I have taken a lot longer to put up this chapter than I intended. I started school in September and had planned to work on this over the winter break. I obviously didn't. I apologize for any grammatical and/or spelling errors, I don't have anyone to proof read my story. Feel free to point anything out and leave constructed criticism. I actually had to google how to write dialogue because its been so long and I probably still did it wrong. The only writing I do anymore is legal. I tried my best to add some sort of substance to this chapter. I really don't like when people update a story and it's only like six paragraphs long. I would also like to thank the whopping two reviews that I got on my last posting, greatly appreciated.
I have some different ideas for this story in which case I will have to change the summary. I will leave a pole at the bottom of the page and all the people who don't read this story can comment on how they would like the story to proceed cause I'm not good at making decisions.
I don't own Naruto or Lord of the Rings. The only thing that is mine is any plot that is unfamiliar to you and all original characters.
Nothing was the same after that day. Water and food were scarce, people killed each other over the things that they used to just throw away. Where the great Leaf Village had once stood was now a small collection of poverty ridden homes. Many people, shinobi and civilians alike, had died in what they called "The Great Fire", and even more died after. The fire had left a thick black smoke that floated through the air for weeks. The wet masks they wore couldn't protect them from the collection of soot in their lungs. They spent the last moment of their lives gasping for air and splitting up black sludge. The Hokage had died and there were no more medical shinobi left to help them, no one their to ease their suffering. Just when it seemed like things couldn't get any worse, they did. In the absence of the Hokage, Danzo had taking over the village.
Danzo had never been a likeable man. He was a tyrant as he had always been but now it somehow seemed worse. His decision-making wasn't just evil anymore, he had gone completely mad. He, like everybody else, had just lost too much. Everything he owned, cherished, and devoted his life to was now gone. Swept away in the ash.
He was just as scared as everyone else was. There weren't enough supplies to go around. The thought of impending death hung over his head like a blade tied to a string, and that string wasn't strong enough to hold it. They all watched the little threads stain against the weight. They waited for it, waited and waited for the day that he snapped and sent everyone to their death. But it wasn't like Danzo was necessary for that anyway, people were dyeing in the streets with or without him.
Once the smoke cleared and the ash has finally settled people began to died of starvation. The most vulnerable of the community went first, the elderly and then the youngest children. In a village that was once so full of hope and prosperity there was now nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The ground was so dry that hardly anything grew. Water was so scarce that they couldn't waste it on the crops. It was a vicious cycle. The other Villages they were just as bad. Well, what was left of them anyway. No one had anything, nothing they could give up, nothing they could trade. They were all just fighting to stay alive.
Those kinds of conditions drove people to do things, evil things. Unspeakable things reserved for nightmares. Except this wasn't some terrible dream you could just wake up from. You couldn't hide under the blankets and wait for morning. This was real life.
There had been rogue shinobi and criminal civilians who committed wrongdoing before, but this was a whole new world. In this world the line between men and monster became blurred. People would kill each other for a glass of water or a slice of bread. Allies turned to enemy and neighbour to stranger.
It was normal now to wake up and find an entire family gone. It was normal for people to just pick everything up and leave. They left because they thought there was something better out there. But no one ever came back. Whether that was they found something better or they starved to death or they were murdered, no one new. No one asked, because fewer people meant fewer mouths to feed. And that's just the way things were now.
Long gone were the days of ramen stands and tea houses, of festivals and geishas. Never again will the Sakura trees bloom in the spring. Never again with the koi ponds be filled with glittering gold fish. It was the end of that life and the start of a new one. In this life, only the strongest survived.
The Shinobi that did survive directly served Danzo. There was no discussion about what was best for the village anymore. You did what Danzo said or you died. Those who followed his orders successfully were treated the best. If you did what he said you got food, water and somewhere to sleep at night. You did what he said, and you got to live. That's all there was to it. Every man for himself.
There was still a hierarchy as there had been before, but they didn't put the same kind of name to it. Those who had once been referred to as Anbu stayed close to Danzo. The Jounin monitored the perimeter of the village to stop potential treats from entering. Chunin were responsible for directing the civilians. They enforced curfew, designated jobs and administered discipline. The Genin were left to do basic jobs such as providing lines of communication.
The days went by one by one each as miserable and uneventful as the next. Until the day the Chunin on rotation ran out of rations.
"What the hell are you talking about?! I do my fair share of work; don't you tell my I don't get to feed my family tonight!" he said, as his eye grew wide in anger. "You're keeping if for yourselves, I know it!" he said ripping the empty sack from the shinobi's hand. He examined the sack, held it upside down and shook it as if the answers to his accusations would come tumbling out.
"Listen, you need to calm down. Don't make a scene. There's nothing I can do it hasn't rained in weeks," the shinobi said raising his hands in defence, "where do you think this food come from?"
"Oh, I know exactly where it comes from! We're the ones out here busting out asses, working the land so that you sons of bitches can just sit on your asses and twiddle your thumbs." He retorted, throwing the sack on the ground in response.
"Excuse me?" the shinobi drew closer, "were the ones who put our lives on the line to make sure you don't get murdered in the middle of the night!"
"Put your lives on the – pff, " the man scoffed, "you haven't stepped a foot outside the center of this village in months! Each week you come over here all high and mighty taking our food and our supplies. You should be the ones thanking us! You've never picked up a pitchfork in your life!"
The altercation had begun to attract a crowed. A group of civilians gathered around the men and started mumbling. They whispered in agreement nodding their heads.
"Yeah, he's right!" another man behind him chimed in, "Without us the lot of yah would be dead already!"
The shinobi looked around nervously for a moment startled by the rebuttal. He quickly regained his composure then stood tall. "Alright, enough of this. All of you get back in line or there's going to be some serious consequences!" But the didn't budge. They just grew louder. More and more people began to speak up, preaching the injustice they had been subjected to.
"Were nothing but work horses to you!" one of the shouted.
"Yeah, you act like you're doing us a favour," called another.
"It's about time things changed around here," yelled a voice from the back. With that a uniform, "Yeah!" sounded across the crowd.
"I think that will do for to day civilians…" a calm, unfamiliar voice broke through the shouting. They silenced. The shinobi on rotation swallowed and looked over his shoulder to see his masked superior behind him.
"Back to work," There was no question of authority in his voice. The crowd quietly dissipated but not before taking a swift look between the two shinobi.
The subordinate of the two let out a breath he did know he had been holding and looked down at his feet, embarrassed from his lack of ability to control the civilians. He clenched his fists building up the courage to face the man behind him. He finally turned to look at his superior. He knew what was going to happen.
"Finish your rotation and then report to Danzo."
The sun crept slowly through the sky until it disappeared beyond the horizon. He thought about what happened all day. How he had failed to keep the situation under control. He played the scenario in his head repeatedly. Thinking about what he could have done differently. Thinking about all the possible outcomes. But he was out of time now and there was no going back.
Typically, he would be happy to have his rotational shift done and over with. It was a shit job, boring and tedious. Sometimes he and the other subordinates would gamble, betting away their shifts in hopes that some other unlucky son of a bitch would get stuck doing the job. Usually he would count the minutes till it was over and thank the Gods when the end finally came. Right now, he was anything but thankful.
He begrudgingly walked over to the west side of the village. This was the area where the shinobi took shelter. The houses, if you could call them that, were a little nicer, the streets better kept, and the people were cleaner. At the end of the road two blocks past the main well stood the largest home in the village. Two masked shinobi were stationed out side on either side of the door. He looked quickly between the two. They stood unmoving even as he took his first step onto the porch; the wood creaking beneath his weight.
It wasn't luxurious by any means. It was basic. A few furnishings, an empty vase, and a painting for decoration. He hated being here under normal circumstances. He had learned to push down the longing for the way things once were, but that pathetic home reminded him too much of what used to be. A sound broke his train of thought.
"I heard you had a rather exciting day."
He stayed silent, avoiding eye contact.
"Things like that," Danzo shook his head, "they can't happen around here. There always needs to be order. I've made it very clear that insubordination will not be tolerated, not by you, not by anyone. I give and I give, and I give and all I ask for in return is that people do their jobs. Is that too much to ask?"
He didn't answer. He kept is eyes on the corner of the room. Willing himself not to look at the face of evil.
Danzo slammed his fist on the wooden desk and yelled at the lack of response, "I said 'is that too much to ask?!'"
He gave in and looked a shiver running down his spine. "No."
"I'm glad we have come to an understanding, you know what needs to be done," Danzo replied with a sneer.
He knew, he knew it was coming, but still his blood ran cold. This is what happened when people fucked up. When people couldn't get done what they needed to do. He was no exception. All day he knew. He'd seen it happen before. But nothing prepares you for it.
He looked down at the floor frozen on the spot. He should have been harsher. He should have beat the man to set an example. Instead he let it escalate. He fucked up. He was weak. He felt light headed and saw spots in his vision like he was going to faint. All he could hear over the ringing in his ears was the sound of his superiors walking toward him.
The next morning the villagers gathered in the center of the town to watch; it was mandatory that everyone attend. Danzo wanted to make an example of him. His family was there, tears already streaming down their faces. He had a wife and a child. The little girl was no more than eight years old. They knew what was going to happen, it wasn't the first time. A masked shinobi stood next to him with a noose in his hand. He places it snugly around his neck and then pulled the lever.
The entire crowd flinched at the sound of his neck snapping. For a few moments there was compete silence. There was only the sound of the wind whistling through the streets until his child screamed in terror and fell to her knees. Her father hung lifelessly, swaying in the wind.
"This isn't your fault Lane," a small voice broke through the silence. He looked away from the dead farmer and down at the young girl standing next to him. Her eyes were black and her face was sympathetic. For short a moment it looked like she was about to reach out for his hand but decided otherwise. There was no place for such comforts in this world anymore and she knew that. They all knew that.
He came to the conclusion that there was one thing he hated more than rotations, and that was Danzo.
Well that's it. What did you think about this chapter? I had mentioned before that I didn't know what direction I was going to take this story. So, if anyone is reading this I would like your input.