She hadn't realized just how loud the market could be on market day. How invasive the smell of spices were, or how all the bodies pressing against each other, sweat, dust and greed mixing and churning violently, could make her feel so very, very, dirty.
The girl elbowed her way past a group of arguing salesmen, hoping desperately to put distance between her and the trash littered alley she had just emerged from. They didn't look up as she past and she bit her lip nervously, spurring her stinging body to move faster.
That nobody noticed, or cared, about her obviously bloody and torn state was not alarming. She could already feel her wounds healing, her flesh pushing out the slivers of glass and wood that fell soundlessly as she walked. Drying blood evaporated off her skin and clothing, trailing behind her in long, faded wisps. Soon, the only evidence of her encounter with death would be her disheveled appearance.
She lost herself in the crowd easily, feet moving quickly through the busy streets. She chanced a glance around her, searching eyes roving for red clouds and dark demeanors. She found none, but that didn't deter her from quickening her pace.
The girl stumbled, bumping into someone and falling to her knees. The unexpected pain caused her to yelp and an indignant shout had her quickly muttering an apology. Her voice was horse and she swallowed, trying to sooth the throat raw from screaming.
Had that nightmare really happened?
The young woman stood, swaying, and pushed quickly in the direction of her apartment. She couldn't stay here.
She knew it had been real. She had seen it. And if they were who she thought they were…
Biting the inside of her cheek and ducking around a vegetable stand, she turned quickly down a corner, sighing in momentary relief at the sight of her rundown apartment building.
Hers was on the third floor; she raced into the foyer and up the stairs, distractedly waving away the startled greeting of the old landlady. Panting, she topped the final staircase and leaned against the wall of her floor's hallway, sucking down air and tracing the peeling wallpaper with trembling fingers.
She could feel the shock beginning to wear off, tears fogging her vision as she anxiously walked to door number twelve and unlocked her apartment with the key still blessedly in her skirt pocket.
Why hadn't she stayed home today? The Dream had been so clear.
The young woman felt panic begin to overwhelm her as the door clicked shut behind her, stubbornly swallowing it back and forcing herself to begin gathering items. She found a knapsack in her coat closet; the green and brown one Jack had given her, and for a moment, she faltered. He had been such a kind man, taking her in and helping her. The old geezer had even helped her find a place to live and offered her a job. She would miss him.
The girl felt warm liquid slide down her face as she shook herself, mindlessly stuffing food supplies into the bag and hurriedly making her way to her bed room. She didn't have time to think about that. When she was safe she would… yes, when she was safe.
She threw the closet doors open, dragging out an assortment of clothes and ruffling through her dresser. She didn't have much, but she had never cared for fashion and never had the money to buy fancy things anyway. Thus was the curse of the poor.
She flicked off her soiled shoes with a kick, slamming her small feet into an old pair of boots after she shimmied into the most unassuming clothes she could find. She left the laces untied, dragging on a plain brown coat and flinging herself out of her bedroom and down the short hallway.
She was half way to the front door before she realized she wasn't alone. A wave of dread filled her, the all too familiar feeling of a premonition reaching out and gripping her beaten form as it dragged her awareness into a Waking Dream. Time slowed, movement stopped, and colors brightened in her eyes. She watched helplessly as thousands of actions, choices and possibilities, converged and shifted, merging into the most probable future. Then she was released, wisps of the Dream still clinging to her sight. The girl realized that she had stilled, limbs shaking after experiencing hours in the single moment between closing her eyes and opening them. She bit her bottom lip, angling her head down and to her left before turning around slowly.
Kakuzu sat calmly on her ratty couch, elbows resting on his knees and the entwined fingers of his hands lightly placed on the fabric of his mask. The young woman swallowed as she met his gaze, her long fingers wringing the strap of her knapsack. He watched her, strange eyes calculating and features unreadable.
The girl was so engrossed by his looming presence that she failed to notice his partner in the kitchen. Her head snapped around fast enough to give her whiplash when a loud curse sounded from the adjacent room. She glanced back at the sitting man nervously; terrified now that she knew they had followed her home.
An abrupt crash sounded and the girl swiveled towards it, hesitantly taking a step closer. She could feel the weight of Kakuzu's eyes as she slowly continued to the kitchen, halting in the doorway and chancing a look inside. A bloody scythe lay awkwardly on the counter, as if it had been thrown there, and as she looked about the room she was dismayed to find all of her cabinets open; their contents strewn about the floor. Her light eyes trailed from the defiled kitchen upholstery, to the open door of the fridge. A large hand gripped the door, ring glinting as muttering drifted over to her.
"Damn woman. Where does she keep the bloody sake?" The man rifling through her food mumbled.
Jars dropped, shattering, and she wondered why she hadn't heard the intruders sooner. She glanced back at the ominous figure sitting in her living room, noting how his position had hardly changed save for the turning of his head as he watched her. She swallowed again, wondering if the reason she hadn't run screaming from the building was because the shock really hadn't worn off. Or was because she knew she wouldn't even make it to the front door?
There was a shout of triumph, and the young woman turned just in time to see the bastard who had brutally slaughtered her less than an hour before take a long swig out of her last jug of sake. He made eye contact with her over the rim, smirking and letting the bottle tumble to the ground as he wiped his mouth with the edge of his bloody coat cuff. It painted his face in streaks of red. She shuddered, shrinking back and his smirk widened at the sight.
"Well, look who it is! All bright and fresh and not dead." Hidan's voice lowered to a growl at the end, features twisted in an angry snarl as he slammed the fridge closed and crossed the space between them.
The young woman's eyes widened and she stumbled away, trying to keep distance between them. She almost ran into her couch in her attempt to back away from him, mentally irritated when her vision flashed for an instant of vivid cognition, the image of her tumbling into the other murder's lap unamusing. She swerved at the last moment, bolting towards the door as more images, memories mixed with wisped predictions, awakened a spike of true terror through her numb psyche and overwhelmed her logic.
The short haired woman braced a hand on the door frame, franticly reaching for the iron handle and preparing to throw back the door and flee for her life. She screamed as a familiar pike found its way through her left hand, sinking through her flesh with a sickening crunch and pinning her to her own door. Tears clouded her vision and she opened her mouth again to scream in frustrated pain, seeing no way out of this, no matter how many times the possibilities shifted.
A large hand clamped over the bottom half of her face with bruising force, drowning out her voice and cutting off most of her air. Another blood stained hand reached past her, splaying casually on the wall beside her wounded limb. A clicking sound reverberated in her ear and warm breath tickled over her bare neck, the man behind her tutting in mock disappointment.
"Now that was stupid. Why would you do something like that, eh Sora?"
The use of her name raised the hairs on her arms. She gasped when his grip on her face loosened.
"H-how do y-ou-?"
"Know your name?" Hidan chuckled gleefully and Sora could feel the movement where his chest touched her back.
She shuddered.
He pulled his hand from the wall, letting it trail slowly up her pinned arm before it disappeared from her vision. He shifted behind her, and then something blurred in her face, causing her grey eyes to cross in bewilderment.
"I took it off you when we were, ah, becoming better acquainted."
Sora focused on the object before her, mouth popping open in a small 'o' when she realized what it was. Her name tag, the one that she had painstakingly sewed to her uniform, was pinched between his darkened fingertips, and she noted with distant dismay how frayed the edges of the fabric were. It must have been torn off.
She gulped at the familiar image.
Why, oh why, did her Dreams always have to come true?
AN: Eh, long in coming?
Review Please!
~Delgodess