Chapter 1: Travesty
Warning: (M) Violence, Gore, Rape, and Suggestive Subjects/Themes take place.
Rating: (T-M) Not for children.
Pairings: Kakashi/OC, Naruto/Hinata, Sasuke/Sakura, Sai/Ino, Shikamaru/Temari, etc.
Summary: She was forbidden to exist, a sweetness too profound to become anything but a burdened miracle to anyone who encountered her. She came from tragedy, and yet, she spread nothing but the rich essence of honeyed nectar to those she met by fate. Or, in other words, a story about a girl, Kakashi, and the love she spread that lead to change. - [OC-insert].
A/N: I guess... Greetings, hello. By the time I post this, this story will probably be finished. I'll post this story periodically with one chapter a day until it catches up with what I've left off.
My name is Ana, and I hope you grow to enjoy this story. It's not the typical story you'd find regarding OC's, (Though, it might be) since this will be a character that'll be the one to 'fix' certain things about the anime Naruto. (Like abuse, Jesus I want to hug every one of them). It's a great Anime, and though I only know some points here and there, it'll cover most aspects. It was a shame I didn't watch it when I was younger, but I have a good idea as to how it goes down at least the main points.
This OC is sweet. She is very loving and kind, and she's extremely patient. She is serene, and well, yeah. I won't reveal everything about her, as you'll see as the story progresses. I think you guys will like her character.
Her name is Anzu Huicha. First name: Anzu, Last Name: Huicha.
I hope you enjoy it!
[. . .]
"The cherry blossoms fall to mix with the crimson they love." - Anonymous.
[. . .]
Chapter 1
Travesty
[. . .]
She lay in the hospital cot, holding her chest where it hurt palpitatingly so, questioning how she remained awake even after her recent tragedy.
Her raven-hued hair was lain out beneath her, and her face was expressionless; eyes looking like a lavender crystal, vacant with only one hole of the void pinpointed tight at the ceiling.
Her chest ached mildly, and her heart, if not for her hand clutching the fabric of her hospital gown, was skipping a beat almost every fifteen minutes she continued to gaze emptily at the heavens mocking the purity color of white into her pools of lilac. It caused her breathing to cease into a small cough, but it was not enough to make her jump like days before she came here.
She had been staring at nothing for hours on end now, unable to coax the midnight aura of the outside into her perception, nor the shuffling or wheezes from the patients that were tended behind several other curtains with her. The ink of darkness replayed feverously within her damaged mind, repeating scene after scene a three-year-old girl should not have.
Her frame was wrapped with bandages; stripped of all but her white and useless chemises. Her hair was burnt and uneven yet still long, and the fingers of the hand she barely managed to move felt prickly at times, reminding her again of the missing nails she would tragically need to regrow with time. Her head ached extremely; even as she lay down, it continued to spin, deepening her into an eternal abysmal battle.
Tears, salty and burning when they fell and touched her damaged ears were numb, and she had no realization that she was in fact becoming the ocean itself, as she was far too entranced with the images of her fathers head falling onto her feet or the cries of anguish her mother had ruptured upon being taken without mercy. Nothing in her body moved; her burnt toes remained still and her body was tense with both nothing yet everything.
Her eyes, much too light-colored, swerved into a dangerous shade of bright rose when she remembered the blood pooling from her mother's lower half, and she wondered if it was the growing repression of guilt and hate that was consuming her vision when she had run away or the one thing her father had sealed into her just the week before.
The pain and lurch of her stomach told her it didn't matter what it was that made her twist on the inside with fear and hate; her parents were gone, and so was she.
Not dead, though, as she came to find when she dared tear her eyes away from the ceilings after hours of nothing. Instead, she was hollow, like all she came to know was ripped torturously from her, down from her mother's baby to her innocence.
She had run, she remembered, when her mother had gathered the courage to grab a weapon from her assailant and struck him in the neck as he meshed himself repulsively in her, because she had been told so. Her father hid her away and assured her with the kind, pupilless eyes of his that she would be safe and that only when her mother would cease, she would need to leave.
She did just as she was told, clutching her tiny gift of a kunai to her chest as her small, bare feet crunched on the sharp jagged rocks ripping through her flesh. There was fire when she mustered up the courage to turn back with tears of horror and melancholy to her tiny home, and there was blood, bodies surrounding the outside mixing in with the three shadows after her.
Her eyes saw red and swirls of blue in their bodies, and she ran faster, picking up her speed that she didn't realize was useless.
In an instant, she was caught, and thrown to the side for her head to collide dangerously on a tree.
Her vision was hazy, blurry, but she still felt when they tried to touch her, and she would slash, only for her arm to be broken by a single swipe from those taking her away. A sharp, agonizing pain pierced her chest, and she trembled, letting out a wrack of coughs she was then slapped for.
She didn't know what they were doing, but she didn't feel anything else when she was roughly lifted away by something other than the evil of the air she had felt before. Her long dress was torn from above but her bottom was still intact, and she found, as blood stung her eyes and she closed them, that the aura of whoever had taken her had indeed good intentions and stopped things from getting worse.
She couldn't see, and her body hurt so bad she was sobbing uncontrollably. Her whole was convulsing and her mouth gurgled blood, her lungs laboring to breathe but unable to because of the steel embedded somewhat in her chest.
She felt like she was falling, over and over again, lifted suddenly only to plunge dangerously low enough where she panicked without air.
She heard the clashing of metal, explosions, and breaking of branches in the distance, all in all being ignored by her severe concentration striving to keep her body up.
In the end, her mind persisted but her body gave up, throwing her into the void she soon had awoken from in a white room.
Which led her to where she rested now, beautiful eyes coerced with sparkling pain.
With her head tilted only inches to the side due to the bandages wrapped onto her neck, she watched the curtain move with the wind the open window let in, feeling tainted and destroyed.
Her little mind didn't assess she was safe now. Her restlessness was focusing on what was, now that she had been given the time, and she continued to cry, sobbing endlessly until the small saint of morning light touched her healing porcelain.
"Oh, good, you're awake!" A soft voice announced, and she willed herself to look at it, seeking childish comfort she had to reprimand herself from doing. She didn't know who this was, and she had never met a person with blonde hair. In fact, she had never had the chance to meet anyone in her life. Her parents were all she had grown to know.
She looked most like those images her father had taught her in a book about medicine, and her aura was calm and forgiving.
"You're a tough cookie," The nurse continued, walking over to place a big cup of water and tray of food that looked bland compared to that of her mother's. "Only two days, and already up!"
She wanted to speak, ask, demand, even beg on where she was, how she was alive, and what she was doing in such a white place. Unfortunately, she was unable to, and what rose from her throat was coughing instead of her voice.
The nurse crinkled her eyebrows and grabbed the cup to quickly pour water down the little girl's throat. "Careful now, your vocal cords are pretty weak. They'll be healthy after a week, so don't speak too much right now! You just woke up, after all."
She had been awake for hours.
The little girl settled achingly on her pillow once more, closing her eyes.
The nurse tentatively touched her bandages, making sure they were snug and stainless. "Your pain medications will wear off in about an hour," The nurse told her, but she couldn't really bother to understand. She was still sad, still running from the nightmare that transpired so early in her life.
"I'll come back then, okay?" The nurse said though the cheerfulness in her voice faded away.
Her tone almost sounded like pity.
The little girl said nothing, even when the woman had tried to feed her the cold broth, or even when the woman left with barely five spoonfuls. She did not see the nurse fix the tubes, nor did she see the nurse tend to the other patients after she left either.
She was left alone again.
And she did not wish to understand anymore.
[. . .]
She was sitting now, disregarding the scratches and scribbles of the coal pencil tearing at the proud paper held in place by a board and strap of metal. Hours after her nurse had given her pain suppressing medication, she returned with two tall men she confused at first with her father until she saw their hair color and facial structure appropriately. One had left, and another stayed, sitting neatly in front of her with understanding hostility.
A thumb brushed onto the blank spots on the sides of the flapping fabric-like object, fingers clenching the brown of wood so hard they looked as if they would break such a thing in half.
Blonde hair settled neatly in a parted braid on one shoulder, and eyes a bland blue were scorchingly glaring at the paper as he continued to write what little she spoke and what he had discovered upon entering her mind.
He was quiet, adorned only with the sounds of his rough exhaling every second or so. To the little girl, he looked almost like her father, except, with more jagged lines of age and cerulean eyes, blonde hair instead of the scorching black and lovely lavender. Even though his mouth was set in a calming scowl, she detected no haunted aura around him.
Thus, his presence relaxed her more than what she had been taught to feel.
His definite gaze rose to meet hers. "What is your name, little one?" He asked, and he almost sounded sheepish. Perhaps, the little girl thought, it was because he had been strictly asking her questions of what she knew of who attacked her, instead of beating around the bush like some parent cooing to their child.
She didn't mind it. Her parents had always been blunt, maybe not to the point where they would scar her, but enough for her to comprehend.
A sharpened jag pulled her arteries. "...Anzu." Her petite and slightly lisped voice replied. Despite the tone of despondent tranquility, the blonde male sporting the ninja clothes her parents had worn knew she was shaken still.
It was understandable. She didn't let it show so easy, but without knowing, a tear or so would slip even if she didn't will it to.
Almost like magic, Anzu saw his tightened face soften. "And how old are you?" He asked, willing his fingers to jot down further information without looking away from her.
Anzu picked at the edge of the itchy bandages enlaced onto her right arm. "...Thwee," She replied, shrinking into herself at the display of information. She was taught to keep quiet about herself as much as possible. Something about her being... wanted...
If it was possible, the male's expression broke more. Anzu didn't understand why he looked sadder than before, but she didn't wish to question it. All she wanted to do was curl into her blanket and sleep the grief away. The longer she remained here, awake to remember, the more empty she felt.
He sighed. "I am Yamanaka Inoish," The male stated, offering her a smile she immediately welcomed with the air of despair, "I'm sorry to have gone straight to business," He admitted, and she stared only, "But you see, this is important."
Anzu gave a simple nod. Inoish, as he was called, noticed fresh tears sprout once more into her rare-colored eyes.
Once again, his spirited attempt deflated.
"My pawents awre dead," Anzu said, but she was not aware she did so. She had only been thinking of it, reflecting the ken over and over again, as if it was forever embedded into her cerebrum.
Inoish frowned. "I know, little one," He muttered, setting his hands and clipboard onto his lap.
Anzu sniffled and her face broke into pain. "Saw... Saw my papa die..." She continued without thought, rubbing her eyes with her good, bandaged arm, "Mama... Mama kept scweaming... It... So scawy," She breathed, hiccuping at an attempt to breathe in deeply in distress.
Inoish didn't need to write it down. He had seen it himself when he had entered her mind.
He offered only a melancholic sigh. "You will be alright, little one," He said, and he meant it in honest reprieve. Her mind was well enforced with happy thoughts that somehow overweighed the tragic ones, and it was surprisingly well-managed. If anything, all she would need was therapy and distractions that a child like her could indulge herself in.
She was calm, too calm, but there was no worry, hence she was not a weakened nor weary child.
Her state of mind was mostly of indifference joy in most happy memories, and seldom fear when her parents had reprimanded her for things all knew were dangerous.
However, that did not mean that she would get well right away, nor that she was okay. Right now, she was stunned in hopelessness, and without the proper help, she would likely strive into a path of further tragedy if not careful.
What she needed most was someone to help her, but he wasn't exactly well-placed in that department...
He stood and was careful not to comfort her, as he knew that if he did she would only cry more and flinch and likely fall into her memories, so he gave her a mere delicate look. "Your parents gave their lives to protect you," He told her, and she looked back at him, sniffling and softening the creases of depression, "They told you to be strong, correct?"
She nodded mutely.
He smiled sincerely. "And you are. You are strong now, and you should keep being strong, if not for their sacrifice, but for your well-being. Do you understand, little one?"
Anzu couldn't grasp entirely what he wanted her to do, but his words were similar to her father's. Even though words tended to be empty, she could find slight closure in heeding messages someone precious to her had once said.
She needed to be strong.
She felt, even so, anything but. The folds of agony kept folding more in her heart, squeezing the liquid of life out. But perhaps, if she could remember less of her parents and think about what else she had to look forward to, she could pursue the kind words of assurance this stranger brought to her with given time. It would be a while until she would feel better, she knew a full one hundred percent, but she would be, in the end, if she tried.
"I will... twry," She whispered, but it did not quite reach the core of her heart as she had wanted. After all, knowing that her parents were dead and she was now helpless was impossible to get away from.
Inoish's smile faltered slightly, but she didn't really care.
If she wanted to feel good again, she would do so on her terms. If people pitied her, she would not mind. She would show them that she was okay, one day.
Not today. Certainly not in a week. Not in a year, maybe not in five.
But one day.
Without another word, Anzu observed Inoish turn and walk out of the now-vacant room.
[. . .]
Expression grim, the Yamanaka that had interrogated the little girl moments earlier walked into the Hokage's Office, stepping in with various questions, answers, and results swirling in his head. If the images in the little girl's memories were accurate, then they may have just uncovered something both dangerous and advantageous for their village, depending on how the girl grew and how loyal she would become to the place that took her in.
Briefly, hours before now, he had been summoned on the break of dawn to what he had assumed was to investigate the progression of the captured ninja from other hidden villages, or merely to be sent off into another mission with Chorin and Shikamu, or anything else that didn't involve traumatized little girls. To his surprise, the Hokage had personally asked him to take care of this particular problem, present with one of Konoha's famous ninja, and two others that the Inoishi figured were involved in the accidental retrieval mission.
He heard their report himself, told vaguely beforehand by the Sandaime, and wrote the information down, steadily questioning why a random little girl not part of this village was so damn necessary to use his mind-transfer technique with.
Needless to say, returning now with his muscles barely tense, he understood why. She was the daughter of two missing-nin, and if her eyes were any indication enough, she resembled that of a distant cousin of the Hyūga. And he knew that the particular Hyūga most likely related to her was a special, unadulterated case.
As soon as he entered, he went to bow but stopped when he saw that the Hokage had yet to enter the room.
As if they noticed the question bouncing in his eyes, the three only ninjas in the room pointed at the paper on the wooden desk regarding a small festival taking place just north from the Hokage's tower. Immediately, Inoish nodded in understanding.
"Yamanaka-kun."
Inoish inclined his head.
"Well?" The white-haired male asked, eyebrows drawn together in worry as he approached whom he called, "What did you uncover?"
The old Yamanaka sighed, handing him the clipboard. "A lot of things regarding her parents. And... the ninja who attempted to kill her," He said, which the other ninja in the room immediately perked up about.
"They were Mist," The male told the Yamanaka, sighing. "Last I heard, they've been looking for many with bloodlines to eradicate."
The blonde nodded with an internal grimace. "Which would explain the decapitation of her father instantly, and the abuse of a woman, to which I assume is her mother." He agreed.
The male continued to read, and the ninja behind him approached, wondering what else they need to tell the dear Sandaime.
"We found a woman's corpse when we entered into their home," The ninja behind the White Fang reminded, "It appeared she died much later, likely held off being killed because of a history with the Hidden Mist," He conversed.
The other ninja on the White Fang's other side nodded. "It would explain the crossed-out Mist hitai-ate. She went rogue."
"There was also a leaf-shinobi hitai-ate," The other said.
"So it's true?" The ninja holding the spread of papers asked, "She is the daughter of the missing Hyūga member four years ago?" The White-Fang's facial features of melancholy were present when his mouth uttered his question.
Inoish crossed his arms. "...Hard to say, Sakumo-san. I wouldn't jump immediately into that category, but I'd say so. In the imagery, her memories show that indeed a Hyūga. Though they appear more nullified than anything else, I would dare say that the father looks like the esteemed half-Uchiha Hyūga Hanjin."
"As we established," The ninja on the white fang's right spoke, "The Hyūga-Hellfire Killer Missing Nin."
"Classified A rank..." Mumbled the ninja on the left.
"Interesting," Sakumo muttered, placing both hands on his hips. "I know this is slightly off-topic, but why are we present?" He asked, raising an eyebrow to the Yamanaka. "Not that it's a nuisance, but rather I'm concerned as to why the Hokage didn't put this mission into a further classified investigation."
Inoish frowned. "...That I do not know, Sakumo-san. I was only summoned and told to deliver a report of the victim's events."
Sakumo sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Of all things... Well, I'd assume we'll be sent to look further into this mess if you have no idea. Maybe this being further classified wasn't all incorrect..."
"Perhaps," Inoish grumbled. "Kami knows I've been put on babysitting duty long enough."
The three ninjas grimaced. "That bad?"
Inoish shook his head. "She was rather calm about it all, actually," He said, and Sakumo relaxed, "Despite all of what happened, the only thing she did was cry silently."
The ninjas frowned. "Sounds like she's going through it."
"Well, considering what I saw, there's no mistake about that," Inoish sighed. "Any child would be, in her position."
Sakumo eyed him warily. "...Have they done a blood test?"
Inoish shook his head. "Not sure. But they must have if we're all here. It's evidence enough from her memories, let alone her father's corpse, as to who she is."
"And of the mother?" The ninja asked, "We know she's Mist... But is she, by any chance, in the bingo books? Her face was hardly recognizable."
Inoish scowled. "She looked like an ordinary civilian in the little girl's memories. I skimmed through it before I arrived here, but at a single eye's glance, there was nothing remotely similar that matched her."
"Probably just a simple rogue," The ninja assessed.
"Most likely," Inoish agreed. "I'd have to conduct a thorough examination of the child's brain while she's unconscious if I want to discover what else there was. Though, I doubt that's necessary at this point. The Mist Shinobi were not here to infiltrate Konoha, so that is the least we are aware of."
"Let's hope for that," Sakumo said. "Knowing them, this was perhaps just a diversion for something bigger."
"That is a possibility," Inoish agreed grimly.
The four shinobi stilled instantly and parted away from each other when their superior turned the knob and entered.
"Ah," The elder immediately addressed, "Just when I think I'll have a break..."
All four Shinobi bowed, respectful in greeting.
In turn, Sarutobi tilted his head downward in respect. "Hatake-san. Ruri-san. Fremuru-san. Yamanaka-san. I believe you have your report?"
"Hai, Hokage-sama," Inoish said simply as Sakumo placed the written papers on the Hokage's desk.
The Hokage placed both hands on the table, puffing a simple smoke into his pipe.
The smoke levitated then, dispersing into an invisible mist.
"This... is new."
[. . .]
A/N: Alright! Before you begin your questions, this is in the era before Naruto was born. And no, she does not have the Sharingan. You all will find out soon enough, and it'll make sense in the end, I hope.
Also, I know she's just a simple girl and that the Hokage shouldn't really be involved, but well, it was a mission sent with additional discovery, and regarding high-class missing ninja, well, obviously the old man's gotta look at it.
Of course, you guys probably looked at the pairings... so I won't say much.
Also, Inoish, Shikamu, and Chorin are what I would like to say the fathers of the current clans. Obviously, Chouza, Inoichi, and Shikaku are going to become clan heads.
Hope you enjoyed it!
Toodles~
Ana.