＼(＾▽＾*)Kenny-chan Cant Spelll(*＾▽＾)／
Disclaimer: K Mashi Owns Naruto Not I Or anyone Else For That Matter
Guns Don't Kill
I was good. Very good a shooting. The M4 5.56 assault rifle was my gun of choice. Many others had little difficulties shooting the targets given, mainly due to the fact that as Konoha ninjas we where rather experienced with aim. But I was particularly good. So good that I was immediately appointed captain, the second rank of a fighter.
This was the first title I was ever given apart from a member of team seven. That title means much more to me.
The world has gotten to be much more since then. I was nineteen. Me, Naruto Uzumaki, Sakura Haruno and our jonin captain Hatake Kakashi had gotten back from our first mission in weeks. We all knew the state of our nation was bad that day. We silently refused to talk about it. Missions where no longer being assigned. People started loosing their houses. New security was equipped at every stop. We remained wordless as our own Hokage was found dead in her office.
No one said anything. Then one day Kakashi sat down and talked with us. We should have seen it coming. It seemed so clear thinking back on it. But that moment shocked me horribly.
It seemed we did not know the extent in how bad our nation situation was. Team seven was forced into the enrollment of this war. The village was placed under new rule. The concept of a ninja was now defined as someone who could wipe out a man with one blow. A fighter
The feeling of power I possessed was like nothing I felt before as I moved up my ranks. When Konoha changed, it seemed to drag anyone caught it its grasps with it.
Inuzuka hardly spoke, unless of course it was about wiping out a group of 'poor bleeding fuckers' a term he often snarled before sniping members of the enemy. Weather or not they are on the battle field had no concern to him.
Nara had become something of a strategizer, all his head could ever rap around was exterminating the largest group of people in the shortest amount of time.
Even Akimichi, the once obese man had become somewhat of anorexic, constantly filled with the fear of poison making it's way into his meals.
Power was my source of energy. I loved the feeling of pulling out my gun. Feeling the after taste as it broke into the air. Where it landed was a place my head had not yet been able to comprehend.
Soon I moved into the same rank as my once ninja teacher Hayate. We where sent to infiltrate a major town on enemy territory not less then a month after I became acquainted with my rank.
I remember watching as Haruno, created the weapon. She too now a different person all together. Her floral hair no longer died, and instead light brown locks limply hung on her shoulders. Her jaded eyes hazed over and hardly even locked in with mine as she put together the ingredients. Her medical skills lead her to the place she is today. A creature of infection.
She shifted back and forth, throwing bits of minerals in the soon, caudate nucleus decomposition powder. If a human inhales the mixture, within the next twenty hours the center of you brain will dysfunction, break apart and kill you. And it spread like wild fire.
I saluted her as she handed me the enclosed toxins, her blank emerald eyes blinking before getting back to her work of infection. Never a word was spoken from the girl's lips.
We set off early in the morning. Getting in was simple. Children, mothers, and fathers paraded the streets. I remember a member of my squad whispering at how weak our enemy was, with joy. Responding to such a statement was not something I could do at that moment. My own streets flooded with shoulders and guards. The difficulty that involved entering any building, even if you belonged to the community. The goodness of it all. How much sweeter weakness seemed.
We sometime later found ourselves at the top of a tall building, overlooking the lively city. The team, figuring the best way to scatter the disease so that it kills as many people as it could, while I stared. When I started this task less then three days ago, our enemy wore an empty face. I had killed before. I had killed many people. I knew the faces that people made as they tried to do the same. I knew the face of desire. I knew the face desperation. And more often then not, I knew the face of a dead man.
The mouth hangs open destroying the previous chagrin, eyes cloud as the pupil opens to an endless black paradise, a crumbled up man is all that would be left as the face falls forward, knees breaking underneath. I do not want these people to where such faces.
It was then when our Commander cursed loudly. It seemed that the fear the toxic disease, not only on the people of the city, but possibly though our own lungs evolved at that moment.
We where told holding our breath would be they only option, and there was much belief that it would work fully. I made no objections as our Commander called out Hatake.
"What is that covering your mouth?" He asked in rage-suffocated words.
"This is the mask I always wear Commander."
The man snarled.
"Do you think your better then everyone else?"
"No sir."
"Do you think you're the only one who doesn't deserve to die?"
"No sir."
"Good. So take that mask on immediately."
This idea always intrigued me as a child. Naruto, Sakura and I constantly talked of ways of getting that mask off. I even came to the point that we would take the man out to lunch just to get a look at his concealed face. But when that order was breathed, I downcast my eyes. I did not look at the face of Kakashi Hatake. A man deserves to be stubborn when they are risking their life.
I was the one whom opened the bag, watching the chocolate powder hitched with the wind. It swept through city unnoticed by the mothers, holding bags of groceries for her family. It went unnoticed by the fathers, looking through windows for furnisher. It seemed the children noticed it though, as they wheezed and rubbed their tainted eyes.
The next day, seventeen hundred people died. All of them considered are enemies but one. There was no grave. Too many already filled the land. Instead all that was done was a delivery of news. Not even sad news, mind you, just news. I don't believe anyone cried. There was quiet a line of people he would have had to get around if we cried for everyman lost in our field. I do believe our Commander whimpered a bit. I may not have peered over at his face that day, but I can tell you it was something of a limp jaw, hazed eyes, endless black splotches and knees the broke from under him. I never thought that would be the face of my teacher. The face I always yearned to see, it is far to common to be constantly cloaked. But our Commander never regretted his order.
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Love Kenny-chan