Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto.

Status: Incomplete.

The world was awash in gold. The sun sparkled, glittering like a yellow-flecked streak in the blue, blue sky. The stream gurgled, gilded light reflecting off the winding current. The grass swallowed the movements of the wind, rising and falling with the tide of its call. The sun shone, and the world was awash in gold, and they sat there, waiting, breath caught in straining lungs.

She didn't know how long she'd sat there, waiting. For what, she didn't know. Her hair was loose around her, streaming over her bare shoulders. Her clothes were gone, but she didn't seem to mind as much as she knew she should've.

The sun shone, the creek gurgled, and the wind lifted her thoughts, until they swirled and swirled so far away she couldn't catch them anymore.

She felt ageless in the meadow. The flowers around her sang and sighed, twisting themselves around each other, reaching out to brush against her, like a curious, fluttering bird, before whirling away, off to play with the breeze again. Her skin did not burn under the heavy sun. Her eyes no longer squinted. She drew no panting breath, nor did she wipe away the slick of her sweat from her brow.

They sat, gazing into each other's eyes, and she wondered why she was here, before the wind whistled again and all was clear.

The child in front of her was pale. She hadn't seen anyone that pale in her entire life—not even the light-skinned mercenaries that traded goods in their little village had skin so translucent as the elfin creature that sat before her. Her eyes were blue so clear it seemed like the sky over a barley field; wide, curious, ancient. Her hair was a whitening gold, licking the sides of her slender face with riotous curls.

"What brings you here, sister?"

Her voice was hoarse, a low-pitched gravelly tone that made her think of rushing rocks, turning, turning, turning at the center of the earth. The child's eyes were old then, watching, ever-watching.

A flicker of nostalgia ricocheted through her, and she thought of another pair of eyes, just as old, just as ageless, staring until the secrets she carried were no more.

The child laughed prettily, dimples creasing her youthful face. "You remember her then, sister. That is good. That is very good. It'll be easier for you to go back."

"Go back?" She said, and her voice was suddenly loud in the meadow. The sun stood still in the blue sky. The tall grass no longer hummed to the tune of the playful wind. The flowers went rigid, no longer creeping closer and closer.

The child watched her, "Yes. Isn't that what you want?"

Go back.

She hadn't thought of it like that. The meadow was pretty, far too pretty, and she didn't quite want to leave it—not like…not like—she didn't know, she was…

"You do know you can, can't you?" The child looked at her through her lashes, rosebud mouth pursed thin. "Nothing keeps you here like your own mind. The spirits cannot stop you from walking to the sun, nor can they stop you from walking back to the near shore. But they can trick you to stay."

Something bubbled in her, something that felt a little like hope, a little like fear, and she suddenly looked.

They were sitting in the meadow. The sun rose in the sky, and shone down gentle golden rays, soaking the earth in sunshine and warmth. The wind played with the grass and tickled the flowers.

Next to them, sat the gurgling creek.

The trees on the bank were swaying, humming, a tune so soft she could barely hear, floated by her and she felt warm.

She focused again, and her mouth went dry, hands shaking.

There lay a road past the stream. A single, winding, rocky road with interspersed grass and twigs, and then nothing. A black so deep, writhing in shadows and darkness swept around it, curling over it, licking up the path before flinching backwards, hissing as if burned.

The child smiled at her, ageless, ancient, waiting.

She felt, all of a sudden, so very, very afraid.

"They cannot stop you from leaving," the child told her kindly, watching her with those familiar eyes. "For you are not here because you are meant to be. They stole you from your home and took you away before your family could struggle to keep you."

She tried to speak, but she didn't think she could say what she thought quite clearly enough. Instead, she tugged her hair, and reached her arms around her waist to try and hide her naked skin.

She felt so very small now, so very afraid that she thought she could not move.

Who had taken her? Who had stolen her from her home?

Was it the trickster gods, the ones that a haunting voice had whispered about to her in her youth—the voice she couldn't quite remember now.

"No," the child interrupted, her eyes were sad then. "Those gods do not dwell here. They await elsewhere."

She swallowed, and her fear felt like acid as it slid down her throat. "Who took me?"

The child looked at her a long while. Her hair blew in the wind, the curls twirling around her like wind-chimes. She was a handsome girl, with a slim jaw, a high forehead, and a sloping nose. Her mouth was soft, pink, full.

Something made her think that if she'd seen the child on the road, she wouldn't think twice before offering help.

But it was the child's eyes, those blue, blue eyes, that made her sit still in fear, that made her heart stutter in quiet terror.

There was something so very…ageless about those eyes. Something that made her want to recoil at the sight, no matter how kind they appeared to be. For ageless eyes could be cruel, and she didn't want to know when their sweet warmth would expire.

"Spirits are very often…mirthful in their tricks." The child began, and her voice was an old humming melody, one that brought fleeting memories to her mind. "They wanted another, and instead, took you, for the other one cannot be kept, cannot be held—one cannot keep smoke in their hands for very long."

She did not speak for a very long time. She sat still, and felt the breeze settle over her. She listened to the flowers humming. She watched the blue sky and tried to keep from thinking too hard.

Then, when she was ready, she spoke.

"What are you here for?" She asked, voice a whisper.

The child shrugged her slender shoulders, and her pale skin glinted in the pretty sun. Her veins traveled under her skin, blue, streamlined, stretching under her flesh like a map of gold. She was a child of warmth, and sun, and gilded yellow, so very different from what she knew.

"I wait. I sit. I listen. I am here because I must be and because I want to." The child smiled suddenly, "I am here because I gave someone something special. Something very, very precious. And I wait, and wait, until it is returned."

"Will they ever give it back?" She breathed, and worry ran through her until she felt sick to her stomach. The child had been kind, had been forthcoming, and the nostalgia ran so deep she thought she could feel it bubble up in her mouth until it tasted like fond memories.

The child looked to the sky, and her eyes slowly changed, the blue slipping away to reveal a slate gray. Her hair straightened, darkening, a black so dark it shimmered blue. Her skin turned darker, the veins hiding away under russet skin.

When she looked to her again, she thought her very heart had stopped in her chest.

"Hatsue," her older sister spoke, and her eyes were so very welcoming, so very warm, that tears dripped down her cheeks. "You must leave now. They wait for you."

…

Hatsue woke with a gasping scream, and before she heard the thundering footsteps, her heart raced through her chest as the memory seared itself into her mind—the sight of the golden-haired child with her sister's face.

When her mother reached her, she merely uttered one thing.

"Where is Hitomi?"

Hope you all enjoy! Hatsue's awake now.