Book One: Tsunade's Chance- The Sound of Bells
Author's Mentions:
First off, I would like to thank the following Fanfictians for faving this revised series: BacktoCalifornia05, Blue-Huntress, Hidden94, Janeway74656kat, jjlee3449, Kaiser969 and Star Josherson! Also, special thanks to Kaiser969 and CaptainFlye for alerting! The only reason I did a shout out is because Hidden94 disabled his/her message option so I could not personally send him/her a thank you. And, "in the kingdom by the sea" thanks for your review; I hope this chapter does not disappoint you! (Oh crap I just had a Kirabi moment!) Also thanks to Soraya, Janeway, CaptainFlye, Kaiser and Star for reviewing as well!
Second, yes the 'a' is supposed to be in place of the 'o' in Fanfictian. I noticed that those of Fanfiction do not have a title like those of DeviantArt have Deviants soooo I just came up with one for us Fanfictians! See, it's already catching on! Maybe Fictians for short…
Obaa-san (grandmother)
Okaa-san (mother)
Oba-san (aunt)
Jiji/Sofu/Jii/Ojii-san (grandfather)
Otou-san (father)
Oji-san (uncle)
Nii-san (brother)
Onii-san (older brother)
Ototo-san (little brother)
Itoko-san (cousin)
Nee-san (sister)
Onee-san (older sister)
Imotou-san (little sister)
-teme (bastard)
-ama (less insulting way of saying bitch)
-buso (very insulting and vulgar way of saying bitch)
-dobe (dead last)
-baka (idiot)
RIIIIIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-!
SHUT UP! One moment a screaming, incessant ringing filled the still morning air. The next…
CRASH! SHATTER! BREAK!
Stupid alarm clock! Kami dammed, blasted, infernal, dumb invention! Waking me up at daw-
A cold wave of realization washed over me and encased my heart in ice. An alarm clock had awoken me, not my grandfather. Could… Could it all have been nothing more than a dream? But… It was so long, so detailed. How can something like that have been a dream?
Too numb to sit up I rolled out of bed, and hit the floor with a thud. An echoing sound reverberated around within the confines of my skull from the fall as I simply lay there as I attempted to gather the courage to heave myself off the hardwood floor. I don't know how long I stared at the dust bunnies beneath my bed before I wrestled myself free from the covers. Pink covers, I realized as I sat up still in a daze. I stared around the room, every aspect of it a different shade of pink. No doubt it had originally intended to be bright and cheery but it all seemed so monotonous to me. It all looked the same, one object blended into another; hardly any defining lines were present to the hazy vision early risings brought. I rose from the floor to narrowly avoid tripping over the gaudy blanket only to stand there mind blank of what to do next.
It… Was not a dream…?
I moved as if a Yamanaka or Nara had possessed my mind or shadow respectively. My feet moved slowly across the cold wooden floor toward the closest. With a hand that felt like it was weighted down with Chakra weights I slid the closet door open, reached up and slipped a teal kimono outfit, perfectly identical to the one I had worn the day before, off the hanger. Automatically I slipped out of the pale yellow nightgown and on went the short Kimono with its deep blue obi. My trusty metal brush glided through my tangled hair as if there were no knots at all. The finishing touch was the purple band that tied the majority of my hair, now smoother than the silk sheets that graced my grandparents' bed, away from my face. It still felt so foreign, almost wrong somehow, someway…With a deep inhale through the nose and exhale from the mouth I turned and left the room, my mind in a whirl once more.
It's my first day as a Shinobi. Again or is it all just a- Oh drop it already. You are not going to figure this out. Just forget anything happened before this. This is your only life now.
I knew not whether this was an older, sadder but wiser me that had lived a harsh life, whispering in my ear or just a figment of imagination, a desperate long term effect of a horrible nightmare. But what scared me the most was how I did not care what it was; it was comfort in some strange way. Like a mother would embrace her daughter and share the secrets of life with her. She was whatever she was and I did not care how or why she was there she simply was and I hope always will be just that.
"Tsunade, are you alright?" My mother's worried voice jarred me from the depths of my mind. I looked up at the woman who had birthed me, fought the most grueling pain imaginable for hours to bring me into this world, or any other world for that matter. Her sky blue eyes were not upon me but focused on the bentōshe was preparing. "You know if you do not want to be a Kunoichi you do not have to just because you were born into a Clan. I am not a Kunoichi yet I was born to the Yamanaka. I never will be either no matter how much those probing, gossiping mind readers gripe about 'wasted potential'. Ha! And they wonder why I had your grandmother seal off my Yamanaka abilities so you would not inherit that cursed talent, and therefore have to go through that arduous training like I was-"
"Okaa-san… I want to be a Kunoichi!" I exclaimed. I still struggled to make myself sound like a child. Innocence was still a foreign concept and one that I would forever envy. "I know I'll be good at it! I just know it! I want to fight for this Village. I want to make the Clan proud. I want to learn to be a medical Kunoichi just like Obaa-sama. I want this."
And you have no room to chastise them about gossiping. You can say that again. I mean think! I mean- Oh just give it up already!
The constant thunk, thunk, thunkof the kitchen knife my mother had been using came to stop the gentle clacksignified she had put it down on the cutter board. "Very well, Tsunade. When Hashirama told me it had hit you early I had… I had…" Her pearly white teeth gritted audibly against each other, grinding as if she fought back a curse, though there was really no need. It is not like anything she could possibly want to say was anything worse than what I had heard before, but… There was no way she could know that. "You excelled in every class. Your fighting aptitude is astounding. Your Chakra control is superb. Your aim with a kunai is impeccable. Your speed is great. All of these taken into account for your age, naturally…"
A weary sigh escaped her as her leaned forward on the counter using her hands for support. Her head was down as she spoke once more and her voice hoarse. "I suppose it was a fool's dream that you should chose to not take this path," Slowly my mother's hand wrapped itself around the gleaming knife's handle so tightly her knuckles turned white. "I just hope…"
With speed I never knew she possessed in this life or my last she whirled around. One moment the knife was still on the counter the next it whizzed through the air. For less than an instant I saw my reflection in the knife, but it was all I needed to see my face had paled with shock and my eyes wide in wonder and a to see my face twinge in fear. Not half a second after I had gazed mortified at myself it slipped silently into the single slot of the butcher's block. I felt myself quiver as I turned from the butcher's block across the room to gaze up at my mother in trepidation, her face darker than I had ever seen it. "I just hope you know there is a point of no return."
Stunned silent I followed her out the kitchen with my eyes while my grandmother entered. I could have sworn I saw both of them pause in mid-step for the briefest of breaths as the crossed paths. My heart went cold when my mother faded from sight and my eyes traveled to my grandmother, her face a serene understanding as her own gaze flickered from me to the butcher's block. "I see…" was all she said as she made her way over to the knife. With her right index and thumb she plucked the knife from the wooden slab. She held it out for me to see. "It was a perfect throw. Everything from the stance to the release was absolute perfect but she was slow."
My grandmother's eyes were never ending teal pools of water, absorbing me into their depths. "She was a Kunoichi, once upon a time, Tsunade, the female member of your father's squad. The other member was her brother. They all made Jonin by the age of seventeen. They were assigned to an S-rank together, a reunion mission as they are often called," I knew what that meant but I let her continue. The gravity to her voice pulled me farther into her gaze. "A reunion mission is dreaded, always dreaded. On reunion missions one of them almost always dies, those missions are so difficult that it can only be executed with years of teamwork and cooperation between the Shinobi assigned. A reunion of a Genin cell, should there be more than one left by then…"
A heavy sigh was expelled from her as she offered the knife to me; I took it not knowing what else to do. "Your uncle was killed. She fell to pieces after that. She gave it all up... She does nothing. She does not run or spar. She no longer walks with silence but like a civilian, loud, clumsy... By Shinobi standards at least… She studied them for hours, civilians. She became a civilian. She forced herself to abandon every skill she learned to become a inept civilian," I forced myself to keep my eyes locked on her face of steel, rather than my reflection in the steel knife that continuously begged me to cease eye contact with the old, battle worn woman.
"I do not have distain for your mother for giving up the lifestyle. A loss like she had experienced… Well, it is not something everyone can bear. I have distain for your mother because she does not keep her skills up in case she should ever need to defend you, Tsunade. Although… That knife does make me wonder," I felt as if I had been immersed in ice water rather than my grandmother's words. As she left it seemed the knife in my hand had pierced my heart with jagged elucidation. I had learned more about my own mother in a few days in this life than I had in the years I had lived with her in my past life.
I knew every family had their secrets and that mine was no exception but… How much more about my family could have been hidden from me? Tucked away within the very walls of this mansion? For decades, possibly longer, never to be found, revealed or exposed to the light?
The walk to the Memorial Stone passed in a blur of pastel color and muted sound. If it had been anyone else they would have bumped into people left and right but I was not most people. I was the Princess of the Senju Clan and Leaf Village. Granddaughter to two of the most powerful Shinobi in the country and world, even if my father was just your average Jonin, never had he gained any personal fame. He had none of the Clan's Kekkei Genkai such as our monstrous strength or the Mokuton. Fire and Earth was all he had in his arsenal, but he could not combine them to make lava, an average marksman with kunai and shuriken. He had nothing that made him stand out from the never ending green, blue, brown and black of flak jackets, standard Shinobi pants and your most common hair colors. But that was just the way he liked it for some reason. He never wanted fame.
'A face in the crowd,' he had once told me, 'was safer than a king surrounded by a thousand guards.' I never understood that until I obtained fame myself. Despite all the strength and power I had obtained before, I felt so vulnerable. Opponents both strong and weak tried to claim my life; none prevailed in their hunts, though many tried and some even sacrificed themselves asleep to keep the heir of the Senju Clan alive. But none the less there were points in time where I felt so helpless and lost that it made me wonder in the fame was worth it.
When at long last I had reached what many called 'the grave site' it felt like my head and heart were heavier than the Stone itself. I moved as if I were possessed until I stood before the wretched rock that dared to gleam in the sunlight while over a hundred names were carved into it. Over one hundred names of people that would never walk the surface of the Earth again. Only one Great War had passed and already the Stone seemed to have tripled its weight. In truth it had lost physical mass with every name engraved but whatever it had lost it gained so much with the anguish of the people those names left behind.
Was my named carved into the Stone somewhere in time and space? Who cried over Senju Tsunade, the Leaf's Eternally Young Grandmother? Was there anyone left to cry? Why was I not walking into some light being met by my friends, family and teammates? Why was I not being rushed to by Chiyo so the two of us could start our famed arguments over this or that while being lit up like the skies on a crystal clear night? Why was I not being glomped by my little brother, a pair of matching necklaces gracing our torsos? Why was I not punching Jiraiya for something I should have punched for in our living lives, not the young Jiraiya that I had just met the day before but the older, more perverted Jiraiya that had held me when my brother died? Why…? Why? WHY?
The only answer I received for my never ending stream of agonizing questions was the objective moans and groans that were so familiar yet alien to my memory. I had not heard nor had I felt my small fist collide with the trunk of old oak. I did not remember moving from my spot before the Stone, in contrary I felt as if I were still rooted to the spot… But I was not. Splinters flew in all directions and leaves had abandoned their mother to float through the air only to face certain death within a few days.
"Tsunade-chan!" The moment I had heard Jiraiya's young and astounded voice form behind me my body felt as if it were weighted with stones and air ceased to pass through my body. My motions were identical to one of Chiyo's puppets; stiff yet fluent all at once as I slowly turned to face the white haired child who would someday claim the title of the Toad Sanin. His eye of obsidian gleamed with wonder as they flickered from the tree I had sentenced to death to me, in my immature body; completely unaware I was my physical age nearly ten times over. "How did you do that?"
"I-Uh-Um. Well, you see- I mean…" I stuttered endlessly, my panic increased the moment Jiraiya tilted his shaggy head to the side, a wide goofy grin that would one day turn perverted slipped across his face. "Please don't tell anyone!"
Why did you just beg Jiraiya? Of all people! I don't know I panicked! You're Tsunade! The Slug Princess of the Leaf! And you were and will be the Godiame Hokage, and the best dam medic in the world! YOU- DON'T - BEG!
"Why don't you want anyone to know about that? That was amazing! I mean just think of how much stronger you will be someday! Of course I'm gonna tell our Sensei!" Jiraiya rambled on like all young children do. Shinobi or not they lacked the experience to communicate properly.
I wound up to punch him out of sheer annoyance before I remembered what I had done to that seventy year old oak tree. His mouth glued shut and his eyes became rounder than they had been if that was even remotely possible. Out of fear words began to stumble out my mouth once more. "I- just d-don't tell okay," The fear was not that he would tell anyone but the fact of what I could do at my current strength to his own immature body. Before his body could always take my punches as he became stronger as I did but now…
Jiraiya raised his hands defensively and backed away a step or two before he spoke with a voice that made the leaves that trembled in the breeze envious that they could not quiver as much. "Okay! Okay! I won't tell! If…"
Though my exterior was hard, steely and cold on the inside I was soft and warm yet the there was a coldness over my heart that only sorrow could bring. "If…?" Here we go.
"If you go on a date with me," Jiraiya said slyly with his chin in his hand, his eyebrows waggled teasingly. His eyes squinted at me as if he thought himself so clever that only he could come up with such a seemingly fair deal. I shot him a death glare as my response though I was not sure if that was really what I wanted to do or should have done. He backed off with a lazy shrug of his shoulders. "You'll say yes eventually, Tsunade-hime."
"Ummm… Let me think on that for a second… No! Never gonna happen, baka," I snapped just as Orochimaru wandered, onto the training grounds. He glanced at us with no emotion what so ever before he made his way toward the Memorial Stone, seeming so lost in every way but the physical sense. Jiraiya and I stared back far longer than he had; Orochimaru fell to his knees before his parents' epitaph. Jiraiya and I knew what had happened. The memory was so fresh in both of our minds, for Jiraiya it had happened only yesterday but for me it was reliving a nightmare for the thousandth time. I fought to keep my eyes open, to fight what I would rather forget, to experience it again but it was all in vain. My eyelids defeated my will.
I sat in my seat still, knowing it would be the last time. I reminisced on every detail I could remember from forty or so years ago. We had all been so innocent, so naïve, so ready to take on the world. To protect our home we were willing to give it all but none of us had known just what that had meant. From my seat in the spacious classroom I remembered it all so clearly, my eyelids had won the battle just as they had so many nights when liquor failed to plunge me into a dreamless siesta for it never worked long.
Jiraiya raised one hand in greeting at Orochimaru while his other hand remained behind his head in a leisurely fashion. They and all the other boys filed out of the room in twos, side by side with their male counterpart on their new three-man cells. The girls had remained behind to groan, moan or twitter and brag about whom they had been assigned to babysit for the rest of their lives, but for the rest of whose lives was uncertain and we were ignorant to it all. Would it be for the rest of our own lives, would we die before our male counterparts, or would we be forced to outlive them as was the fate of most Kunoichi?
I remained in my chair, gazing out the window. I waited. It came.
A salvo of denial and desperation filled the warm January air. A shout of pure pain and agony had silenced the palaver of young girls. A fist of iron clutched my torso, ceasing breathing and beat. Orochimaru, in a white and black blur, raced past the window of the classroom window. As he vanished from sight tears welled in my eyes, how could I have missed seeing so much pain in that boy who would eventually become twisted and corrupted with power's lust?
The same way everyone else did. They did not wish to see more than they had to. I-We- Oh just forget it. The whole world was ignorant to how deep the pain was in that boy. We all refused to see. Ignorance is bliss… Or so we all thought.
The memory replayed over and over again in my mind, it completely dictated my conscious. The illusion that only a few moments had past was shattered when yet another incessant ringing jarred me from my daymare just as it had this morning. A crunch! coerced my eyes open to the bleary vision of a crushed alarm clock beneath my bawled fist. As I raised my hand from the wreckage blood dripped from a fresh wound inflicted upon me by the shrapnel of the small, metal object that now lay in shambles before the Memorial Stone. Red beads trickled from the palm of my hand not an instant after I realized the first injury. I opened my hand, within it a tiny, dinged up brass bell.
Hardly aware of myself my eyes traveled in a slow, smooth arch from the destroyed clock, to the dented bell and back again. Confused, I turned to look for the counterparts of my team. There they stood shock still, eyes wide. What…?
"Ts-Tsunade-san…" Sarutobi Sensei struggled to maintain a calm composure as he raised a closed hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. "Tsunade-san, Orochimaru-san, well done. You two can eat but Jiraiya-san…" Sarutobi Sensei towered over Jiraiya, shadow's fell across his face and Genjutsu background of fire blazed behind him, giving him the appearance of a demon. Faster than the eye could see the future Sandaime Hokage took hold of the snow headed boy's shoulder. "You don't!"
I gave the spectacle before me a tilt of the head, a raise of an eyebrow and a quick double blink. It was quite a sight to see the God of Shinobi drag a kicking and screaming six-year-old-pervert-to-be over to the trio of logs that had been there for Kami knows how many decades. Held aloft in the air by Sarutobi Sensei's hand, Jiraiya thrashed about like a fish on the end of a line, waiting to have the hook pulled from its mouth. Carelessly, the perverted brunette threw the protesting future super pervert into the center post with a solid slam! Jiraiya looked just as bitter as I remembered while Sensei pulled a coil of rope from Kami knows where and tied him to the post with a Shinobi's Death Knot. I turned away from the scene before me as Sarutobi Sensei lectured his captive audience, population Jiraiya, about something or another.
Ughlth… The Shinobi's Death Knot… That was a bitch to learn… Well, good luck learning that bastard thing again! What? You mean you are just going to-! Oh, very funny… Hehe. Two minds, one body, shared memories, kid. No one ever told me I could be such a- Well, no dip genius. If anyone had they would have- Yeah, yeah I get it already!
I scanned the clearing for the bentō my mother had half prepared before she had walked away from me, away from her past, who she was… The numb memory from just a few hours ago began in a frame by frame of the large kitchen knife slicing some heavenly aroma instantaneously zipped through every aspect until I saw myself walking out of the kitchen, my mind full and heavy, my hands empty and akimbo to my thighs. The flicker of a self-composed image of a hazy halo of light encompassing the mouthwatering bentō that sat on the counter was a sight that would make an Akimichi cry and my stomach growl with yearning as it scolded me for leaving such a precious entity behind.
The present crashed around me: I was overcome by the maelstrom of colors and bombardment of sounds. Before I had even opened my eyes to the world around me, the colors became more vivid and vibrant than nature could possibly provide. The sky's electric blue illusion surrounded me in an endless whirlpool as it laced with the forest's neon greens and rich browns that danced around me in an erratic craze. The birds' song that had merged with the call of the gentle, early spring breeze became an inundation of mercurial sonance that sibilated in my consciousness. My head lolled to one side while my right hand rose into a Ram seal. A breath left my body. I whispered, "Shunshin..."
For the briefest flash of time I was deprived of the gas of life commonly known as oxygen and an unconceivable amount of pressure exerted itself upon my small body. I warred with the haze that threatened to misdirect me from my destination; howbeit it seemed as if I were jostled through a confined space not unlike Chakra enhanced spitball aimed at the occipital of a Chunin Sensei mid-lecture. My eyelashes jabbed the surrounding skin as it folded and bunched owed to the fact that my eyelids were compressed shut to darkness. The sound of firecrackers echoed around in my head as my ears popped from lack of physical acclimatization to the Body Flicker's effects.
Just as the instantaneous and seemingly endless torture had arrived it vanished. The pressure was replaced with the cracking pain of my own occipital as I was slammed to the hardwood floor, spread-eagle. My ears rang like an explosion tag had just blazed to life within ten feet of m and my body ached just as much so. With nothing but sheer willpower and stubbornness I raised myself into a sitting position; my head lolled from side to side causing my brain to rattle around in its encasing of membrane and bone.
As I rose from the cherry wood floorboards I realized the kitchen was deserted, void of all life but my own. My large child eyes continuously dilated as an eerie chill settled down around me like a morning mist. Shadows seemed to spring forth from every nook, corner and cranny as my gaze moved around the room, as mechanical as a puppet under the control of a novice puppeteer of Sunagakure No Sato. I trembled like a leaf in the wind as I reached for the black bentō with the tips of my fingers from the sheer macabre. The creaks and moans of the primarily wood constructed mansion that surfaced from silence of solitude made me whip around, the bentō clutched to my flat chest. The spicket leaked crystalline tears of aqua pura, its incessant drip, drip, drip pulled me back in time; or is it simply memory of what never was?
Water pure, clean, clean, cool and untainted by the tang salt of sweat; fell upon the crest of the Hidden Leaf Village, lodged deep in the crevasse of metal. Blood painted the grass in sporadic smears and globules as if the verdure were canvas that had awaited the artist's strokes of incitement but instead received a child's temper tantrum of rage and revenge. Anguished screams for one's mother the trill words shrieked and swirled with the wind as it howled and cut through our armor like a freshly calibrated kunai through soft butter.
Battle cries split the air in two, some vowed with revenge with anguish pitching their voices high and cold, others hoarse and tired as they begged to bet let alone, to allow them to sleep… Sparks leapt from kunai as they locked in a hateful and murderous form of handshake, known to all Shinobi from the time of their first battle for their lives. Words of a boast of strength and explanation of techniques, words of surrender, words of mercy are spoken, all synonyms of the same concept; deception.
He approached in a run, katana in hand. Tum-tump. Mud erupted from below his fallen foot. Tum-thump. The battery, brown liquid-solid crashed around the crimson, viridian and sorrel floor of the forest's clearing. Tum-thump. A streak of grey, a flash of armor, a chink! of two katana, a splash in the muck, more blood, the life of an elder for the life of the heir, another sacrifice. There is no longer the beating of my heart within my ears, only the sounds of battle.
I look down at the two bodies before me, one that of a Senju and the other is the body of a Hantaa, a hunter. The latter's face was forever frozen in a state of enraged shock, his body lay crumpled, prone to the ground, another ingrediant to the grotesque stew that would continue to be churned by the tides of combat and poudinig of rain, his blood leaked from a neat score of his jugular.
The elder… How I knew her face well. In my darkest hour of my teenage life she had led the opposition against me. She, who had contempt for all new and young life, gave her life for my own when I stood frozen, mortified by the acts of slaughter. Her brown eyes, pale from a blindness that she had been slowly succumbing to with age, held my gaze. While my stare was blank, as emotionless as a cerial killer's, hers was pleading, she begged me to come down to her. I, the one she had wronged most in this world, was the one she wanted to entrust her final words too, but was there ever a choice?
Dusk bloomed, brilliant bouts of red burst through the thinned clouds of grey pain, a luminescent haze. The mottled the sky reflected its clarit light upon , making the daubs of blood incomprehendable from any other color in the once lush and lively landscape that had been teaming with life but twelve hours ago. Now it simply overflowed with mangled carcasses, human and animal alike, some summons, others nin-ken or other Shinobi trained beasts. Remains of flora lay scattered and trampled, stems bent in an unnatural way, a broken bone, condemed for simply being.
Dawn, it seemed, crept upon us before sun had even completely sunken on the horizon. The few survivors adverted their eyes from the golden light and to the west as the sun edged its way into our lives once more. The sunrise is often used as a metaphore of hope and enlightenment, that day all it was a was a symbol or dread and morning. The toll of the bloodbath would be counted. How many both sides, Hantaa and Senju alike, had lost. How many fathers would burry their sons? How many mothers would engrave an etipaph for their daughters? Which of my cousins would I morn for? No one wanted these answers, but the enevitable came when at last the mild, kaleidoscopic light gave way to the blazing light of day…
In the time before my awakening in this new life, the fate of the Senju Clan was forgotten with time. Perhaps the record was simply stowed away to be lost, a section of history that would never be known less someone should speak of it. But who would? What person would dare dream of declaring the truth of the Senju Clan's demise? What fool would announce to the world that the Senju Clan, of one hundred and twenty six strong had marched to their deaths for a matter of pride and honor? What thoughtless buffoon would cry out in the streets that the all powerful Senju's had been all but completely eradicated by a Clan of cannibalistic, sadistic barbarians known as the Hantaa? Could there ever be someone so stupid as to shout from the rooftops that there was only seven of the well over a hundred Shinobi that had waltzed into a brawl with such dangerous opponents so carelessly? Not if they valued their lives they did not.
My grandfather, my grandmother, my granduncle, one other elder, two distant cousins and I were all that survived that battle. Nawaki-kun, too young yet to fight had been left at home in the care of the sole remaining member of the Utatane Clan; there were no others his age. Before the near massacre a plague had swept through the compound, the unknown pathogen claimed anyone whose Chakra coils were still hardening, molding to their bodies, their spirits. My brother was a miracle to the Clan, a symbol of hope. In time Sofui-sama, Oji-san, one cousin and Nawaki-kun were all too claimed by war. My grandmother by age and the resealing of the Nine Tailed Demon into that energetic redhead, the Bloody Habanera, the other cousin by suicide a mere few months after the genocide. As far as the world knew, I alone remained, the Last Senju, but even I too eventually became a victim of war…
Droplets of unsalted tears. Blood. Screams. Fierce cries. Kunai clash. Jutsu fly. Lies told. Another opponent. Another sacrifice. Another face. Another corpse. Or two... Dying words left unfinished. Another dusk. Another dawn. Death. It's all the same… It's all war…
Nothing could stop the memories for simply being so yet that was all they were, memories. Figments of a distant past that may, may have or may not even exist or existed. The world I had known, a canvas marred with blood, was far behind me either way. I do not know or understand why I was suddenly presented with a new realm, a life yet to be ventured and lived. As my thoughts on what was truly happening progressed the more I began to realize the big picture of it all, rather than the minuscule details, too small and possibly too insignificant to matter and comprehend. I had been granted what so many dreamed of, what they craved or what some simply wondered. The dimension or past life I had lived hardly mattered. It was all simply memory, nothing more, nothing less.
How different will my life be now? In this world, this new life? With this second chance? I think the real question is-Shunshin...- How much of a difference can you make?
The entire experience was a mystery enfolded in enigma boxed in a conundrum. The telepathic thoughts of my elder self floated in my mind as the interior of the Senju Mansion blurred into smears of earthy colors one moment then the next it was all far behind me. My eyes remained open to the indistinct world around me, each color twined with another, every object horizontally elongated. As is customary with the venerated Shunshin No Jutsu, a mild headache pulsated across my forehead where my violet Yin Seal would someday be. The suffocating pressure that had been exerted upon me previous still remained but lessened by far, my breathing sounded asthmatic, my windpipe felt as if someone had it within their ironclad grasp but I could still breathe.
I closed my eyes for a moment, simply to allow the mysterious sensation to enfold itself around me. Despite some drawbacks to this vital Jutsu there had always been something relaxing about the Body Flicker that could not be explained in any way possible but the fact that it gave the illusion that the world around me seemed to be what was moving, not myself. The term 'walking on air' had been actualized from the Shunshin, it never seemed like your feet touched the ground. When accustomed to Flickering you felt weightless, like there is not a care in the world.
There was a debate as old as the Jutsu itself over which was the best portion: the Jutsu and its effects of sheer headache inducing bliss or the reactions of the unsuspecting as you pop out of nowhere in or onto the oddest of places. The sheer thought of the reactions of my chibi-fied teammates could possibly pull as more than enough for the gears in my head to groan to life as I began me to begin to plot my entrance…
Let's see here… I could stand on top of the post, arms folded across my chest with the bentō dangling from my hand by its checked white and pink cloth wrapping. Standing with most of my weight on one leg would give an appearance of superiority and smugness, projecting the fact that I could 'already' Shunshin. How it would irritate Orochimaru if I were to pull such a feat and rub it in with such a stance. It would serve that Hebi-teme right for all the grief he put Jiraiya and I through for so many decades. But… He has not done that yet here in this timeline and now, if given the chance, he may never…
Well, that idea's scratched now isn't it? I would have to say so.
I could always land on the log in a lotus position… One foot placed on top of the opposite thigh with sole facing upward, heel close to the abdomen. The other foot is then placed on the opposite thigh in a symmetrical with my knees touching the wooden surface flaunting my flexibility. My head in hand, one elbow resting on my knee while my other arm is draped loungingly over my folded lower extremities. My bento resting on top of my crossed legs in between my heals… Then again that would be kind of gross… My the bottoms of my dirt dusted sandals touching my lunch, even if it is wrapped, it's still unsanitary…
Curse me knowing way too much about germs… Idea two… Scrapped. Crap… Sheesh, kid, you just can't make up your mind can you? It's your mind too ya know! Oh stop arguing with yourself and just think of another pose? You sound crazy arguing with yourself! I'm not even going to justify that with a response…
Maybe if I were sitting on top of the log, legs dangling over the edge, bento in my lap, hands out behind me supporting my weight... Or perhaps, I should lie on my stomach, head in my hands or resting on my forearms, bento in front of her, her legs in the air kicking back and forth... As I pondered my options I closed my eyes for what felt like a decent five minutes but in reality was but a mere few seconds or so.
Somehow, those just don't feel right at all… What do you mean? They sound cute… Yeah cute, sure. But it's a little too cute. But wouldn't the cutesiness of it all throw those two idiots for a loop? Hmm… I see your point...So many possibilities to such a simple task but I only have one opportunity to get this right... So much trouble just to screw with those two… One winner…This is little bit of an over kill don't you think? But whi-?
THOMP!
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What the…? Hell…?
Slowly the child body I was entrapped in regained feeling; almost as if there was a gel that was oozing its way down my extremities it banished the numbness to the farthest reaches of my mind. With cloudy mind I began to realize I was no longer in motion, but halted and pressed up against something firm yet soft. The Shinobi blue sandals were steadfastly planted on the ground, my toes tickled by blades of grass. The aches of various boney prominences crept into being. A pressure built in my chest and head as I became aware I was not breathing but the only result of any effort to take in the gas of life was a muffle "Mmph…!" My eyelids flittered in a spastic rhythm for a heartbeat's time before I could coax them open to the dying light of day.
The sight that greeted my eyes dilated my pupils the size of olives and seemed to silence the world around me. My undeveloped chest ran cold even as the beating of my own heart quickened and the color drained from my cheeks. My own orbs of honey met twin pools of fathomless obsidian dominated by pupils darker than night without the moon or stars. For what seemed to be an eternity neither set of oribitals averted their gaze from the other until at long last the reality of what happened hit me like lighting through the very depths of the mind. Jiraiya… I… I was kissing Jiraiya!
Panic swept my body in the form of a frigid death shroud; far surpassing an equivalency to being thrust below the surface of a lake in the northern most regions of the Land of Iron. I stumbled backwards, tripping over stone that protruding from the soft earth and landing with a firm and unavoidable thump. My bentō flung from my hand and by the sound of it the wrapping had come undone, the lid flung off to Kami knows where, already crushed from being pressed up against… It was too horrible to even think his name let alone acknowledge what had just happened.
I stared up in horror at the chibi version of the would-be infamous Jiraiya, the Legendary Super Pervert. His face frozen in a peaceful, shocked expression, eyebrows arched high and lips hardly left their half open circle from the… A burning sensation filled my throat as I hardly held down the searing stomach acid as my white haired teammate's head fell into a cocked position. My respirations quicken and all I could hear was the thumping of my own heart.
The corners of his lips twitched. His eyebrow fell downward into an almost cunning arrangement. Those orbs of liquid night glistened as if a thousand stars had just ignited. The grin… That perverted, gleeful grin spread across his face like melted butter as he came to the very realization of what just occurred that I had not moments after it happened. He opened his mouth to speak a torrent of jubilation of how he "knew"… But they were never spoken.
One moment I sat on the ground my arms supporting me. The next, I stood, arm extended, fist gripped around something soft and malleable. Everything I saw was red, whether with embarrassment or rage I could not be certain but Jiraiya's face was all that remained clear. That stupid expression that clearly said 'derp' and nothing else froze as such with a single onigiri stuffed halfway into his mouth.
I stepped away my entire body quivering as I pointed a finger at the stunned little perv. "If you… Ever… And I mean ever mention this incident again… You… You…" I never finished or even knew what the threat would be but whatever I could have thought of… I think it was best off that no one, including myself, ever knew.