Ghostheart Affection

Can a memory live again?

Tsukihi could never escape.

She rose from the surface with a heave. Ripples spread from the tips of her fingers as she moved through her prison. The room should be freezing, yet she wasn't shivering. The water was constantly warm, and she was glad for it. She didn't stand up, however, she had risen from the depths.

Tsukihi watched as a new droplet formed on the ceiling. Her hands behind her, supporting her head as she leaned against them. She eyed the bead gathering the water around it, becoming larger, more voluminous—until it fell and joined the lake around her.

She leaned on her back, the cool water drenching her hair. Above her little spokes of light, lining the ceiling like the night sky, were all droplets of water, reflecting light that she shined on them.

Tsukihi flicked the surface next to her with an index finger.

The prison shook. Waves erupted from the point of impact around her finger, and droplets of water, dripping down from above, hit the prison-lake below. The chaos eventually settled down. But at every odd second, a bead of water fell and touched the ground lightly, ripples forming around it. Those then clashed with the others.

A wet feeling ran down through her nose.

She let a breath out. Quietly giggling to herself for making such a huge mess. If her matrons were to see her now, laying on the floor drenched and giggling while water droplets continued to drip from the ceiling above her…She accepted it.

It wasn't a bad deal really. She could still see, hear, smell, taste and feel the outside world through the mind of her container, but it just wasn't the same. She missed the feeling of hot food inside her, not just tasting the food her container ate, but feeling it slide down her throat, settle inside her stomach and filling something that was empty for years. She also wanted to see the world through her own eyes, not through the eyes of a human who couldn't even see in the dark.

She shifted over the side, facing the bars that marked her cage. Golden strands, shooting up from the ground or falling below from the sky, blocked her exit from her container's body. It seemed that the strands just went up, that there was a ground but no limit. She knew better of course. There was a ceiling, where thousands of forming water droplets mirrored her, reflecting her so that she could see herself-where she was, and where she will be—once she awakened.

Her eyes followed the middlemost bar. Thicker than the rest, it carried the lock to her cage. And the link between her heart and her prison.

Despite seeing it so many times, her eyes always moved toward the bars when her prison wasn't awake. It was a symbol of her end, the end of the life she knew, and the beginning of the life she had now—if it could even be called a life. Though it tended to depress more, she found that contemplating on its design, and how someone was able to link two souls into one being, was a past-time she could enjoy.

It wasn't just possible.

Her kind tried dozens of ways, all surrendering to the forces that made the world they lived in. Yet despite being of the species that held no special traits-other than their very early deaths-he managed it. And now he was rewarded by the gods' accordingly.

But that wasn't the only reason she looked at the bars. Sometimes, just sometimes, she let her eyes be mesmerized by them.

There was something beautiful with the way writing swirled around and up the bar, flickering and changing, like it was still being drawn by the artist, and constantly erased. Symbols danced around the bars, moving from different bars to different groups of symbols, only to break the grouping after a few moments of being together. What was it that they said, that they captivated her so?

Tsukihi breathed shallowly, and the air warmed her inside.

A slow rumble shook the prison, causing miniscule waves to appear from all around her, starting from the walls. Flickering lights swarmed in front of her, condensing and forming a long string tying around her heart and pinky finger. The golden bars forming her cage shimmered and evaporated. It only meant one thing: her container was awakening.

It was time to do her duty, something she did—sharing this body, as he did his duty for her. Whether he knew it or not.

Putting her hand inside her kimono, she pulled out a disk. It was a piece of ceramic inked with a butterfly's wingspan on one side, and a series of lines on the other. She flipped it to the side with straight, colored lines, watching and waiting as the lines rearranged itself to form triangles, squares, and circles.

Once they formed, she placed the disk on the water in front of her. Kneeling down, she clenched her eyes, imagining the disk in her mind and solidifying in her mindscape. It was hard for her to imagine, to visualize, without a quarter her brain. She imagined it spinning around clockwise, turning the water intensely, before sinking and dissolving beneath it.

If it went alright, and it normally did, then a vision of the future would appear on the surface of the water.

If it didn't…

She opened her eyes.

A geyser shot up from the water in front of her. Taller than her and nearly as wide, it threatened to carry her on top of it as well. It exploded. Splashing water around and on her.

She inhaled sharply.

I wonder what fate wants to hide from us?

Gendo, her brother, rapped the oak table.

"You've got everything packed?" Mori, her grandfather, paced around them, often stopping to pat areas of their bags, and opening them with a searching eye when he felt that something was amiss. His other hand scratched the behind of his wrinkled head, where strands of ashen hair hung loose like cliffside grass, an effect more pronounced by the barrenness of his dome. Old, he may be, he still had a bounce in his steps like a young person would.

That's what he thought anyway. Shinko still thought he was just an old man. Her gaze settled on her brother, prying his mind open with her eyes. She looked straight into his.

Gendo, her dear brother, rolled his eyes, their connection wavering as he did. But she could feel his apathy over the concern and worry in the old man's eyes. He could also see it from the old man's actions to the way he spoke. And yet, he thought of it as a mistake. He'd gone over everything twice over last night, with his grandfather's constant supervision, and having it spill over to the last minute was useless. Oh, her brother was such a dear.

She served herself another bowl of rice from the pot in front of her. She didn't care if her grandfather found anything missing from her bag, though, if he even had it in him to touch anything of hers. In her mind, the more missing things he found from her bag, the less work she had to find them. If only...

"Yes, Jiji." He grabbed his bag from his grandfather's rumpled hands and pulled. It wouldn't budge. His grandfather's grip turned into iron and pulled the brown leather bag away from his hands. His fingers burned as he strained to keep a hold on the bag against his grandfather's pull. Popping, cracking, the leather of his bag stretched and the handle's needlework struggled near breaking point to keep it from falling apart. Any more and he would have to go to the academy without a bag. And he didn't want to destroy the bag he made years ago.

Shinko shook her head, Why must he be so stubborn.

He pleaded. "Will you please let go of my bag, Jiji?"

Mori frowned, but let his grip slacken. The bag flew from his hands, smacking his grandson in the face. The boy grabbed the bag overhead, mindful of the girl sitting next to him, and wore it.

Mori gave a lingering glance to the bag. She took an opportunity to dive deep into his thoughts. Him being distracted would keep him from noticing her.

It's your fault if you miss anything at the last minute arriving,/he thought. He didn't want his grandchildren to feel awful during a day where smiles should be plastered on their faces. The days of childhood should be enjoyed without any ill thoughts spearing their minds, before the perils of the world become apparent...he shook his head of the thought.

She glanced at her big brother, catching him in his eyes.

Gendo, catching the shaking of the old man's head, thought to convince his grandfather more. "We went over this last night, Jiji."

"Give it a one over." The man said sternly.

Gendo shouldn't have said that.

He grumbled. He already went over it, he thought, as she slightly dipped into his thoughts, why do I have to do it too. But what if something is really missing, what if I completely fail because of it…?

He zipped his bag open.

She blinked her eyes in mirth.

Mori turned to his other grandchild. "Shinko, have you checked your bag-"

Shifting from her seat, she stood up and faced him, eyes on his, and his blue on her blue. Mori, her spineless grandparent, unconsciously took a step back. He thought that her presence alone demanded obedience, a trait she got from her mother, he noted, wrongly, as he could never say no to her.

She sighed. Her grandfather still didn't have the backbone to talk with her.

She shook her head and sat back down. After hearing his thoughts, specifically his thoughts about her, she didn't want to hear more of it. So she turned her gaze away from his, looking at her beloved brother instead.

Mori let a tired breath out.

He looked at them. Which meant that his gaze also settled on hers. He thought of them, and their father, who they looked nothing like except only their family's blue eyes and treebark hair. What they inherited from their mother, wherever she was, he didn't know for sure. With Shinko, he had an inkling—

A wrong inkling—

She turned away, looking only at Gendo.

Mori ruffled his hair.

"Grandpa!" Gendo pushed away his grandfather's hands. He ruined it. He ruined his hair, painstakingly combed and brushed and fixed to perfection, done all night for this day. Complaint rose from his throat. It never came out. The proud look his grandfather had killed any discontent from his body, his shoulders relaxing as he did so.

How could he be mad at someone that loved him?

Shinko chuckled inwardly. Her brother was so sentimental sometimes.

"Your father would've been proud, y'know." Staring across them and into the hallway, the old man focused on the picture of a man Gendo never even met, only hearing from stories told by his grandfather.

And from me, too she added in her mind. Anger rose from her, bubbling her insides and heating her up as if she was put onto an open fire. Her beloved brother forgot about her, maybe she should ignore him too! She moved her gaze from him, towards her grandfather.

Mori's eyes glazed. A flash of a memory superimposed itself on the hallway where the picture hung. Of him and his child, on each other's arms as he bid him off to school, with his wife carrying a bento box. It was a happy memory. One that he often remembered fondly, she noted. She saw enough of his mind to see the memory was the most remembered one of his.

She scooped a spoonful of soup from her bowl, bringing it to her mouth. She scooped another, bringing it to her mouth, only to feel that there was nothing on the spoon. She looked down. Seeing her empty bowl made her realize that she had finished eating.

With nothing better to do, she faced her grandfather again and saw her grandfather staring into the hallway, where her father's picture hung. Briefly, hazy visions of...something assaulted her mind. She shook her head, frantic. She could never remember her father without some weird memory of something entering her memory of him. It hurt a lot, both her mind and her body.

Her sight roamed around the kitchen, after forcing gaze from the picture, trying to distract herself from the strange visions assaulting her mind. The things clouded her peripherals, the creatures within crawling their way to her central vision. Desperate, she assigned thoughts to each object that caught her eye.

The kitchen had pans and pots hanging on top of the stove, a hanging shelf filled will all kinds of silverware and ceramics, piled on top of one another, and a cupboard filled with all kinds of cans. No, it wasn't interesting enough

She needed a better distraction.

So she went to the thing that captivated her mind ever since she moved in their family's ancestral home.

A clock.

It hung above the refrigerator. She would often grab a chair and look at its design, captured by the energy it seemed to emit. Her brother teased her about it, saying that if she was hungry, she could just eat and be fat. She couldn't get fat though, no matter what he says, and always ignored him. It was easy to do so.

The sides of the clock had phoenixes whose wings flapped frozen majestically in their windless kitchen, their energy seemingly contained. A dragon curled up and around the castle-designed clock. Entranced, she often imagined riding one of the phoenixes as they flew, as the castle clock ticked away, and as the dragon rested around it.

She felt her mind wandering again. But this time away from the strange visions she had. Instead, it was going into her world. The world inside her. A stray thought of school passed her mind by, while her eyes landed on the part actually showing the time.

Her eyes widened.

She turned to her brother, grasping the hem of his shirt, and tugged it in an attempt to catch his attention. It was a noble effort.

Gendo paid no mind, his mind raced with questions about his father, with a curiosity an orphan possessed about his parents. So he asked,

"If he was here, with us, would he be actually…?"

"Yes." His grandfather's gaze never met his, still living inside memories of past few ever remember, as all old people ought to do. He blinked and wrapped his arm around his grandson's neck.

"He would've introduced you to every person in the school!" he laughed, rubbing the head of his grandson, and uncaring of the shrieking and flailing of his grandson.

Shinko tugged harder.

He chuckled. "Your father was an idiot."

Shinko's tugs became a mighty pull that brought down her brother to her side. She grasped his face, turning it to the direction where the clock hung, and pointed a violent finger at it.

Mori, broken out of his stupor by the sound of his grandson colliding against the floor, his sight slipping into the direction of the children. He saw his granddaughter's outstretched arm pointing at the clock...

He choked.

Shinko and her brother, startled at the sound, turned to their grandfather. He ushered them into the hallway, smiling.

"You best be going now. Being late on your first day makes all the wrong impressions and you don't want that!" And being unhappy on your first day because you were late is something I don't want, he added mentally.

Gendo grabbed his sister's wrist and ran down the hallway, their frantic movements almost having the photos hanging fall down.

He opened the door upon reaching it. Shinko ran alongside him.

"Kids! You forgot your lunches!" Mori shouted. "I'm going to throw it to you!"

He extended his arm carrying the wrapped up bento box and spun it around. Going faster and faster, building up momentum, he released his grip on the cloth.

It flew.

Oh no.

Gendo twisted his body around, his hand reaching out to catch the lunchboxes by the cloth it was wrapped in and ran to catch up to Shinko.

That was lucky.

"Thanks! Grandpa!" He shouted back. His one arm wrapped around the box tucked and secured around his waist, and he sprinted once more with his sister.

Gendo guided his sister through the crowd, zig-zagging and slipping around the carts with fluidity. The thick canopy of the trees above them dimmed their surroundings, and Gendo had nothing but the paper-lanterns other people brought with them to see. It made moving around harder, but they didn't want to be late.

A wind blew a breeze and the trees swayed their leaves in response. Patches of light seeped through, it hit Gendo's eyes, blinding him, stumbling him. Bumping and blurting out half-hearted apologies, he continued down the sandy path.

Why is it so dark?

Why doesn't the Hokage cut the canopy already?

Why did he ask so many questions?

He felt his sleeves being tugged, and stepped out of his musings. They reached the end of the road, and thankfully, the canopy too. Everything was brightly lit now, and his eyes stung while trying to adjust to the brighter colors. He continued running, but his mind was still a foggy mess.

His collar rubbed against his neck and he started falling off-balanced—

Shinko grabbed her brother's back before he fell over. He looked at her, but she wasn't looking at him. Instead, her gaze settled on the big man next to them. She was annoyed.

"Ah! Gendo how are you? A fine day for eating bread after all that sprinting, don't you say?" The owner of the arm, a belly faced man with a crawling mustache said. It was Kubo. He managed the bakery that they've been eating from since Gendo and Shinko were children, and he was a dear friend to them.

But they were going to be late!

"Sorry, Kubo-san," Gendo apologized. "We're going to be late for the academy!"

He went around the man, pulling Shinko along with him.

She pouted.

"The academy, you say!" The older man declared, followed by a laugh that came from the heart.

"Yeah, Shinko and me are starting today and good first impressions count. I heard that the teachers there are absolute dictators."

"Say! Come by with Shinko later!"

Reaching the next turn, he turned his head around to add, "We'll drop by after school!"

He watched the boy run away, holding something in his hand, though he couldn't see what he was holding.

Kubo chuckled. Ah, kids and their over excitedness and over imagination. He turned back to enter his bakery, the dream that through his hard work became reality, humming a tune.

But it was a realistic dream.

The run afterward had no problems.

Gendo enjoyed running. Especially with Shinko—her feet flitted on the ground, never touching for more than a heartbeat, like a hummingbird's wings flapping. It was awesome just running against each other, feeling the wind pass them.

They'd usually run around one of the parks in Konoha, playing tag. Few kids ever joined them. But they knew that they were pretty fast. Shinko was like a lightning bolt. Gendo almost never caught her at times, and when he does, he'd cornered her first.

They arrived at their school.

Stopping with their knees bent and their shoulders heaving, breathing in balloons of air. Had they walked the last few or so meters they would have caught their breaths earlier, but the thrill of the run was, to them, something precious. Both would attest they stopped because they were on school grounds and had to give a common courtesy.

The school had this cylindrical look to it. The bottom was large and wide while going higher it got smaller until the end, capped off with a roof. It was like a cone in most senses, and a pretty colorful and bright cone, too. They took the time to marvel the view. This was the place where they were going to spend twelve hours a day for the next three years, and so far it impressed them.

"Hey! You holding invisible things again, twerp?" Like he was gargling charcoal and sharp rocks, his voice rumbled and cracked at odd syllables. He and his gang of misfits, all crossed arms and sneering faces.

They were blocking the way.

Gendo tiptoed past the trio. The kids gave space as he walked past them. They hung behind, moving like an escort with the way they triangled around the siblings.

Thirty seconds later. They jumped in front of Gendo and his sister. Gendo put his hand in front of Shinko, as if his arm would be enough to shield her, and glared at the trio with all the annoyance he could muster. His eyes went to the middle first.

Hiro towered over the kids around him, and as tall as some of the adults as well, but that was due to the bush of a hair he carried on his head, and coupled with his general skinniness, created a tree sapling of a boy looking like he needed more to eat.

He was the leader of the gang.

There were two kids who flanked him at all times. One was the crass Kuroko, whose mouth was as dirty as her hair was long-her hair reaching the ground. Like her name, black was her hair and choice of clothing. To top it all off, a bow placed on her mane-in white surprisingly. She was always by Hiro's right.

On Hiro's left, a boy, one that you wouldn't think of seeing beside a well-known delinquent, or hear of participating alongside with said delinquent in acts of delinquency. Why? Because he was the rich merchant kid, the kid who lived in the nicer areas of Konoha—well-mannered and soft-spoken, he could fool anyone, including him. His name is Kazuma, the diplomat of the group.

They collectively formed the gang that made everyone's mood for the day lower if they happen to meet them, whether it was through practical jokes, ruthless insults or just plain rudeness. And today they were going to ninja school, to be taught on how to hide skillfully, or how to deceive thoroughly. Whose idea was that anyway?

Hiro spoke. "You've got a lotta nerve comin' here on my territory. Didn't I say I didn't want to see you within ten feet of me."

"You said that, Hiro-kun?" Gendo widened his eyes. "But I didn't even hear you! Did you, Shinko-chan?" he faced his sister.

Shinko shook her head.

Gendo covered his mouth with his hand, pretending to be shocked. "But then, if you didn't hear him, who did?" he whispered. Darting from side to side, the blacks of his eyes looked everywhere but at the tall kid of the tri-squad.

"Do you think it was a ghost?"

At hearing the word 'ghost', Hiro's self-control broke, the thin, flimsy and brittle thing. Probably never had a good reinforcing. It was fortunate that he had two people at his side at all times, to latch on to his arms before he did something that would get them expelled on the first day.

"Ghosts are real, asshole!" Hiro roared. Miraculously, not a single one of the busy Konoha teachers came out to see what the fuss was about. Yet, the miracle didn't extend to the already five-minutes-late students hoping to get to class before their teacher finds out, and a group of curious students formed around them.

"What?"

Kazuma glanced sideways. Finally, a situation where they could further their cause. Like butter on a hot pan, he smoothly brought a finger up to garner attention to him.

"My friends! The world is a dangerous place, full of spirits that want to harm us!" His eyes were shadowed. His voice deep. This was him using his skills in persuasion. "Ghosts are real, and they are everywhere!"

He pointed toward Gendo. "In fact! He's-"

One of the kids in the crowd spoke up, interrupting him. "Ehhhh. You guys believe in that crap? Ghosts are just what our mama's and papa's tell us so that we'll behave."

"What? You mean all this time there wasn't a ghost in the basement?" A kid wearing glasses asked.

"No silly, ghosts aren't real!"

Smirking, he grasped the handle of the door.

It was show time.

He slammed the door to the side, opening it and letting himself in. White startled faces of his teacher and his fellow classmates greeted him. Surveying the class and seeing the looks on their faces...this was why he was always late during the first day.

He sniffed the air around him. Surprise. Curiosity. Annoyance. All the emotions he expected to smell—although annoyance added some worry into Naruto's mind, changing it was easy. Gather all the annoyance against him, change it to mirth and humor.

Now, how to do that.

A cough from his newest teacher brought him out of his inside revelry.

Ahah, perfect.

"What's up sensei?" he asked, smiling. Smiles calmed people, always.

"You're late," the man replied. Scarred across his nose and presenting a squarish face, the man glaring at him actually looked intimidating.

Avert gaze, keep smiling.

"Yeah…" he said, trailing off. His gaze shifted from the man's eyes towards the students in the classroom. It seemed that they'd shaken off their shock, and began curiously watching Naruto and the new teacher.

Gather their attention.

"You think he's gonna get chewed off?" Naruto heard one of them say.

Moving his gaze back towards his teacher, he finished, "So what?"

Naruto noticed the scent of annoyance—gunpowdery and rusty—against him increase, but this time none of the students were feeling annoyed with him—instead, it was his teacher.

Gamble.

His teacher rubbed his nose, his fingers just above the where the scar was. "What's your name?" he asked.

"What is your name?" Naruto crossed his arms.

The annoyance didn't increase. Rather, crisply burnt log wafted through the air—anger.

Success.

"Look at the board and read." the green-vested man said, tapping a finger at the blackboard. On the board, a name stood out in white: "Iruka Umino", it said.

"I can get by that. Thanks for showing me your name Iruka-sensei!"

A watered-down strawberry perfume of pleasant surprise and confusion replaced smoking log air. He took a long drag of the scent, his chest warming and stomach growing lighter with each passing breath.

He turned to his classmates.

"Hi! My name is Naruto Uzumaki. and I want everyone to be happy!" Naruto could sense their incredulousness, it smelled of newly printed on paper, and added, "'Cause that's what makes me feel lucky!"

Amusement. The scent of butter on a hot oil pan, delicious and appetizing, like the start of all friendships, emanated from the class as soon as he said those words. Good emotions. Good scents. People should be happy all the time.

It made him feel happy.

Thank god, I'm done! I'd like to give thanks to every dude at the Discord for helping me with this, their help had been most generously given. I'm also sorry for shitting in your Worm fic Jack, love it bb 3 even if that isn't how any of it works, you fugg.

I think I managed to make a start for this fic that I'm satisfied with. I have, like, 5 documents and starting places for this one chapter alone, and I'm glad that I finally managed to find a good enough start for the fic, even if it wasn't the way I originally envisioned it. To be fair to myself, I envisioned it as only-Naruto kind of fic, and then realized quite too late - and after several rewrites - that NARUTO had more than one character. And that I can't make a story without a supporting cast.

In my head, it was Naruto vs all the big, bad villains. Guess what happened next?

If you guessed that I wrote a travel log, then you guessed correctly. I did turn that thing into an outline so, it's all fine! ^^

Also, edited as of 4/7/2018

Did some major editing on Tsukihi and Shinko's parts. I feel like I haven't gotten their narrative style's down correctly, and I didn't want to give false impressions on them and their emotions during the scenes they're in. That and I wanted to distinguish them from the other Point of Views. Also, big sis just went up and said, "Your writing is inconsistent, go fix it." so I did.

I hope that this will be more readable. If not? Then, screw me and my ass and tell me what I did wrong. I'm still new to this writing thing, so any help, through the reviews, through my discord Xynovitch#3277, or through my PMs, will be very appreciated! Thank you for reading, y'all!