathe out a sigh of relief. "Are you afraid he's gonna do something?"

"No," she replies, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of her eyes. "However, it is best to take precaution, in the case that anything does occur."

I finally take a seat on the bed, reluctantly leaning back into the pillows. It feels uncomfortable, being on such clean sheets when I haven't even bathed yet, but I force myself to ignore that feeling. "Even though it'll mean making Rukia and Momo-san sleep away from their family?"

Madoka-sensei nods. I frown, but say nothing else, drawing my knees to my chest and resting my chin on them. It really does feel nice to be on a bed again, after days of sleeping on the ground. If not for the fact that I still have to bathe, I'd just go to sleep. A good night's rest, on an actual bed, inside shelter—it sounds heavenly.

"You've continued training with Souta and Takumi," she begins, and I nearly groan. "Have you seen any improvement?"

"Kinda," I reply, making sure to keep my eyes away from hers and my posture the same as it has been the entire time, "I guess."

"… I see." Don't look up, don't look up. "You're tense." I bite my tongue. "I understand if you would rather not discuss it at this point in time. However," sensei starts, "it is necessary for me to keep tabs on your progress."

I bite my tongue harder before letting go, slumping back against the bed and staring up at the ceiling. "It's …" I swallow hard, and lie, "I am getting better; just … not there yet. Almost." The lie tastes bitter and foul; pretending that I'm still incapable of doing something after achieving it—it's so weak. So worthless and shameful; worse than actually failing, because this—this is deliberate.

It's my choice to show myself as a failure.

I want to scream. Scream and cry and rip myself to pieces, because Madoka-sensei thinks I'm a failure; before long, she may see me as a lost cause, and then—

"Nagisa," she says, and I squeeze myself tighter, "there is no shame in failure."

I hiss out a breath and give in—there's no way to avoid this. She knows I'm upset.

Just another failure, I think bitterly, Nothing new.

"I don't want to be a failure," is all I manage to whisper, digging my nails into the skin of my arm. I can practically feel sensei watching me; watching my pathetic display of weakness and idiocy and—

"I know," she replies, "And you are not."

No more words are exchanged, and if the silence bothers her Madoka-sensei shows absolutely no signs of it. I can feel the taste of rot in my throat, the taste of failure and disgust.

The lie is wretched, but it won't be for long.

I don't have to pretend for much longer; just a little bit more. A little bit longer.

The silence isn't broken until Takumi and Souta return from the showers, and Madoka-sensei resumes as if nothing had happened; they suspect nothing. "Don't use their soap," Takumi warns, as I pass him with my own bathing supplies in hand, "don't ask why, just trust me on it."

I close the door behind me and take a moment to breathe, leaning back against the closed door. They must have moved away from it, because I can't hear whatever conversation is going on in the room.

A little longer, just a little bit—just a little longer, and I won't have to pretend to be a failure.

---

It's still raining when we leave the next morning, much to everyone's dismay. There's some sort of disturbance at the stables, though none of us are close enough to hear or figure out what it is; but by the time we leave the outpost, the men are noticeably more frustrated than usual. The fact that it's still raining does nothing to help with their mood, and although it's nowhere near as bad as it was last night, it's not exactly drizzling either.

Takumi laments the loss of dryness as we get further and further away from the outpost, and I have to resist the urge to bump shoulders with him when we go through a particularly muddy spot and have to help the caravan out of it, but once that's over with I find myself lost in my thoughts.

Despite the commotion in the morning, nothing noteworthy happened during the night—just like Madoka-sensei expected. There were no problems, no arguments; none of the men acted out of character or suspiciously, Momo ignored all three of us as usual, and although Rukia did her best to keep polite conversation it was obvious that it was strictly out of courtesy.

It doesn't make sense.

It's been days—were we wrong? Were we all wrong? Suzaku hasn't done anything noteworthy, other than what Momo told us, and even that isn't exactly wrong. It doesn't make him dangerous; just weird—and it's the same in regards to how unnerving and uncomfortable he comes across as.

Maybe it was just paranoia, I tell myself, gazing up at the dark sky. It's just barely past noon, and yet the rain and clouds have made it so dark and dreary that it might as well be night. Worrying too much—it's fine. He's probably just some weird guy who doesn't know how to act properly.

It has to be fine.

There's not much room for a break with the storm raging overhead, so instead the civilians take turns eating and rotate out so we can continue. It's only a few more days until we reach Ko no Kuni anyways; the faster we arrive, the faster this whole thing will be over. Thankfully, despite our detour and the storm, we'll still arrive just before the festival as long as we keep a steady pace.

"I still don't like this," Takumi says lowly, just barely loud enough for me to hear. Souta is a bit further behind, though not quite as far back as Madoka-sensei, taking up the middle with the caravans. "Is nothing really gonna happen?"

I shrug, flexing my cold fingers beneath the cloak. Although gloves wouldn't do much of anything to combat the cold, I can't help but wish I had them. "Seems like it … there have been so many chances for him to do something, and even watching him didn't really give anything away. Even Sensei hasn't reported anything to us."

He looks over his shoulder at Souta, silently requesting for him to come forward, but he just shakes his head. "If you wanna talk to him I'll switch out," I offer. "It's no big deal."

" … Nah, it's fine. There's not even supposed to be two of us up here, anyways." Takumi nudges my shoulder. "You should go join Souta."

My brow raises at that. "I thought you wanted to talk to him."

He shrugs stiffly. "I guess. But—" he cuts himself off abruptly, taking a moment to breathe before continuing, "I dunno; something really, really feels off, Nagisa. I know that nothing's happened—and nothing's probably gonna happen. But I still can't … I dunno. It's dumb," he grumbles.

I frown, unable to see him through the shade of our hoods, but I'm fairly sure he's scowling or something similar. "You're scared."

"I am not!" He denies, but there's not nearly enough conviction behind those three words to convince me. "I'm just being cautious. And since I'm the best at casting and dispelling genjutsu, then if we walk into one I'll be the best at getting rid of it."

" … While I won't," I finish for him. The words are unspoken but still there, and I can practically see him flinch beneath the fabric of his cloak. "I guess you're right, but if someone attacks from ahead then you'll be alone."

"Suzaku-san is the one we're worried about, anyways," he points out, "and he's back there with Souta. So it'll be fine."

I eye him strangely. Something feels off—something has felt off about this entire mission, one way or another. First it's the bridge, then Suzaku, and now—

Now, it's Takumi.

"If you're sure …" he nods stiffly and I stare at him for a moment longer before falling back to Souta. He looks at me oddly, and all I say is, "He wants to be alone."

Souta nods wordlessly. We keep a relatively constant pace for the next hour, though we don't switch positions again, and I glance up at the sky once more, barely avoiding getting rain in my eyes. It's so cold, so quiet; the storm feels never ending.

I wish this storm would end.

The leading horse neighs suddenly, rearing back and nearly upsetting the entire caravan, and I hear Rukia scream in surprise. I jerk, startled by the sudden sound, and barely have enough time to move before a body tumbles right out the back and into the mud—Momo. Takumi turns quickly, retreating a bit and coming back to help Renji and the startled horse, while Souta and I help Momo up. A glance inside the caravan shows that nothing is abnormal; Rukia looks a bit startled but that's about all, and I glance over at Momo's mud-caked figure.

"You okay?" I ask, having to speak a bit louder than usual to be heard. The commotion has attracted Madoka-sensei's attention and I see her come up around the caravan at our back, but when I go to open my mouth, to ask her something, she signs Silent.

I nudge Souta, who looks over just before it's gone and she's moved to talk to Kouhei. "Let go of me," Momo snaps, yanking her arm away. "What's wrong with the horse?"

I look at Takumi, who looks over and just shakes his head before continuing to attempt and soothe the startled animal. Renji struggles to get her under control, but it isn't long before he's been completely knocked off the caravan. "Ah—hey, get up!" Takumi says quickly, hauling the man up before the horse can crush him under its hooves, and I glance back into the caravan, intending to get Rukia out before she falls out too, except—

"Get back!" Sensei orders, yanking Kouhei out of his seat, and it's the only warning we get before the caravan behind us explodes into a flurry of flames. Instinctively Momo screams and I have to bite back my own when the whiplash from the explosion hits me, feeling the heat of the flames licking at my skin. Souta stumbles back, practically into me, and I look into our caravan desperately. Rukia stares back, moving to grasp the hand I have extended and then—

Momo bumps into me and I'm the one who stumbles, barely able to grasp hold of Rukia's hand before we both tumble to the ground, practically under the caravan. There's a flash of blonde—just a second, before it's gone—and with it disappears Momo; in an instant, it has me and Rukia out from under the caravan and I'm thrown back, away from it, before they're both gone. Souta's on the ground, only a few feet further back than I am, and I see Takumi pull Renji up off the ground and away, just barely before—

—The second caravan explodes, more violent than the last; it's enough to throw Takumi and Renji back and leave a dull, horrible ringing in my ears that leaves me struggling to catch my breath. A monotonous drone of static and vibrations settle down in the background and the flames continue to grow, roaring in sync with the storm; it's as if the storm fuels it—brighter and brighter they burn, lashing out and engulfing the grass around us, and Souta says something—but through the ringing, I can barely even hear myself think, much less focus on whatever he said.

I blink to clear the water from my eyes and—

"Get up," sensei orders, suddenly here again; Takumi, too, and it's only through sheer force of habit that I'm able to get to my feet, stumbling when the ground seems to spin on its axis before settling back in place. I glance over at Takumi and see his hood has been thrown back, mud caked across his cheeks, and he looks over at the two of us in a mix of terror and confusion—but there's no time to speak. "Momo, Rukia, Renji, and Kouhei have been successfully retrieved and removed; Suzaku and Yasuo are unaccounted for."

It takes a moment for those words to register, with how dull and empty the world has become and how loud the buzzing is, but when they do my blood all but runs cold. "U-Unaccounted for? Do you mean—"

"They disappeared in the first explosion," she explains, somehow able to look just as calm and composed as always despite the raging storm and disaster at her back. "Assume the worst. You three are to guard those four; do not let them out of your sight. Understand?"

We nod. Except, this time, it's not enough—"I said: Do you understand."

It takes me off guard, but I manage a, "Yes, sensei," alongside Souta and Takumi. She nods in approval and gives the approximate locations of those four—it's back in the direction of the outpost— before disappearing back into the flames and debris. It isn't far at all; not within eyes distance, but close enough that it only takes a short amount of time to get to the area Madoka-sensei directed us to.

All four are fine, if not startled, and I quickly make my way over to Momo. There's a strange look in her eyes as she looks at the three of us, with both her parents practically swaddling her. Kouhei stands a bit to the side, obviously uncomfortable and spooked by the whole situation, and I see Souta head over to him.

"Do you know what happened?" The ringing is dying down into something more manageable, but the edges are still fuzzy and each word seems to linger for a second too long. Takumi moves to my six and it's only now that I realize that the pungent odor of smoke is just as strong here as it'd been at the disaster itself. "What—um—" it's hard to speak, with the extended sounds and incessant ringing, but I force myself to continue, "do you—know what caused the explosion?"

"No," Rukia answers. I have to read her lips to understand her and, anxiously, I reach up to touch at my ears. There's no blood, at the very least—but that realization doesn't do much to reassure me. "There was—I don't know … I don't know." I wince at the response, but at least this time she speaks loud enough for me to hear her.

"Something spooked Akari-chan," Renji tells us; his voice is louder. It seems to boom, even with the ringing and storm acting as interference, and he continues with, "And then—then the back one exploded. And then—"

"Then yours did," Takumi finishes for him. "I dunno what happened, but—but I'm sure Madoka-sensei will—"

There's an abrupt scream—the sound lingers for too long, but it takes even longer for the sound to register and that's—

That was Souta screaming.

There's a kunai in his shoulder, for whatever reason, and he stumbles back, away from the man and it's—

Kouhei steps forward, negating any attempt Souta made to distance himself from the man—and it's not until I see the weapon in his hand that I realize Kouhei's the one who stabbed him.

Kouhei was the one the entire time? But Suzaku—

Souta all but leaps back to us, finally able gain some distance, and he clutches the injury desperately. I immediately draw my own kunai, Takumi following suit, and despite his injury Souta falls right along side us into one of the several defensive positions we've been taught. Kouhei makes no attempts to approach after that initial step; he just watches us from his place in the distance, his lips curling into a twisted and dangerous grin; one that spells no good, that promises pain and anguish and—

He reaches up, his fingers crawling across his mouth, his nose, his eyes until—

Rukia screams and beside me I and, although I can't hear it, I'm fairly sure Souta and Takumi gasp—but all I can do is stare as Kouhei reaches up and rips his face off; and although I don't recognize the man who comes out from under it, the expression he'd worn on Kouhei's face looks ten times worse on his own.

"Boo," he greets. The voice that comes out is nothing like the one from Konoha—from yesterday, even. "Are you surprised?"

"Who—"

He twirls the kunai—where's it from, where did it come from where did he GET THAT—as if it's the most casual thing in the world, tossing the face he'd removed to the ground. "Wow … it feels great to be free of that thing. His skin sure was uncomfortable, even if I only had to wear it for a day." He takes one look at our group and laughs, a loud and hysterical thing that seems to echo for miles, and his head slopes back down as the grin returns. "It's nice to finally meet you, genin-chan."

"What do you want?" Takumi manages, tightening his grip on his kunai, and despite the one still embedded in his shoulder Souta somehow manages to retrieve a kunai of his own. Granted, with how much pain he must be in, I doubt he'll be able to do much, but it's better than nothing. "Who are you?"

"Hmm, does it matter?" He asks, easily catching the twirling kunai. "Little genin-chan, are you afraid?" He takes a step forward and we all take a step back, nearly tripping over Momo and her family. There's nowhere to go—Madoka-sensei is somewhere, and although I feel Takumi flare his chakra as we've been taught, I doubt it'll do much; but regardless I follow suit, allowing and forcing the motion—and it pushes past and out until I can feel it burn my cheeks.

"You're all shaking," he coos and, despite how softly he says it, the ringing is now fading off to a dull and constant little thing—something that rests in the background and slithers in through the cracks of each word, allowing almost perfect clarity and yet not.

Another step. My grip around the kunai tightens, my throat tightens in fear, and I hear Rukia whimper behind me. There's nowhere to go. "All six of you … oh, you first three are so cute; completely fresh. I love it." The distance between us is closing now, but I can't move. "But you other ones …"

Move. Move, you have to do something; attack, attack, attack—

And then he disappears, and he's back, except—

He's—

—behind—

—Us.

Rukia's yanked up by her hair before we can react and he laughs, a manic and horrible sound as he hauls her away with another shunshin. Close enough for us to see them, but just far enough away that, if we try and reach them, we'll be leaving the other two in danger.

"Momo-chan!" He calls in a sing-song tone, "Heads, or tails?"

The girl quivers, but to my surprise swallows hard and answers, "None of your business."

It displeases him. "Well," he starts, the smile sliding right off his face, "that just won't work." He raises the kunai to Rukia's cheek and begins to dig it in, drawing a scream from the woman. "I'm a nice guy, though, so I'll give you one more chance," he smiles again, but this one is dangerous. "Heads, or tails."

"H—" Momo freezes, her voice catching in her throat. "H-Heads."

His eyes light up like a child's on Christmas. "Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful; I love it!" He removes the kunai from Rukia's cheek and I breathe out in relief. Except—

It moves to her throat, begins to slide, and—

"Takumi, don't!" I scream when he lurches forward towards the man, tossing the kunai he'd had in hand as a distraction before he hastily casts the Narakumi no jutsu. It doesn't work—or rather, if it does, it does absolutely nothing—and I'm about to run right after him when Souta cries out in pain and collapses to his knees, his kunai abandoned so he can clutch at his injured shoulder. "S-Souta? Souta—Souta, what's wrong?"

He blinks rapidly, panting and gasping as his face scrunches up in pain. "Na—Nagisa, Takumi is—"

My head whips back to him and a scream lodges itself in my throat when I see Takumi on his knees, knelt over in pain and practically groveling at the man's feet. It's been only a few seconds—barely any time at all, and yet he's already taken Takumi down. The kunai is still at Rukia's throat, mid stroke, and all the man says is, "Wrong choice," before he finish the motion—

Slices straight through skin, muscle, cartilage, the spine, all so seamlessly; as if it's the easiest thing in the world, and—and—

"Mom!" Momo shrieks, her voice breaking at the end as a sob breaks forth from her mouth. He tosses the head aside like a toy and it rolls around the ground without a care in the world, while the body is dropped lazily, almost landing on Takumi who can do little more than tremble. Whether it's from fear, pain, or something else, I don't know—my eyes are locked on the decapitated head, the fear and pain permanently etched into Rukia's expression. I can't move; I can't move, I can't see. It's just her, the eyes, her eyes but I can't move why can't I move—

The man—unfamiliar, completely unfamiliar where did he come from, who is he and where did he come from—twirls the kunai, still stained with Rukia's blood, and kicks his way past Takumi. He slumps over so easily, like a doll or toy would when dropped to the ground, before falling still all together and I still can't move—Souta screams my name; once, twice—and it's just enough, just barely enough.

Barely. Momo and Renji.

I have to—

I meet him halfway and he blocks my kunai with ease, knocking it away and nearly slicing my throat with how fast he retaliates. I almost slip in the mud and he looks down at me in annoyance. The cheerful and energetic expression from earlier is gone, replaced by something cold and cruel that I can't place, and he so easily kicks me down and plants a foot on my neck before I can so much as try and grab for another weapon. I panic, fingers scrabbling to gain traction and remove it, and he scoffs. I reach for my weapon pouch, for something, anything to use against him except there's nothing and—

I see Souta try and move, only to double over in pain, and suddenly he's pressing down; crushing my throat beneath his foot and I—

I'm going to die. I'm going to die, I'm going to die again I'm—

Someone moves; lunges forward and covering the short distance separating us from them—and while I can't see who it is Momo's scream; one of anguish, despair, and loss—with hiccuping sobs that are impossible to suppress, clues me in. I can feel the rain wash the blood into my hair, despite the body being somewhere behind me, and through the pain of my throat being crushed and the echoing cries, I hear him speak.

"I don't need you," he says, making some sort of motion with his hand, and the crying abruptly stops.

The rain bleeds into my eyes, blurring my vision even further, and finally I feel the pressure on my throat let up; immediately I begin to cough, gasping for air as I clutch at my throat. "I want to have fun," he whispers, nudging my chin up with the toe of his boot, "and you won't be any fun if you're dead."

The foot is gone and I wheeze, feeling the world spin as I'm dragged up by my cloak and thrown forward. I barely catch myself on my knees and almost gag when I feel the stickiness of blood at my fingertips—it's in my hair, knotted in with mud and water and you got them killed it's your fault—, but I don't dare look over. The foot presses up against my back this time, almost tauntingly, before it's removed. "Oh, get up," he says smoothly, as if he hasn't just killed three people and incapacitated two, "it didn't hurt that bad; I want to have fun, and you're no fun like this."

"Nagi—Nagisa-chan," Souta whimpers, "get up—get—"

"Oh shush, you," the man replies flippantly. "And take that kunai out already, silly boy. Do you think I gave it to you as a decoration?" I look up in time to see Souta grit his teeth, steadying his expression as he raises a hand to the weapon.

He pulls out the kunai—yanks. He yanks it out, blood covering his hand and shoulder and the weapon and—

—the world is still spinning, the axis's tilted and thrown out of place, and when I fail to get up the man yanks me up by the collar of my cloak and shoves me forward again. "Walk," he orders as I reach down for another kunai and try to steady myself—but before I can accomplish either he snaps, grabbing me by the hair and shaking me so hard that I can't help but cry out, instinctively abandoning my attempts for a weapon in hopes of alleviating the pain. "Do I need to say it again?" There is no humor in his voice and he throws me forward once more. "Walk."

It's not an option—it's a threat, dark and echoing in the wind, and despite the fact that the world is a complete blur of constant movement I force myself forward, barely managing to avoid falling on Souta. He reaches out for a second, as if to steady me, only to muffle a scream and double over again, the kunai falling from his grip. I grasp for the weapon; it's slick with blood and rain—

Souta's blood, my mind supplies, as I attempt to prop him up. The blood won't stop dripping but the rain washes it away as it comes, and I shove my free hand up against his in an attempt to stem the bleeding. "Now, we're going to play a game," the man states, staring at us from his spot near the bodies. "Your third friend has started already—he's so lucky! Getting to enjoy the fun for so much longer than you two … aren't you jealous?"

Souta gasps again. "Y-You're s-sick," he manages, his speech far more broken and slurred than it should be, and when I press down further I feel his shoulders tremble in response and his voice break even further. "What d—do you—w-what do you want from us?"

"I just want to have fun, play a game; can't a man do that anymore?" He laments, glancing at me pitifully. I snarl, clutching my fingers around the weapon, and ignore how sticky it feels. "You poor thing. You're the only one who hasn't gotten to play yet, aren't you?" The smile returns; the same one from before, twisted and cruel—something that implies … no, that promises pain, and I yank myself away from Souta so I can place myself in front of him, kunai in hand. The man eyes it curiously and giggles. "I know, I know you're excited; you can't wait, can you?" I swallow hard and steady my aim—I can't miss. I can't miss, but the world is spinning and he has two faces; one to the right, one to the left—a third that's appeared and won't go away—"Don't worry … we're going to fix that; we can fix that so easily. And then, once you're all ready to play—" his eyes light up, "then, I can bring you all to the arena. Aren't you excited?"

It's a senbon, this time, that appears in his hand; or maybe it's three. He looks at it with an almost affectionate gaze and I stare at the middle of his heads—the one that moves, but only slowly, and toss my kunai at him, desperate for something—anything to keep him away. Immediately after I make the signs for Narakumi no jutsu, forcing it forward, begging it to work except—

It does nothing and he catches the kunai in his palm, the blade sinking right into his skin, and for a second it's silent. I flare my chakra once more, desperation seeping in and pushing it even harder, up into the wind and rain and—

The silence is broken by a laugh and he just shakes his head before pulling the weapon out and dropping it—just like he'd dropped Rukia's head; her head, the expression of fear and terror and I failed I failed—

"Silly girl, I already have my toys. I don't need anymore. " He fingers the senbon once more and I grab for Souta, preparing myself to move and for the inevitable dizziness that'll come along with it except—

A pressure sets in, immense and terrible; it seeps into the cracks and crevices, finding every spot and every bit of emptiness—it leaves me immobile; completely helpless. The fear is tangible and potent, the world is ending; I'm dying. I will die, I will be crushed I will—

Be forgotten about.

"That's right," he coos as he kneels beside us, his KI still rolling off him without any sign of stopping. "It's so, so much easier if you don't resist, right?" You can just lay there … yes, just like that. What a good little genin you are," he praises. I feel his hand in my hair and shudder—a memory is yanked forward from the depths, where they're supposed to be locked away and forgotten about and—

No no no no no nononono—

The senbon easily sinks into my neck and I can't even move enough to react. Beneath me, Souta is just as still, and it's only his trembling that reminds me that he's still alive—still here. My skin becomes fire, burning and flaking off as it hits and hits and assaults me, as the memory continues on a loop that won't stop.

"Now that I've got all my contestants ready, we can begin to play." He claps his hands together and reaches for the two of us only for Souta to snarl from beneath me, somehow managing to lash out—though it's barely so much as a weak and small wave of the hand—despite the pressure and my own weight covering him.

The man pauses.

It's just long enough.

The weight disappears and he's forced back—the man, not him; never him. He doesn't exist anymore, he's always gone yet always here and the memory won't leave, why won't it leave—and although there's a flood of energy and warmth, it's not enough to move me.

I feel Souta twitch and squirm, struggling with his injury, and hear the man curse. Madoka-sensei says something—when did she get here, why is she here, she's not from Earth she's from here, there; where, where, where am I where am I—and the man—

He disappears.

Madoka-sensei disappears too; but unlike him, she returns. The memory is stuck on a loop, tearing me apart; inside, outside. I can't feel anything but it, him, what is it?

More flooding. It hits and presses, pushing at the loop and breaking it into pieces as I struggle to my knees, unsure if it's tears or rain on my face at this point. She coaxes; the voice is strange. Calm, yet angry; stoic, yet concerned. Filled with emotions yet devoid at the same time.

Who are you?

The flood breaks the loop and I breathe, feeling myself sit up. Someone's around me—holding—supporting—

I'm not sitting.

"M—M … Mado—Madoka-sensei," Souta whispers, and I blink through the blur. It's so blurry. "Sensei, sensei, sensei—!"

I struggle to keep my head up. Madoka-sensei is saying something; I should be listening, but I can't. The words flow in and out, bouncing off boxes that had been ripped forward and thrown around in a careless manner. The flood broke the loop, but the loop has not been lost.

It loops. Loops. Loops.

Who are you? Who are you? Are you me? Am I you? What are you, what did you do, why are you here?

Can you—

—what is—

—why can't you?

"Nagisa." It's me. That's me. Am I? Is it … it is. It is?

"Nagisa."

A hand grips my chin, tight and brutal, and forces me to look upwards—and the trance seems to shatter. Madoka-sensei's normally stoic expression is tight with an emotion I can't place, practically overwritten by it in fine print that's been washed away by the rain. "Shiranui Nagisa," she says sharply, "answer me."

I stare at the print and have to blink a few times. "N—s—sensei," I huff out, as the words scramble across her face—no, expression; tone—what is her face wearing? "Madoka-sensei."

The grip tightens and I blink again. It takes a second for the pain to register, and only then do I wince. "Report."

The words float off her face and twist into something grotesque and brutal; a monster, fueled by rage and fury that settles itself back down on her face, with the ringing trailing behind it. "Re—report," I repeat. "On—on …"

"Name, age, registration number."

You can't forget, don't forget, don't forget don't forget—

The loop returns and my head tries to loll forward, only to be stopped by the painful hold Madoka-sensei has on it. "S-Shira—Shiranui Nagisa, elev—" I stumble. Don't forget, the loop burns me. "Elev-v-ven. 0 … 1, 0, 2—" the loops burn. "0. 4."

"Sen—Sensei?" Souta asks, his voice trembling, "what—what's wrong—w-wrong—with her?"

My head is tilted and the loops tumbles through the boxes, upsetting them even further. A mess, such a mess they'll be so angry; look what you've done, look what you've done.

Fingers trace along the side of my neck and instinctively my body jerks; another loop presses forward, twisting into the others, and before I can so much as blink they all crash into one, splintering and scattering across the world and boxes.

" … Drugged, it appears; it's impossible to tell exactly what." Reigned in. This voice is not normal, but it is—sensei is … sensei is … "But it will not be anything fatal—not with him." The tone is still abnormal; the world has glitched, and there's something heavy and steady resting on my head.

The world is glitching. Isn't it?

"Shiranui," the sharpness prods at my skull, "listen to me. Listen to me."

I look up at her and the sharpness prods at my brain this time. It prods and pokes and goes until it's—

The loops are yanked forward and reassembled from the shards; repackaged into boxes—those ones aren't right, stop stop stop that's wrong, that's wrong STOP—and suddenly there's something else.

Someone else.

I'll protect you, I'll protect you—you won't forget, it won't take you, you won't forget, you won't, I won't—

It lasts an eternity and a second before they disappear and I'm yanked away from the loops and forced forward. My head spins; the grip on my chin is much too tight to be comfortable, and I feel the hand slide off my head as if it'd never been there in the first place. "Name. Age. Registration number."

I blink.

"Shiranui Nagisa," one, "eleven," two, "0-1-0-2-0-4," three.

The grip relaxes, finally. My jaw aches and when I look up at Madoka-sensei I see a mix of fury and concern written across her face. Subtle; nothing like you'd expect, but definitely there.

This is not right.

"Nagi-Nagisa-chan," Souta whimpers, for some reason falling back onto the suffix we'd abandoned so long ago, and my eyes flash over to him. Although his cloak is still bloody, the wound seems to be healed, or at the very least closed—but there's a haze across his eyes and a deep terror written inside of it. I look down at my hands and see that the blood—Souta's blood—has been washed away.

But I can still feel it.

"Taku—Takumi's gone."

I jerk forward and it's only sensei who stops me from tumbling forward completely. "What—"

"I have no time to explain at this moment," sensei says. Somehow, her voice is now calm, almost soothing—a stark contrast to the callous and taunting one from the man, and it's almost enough to ease some of my nerves. "This is no longer a C-rank—this has far exceeded what a C-rank entitles and, from this point on, is no longer your responsibility."

I rub my jaw, practically feeling the bruises already beginning to form. "Who was … that?"

Everything feels off kilter and wrong, like the world has been tilted upside down but reversed in some parts and not others, like pieces have been picked out and shoved somewhere else, but at least it isn't spinning anymore.

Souta's still panting, his face paler than it should be, and although the wound is closed the haze isn't gone. I reach a hand up to my ears, only now noticing that the ringing and hollowness is gone as well.

"Nuke-nin." Is all she gives us. "I do not have time to explain; get up, both of you." Somehow I manage, but Souta isn't so lucky—his legs buckle and give out and the haze worsens, practically cloaking itself over his face at this point. Sensei hoists him up and does it for him. "Follow me. Do not fall behind."

This—

This is wrong.

This Madoka-sensei is not the one who's been training us. There's something else there, lurking in the crevices and shadows like a monster waiting to strike, and I feel another push.

The world is unraveling.

We hit a cave, heavily hidden by a thick layer of vines and moss, and once we're in Madoka-sensei sets Souta down as soft yet efficiently as possible. "I am sorry to do this to you," she addresses us, as the monster recedes. I begin to wonder if I'd imagined it. "To leave you in such a state. But I must retrieve Takumi."

The image of him doubled over flashes to mind; stiff and silent, as if the life had been sucked right out of him and—

"He is not dead." I blink rapidly and look up at Madoka-sensei who all but forces me into a seated position, manipulating my limbs and body until I'm somewhat upright. "The man you encountered; he does not enjoy immediately killing the genin he finds."

Immediately.

"Takumi is alive—and he will be for a fair amount of time. But he will not be trackable for long." She straightens up and I swear that, for a moment, it isn't even Madoka-sensei looking down at us. "I have sent a kage bushin after him, and it is still active; but it is imperative that I go as well."

"I will return—and when I return, you two must be prepared to move."

Souta whimpers again. "It will not be pleasant," she admits, in an almost guilty manner that I'm positive I'm imagining. "And I am sorry to leave you both in such a state; but there is nothing else I can do. A second kage bushin will stay, but that is all I can offer."

And—

There are two.

Two? Two sensei's—

It takes too long to process everything. Madoka-sensei says something to the bushin before addressing us once more, "Again … I'm sorry. You will be in pain—it will hurt, and there is nothing I can do except offer you the comfort that it will eventually end."

"What about—" I wheeze, hating the prodding. It burns. Something is trying to burst out, yet it can't but it's trying and trying and trying. "Suzaku—and … and Yasuo?"

" … They have been taken care of," is all she says. "Do not leave this cave, and remember that the pain is temporary. Eventually, it will end, but you must bear through it until then."

She offers a nod—of reassurance, maybe, before it's just us and her bushin. The pushing intensifies, almost unbearable at this point, and I move next to Souta. He's still wheezing and the haze is worse; it's almost taken over now.

Can he see me? Can he see at all?

"Nagi—Nag—Nagisa-c-chan?" His speech is broken; so broken. What's wrong with it? Is he broken, did the loops get him too? "I'm—" a shuddering gasp, "—'m scared. Hurts—h-h—"

The world twists and shatters as the prodding breaks through and the loops are released from their boxes that they'd been shoved into, sending the world off its axis and the print into the air.

The world is broken, it's glitching. Look—look, look; look, look, look look look look—

"Uh-huh," I manage, barely able to reach out and take hold of his hand before another loop breaks through and yanks me away.

---

*The man is not Orochimaru.

A/N: I'm ... honestly shocked how kind and supportive the response was following last chapter's update; I wasn't expecting much of anything, and I definitely wasn't expecting to get so much support. I feel really bad that I couldn't respond to each review individually, but really, thank you. Thank you so much. I don't know if I can properly convey just how much it meant to me and how much it helped, but I expected the time between the last update and this one to be much longer; honestly, I was expecting a month, minimum, before I could muster up enough courage to get the second half back out there. I felt like such a failure and so worthless—between the time of the initial (pre-cut) chapter to when I cut and re-uploaded it, the hateful DMs had far outweighed anything positive said about the chapter. Of course; that's obviously changed now, but at that point in time, the fact that so many people had read it (far more than usual, which was odd), but there was very little positive response (vs hateful) in comparison to the last chapters exacerbated the feeling that I'd done something horribly wrong. But as a result of everyone's kindness, I could get this out much quicker.

I'm still terrified uploading it, but I just hope that hate doesn't come, because if it's to that kind of extent ... I don't know if I can take it. I fleshed more things out, edited and fixed dialogue, and expanded certain scenes; in fact, the original chapter (pre-cut) was ~11k material wise (before being imported to FF). Now, adding both parts together, it's roughly ~13.5k material wise.

Thanks to anyone who has read this far, thank you again to everyone who was so kind after the last update, and I'm sorry for such a long author's note. But I feel it needed to be said, because the whole situation really messed me up. I would very much appreciate it if you told me what you thought of this chapter, especially considering this half is what was hated so much. And again: concrit is welcome, but hate is not.

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Extra Note: A lot of people were curious what exactly got people so angry, so I'll list what was most prominent and stuck around. Also putting these out in case any new readers come with the same things ... I kind of listed them from most prominent/caused the most problems for me to least, but they all were upsetting. I've had time to work through it (as well as support and kindness) but at the time I couldn't really do that. Please note that I'm just giving the topic, not the way and wording it was presented in, because I'd rather not write that out.

* The fact that I even brought in the Nuke-nin in the first place and where that lead to and set up the rest of the story. This is the one that really caused so many problems and upset me the most, but after what everyone has said, that it's my story and I should write what I believe is best, I decided not to change that. I want it this way, I need it this way, and everyone has told me to keep my plot, so I will. I hope to god that I don't get hate again and I'm really, honestly, afraid; but they're right. It's my story, not anyone-else's.

* Nagisa and her team getting beaten so badly (they should've been able to do more, the fight should've played out x way, should've been longer, etc.). Didn't make much sense to me (this also caused a lot of problems, but I won't go into that) but I fleshed out the scene regardless. However, they are not any bit stronger than they were before; I try to be realistic, not cool.

* That the very end made no sense. That was intentional, though being told I'm a shit writer who needs to clarify things better ... hurt. A lot. I thought it'd be obvious why Nagisa kept switching and rambling on and that it'd be explained in full later, but apparently not. So I'll say it now: it'll be explained in more detail later.

* Certain scenes not being detailed enough. Wasn't presented very kindly, but I did flesh this chapter out as much as I could without completely changing my writing style. Also, the flip side: certain scenes that I 'should've put in'. I didn't add any of what was presented to me.

* Madoka's actions and personality following the explosion are 'out of character'. First off, being told my own character is OOC is just ... weird. She's said it herself that she'll adapt to whatever is necessary and at times like that she can't afford to act how she usually is. She's still their superior officer, guys, and they're in a very bad situation.

All of what I listed above are things people can be upset about ... but when presented hatefully and with such malicious intent, it changes from being your opinion on something to flat out cruelty and bullying.