Nine

Hikari couldn't quite decide what it was exactly that she was feeling. A rare, painful emotion was running its course throughout her mind, and no matter how much she tried to change her thoughts, she couldn't get rid of how disgusting she felt.

She knew from the moment she'd laid eyes on Hachiro that he was a special kind of villain. One who manipulated and broke you down in the cruelest way he knew how, but because of that she hadn't been expecting this. He'd come across as so logical, so calculated, but this? This idea of his was the true epitome of madness.

Hikari wasn't one to hope and pray to the gods above. She wasn't a believer, and she'd never trusted in faith, but here she was, on her knees, tears streaming rapidly down her face, and praying.

"I don't—I don't normally do this but please oh God please don't let him use me. Please don't. If I have to die, I'm okay with that, but I can't die for this!"

"You're mad!"

"Is that so?" Hachiro let out a long sigh, and stretched his bare arms way up above his head, not quite caring about who would see him. Most of those in the Hidden Mist were aware of his abilities. He looked at her, and batted his eyelashes in his signature way.

"Say Samara, aren't there worse things than being a little mad?" Hachiro himself sure thought so. Upon the quick journey around the village he'd had in search of his sister he'd seen somethings that would disappoint him for as long as he was affected by others in the world around him.

Weak shinobi had been training, and from the corner of his eye, he'd actually witnessed a young girl dare to give up. She'd been a small little thing with delicate hands, big blue eyes and stringy red hair. She hadn't been able to keep up with the boys, oh no. The heavy rain had slowed her down, the weight of the swords she carried helped drag her to the ground. Hachiro himself had walked up to her, and he'd smiled down before he'd taken her sword and sliced it at the start of her twiggy arms. After all, why have limbs if you were too weak to use them?

That was what was worse than being mad. Weakness. He could smell fear, weakness and uselessness in the air as he continued a slow walk just behind Samara, watching her quick little steps with focused eyes. It was almost as if the blood of the young shinobi had stained each and every falling rain drop with her scent, as they fell upon his head and soaked his skin he could smell her terror.

Samara looked up at him, with those distinctive eyes she had, and that funny big nose of hers turned up and pointy as she did so. "What you're planning, Hachiro it means death for us all!"

A young boy, built pleasantly plump with rosy cheeks stopped in his tracks upon hearing Samara's words. He was fastened in a large wool coat, the colour of sunny skies, that despite being quite long, still showed the outline of his large structure. It only to a moment for him to realize that he should continue walking. He began to pick up his pace, but it was too late. He'd already made his mark.

Hachiro stretched both of his arms long and far in order to reach the boy, but despite his looks, the child was quite quick. His eyes had grown into saucers, and his mouth had dropped open and wide. "MONSTER!" He had shouted before breaking off into a sprint, "MOOOOOOOOOOOONSTER!"

Samara spun on her heels in alarm, "Hachiro! What if someone saw you!"

Hachiro gave Samara an endearing look, "and what if they did? I'd take them all Samara, don't you understand? It's about the chase, sweet sister. Always about the chase."

"That's-"

"That's the way of the world, sis. But before you get too cross let me tell you one thing. What you read on the scroll, isn't what I plan to do with Hikari, and what I told the brat, well that's not true either."

"H-huh?"

"The girl, bless her little heart, thinks that my plans are to use her DNA in order to revive him."

"But—yours are different?"

Hachiro watched with pity as her face began to light up. Oh how pretty Samara could look if she truly tried. Despite her offside features the girl's happy eyes, and the beginnings of her smile made for a tolerable, almost enjoyable image, but he would break it once again. "Oh sweet sister. Mine, mine are much worse."