～映画物語～

藤原のムラサキ

Murasaki hastened, her limbs shaking with pain and the impending release of spiritual pressure. Stumbling slightly on her bad ankle, she grabbed a large trash can and pitched it straight at Sanjo's face.

She could feel the chakra of several people closing in to intervene, but at the rate her Crown chakra was opening, the wouldn't come fast enough.

Sanjo dodged the trash-can, but the distraction was enough for her to escape, skirting around a crowd of puzzled people. One of the men in the crowd was carrying a Shakujo staff, and she grabbed it as she ran past, yanking it out of his hand and turning as Sanjo pushed people out of the way.

Murasaki felt her Crown Chakra open suddenly like a great eye in her mind, releasing a minute fraction of her unnaturally prevalent spiritual energy into her body, her limbs seeing to move on their own volition.

Murasaki moved the staff, dropping into a fighting position that she had learned at the temple with Chiriku. Sanjo smiled again, the slenderness of his aquiline features making him look almost vampiric, the blood drying with the dirt on his crushed cheek.

There were no words spoken between the two as they stood, facing each other. Murasaki's heart was burning with sadness and anger: she'd trusted him, cared for him, watched out for him, loved him…the pain of betrayal, and the hatred contained within grew like a seed in her mind, and for the first time in living memory, she felt her Spiritual energy flicker slightly.

"Saki-chan, you've released you spiritual energy, haven't you?" Sanjo asked, his tone lazy as he stood a theoretically 'safe' distance away from her, a smile playing across his thin features.

Murasaki made an impatient sound, making the first move, sweeping the staff through the air and sending a air-blade spinning towards her former teammate.
He dodged, the air sweeping back around and striking him in the leg as he rolled out of the way.

"Forward today, aren't you?"

"It's rude to keep a lady waiting." Murasaki said softly, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end as the color of embarrassment rushed to her cheeks.

"Well, then, let me oblige you." His hands became a blur of white and as fast as the wind, a wave of fire came sweeping over her.

Murasaki barely had time to react, putting up a barrier of air. Sanjo swept back, hitting her with a barrage of fire, wearing down on her defenses.

"You're a fool, Murasaki. A stupid little girl. Just accept your fate. Your powers, wind is useless against mine…"

Murasaki felt her arms tremble, her chakra flickering slightly. Sanjo's chakra was much larger than her own, but her control was better. Unfortunately, her spiritual release would wear out soon enough. The ANBU and police were coming, but something seemed to be slowing them down. Sanjo was telling the truth: fire and air are complementary, but opposing…wind only fanned the flames….

Murasaki's air pocket burst as Sanjo blew another fireball. She rolled out of the way, falling against her cheek, her neck twisting until it nearly snapped from strain.
"Idiot!" Sanjo roared, running towards her.

Murasaki let out a gasp. "You set up a barrier! You chased me into your barrier and put it up after I got in!"

"Now we're getting somewhere…" He laughed, drawing a short sword out of it's place on his back, the blade gleaming like flames in the sunlight. He was fast, giving Murasaki no time to react, no time to form any hand seals or draw on her chakra.

It was only her and the staff as defense, and she was beginning to wear out, her chakra down to half it's already small capacity.

Sanjo's tactic was clear: he was going to wear her out, then kill her. He swung his sword down, missing her leg by inches.

She pivoted on the palms of her hands, putting her hand on the staff and pushing her chakra into the staff and kicking Sanjou in the stomach. He was distracted long enough for her to push all of her chakra into the staff, save for the last undetectable fraction.

It was dangerous, but she'd done it before, only once, the last day she'd seen Kakashi…

She fell to the ground with a gasp and a moan, Sanjo standing over her with a smile.

It had to work…it had to, she just had to hang on to the last of her chakra, enough to stay alive…barely.

"Saki-chan…" Sanjou said in a mocking tone, stepping hard on the hand that clutched the staff, crushing the fingers as he forced her to let go, kicking the staff away. It spun in the gravel, landing fifteen feet away "You should know better than to do that around a Sharingan user…though I must admit, it's pretty clever…"

He reached a pale hand down, grabbing the front of her tattered shirt and lifting her to her knees until they were face to face. Murasaki kept her eyes on his lips, unwilling to look into his crimson stare.

"You're pathetic…you can't even look into the eyes of your opponent…your body is bruised and broken, and to think: I used to think you would make such a pretty corps…"

Murasaki coughed, attempting to wrench her shirt out of his grasp. "I'm not done yet." She whispered. She could feel something stirring in the depth of her spirit, like a monster awakening from the fathomless pit within.

Sanjo's face suddenly changed and he dropped her onto the dusty ground. The barrier had vanished the moment the staff had ruptured the edge of it, Murasaki's stored chakra disrupting the flow the same way one would break a genjutsu.

Her spirit felt alive as it never had before, a fire burning deep inside her stomach, like a million fireflies had taken residence inside of her. It was the same overwhelming feeling she had gotten when she was younger…when she had been in real danger, but why wasn't it overpowering her now?

There was a presence nearby that made her feel wilder, her back arching like a cat's as she advanced on her former teammate. The pain didn't appear to phase her at all outwardly, though it frayed on her nerves and made her want to retreat.

A cloaked ANBU leapt down behind him, ready to engage in combat. Sanjo turned around in shock and surprise. Murasaki took this chance to strike, leaping onto Sanjo's back and twisting his head, snapping his neck. There was a heavy solemness to the fatal cracking sound that seemed to break the unexplainable wildness that had come over Murasaki.

Sanjo collapsed beneath her, blood running out of his mouth as he slumped to his knees, lifeless.

Murasaki fell to her knees behind him, her arms still around his neck as she shook, bursting into tears against her dead comrades back.
She'd loved him like family…and now he was dead by her hand…

Murasaki let his blood run unobstructed over her hands, his body still warm in her arms.

It had been easier to believe he had died in the conflict…so much easier to believe the village would just sweep his existence under the rug rather than to believe in his betrayal...

She clung to him desperately, as if by injecting her own chakra, her own spirit, she could somehow bring him back to life…

"Oh…Sanjo…what have I done…"

The ANBU knelt beside her, brushing a few bloody strands of hair away from her face to gain her attention.

"Come, Murasaki-sama…" He offered his hand, but Murasaki wouldn't move, Sanjo's blood cooling quickly on her hands. Eventually, the ANBU forcibly pulled her away, lifting her in his arms and handing her the Shakujo staff.

"I don't want to go." She gasped, struggling against him. It was there: her chakra she'd released, contained at his hip…

"let me go Kakashi." She tore at the black gloves that covered his arms as he hauled her back, tightening around her waist as she thrashed against him.

The ANBU's arms were lean and strong beneath the thick, dark wool of his cloak, holding her back even tighter now that she spoke his name. He lifted his porcelain mask and hitae-ate with one gloved hand, grabbing her forcefully by the hair and tilting her head upward, forcing her to look into his Sharingan.

"I…" Her voice faltered as her head dipped against his chest, his heartbeat ringing in her ears like the soft beat of distant taiko drums. He lifted her gently, carrying her bridal-style down the street.

"Murasaki!"

The smell of smoke, the feel of two arms around her, taking her from the ANBU.

"Dad…you're okay…" She muttered, suddenly aware of how much pain she was in, as if the Toad Sage had awoken her from some kind of malignant spell.

"She's almost out of chakra…" The ANBU said with the utmost gentleness.

Murasaki sniffed, wiping her nose, her hand coming away crimson as passersby stared at the unlikely trio, the police swarming Sanjo's body, taping off the end of the street.

"Stop, Murasaki, don't touch it…" Jiraiya muttered, smacking her hand away. "I think you broke it."

XxX

Danzou leaned back in his chair, torn between anger and relief. The former ROOT agent 01967, codenamed Sanjo, had performed exactly as expected.

That's not to say that Danzou wasn't disappointed: it would have been nice to have had the assassination attempt on Fujiwara not fail for once, but on the other hand, 01967 had been on the burn list anyway.

Danzou sighed, leaning back in his chair, his bad leg aching dully. Perhaps for now she would live, perhaps for now he would cease his pursuit, but the moment his plans began to come into fruition, that is when she had to die. It was too much of a risk otherwise; she'd seen and heard far too much.

But he had to admit, her plan had been clever. Her father had trained her to know her place and abilities as a sensor-type.

Danzou sighed, tapping his fingers on his cane impatiently.

It had been several months and still no word from Megumi. Knowing that stuck up brat, she hadn't even given Orochimaru the message. He was growing tired of this: Orochimaru was the only man Danzou would have for such a dangerous job, and currently, there were two fresh Sharingan sitting in refrigeration downstairs with the others.

XxX

A/N: Picked a really bad place to trail off there... I honestly thought I had uploaded more of this. My bad, I'm so sorry for slowly and painfully updating.

Key:

*Shakujo staff: a staff with a brass/gold decoration at the end which consists of a circular symbol and several rings (depending on the spiritual rank of the carrier, as many as six rings appear. The rings are designed to jingle to make all sentient beings aware of the presence of a priest ). They are carried by Buddhist monks. Miroku from Inu Yasha carries one.

Don't ask why Murasaki carries one. I think it's left over from my 'weaboo' stage. I admit, I was happier ignorant.