～映画物語～

藤原のムラサキ

Murasaki sat quietly at Irchiraku ramen, picking absently at the fried noodles and pushing the vegetables away with her chopsticks. Her father sat beside her, slurping his noodles noisily as his bulky frame filled her right field of vision.

"Something wrong with your noodles, sweetheart?"

"No, they're good…" She said softly, picking up a piece of egg and inspecting it carefully.

"Is there another reason why you haven't eaten for the past three days? I'm guessing it has something to do with your last mission…"

Murasaki sighed, putting her chopsticks down and staring at her food.

"Dad…I can't handle this anymore."

The small ramen stand was silent, save for the sound of Ichiraku-san frying noodles for a take-out order. Ichiraku's nine-year-old daughter sat on the other end of the counter, humming softly as she did her homework.

"What, exactly, is it that you can't handle?" Jiraiya asked carefully after a few moments.
Murasaki took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"I'm not allowed to talk about it…It's just, being a kunoichi, and watching my comrade's die, sacrificed and thrown away like garbage…"

Jiraiya put his chopsticks down and looked carefully at his daughter. The fourteen year old had grown so much since he first met her…perhaps she had finally come to an understanding of what it meant to be a tool called Shinobi?

"You are having second thoughts about being a kunoichi?"

Murasaki squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't know. I can't tell you what happened, and that's what's tearing me apart the most. Those people who aren't coming back, just cast aside like garbage…I can't help but think that, what if it had been…" She stopped, frowning.

"You." she finished feebly, an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of her stomach as her mind jumped to thoughts of Kakashi.

Jiraiya sighed, signaling to Ichiraku-san that they needed takeout bowls. "Murasaki, you know this world…what is it that you are always calling it, the melancholic nature of life? The Mono no aware. You said yourself that life is fleeting, especially that of a shinobi. It is true that someday I will die, as will you, but that is a risk we all take. We are tools for the benefit of the Daimyo, for the protection of the Village and the civilians therein." he paused to thank Ichiraku-san for the take-out bowls before he continued.

"When we choose to become shinobi, we are turning ourselves into objects…"He said, pouring the contents of the bowls into the disposable containers.

"It just doesn't sit right with me…" Murasaki said, motioning to her chest as if there was a hole there.

Jiraiya nodded, standing up and looking around. "Let's discuss this at home, okay? This is not the best place…"

Murasaki nodded, sliding off the stool and falling into step beside her father. She knew full well that they most likely wouldn't discuss anything when they got home. They had a good relationship, perhaps abnormally good, but they often forgot what they were going to discuss. Once they got home, Jiraiya would go out and 'gather information' for the books he was writing, and Murasaki would spend her evening corresponding with Lady Ise and Chiriku as well as writing her own stories. Occasionally, she would get a letter from Asuma, with a note she would take to Kurenai, but she and her father usually digressed once they got home.

Murasaki barely looked up as she walked steadily beside her father. She could tell he kept glancing sidelong at her, but said nothing for a very long time. Murasaki kicked at a pebble as several shady looking people shuffled past. The clunk of Jiraiya's geta on the loose gravel of the street rang in Murasaki's head, filling it with a dull ache.

XxX

The cool darkness of Murasaki and Jiraiya's shared apartment proved to be the worst hell Murasaki had endured. As each hour passed in endless succession, she tortured herself without meaning to do so, replaying the events of The Conflict in her mind.

Jiraiya had left hours ago, night having long since fallen on Konoha.

Murasaki had been dreading this time of night since she had gotten back from that ghastly mission in the Land of Rice.
Every night, she would gradually become a victim of her own torturous mind. She was dying to tell someone, anyone, just what the Hokage had done, what had happened, and the injustice she felt.

But on the other hand, she knew that it was indisputable, and that every time a shinobi went into battle like that they knew full well that that could be their fate.
Murasaki lay on her bed, the dim light that emanated from the window casting everything in an eerie blue tone. She heaved a heavy sigh, closing her eyes with no where to go but to sleep.

XxX

The moonlight pierced the shadows beside Jiraiya and Murasaki's apartment, the figure of a man in his late teens sat alone, his legs swinging freely over the edge of the tall building as if he were ready to just leap off.

Kakashi sat, contemplative and masterfully silent as he stared into the older man's apartment, the silver-blue moonlight falling across a face tortured in slumber. A frown crossed his features, his chest suddenly feeling tight as his eyes burned at the corners.

The memory if Murasaki beneath the burning cherry trees, her face ashen-pale, her face a portrait of sheer serenity…the thought almost brought Kakashi to tears. He had almost been too late again.

The slender ANBU's eyes never left the face of the girl in the apartment as he tried to pry his mind away from such macabre thoughts: his family had a history of depression, and this was not helping….

"Anything worth repeating."

Kakashi cast a lazy glance over his shoulder after taking a moment to regain composure.

"Ah, sorry, Jiraiya-sama…" He said, scratching the back of his head and arching his eyes upwards sheepishly. "I was just lost on the path of life again…"

"Right…" Jiraiya said in a tone that said he didn't believe him, setting himself comfortably beside the teen.

"Where would you like me to begin?" Kakashi asked, watching as Murasaki rolled over in her sleep, the pale light from the moon making her face appear even more ghostly.
"How about with the Iwagakure incident."

"Isn't that a little personal?" Kakashi asked reluctantly.

"Yes, but I want to know what has her so upset. She's not eating, barely sleeping…something happened out there and I want to know what, something she's not allowed to talk about." Jiraiya said, taking his pipe out of his pocket and packing it. There was an exponential amount of silence on the rooftop before Kakashi broke it with a low voice.

"It was one of the worst battle's I'd ever seen." Kakashi said narrowing his visible eye and looking up at the moon, which was reflecting off of the porcelain mask he had pulled up on top of his silver mane. "The entire rice paddy was red with blood, doused in flames…if the heat didn't kill you, organized bands of Iwa-nin did…and I got there towards the end of it. After the peace talks earlier in the week had gone down hill, there was three days and nights of fighting…"

Jiraiya made a grunting sound as he lit his pipe, motioning for Kakashi to continue. Kakashi arched his back slightly before continuing.

"I don't know exactly what happened…I sent Bull out ahead of me to find her specifically. If we hadn't got there sooner…" Kakashi trailed off, his voice faltering ever so slightly. "Sarutobi-sama has decreed it to be a village secret, in the name of peace. Even talking about the incident is treason…just like with the kyuubi."

"I see…that's…interesting…" Jiraiya said darkly, moving his pipe away from his mouth. The rooftop fell into silence, Kakashi's heart hammering against his chest as Murasaki got up, turning the lights on. He shouldn't be feeling this way…it was wrong, he was an ANBU captain…who felt such concern for a girl that it nearly undermined his loyalty to Konoha…

"Another thing…about ROOT…" Kakashi said suddenly, surprising even himself. "I hear they're looking for Orochimaru now…"

Jiraiya put his pipe down for a moment. "Is that so? And how do you know?"

Kakashi was silent. The real reason he knew he wasn't sure he could ever reveal to Jiraiya…

"It's just a rumor." Kakashi muttered.

"Hn." Jiraiya said, placing the pipe back between his lips. "That's interesting, troubling…" He muttered around the lacquered stem.
More silence followed, Kakashi feeling, for the first time, uncomfortable around Jiraiya. The sannin sensed this, looking over at Kakashi.

"Is there more to this 'rumor', Kakashi?"

Kakashi shook his head without missing a beat. "No, it's just a rumor I heard."

The rooftop fell silent as a moth fluttered up from a nearby streetlamp, crossing the moon as Kakashi followed it with his eyes. It felt like a million moths were fluttering inside his stomach.
The truth was, Megumi had come to him with a proposal a week and a half before. She had told him that he would have trouble with his Sharingan in the future, potentially fatal trouble, and that she could fix that with her father's help. When the initial offer was made, Kakashi's first thought was of Murasaki.

It was all he could do to keep from killing Megumi. She had broken into his apartment and was sleeping in his bed, on top of that, she was now considered a rogue ninja…kill upon first sight were his orders.

Then she had the audacity to make the proposal while wearing only his shirt, since her clothes were drying in his dryer…

Megumi would help him with his future problem, if she could become his lover…

There on the moonlit rooftop, Jiraiya seemed to know his thoughts, looking at him patiently as if to reveal all that had transpired.

"It's Megumi?" Jiraiya said, the pipe smoke curling silently through the air.

"Yeah." Kakashi said sharply, looking away guiltily.

"You need to tell me these things." Jiraiya said patiently, like a father would say to a son.

Kakashi suddenly found himself spilling the entire story out to Jiraiya, including his thoughts and emotions. Jiraiya listened in patient silence, his face that of sheer kindness. When Kakashi finally fell silent, as close to the verge of tears as he could get, Jiraiya took his pipe out of his mouth, resting his hand on his knee and looking squarely at the son of the White Fang.

"You listen to me, boy, you have a decision to make, and from the sounds of it, soon. But if there is one thing you need to heed, it is this: DON'T LET OROCHIMARU GET HIS HANDS ON YOU."

Authors Note: wow, update. I was worried I couldn't do so. I'm such a paranoid (and lousy) editor. I've had writers block/fear for the past bit, but hopefully it's gone for a bit.

review plox?