Ash, fire, and steel amidst the turmoil of revolution and morality. Was the life of any human any less than that of another based on just the way that they were born? One can't help being what they are because everyone is created different. That uniqueness is what gives community through strength and diversity.
Divided we fall, united we stand, wasn't that all that ever mattered?
Staring across at the executioner's platform in front of him, Shirou felt his resolve harden as hushed whispers echoed all around him. A visible torrent of energy swelled over his skin and took on the form of a flickering flame.
Chakra. The Uzumaki had always been known to possess an abnormal amount, but his was different. It always was. The sound of crackling timber echoed out as embers began to dance in the wind.
The energy around him was volatile and fiery. A direct reflection of what he was from within.
It was the root of the instability of his Chakra.
If Chakra was to be broken down into its two components, then it would be Physical Chakra and Spiritual Chakra. Physical Chakra was the Chakra derived from the energy of the body and the natures that it aligned with. Meanwhile, Spiritual Chakra had to do with the essence of one's Soul. In his case, the Soul was everything. A world of his own.
The flame-like aura around him flickered before shifting into circuit-like patterns that flashed across his skin. He wasn't using Chakra alone. He never was.
The Spiritual aspect of his Chakra greatly overpowered his Chakra's Physical aspect. If not for the fact that he was born with an Uzumaki's vitality, then he may have had severe health repercussions in the past.
He'd like to think himself lucky, but he knew his own luck. He wasn't looking forward to what the future had in store for him, but right now he was focusing on the present.
His eyes narrowed, Structural Analysis catching every detail of the enemy Shinobi's actions in front of him. Ordinarily, he used his eyes to determine the components of objects and enemy Jutsu, but this was different. Something was wrong with his eyes. Every time that he used Structural Analysis, it was like the world was slowing down and growing more detailed. It gave him time to think and react.
Did he unlock some kind of Mystic Eye? Or did the Uzumaki possess some other Bloodline that he was unaware of? In either case, he didn't care. So long as it would aid him in combat and everyday life, then what was the point of dwelling over something he had no idea about? He'd worry about it later.
This was wrong. Everything about this situation was wrong.
He felt genuine anger and disappointment well up from within him while looking at the people set to be executed in a public market.
It was to set an example even at the expense of the innocent. Those with Bloodlines are no better than murderers and criminals that have actually broken a crime.
Yet, it wasn't a crime to live. It never was.
Again, he was going to have to kill again.
To save one life, often it was at the expense of another. Although, Archer was a fool that he'd never accept as a future version of himself, he had to grudgingly concede that Archer was right on one point: The hands of all Heroes were stained in blood.
A Hero of War? Or a Monster depicted on the enemy side?
The world wasn't layered in colours of black and white, but in shades of grey. Unlike Archer though, he wouldn't allow himself to become disillusioned. Even if he couldn't save everyone, wasn't there a beauty and purpose in saving all that he could?
If a man or woman ignored a stranger's pleas for aid or to right injustices occurring in front of them, then that was on their consciousness. If he watched and did nothing in the same situation, then that was on his consciousness.
Better to live life than to regret actions not taken, and he was Hero. An Ally of Justice.
"Trace. On." He activated the armoury of his soul.
Mystery and the supernatural mixed as one in a world that had yet to unlock the energy that was Magic. He would save those that he could. The residents of Kiri weren't part of his clan, nor people that he knew or would associate with closely, but all the same, they were people. They were human.
Reinforcement spread throughout his body, strengthening him and heightening his senses into that of a humanoid beast.
His form blurred right before Mei's eyes just as he appeared directly on the podium beside the prisoners. In a single motion, he cut off the nooses set to hang them with the Kunai he had in his hands.
If it were up to him, he would have preferred a weapon that he was more familiar with, but he couldn't risk it. By now, only a couple of days had passed and reports may have been circulated regarding a Shinobi that could form swords in the air.
If Kiri was fully involved in the attack against Uzu, then carelessly drawing suspicion to himself was not advisable.
It didn't mean that he wasn't proficient though.
He leaned his body into a forward stance; the one that he'd learned from his Academy Days.
"A kid?" The Kiri Shinobi set to handle the public executions was dumbfounded for a moment before a cruel smirk played across his face. "Being as you've come up here, you must be another bloodline monster. How foolish of you to show yourself."
Shirou grunted, fingers clutching tightly onto the hilt of the kunai in his hands. "You think it's foolish to risk my life for another's?" He asked pointedly.
The expressions of contempt that the Shinobi were making across from him were more than enough of an answer.
He was attacked moments later.
"I won't deny it." He forced an enemy Shinobi back while speaking out. "But at the same time, I won't tolerate it!"
His Chakra reacted to his emotions, the heat of a forge burning from deep within him and setting his kunai ablaze with magma. The volatility of his chakra produced miniature combustions that produced fiery embers. To the Shinobi of Kiri, it was a familiar sight.
"Terumi clan," A shinobi quickly misidentified. Shirou didn't care. If fire and magma was all it took to be a Terumi clan member than there must have had been a lot. What he failed to realize was that he was re-enacting the same thing that he'd shown Mei while they had been fishing together.
"Terumi clan, any clan, any bloodline, what does that matter if we're all Shinobi of the same village!" He yelled out indignantly, Mei forehead protector visible on his person drawing eyes.
"A Kiri graduate," a Shinobi huffed. "A bastard like you should have died in the selection. You aren't worthy of carrying Kiri's name."
Shirou ducked low beneath an overhead strike and then rolled to dodge a flurry of shuriken.
"Better than you bastards who can't understand the value of life," he snarled back. "I won't just stand by and watch as you execute people just for the crime of living!"
"And that's why you'll die for meddling," the shinobi grouped together. To their surprise, Shirou was skilled for a brat. If they weren't careful, a single error could lead to death.
"Meddling? You've got to be joking." He parried a blow and retaliated with a kick that served to pivot him into a more favourable position. "When will it end! If I just stood there and watched, then one day, what will happen should I or the others that I hold dear end up in the same execution stage? If there was a choice between selfishly preserving my life at the expense of another, and enduring this kind of discrimination, then of course I'd rather fight!"
Fight for change. Fight for better.
He knew the way of the Shinobi, but that didn't mean that he had to agree with it. Rules weren't everything. No one was a tool of war, and every shinobi had their own ability to see the evil in one's actions and question the decisions of a tyrant.
"For the silent voices who've endured hardship, for the sake of those that have endured loss and hopelessness, I will fight!" His voice echoed out while the others in the crowd felt something stirring from within them.
"You're a fool," the shinobi in front of him replied coldly. "A failure of a Shinobi who puts emotions above duty."
Duty? Duty? His expression hardened into a grimace while looking at the corpses of those already executed on the platform earlier in the day. This wasn't a duty. This was genocide.
"So what?" His voice came out clipped. It was the harshest he'd ever spoken in his new life. "I don't care if you call me a failure because more than just being a Shinobi, I am human."
Even Shinobi were still people. People that could feel, laugh, and smile despite their violent profession.
The concept struck deep, finally igniting a chord within the hearts of a several individuals hiding within the gathered crowd. How could they hold themselves back when a lone child of all people was standing up for them?
Just as Shirou was about to continue battling against the dozen or so enemy shinobi in front of him, a block of ice encased and froze half of them to death while the remaining few were skewered through the head by what appeared to be human bones.
A whole group of bloodline users appeared on stage much to Mei and every ordinary citizen's shock. There were ten of them, many adults and a few teenagers.
"Fucking shit, this is rebellion isn't it?" A youth dressed in a plain and dirty yukata spoke up before staring at Shirou with determination. "We'll take it from here."
As much as Shirou would have loved to agree to the offer, it wasn't the time. "No," his eyes scanned across the horizon, noticing several flickers of blue torch-like energy. "More are coming."
The group of bloodline users nodded at Shirou's words.
"You're a sensor?" A man with pale skin and bone-like protrusions coming out of his body called out.
A sensor. Well, the man wasn't wrong to say that. His nose twitched as he plaid the situation off with a nod.
"How many?"
Shirou considered the question before deciding not to sugar-coat the numbers. "Around fifty."
The expression on the man's face mirrored the rest: Grim. There was a lot more than anyone was expecting. Was it a trap? Quite likely.
Shirou just kept his priorities straight.
"Hurry and get these people to safety," he instructed everyone that had jumped up onto the platform. "I'll buy some time."
They all shook their head.
"Do you really expect us to run now? Everyone here has endured long enough." One woman said followed by a chorus of others.
"The Shinobi Bloodline Clans of Kiri can not tolerate this discrimination any longer."
"If the Third Mizukage can not put a stop to it, then it's time we take things into our own hands."
Regardless of what was said, Shirou remained focused on a single point. "The people first," he said, gesturing towards the people still tied up on the platform. "Their injuries need to be treated and they need water and food."
"Leave that to the others," an older Shinobi grunted while gesturing to his children and wife watching in the crowd. "They won't be much use in a fight at their age and as such are better off staying safe. I can say the same for you, but I can see it in your eyes. You've killed before."
Shirou didn't deny the claim and nodded.
"Damn Academy Policies."
Academy Policies? It wasn't worth mulling over at the moment.
The enemy was coming and Shirou could see Mei growing anxious not too far away from him. She needed hope. Everyone needed hope. He could see it in the way that they were standing. Those weren't the faces of brave warriors or people, but the faces of those that had already accepted death.
"We can win." His words were a beacon in the dark. A rousing call of action.
"How are you so sure." The rest turned to glance at him.
He didn't have time to explain. The enemy had arrived in the dozens. Just like he had said, there were fifty of them and all were radiating such intense bloodlust that the mist spreading throughout the area appeared tainted with red.
So be it. Red it would be.
His hands crossed together in the form of a seal.
Uzu and Konoha had always been firm allies and the Uzu main family specifically had access to a store of shared Jutsu from the era of the Warring Clans.
"Just follow my lead." He said. If he was alone, he may have had hesitated at this point to face so many Shinobi while still injured, but his eyes and experience could determine that the Shinobi aiding him weren't just all talk either. Some like the man and woman that had killed the Kiri shinobi previously on the executioner's platform were two such examples.
"You don't know who you're dealing with," the woman with soft features and braided silk hair spoke up. Layers of frost were spreading out from beneath her feet, and the temperature around her was frigid. "We revealed ourselves while already resigned to our fates."
"It's them who don't know who they're dealing with," he responded back. In the same instance, he activated his Shadow Clone Jutsu.
Mist and smoke covered the area as seven clones of himself manifested to life. He was in no condition to fight a prolonged battle nor did he want to reveal himself too early lest the ruler of Kiri send in a larger contingency of shinobi. Moreover, Mei and the ordinary citizens were nearby and could potentially get caught up in the battle.
He'd have to end things either without too much of a fight or quickly. In which case, he'd already made up his mind.
He was a Faker. He'd always been, and that fact had never changed. He would bluff, and it would be up to the enemy to decide on whether or not to 'call' his bluff. Not that he wasn't planning on doing something that would probably complicate his situation later. Still, if it was for the sake of others, then what did the comfort of his life matter? Simple. Nothing.
The mist of the enemy Shinobi gradually obscured all visibility and he received the chance that he was waiting for.
'I am the Bone of my Sword.'
Chakra and magic circuits flared from within him, bringing to life the swords that he'd read about in his clan's library down to every drawing, detail, and description. He knew that they wouldn't be the real thing because he'd never encountered them before, but the idea was all that he needed to get an understanding of their functions and create an imitation.
Within the mist, every shinobi and citizen of Kiri froze as an overwhelming bloodlust permeated through the mist and overpowered the enemy shinobi's own. Temporarily, a break appeared within the haze, and that was all that was needed for everyone to shudder in trepidation.
Seven swords were wielded in the hands of seven clones each in their own unique position standing alongside each other.
Throughout the Elemental Nations, Kiri was famed for its band of merciless killers known as the Seven Ninja Swordsman of the Mist. They were iconic to Kiri and every citizen and shinobi alike were aware that it wasn't the wilder that was famous, but the swords.
"That's not possible," a Chunin-level Shinobi stumbled back in disbelief.
Hiramekarei, the Twinsword.
Kabutowari, the Helmet Splitter.
Kiba, the Fangs.
Kubikiribōchō, the Butcher and Decapitating Knife.
Nuibari, the Sewing Needle.
Samehada, the Shark Skin.
And Shibuki, the Splash Sword.
The Seven Swords of the Hidden Mist.
Most thought that they were fake, but the notion was entirely forgotten when the clones took to action and the sound of screams reverberated through the air. None could verify anything in the obscurity of the mist, but what they could feel was the threat of death.
Killing in the Mist. The Silent Killing technique.
All Ninja Swordsmen were proficient in this Jutsu and the enemy Shinobi realized that their own mist was being used against them. Panicked and confused over the situation, the lead Shinobi took it upon himself to call a temporary withdrawal.
Watching the enemy Shinobi retreat, Shirou breathed a sigh of relief in the mist.
Thank God. He managed to scare them off. If they'd fought for any longer, then they would have surely noticed that as perfect as his projected copies of the Seven Swords of the Mist were, they still had their differences since he'd created them from lacking information. They were empty husks. Paper swords who's only defining aspects were their appearance. In truth, he'd killed most of his enemies by tracing a blade behind their backs and swiftly culling their numbers with the aid of the bloodline shinobi who followed his example.
As the mist began to fade, in its wake was a deathly silent square. All the normal civilians and non-Bloodline Shinobi had run away, leaving behind only a gathered handful of Bloodline users who were all staring at him in disbelief. He'd untraced the copies of the Seven Swords that he'd made before the mist had completely cleared, but that didn't change anything.
He didn't care about the attention.
His focus was still on those that needed the most help.
"Careful," he said while moving to support an older man who'd been beaten too badly to walk properly. The others could only watch on while the bloodline Shinobi were looking at Shirou with a keen gaze.
He thought not of himself, but of others. It was a concept that no one raised in Kiri had ever witnessed before. Especially from a fellow resident in the Land of Water.
The bloodline Shinobi of Kiri stared at each in thought before nodding their heads and approaching Shirou to help.
Meanwhile, Mei stared apprehensively at Shirou's figure surrounded by fellow bloodline users. What she feared most was not the fact that they'd drove the enemy off, it was the coming retaliation. Especially with what Shirou had just displayed.
She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that Shirou somehow possessed all Seven Swords of the Mist, but that question could wait for later.
Panicked, she ran up to him, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away while the others were still too stunned at Shirou's actions to react.
Escape was first.
"Shush, don't even speak about it," Mei nervously paced within her house while making sure that all the windows were shut and the lighting in the room, dim. Even then she was hesitating on whether or not it would be better to sleep without a fire at all. "We have to stay low."
She shivered and soon turned to face Shirou solemnly.
Hours earlier, she had grabbed him and ran before the other bloodline users could inquire about his identity. Admittedly, it saved him the trouble of explaining himself, but at the same time, he knew that hiding wasn't going to solve any problems.
It never did when it involved evading military personnel and especially shinobi.
The fact that the original purpose of the trip to the market was to grab food to eat had left Mei's mind entirely in her concern for both him and her own safety. She would have even forgotten to grab the food that they'd bought if he hadn't noticed and grabbed it on the way back.
She was both anxious and apprehensive. At the same time though, she couldn't help but keep glancing in his direction with curiosity and interest. Regardless, her fear of dying was taking precedence in her actions.
"We'll use the candle," she decided after a moment of hesitation.
He looked at her to make sure that she was serious. When she looked back without blinking, he got his answer.
By candle, Mei meant exactly that. They'd use a candle to keep the room dimly illuminated rather than the small fire she had presently burning on the fireplace. A swift kick of sand, and the fire extinguished along with any warmth that it gave.
From where he was seated, he saw Mei began to shiver as the cold air of the Land of Water began to permeate around. Mei was deluding herself if she thought that the heat of one candle would be enough to keep her warm, but he still did as she asked.
"Are you serious?" He couldn't help but question her.
"I could ask you the same," she huffed. "You didn't have to put yourself out there. What if you had-no never mind." She shook her head and soon sat down on the floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and beckoned him to come closer. The night was going to be cold and she was considering sharing a blanket with him for warmth. Not that she followed through due to her own self-consciousness.
"I answered that question at the market square," Shirou explained patiently while sitting himself beside Mei. "The way Kiri is managing its people is horrid. Am I wrong to stand up against atrocity? I won't abandon someone in need."
Mei gave him a flat stare, a twinkle in her eye. "Then you aren't from Kiri," she said jokingly before losing much of her mirth. "Kiri's known as the 'Bloody Mist' for a reason. Children killing children. Men killing men. Women killing women. I can't understand how you've not lost your naivety."
No. No he wasn't from Kiri, but he was from the Land of Water. Naivety? He called it optimism.
"People are the same everywhere. No one is born a killer," he spoke up before moving across the room and revealing the bag of groceries that Mei had forgotten. He opened it and tossed her a couple plastic bags of potato chips and candy bars. They weren't too nutritious but he'd gotten them when he'd noticed Mei staring at them for longer than she should have. Academy graduate or not, she was still a child.
Mei took the offered food but didn't immediately begin eating. Instead, she looked at him as he continued to speak. "People, eat, sleep, and work, but in the end, so long as we believe in the good of others and the good that they can bring in the future, then isn't that worth fighting for?"
"And that's what gets you killed." Mei just destroyed the conversation. Then again, he didn't exactly know her past very well. She must have endured much hardship to get to where she was in life right now.
Her hands were balled into fists, threatening to explode the bag of potato chips in her grip and waste them. Fortunately, she reigned herself in and soon rested her forehead over her knees.
"True," he said after a moment in silence. "But it's also what allows for change."
The flickering of the candle light danced across the barren room. There wasn't even a proper bed in case a shinobi realized that someone was living inside what was akin to an abandoned shack.
"Change?" Mei blinked before playing with the word. It was exactly what her father had said he was going to achieve before failing to return back to her on time.
"Change." Shirou nodded. "But enough on this topic. Just eat. I know you're hungry."
He tossed Mei a few pieces of jerky, vegetables, and fruit, and watched as her face glowed in happiness. It wasn't even 'good' food either. Nothing compared to what he could whip up given a proper kitchen, but it was enough.
Mei was already smiling so radiantly at the prospect of getting a full stomach that it was hard for him to watch.
If he was hesitant before, now he was certain.
A child should not be living like this.
He could no longer mind his own business. To begin with, maybe it was his business.
Uzu was located within the Land of Water just like Kiri. This meant to say, that Kiri had the potential to become a direct enemy of Uzu should the two sides come to blows. In which case, what if he justified himself by making sure that such a day would never happen?
He'd be helping his family and home, and at the same time, saving Mei and the other bloodline users in Kiri from injustice.
Sitting within the dim candle-lit room, he secured Mei's forehead protector over his left arm. Frankly, she didn't think much of it because her opinion on Kiri's shinobi system must have taken a heavy blow after realizing that the current Mizukage was doing nothing about the situation befalling those with bloodlines.
Nodding his head, Shirou decided on a change of plan. He'd have to send out another messenger pigeon to Uzu to inform his family that he was planning to stay out for longer than he had initially assumed. The question now, was where should he begin?
In the silence, Shirou thought of a course of action and continued to do so even as Mei tucked herself in for the night over a bed of gathered grass. Soon he found himself listening to Mei's soft breaths across the other side of the room.
Revelation came next.
That was it, wasn't it?
He hardened his expression.
He'd start from there.
Different from what Shirou assumed, the messages that he'd been sending back to Uzu in order to inform them of his safety had never reached their intended destination. In which case, the very same messages that had informed Uzu not to do anything rash or impulsive were never read either.
Instead, the effects of Shirou's absence was beginning to show.
In the land further west from the Land of Water, Konoha, the Village Hidden in the Leaves was commencing its mid-term Academy Assessments. Students lined the halls of its Shinobi and civilian academic complexes, and one tomato-haired girl was utterly miserable.
Life in Konoha was not like Kushina had been expecting.
It was different.
The people didn't welcome her with the kind of openness and warmth as the people of Uzu did, rather, they pointed fingers at her and whispered behind her back. Even her prided red-hair was made to be some form of running joke.
Her family had always talked about how beautiful her hair was, but in her prolonged stay in Konoha, she had grown to become insecure and sensitive about the very topic.
"Run! It's the Habenoro!"
Bastards better run.
A tick mark formed on her face as her Uzumaki temper reared its ugly head. Mock her all that they liked, but the heiress of the Uzumaki clan would not show weakness so easily. Instead, it was those fools that should watch out for her.
She'd always been a prankster by heart, and petty revenge was not beneath her.
She grinned darkly while contemplating revenge but twitched when she noticed someone staring at her.
"Whatcha looking at, huh?! You think my hair's funny too?!" She grumbled at the twig of a sunshine haired boy a distance in front of her. Said boy was wearing a simple shirt, shorts, and shinobi sandals. Upon being called out, the boy shied away too quickly to be normal.
Was she that repulsive? Kushina could not take the boy's action for anything else but revulsion. "Yeah, you twig! You better look away!"
The boy's eyes widened in surprise as if there was some sort of misunderstanding, but Kushina stormed off back into her academy classroom before anything could get sorted out. A cloud of depression formed over the boy's head as a nearby friend patted him on the back.
Back in the classroom, Kushina stormed off onto her seat and waited for the day to end so that she could run back home to granny Mito.
Granny Mito was the wife of the First Hokage and a fellow Uzumaki. It was on Mito's request that an Uzumaki be sent to carry out Mito's duty as the next Jinchuriki of the Nine Tails.
Kushina shivered just recalling the first time that Mito allowed her to feel the malefic Chakra of the Tailed beast. It was both horrid and oppressive. Therefore, it was terrifying.
Fortunately for her, it wasn't yet time to pass on the burden of the fox, so she could relax during her academy days.
Better yet, it was almost her Birthday and her family had promised to come for a visit to check up on her. She hadn't seen them in months and was all but ready to greet them with as much vigour as she could muster in a ramen induced food high.
She'd been bugging the old Hokage about the specifics, but the stupid old man had been keeping his mouth shut about something confidential that could needlessly worry her. Mental state had a lot to do with the inheritance of the Nine-Tails so anything too determinantal was kept hidden from Kushina.
She sighed while in her seat, but overall maintained her tolerance in order to get through the day. It was midterm assessments, and she knew that she was going to have to perform a Jutsu in front of the class. She was already mentally preparing herself for anyone who dared to poke fun at her hair or belittled her. It wasn't her fault that she had too much Chakra as an Uzumaki and couldn't perfectly execute an Academy level Jutsu.
Lunch break was almost over and her classmates were soon re-entering the classroom one by one.
The same boy who had been staring at her before tried to approach her, but the glare that she leveled on him had him veering the other direction. What a pansy.
After everyone came and entered, the Jonin teacher soon took his place at the podium ready to start a review before examinations.
Different from before, the Jonin instructor couldn't even get a word in before an animal masked Shinobi was politely knocking on the classroom door. Based on the woman's attire and professionalism, it was ANBU.
She wore sleek silver guards over fish-net leggings and a black body suit equipped with chest armour on top. At her back was a small sword, and various scrolls rolled up neatly across her waist.
"Is Kushina Uzumaki present?" The woman called out.
Kushina was utterly bewildered. She had no idea why one of Konoha's special forces was calling out for her and frankly, it was unnerving. She swallowed; her throat suddenly dry. However, she still raised up her hand and drew attention to herself. "Over here," she said.
The ANBU nodded and beckoned for Kushina to walk over.
Kushina did so, but not without an ill premonition forming at the back of her mind.
Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. Konoha's old Hokage knew that anything that could too severely disrupt her mental state was not in Konoha's best interest. It could potentially diminish the chances of a successful inheritance of the Nine-Tails.
The fact that she was still being informed of something meant that it was either too important for her not to know, or that her family had asked the Hokage to guarantee that the information got to her.
She was hoping for the former. Even if it was bad news, she could deal with it. In the case of the latter, she knew that there could only ever be one reason that her family would insist that she be informed of something.
The information must have had regarded Uzu as a whole.
Stopping in front of the ANBU, she watched in trepidation as the woman reached for her bag and produced a small scroll still fresh with written ink. "Your family," the ANBU informed curtly.
It was like a sword had just stabbed through Kushina's chest. She could hear the roaring of her heart all the way to her ears.
Something happened.
Something definitely happened.
Taking the scroll into her hands, she gradually unfurled it in order to read its contents, the first of which had her complexion paling drastically.
Uzu was preparing for war.
It was a heavy blow and one that seemed to have had come out of nowhere. Kushina knew that Uzu had always maintained its neutrality so the notice came out as a shock for her.
However, if the first message was enough to rattle her, then the next broke something inside her that she'd always held dear and utterly crushed it into bits.
It couldn't be true. It couldn't.
The whole classroom fell into a hushed silence as the pitter patter of tears began striking against the floor.
Was that really the Red-Hot Habanero feared by even the upperclassman of the school? No one could speak. No one could answer.
For once, Kushina may have had actually preferred it if her classmates could speak up and start degrading her with derogatory comments. At least then, she could have something to force her attention away. At the end of the day, she could bear the insults; she could bear the humiliation, but t-this was just too much.
She fell to her knees and started sobbing at the door of the classroom, her eyes puffing up into a mess as everyone watched on in muted shock.
Her brother was dead.
Thanks for reading!
Next update: Fate-In time
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