This is my next chapter

I don't own Naruto etc. The only characters that are mine are the OCs

Enjoy, review -but no flames

The man's name was Toru Kazayomi. His home turned out to be a farmstead surrounded by a copse of fir trees, about a mile from the main gate into the village, nestled in a valley on the far side of the mountain's base, where the land was flat and the sides of the mountains were steep. We got to the house just as the sun was beginning to set.

He was a simple wood-smith, he told me as we sat in front of the fire on the first floor. He earned a living by cutting down trees in the forests on this side of the mountain and producing charcoal –wood and charcoal were used the people in the village used for heating and cooking.

He taught me how to help, and I did my best. I was happy –even if I remained here for the rest of my life and lived here on this farm, I would be content. But then, everything changed –the day I went into town with Toru.

It was a trip that Toru told me he made frequently in these harsh and cold winters. At this time of year, when the weather was at its worst and people shivered inside, they were in greatest need of fuel for their fires.

I was wearing a check-patterned kimono that Toru had given me, a sheepskin coat like his pulled over my shoulders to keep out the worst of the cold. I was carrying a pack with logs and bags of charcoal, following Toru's lead. Our first stop was an inn near the entrance of the village.

"Many people come through this village on their way to and from the Land of Lightning," Toru told me as we approached. "This is the main tavern in town -those with excess funds from selling their harvest occasionally visit here."

The inside of the tavern was smoky; there was a bar running along the back wall, and people sat in booths with food and drink. A sudden silence fell as some of the men noticed Toru entering the tavern.

Unease flooded my stomach; I recognised the looks –they were glares of hate. But they weren't being directed at me –the glares and dark expressions were focused on the man who had saved me from dying from cold on the streets. But why?

Toru didn't even seem to notice the dislike; he simply passed over to the barkeeper and handed a bag of charcoal and a neat pile of fresh, dry and chopped firewood. He was given a handful of ryo –and then he led me from the bar.

It was like that at every place we went to –hate, mistrust and dislike directed solely at Toru. Only one person seemed to be different –the village elder, when we delivered the supplies to him. But even then, I sensed that there was barely suppressed dislike.

And the village elder was the first person to notice me.

"Who's the girl, Toru?" he asked. He smiled at me, but I felt nervous about it, and ducked behind Toru. He places a hand on my head.

"This is Hazuki," he said. "I rescued her from an untimely death on the streets."

As we left the village about an hour later, after a few more rounds, I was quiet. The unease and hate in that town –it was almost palpable, and all directed at Toru.

"What's wrong, Hazuki?" Toru asked as he led the way back to the house. "I can tell that something's bothering you."

"It's just –why does everyone seem to hate you?" I asked. I knew it was blunt, but I needed to know.

"This village –many people who live here escaped from a great calamity brought about by war, and they hate anyone who reminds them of that time of turmoil. Tell me –have you ever heard of the Second Shinobi War?"

"No," I responded. And it was true –my training in the Hidden Cloud had consisted of techniques, weapons and the vital spots to aim for. They had never taught me anything about history or the surrounding geography. I didn't even know how to read or write.

"Great names arose during that time –but it was a time of great upheaval and turmoil for ordinary people. The battles were harsh –whole villages and lands were destroyed by battling shinobi. Nations were forcibly extending their territory. Ninja were used as mercenaries, and their battles were fierce.

"In this war, different sides battled each other using ninja, some of whom possessed kekkei genkai. After the war ended, the memories of the horrific battles still lingered in the minds of the people. Those with kekkei genkai –those with any ninjutsu skills –quickly became feared and hated for their abilities, out of concern that their existence would only bring about more war.

"This village was built as a refuge for those whose villages had been destroyed. They live a peaceful community –and while they allow passing shinobi to rest and pass through here, they fear those who can control chakra."

I looked around at him –was he really a shinobi? But before I could ask the question, I heard the sound of running feet. I looked around to see men from the village running towards us. They were carrying farming gear –kusarigama, blades, and pickaxes and shovels.

"Can I help you?" Toru asked.

"Yeah –hand over the kid," the largest man said. He was muscular, wearing a kimono that didn't conceal the scars on his arms and chest. "Someone like you has no right to raise a child. Who knows what damage you'll cause?"

I tucked behind Toru, clinging to his leg as I peered around from behind him. The man look stunned, and then turned furious eyes on Toru.

"What the hell have you done to the kid?"

"I rescued her from dying on the streets," Toru replied. "Thanks to me, Hazuki has a future. And I believe she has made her choice apparent."

The men weren't going to back down, and I could see the men clenching their fists. A fight was imminent –I could tell,

"Hazuki –back off a few feet, if you would," Toru requested, a calm determination. I did as he asked, backing behind a tree. Toru spoke to the men, his tone firm. It might sound crazy –an elderly man taking on a gang of men in their prime –but if what I thought was right, the men didn't stand a chance.

I could sense Toru's chakra beginning to rise. He moved at a speed I could barely follow –his age didn't seem to have diminished any of his ability.

When I blinked again, the men were lying sprawled on their backs, some lightly groaning. The leader was on his hands and knees, and seemed to be coughing up blood. His gaze flickered to where I was, before he lost consciousness and slumped forward.

I felt a shadow fall across my back –then someone's hands wrapped around my waist and mouth. Instinct roared through me; I whipped my elbow around, into the ribs. I could feel the person gasp in pain; the grip loosened. I whirled around, slamming a hand into the attacker's stomach and chin, funnelling my chakra into the blows to enhance the power behind them. The person who had grabbed me flew from me, sprawling into the ground, groaning slightly as he lost consciousness.

"That was impressive," I heard Toru say. I looked around to see that he had a hand against the truck of the tree, studying me. "You know how to use chakra –you've had some ninja training, haven't you?"

I nodded, unsure what was coming now. A hand rested on my hair –a gesture that was rapidly becoming familiar to me. I looked up into Toru's eyes.

"I may not be able to teach you the ninjutsu I know, but I can teach you a few things," he said.

My life had changed on that day, for better or worse. On one hand, I had scored a caring and loving mentor; he taught me everything that I had missed out on about history, reading and writing. Under his guidance, I learned about the precise points in the body that marked a fatal spot. He sharpened and fashioned me wooden senbon needles, watched and guided me through various poisonous plants that grew in the woods, as well as several poison-based techniques.

On the other side of the hand, I was now subject to the same looks of dislike in the village –although none had attacked me yet. After that one confrontation, none had come after us again. No-one had tried to remove me from Toru's care again.

Several times, I wondered about telling Toru about my kekkei genkai –but in the end, I decided against doing so.

I fell into the routine of life on the farm, and in the village. I kept my eyes down whenever I went to town, and tried to get out as fast as possible. There was a reason for my haste that had nothing to do with the fear and growing hate towards me –I had been here for three months, and Toru had fallen ill, leaving me to do the work on the farm alone.

I hadn't seen what caused it –I hadn't seen it coming. One day, he was fine; the next afternoon, I had found him slumped in the flower-borders. I hadn't left his side after that, applying all the medicinal knowledge I had learnt from him. A few hours later, he had regained consciousness.

"Don't worry, Hazuki," he said. "I have been ill for a while –there is no cure. I am not as young as I once was –my ninjutsu takes a lot more chakra out of me than it used to." He praised my efforts, but I could sense a feeling of finality in his voice. And I realised –maybe this was the reason he had taken me in –not just saving me, but a desire for company before he died.

The villagers had it all wrong –he was just an old and frail man, looking for peace after a life of battle and bloodshed, and ultimately of loss and pain. After all, that was the path that the shinobi had to walk. How many friends had he seen fall? How many people had mourned the deaths he had caused?

I shaded my eyes against the sun. Early spring was beckoning –every day, new roots pushed up through the earth. It was the first day of March today. The patches of snow were getting thinner, and I used the opportunity to pick several herbs that I knew were good for treating pains and spasms. My medical knowledge balanced my lore on poisons –I had to know how to analyze and create antidotes should I be poisoned, as well as knowing the effects of poisonous plants.

The patches of snow weren't the only things getting thinner –day by day, I was watching Toru fade away.

I wiped my eyes clear of tears –it went against the shinobi rules. Even though I hadn't been able to read them, the Cloud Ninja had still expected me to memorise and live by them. And I had memorised them –I had them word for word.

A true ninja never shows attachment –it only endangers the mission… A true shinobi never shows emotion, regardless of the situation. Feelings are unnecessary, and only cloud his judgement and dim his reason…

And I was breaking both. I adored Toru –I couldn't even imagine what I was going to do when he finally passed away. And I had never been able to force away my tears. But I didn't care –although we were taught to put the mission and responsibility over our feelings, to accept that every mission brought the possibility of dead comrades –we were still human.

I was still a human being –not a monster or a demon, regardless of what I had locked inside of me. That thought brought me some piece of mind.

I stood up and began the walk back to the house. As I reached the front gate, I stopped in my tracks. Something was wrong. The door, which I had closed behind me, had been reduced to match-wood, splintered and broken. Someone had broken in.

I drew a kunai that I had concealed in my basket, moving carefully but quickly. I had no idea who was in here, so I had to be careful. I moved up the porch and moved into the room beyond the door. I froze as I took in the sight before me.

Toru was lying where I had left him, eyes closed, peacefully resting on the mats and covered by the blankets. But there was a gaping hole where his heart was, and blood had splattered his face. There were also superficial cuts on his chest, as though someone had been stabbing at him.

I knew, as soon as I looked at him, saw the blood lying around his bed –Toru was dead, and it hadn't been natural causes. My fists clenched as I knelt beside him, laying a pair of fingers on his neck –I wasn't jumping to conclusions, despite the appearances. But there was no pulse –he really was gone.

But who could have done this?

Of course –it was so obvious. I had seen and shared the hate-filled looks from the villagers.

No-one ever came out this far from the village –this area had almost been safe. Someone had come here –probably one of the men from the village –and sliced up a man who couldn't defend himself.

There was no-one in the village who would mourn his passing –and all of them were suspects. I wouldn't take my anger and hate out on the whole village –no, I would wait and find out who had delivered the killing blow. Then I would strike back.