Human

Whirlpool Arc

Chapter 8

Rin

Rin

Rin followed behind Nurse Yume as they made their way back into Konoha. Nervous anticipation set her senses on high-alert, and her eyes darted wildly from place to place, checking and double checking to be sure that the shadow-man who had stalked her through this bastardization of the village was nowhere to be found.

She was so worried about the sudden appearance of her attacker, that she failed to pay attention to where she was going until she found herself standing outside of her father's house. When she laid eyes on the front door, she stopped breathing.

"Worthless," her father's voice echoed in her mind, and Rin's hands clenched reflexively.

"Your first fear is within," Yume said.

Rin didn't move. Couldn't move.

"I…" Rin tried. How could she explain? How could she explain to a seal that her father was a monster? That he had treated her like she wasn't even a person after her mother had died. She hadn't spoken to him since she'd become a Chuunin two years ago.

I don't want to speak to him, Rin realized.

"I have nothing to say to my father," Rin said.

Yume looked at her, and nodded. "Do you fear your father?"

Rin, who had been ready to walk away from the house, hesitated. Was she afraid of him?

Her father, the man who had once been warm and kind, and who had taught her to swim, and had taken her to the markets on weekends, was not scary . He had become bitter and cruel when her mother had passed. But she didn't think she feared him.

He wasn't a ninja. Sure, he belonged to a family of ninja, but he had never taken it upon himself to learn the arts. And by the time Rin was ten and her mother was buried, he couldn't physically harm her if she didn't want him to.

Her hands trembled.

She remembered.

Remembered what he was.

And who he had been.

Rin hated her father, but she wasn't afraid of him.

"I don't. I'm not afraid of my father," Rin answered.

Yume smiled now, and gestured to the house. "Then that is not what you must face," she said.

"If not him, then what?" Rin asked. "It's not like I'm afraid of mom."

Yume considered for a time, before she eventually answered. "I cannot say what you must face."

Rin sighed. Yume was cryptic, if nothing else. But she supposed it made sense. The woman wasn't technically real, after all— or was she? Rin frowned and looked at her. She was slender, and a few inches taller than Rin, with dark hair that she was only now realizing was red. Well of course it was red, Yume was the creation of an Uzumaki. But why hadn't she noticed it before?

In the hospital… Rin tried to remember. Yume had looked the same as she did now. Same clothes, same face, and, she supposed, same hair. Rin had been so preoccupied with being home, and then with that scary medical ninja that she hadn't really paid as much attention as she should have to the people or her environment until later.

That left bluntness, which usually made Rin uncomfortable. But, as the saying went: 'When in the Land of Iron...'

"Are you real?" Rin asked.

"In this place, I am as real as anything else," Yume said.

That… wasn't an answer. And, she realized that Yume being real didn't matter much in the traditional sense. Everything that had happened here certainly felt real, and Rin remembered in the distant way of dreams that each fear and exertion she'd felt in her dreams since arming the seal had culminated in very real side effects in the waking world.

She changed tactics. "Tell me, then, how this works. I face this fear— whatever is in my father's house, and then I wake? Is that what happens?"

Yume shook her head. "No. You will face more than this one fear."

Rin resisted the urge to huff in annoyance. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"If that is your wish," Yume said. "You must face what was," she gestured to the house. "What is, and what may yet be. Only then, will you be allowed your opportunity to wake."

"How could the seal know my future?" Rin asked.

"Nothing is set in stone," Yume replied as if that settled everything.

It did not.

I'm not going to get any more out of her, I don't think. It's all just speculation. And for all I know, she's just telling me things I already know because this is my dream to begin with.

Without a look back, Rin stepped onto the small wood porch that ran across the front face of the house and opened the door.

The inside of the house was dark and still, but otherwise as she remembered it. The hardwood floor was stained with spilled alcohol— likely sake, and several takeaway food containers littered the floor. The art that had once been so carefully chosen and placed along the walls was stained and crooked. The air carried an acrid stench, spilled alcohol, rotting food, and the stink of a person who took no care of themselves. And everything, from ceiling to floor, was covered in dust.

It had been more than two years since she'd been inside this house, and Rin weighed her desire to turn away and never come back with her need to get out of her never ending nightmare.

Has to be done, she reminded herself.

With a great effort, she stepped through the doorway. It swung shut behind her, and Rin knew without looking that it would not open again until she faced whichever fear lurked within her childhood home.

The sound of her footfalls echoed through the entryway with muffled thumps as she disturbed the long settled dust on the floor. Rin stepped over the discarded food containers and made her way into the living area.

Through the murk, Rin saw the shadowed outline of a person sitting in a chair, facing the window to the backyard. At first, she thought it was her shadowy pursuer, and her heart leapt into her throat. But the person, whoever it was (her father, perhaps), was solid in a way that the translucent shadow had not been.

"Father?" Rin asked, and was displeased to hear the tremor in her voice. She wasn't afraid of him.

She received no response.

Steeling herself, Rin crossed the room. Or she tried to. After only two steps, something crunched underneath her foot, and Rin looked down to see something glinting up at her in the dim light.

She bent down, and picked it up. It was a picture frame. And it contained a photograph that she was familiar with. The photograph was one she had in her apartment— the last happy photo of her family before her mother had passed. All of them beaming at the camera from a picnic blanket.

Except this photograph was wrong.

Her parents were there, smiling, but she wasn't. She wasn't even in the picture.

What?

Rin fumbled in the dark for a surface to put the cracked picture frame down on, and then turned back towards the chair where the figure sat. And she found herself nearly nose to nose with her mother. Her mother whose face was distorted and disproportionate and twisted into a scowl.

Stink emanated from her open mouth, her eyes were all black, and her hair was filthy and matted.

Rin screamed and stumbled away.

"You!" her mother shrieked. "What are you doing here? I told you when I sent you on your way that I never wanted to see you again, you freak!"

"Mom, what are you talking about?" Rin asked, voice cracking.

"You let your father die. You let me die. And you know that neither of us could ever love what you are."

Unbidden, tears filled Rin's eyes. "I don't understand."

"It's your fault! Your fault! Your fault! Yourfault, yourfault, yourfault !"

With each shriek, Rin felt her resolve waver and diminish. Her mother blamed her for it. For all of it. Rin had often wondered if that was the case. If somehow she had been the reason for her family breaking. She'd been told it was survivor's guilt, been given ways to try and come to terms with it, but now she knew. She knew that it was her fault.

Rin bolted from the room, down the hall, and into what had been her childhood bedroom. She slammed and locked the door behind her, collapsing into a heap of self-loathing on the floor as soon as she was sure it was shut.

There was a moment of quiet before the nightmare started. "Your fault!" came the shriek of her mother from the other side of the door. And then came the pounding, on the door. It rattled in its frame as her mother tried to pound it down, all the while screeching, "Your fault! Your fault! Your fault!"

Rin curled in on herself and wished it would end.

The roar of noise swelled, and grew louder and louder and louder until it seemed like the door would collapse and the rage from beyond the room would spill over and consume everything. Tears spilled down her face, and she covered her ears and scrambled to try and drown out the cacophony.

When she ran short of breath and her throat felt scratchy and raw from screaming, she realized the sound from the other side of the door had stopped. Everything was still, too still. Rin was curled in on herself in the center of the bedroom, too shaken to face her mother, to get up, to even move.

What did it mean to face this fear? Was it as simple as acknowledging it was something she carried around with her? Was it about shedding the fear, letting go of the guilt and the doubt?

She forced herself to get up. It was a slow, shaky movement, guided by frayed nerves and crushing guilt. But she did it. She got to her feet and made her way to the door, pressing an ear against the wood and listening for the nightmare to come back.

All she heard was silence.

Panic swelled up in her gut, because somehow the terrible silence was worse than the screaming had been. When there had been screaming, Rin knew where the fear, where her mother, had been. Now, in the silence, Rin was facing the unknown again. She shivered.

The only course of action she had was to open the door, but she didn't want to. Without crossing the room and trying the window, Rin knew that it wouldn't open no matter what she did. When the front door had closed, the house had become an all encompassing prison.

She could stay in the room, alone. I'll die here.

She could venture forth and face the darkness. I'm afraid.

And that was the crux of it. She was afraid of being the reason her mother was gone, that her father was a broken man, that her family had fallen apart.

Rin was afraid.

She pushed through the feeling of paralyzation that gripped her. Fought it. Wrestled it into submission. Because she was a ninja, damn it! She could face her past and escape from a seal.

But what if it is my fault?

The roiling guilt started back up in her, and she forced it down.

So what if it is?

Rin didn't know if she could ever, would ever, be in a place where she entirely believed it wasn't her fault. She would carry it with her for the rest of her life. Her family was broken, gone, and all she had was the memory of what it had once been.

She opened the door, stepped into the shadowed hallway beyond, and walked purposefully back into the filthy living area.

The figure of her mother was once again in a chair, facing the window. Rin crossed the room and sat in the chair beside her mother. Rin could feel her skin crawl with unease as the thing that wasn't her mother turned its head to look at her, but she didn't look back. She focused on the window, looking out into the backyard.

"I miss you," Rin said, voice thick with emotion.

"Your fault!"

Rin only nodded. "It might be, mom. But I'm still here, and I have to live with it."

A warm hand rested gently on her cheek, and she thought she heard a lullaby from her early childhood.

And the world around her melted like so much paint mixed with turpentine; the house and everything in it falling into a puddle. The chair Rin was sitting on dissolved beneath her and she found herself falling backwards through murky nothingness until her feet touched the ground.

She was standing outside her house in Konoha, and Yume was beside her. Rin fell to her knees and stared at the house without really seeing it.

"Congratulations. You have faced the fear of your past. Are you prepared to face the next fear?"

Rin said nothing. She didn't move, didn't even blink. Distantly, she recognized that she had been spoken to.

"I… what?" Rin asked. With a great effort she tore her eyes away from the house. She was almost surprised to see Yume there, waiting patiently.

"You have faced a fear from your past, and overcome it. Are you prepared to face the fear that is?"

Rin blinked. She had forgotten there was more, if only for a moment. That feeling, her mother's hand gently caressing her cheek… it had been nice. But to face something new? She wanted to say no. Instead she stood up and nodded. "I don't see myself ever really being ready, but sure. Let's get this over with."

Yume nodded, and helped Rin to her feet. As soon as Rin was upright, Yume pushed her, and the world changed again. The sight of Konoha dissolving around her as she stumbled and sank into the ground.

The sensation of falling made her heart jump, but before she could shout in alarm she was once again standing on solid ground, but she wasn't in the village anymore. She was in the Whirlpool village, alone amongst the ruins.

She knew the shadow was with her— that horrific entity that had become a waking nightmare. Rin had to stand up to it. Had to.

And she knew for a fact that she couldn't just hit it with something.

Rin felt it coming before she saw it. The sensation of her hair standing on end all down her neck, and that feeling deep in her gut to run away right now was all but overwhelming, and Rin closed her shaking hands into fists.

Chakra.

She had to use Chakra.

But…

But what if it destroyed her? Kushina wasn't here to save her from it if she lost control. If she lost control of it now, she would die in agony. Alone. Trapped in a dream.

Rin reached out to touch her chakra, but flinched away from it almost by instinct. Instead, she coiled her control tight, and made sure she didn't accidentally use it. She would have to find another way. She had to.

But there would be no time to work out how it was done, because at that moment, the shadowy figure stepped out from what had once been Kushina's house. When she saw it, her stomach dropped and her pulse quickened. Not again. Not this. Not now.

Rin bolted, a futile effort that had already been attempted in the dream version of the Leaf Village. But she was nearly blind with panic and rational thought was an afterthought.

Down side streets and in between buildings Rin ran, desperate for an escape. She came to a stop near what she thought may have been the area where Kushina had taught her taijutsu. But the ground was damaged, there were gouges and scorch marks, and flecks of blood spattered about.

It was enough to kick her brain into action. Looking around and really seeing the village for the first time. Smoke rose from several buildings that surely hadn't been that ruined. Would the village slowly be eradicated from the face of the earth if she kept running? Would her dream, her fear, remove even the ruins?

Rin hung her head, fear and shame and doubt whirling within her.

She felt the shadow approaching again, and instinctively took a step away. But she only got one or two paces before she forced herself to stop.

All she had done since she had been captured and forced into the life of a Jinchuriki was run away. All she had done was back away in fear from what she had once been, and all she had once aspired to become. Kushina had so much faith that she could do this, that she would be able to overcome what seemed like an impossible handicap. Rin had always felt that Kushina was just telling her what she wanted to hear. That she could get better. But she had never believed it. Not really.

But what if Kushina was right. What if, when the cards were down and her life was on the line, she could do it? What if she could beat her own weakness and self-doubt and fight?

So much time had been wasted in the room of that ramshackle house, staring at the ceiling with a heavy heart and convincing herself that she was never going to recover enough to be a ninja. That she'ed have to rediscover who she was after the thing that had given her life meaning, purpose, and strength had been taken away from her.

The pain she had to endure every time she used her chakra lit up her nerves like fire. But maybe, maybe the pain was worth it if she could still be who she wanted to be.

She had survived this far thanks to Kushina. But there was nobody to hide behind now. Nowhere to run to that was safe from this. She was terrified to use her chakra. Terrified of the pain it caused her. Terrified of the shadow that followed her in her waking dreams. Rin was afraid of all that and so much more.

But it was past time to be a Ninja of the Hidden Leaf and face that fear head on.

Rin turned around to face the shadow across the ruined training field.

There was no turning back. If she ran, she died. If she didn't use her chakra, she died. If she lost control, she died.

Kill, she thought. Kill or be killed.

It was a wartime situation. She recognized it for what it was now. And she had been a soldier in a war, after all. What was one more battle where her life was on the line?

The shadow took a step toward her, and Rin matched it, reaching down within herself and letting her chakra fill her for the first time in what felt like a lifetime.

All of the control exercises Kushina had put her through were being put to the test. She felt full of life and power, but she could feel that if she was not in perfect control for even a second, she would be destroyed. Rin was on the razor's edge, and she'd never felt more alive.

The shadow lunged at her, closing the distance in the blink of an eye. Rin evaded it with a back handspring, so effortless with chakra, and once on the ground again, she formed the hand seals for a fire jutsu.

The flames engulfed the shadow a moment later, and Rin felt what had once been an unceasing fear melt away. Relief flooded her as the brilliant light of the flames was carried away on the wind. The shadow, or whatever it had been, was scorched into the ground. The outline of a person.

She stood on the battlefield, and all she knew was peace as she released her gathered chakra and let it ebb away.

But the scorched outline had other ideas. As she watched, it became a three dimensional shape. Solid and tangible. The charred shape slowly gained color and features. A dark cloak and…

Rin's eyes were wide with realization.

… and an orange mask.

But before the man could so much as get to his feet, the world was once again melting away, and Rin was sitting at the little table in the ruined house she'd been living in.

Yume was sitting across from her. "You have faced a fear from your present, and overcome it. Are you prepared to face the fear that may yet be?"

"Hold on," Rin said. "What about the masked guy? I was about to fight him."

Yume's reaction was one of confusion, or perhaps misunderstanding. Rin couldn't tell which. "Your strongest fear in the present revolves around the present. You have faced that fear."

Rin pursed her lips. That may have been true enough. But then what about the shadow man and the masked guy?

"Are you ready?" Yume asked again.

"I…" Rin sighed. "I suppose I am."

The world fell out from underneath her.

She was standing in darkness in the woods on the eastern coast of the Fire Country.

It took her a moment to understand why.

What about the forest contained her fears? She had grown up in the Land of Fire, surrounded by forests, where she felt comfortable.

And then she saw them…

Bodies littered the ground, weapons were impaled into trees in every direction, and the ground was wet and sticky with both mud and blood. The acrid smell of human death and decay, sickly sweet and horrible, assaulted her nostrils.

The only source of illumination was through the trees. A strange light that seemed to emanate from nowhere in particular, but clearly came from a singular direction.

Rin followed the light until she reached the tree where Kakashi lay broken and lifeless.

There he was, right where she'd left him.

His mask was torn, his usually messy hair matted down with filth, and his eyes were open and unseeing. He lay so still, and she remembered all too clearly how his breath had stopped, how she wasn't able to find his pulse.

The panic that had overtaken her then, roared back to life and swelled up from within her. A terrible symphony of self-loathing.

Rin squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "It's not real," she told herself. "It's not real." She wrapped her arms around herself and tried to will herself back to the village.

The falling sensation did not return, would not return, and Rin balked at the idea of seeing Kakashi lying on the ground, broken. It was a reminder of what had happened to him, what she had done to him. It had been her. She had lost control and beat him to death. All Kakashi had done was rescue her. His reward had been death.

My fault , Rin thought.

After what felt like hours, but could have only been a few short minutes (it was impossible to tell in this place), Rin opened her eyes again and forced herself to look at Kakashi.

Until now, this had been a distant reality, something only half remembered in bouts of self-loathing and doubt. But here, now, she was faced with it head on.

Kakashi was dead.

Kushina had lied to her.

She could see well enough for herself what her failure to control the beast inside her had wrought. I remember, Rin thought. I remember how he looked when I regained control of myself. He wasn't breathing. I killed him.

Her breath came in ragged, panicked gasps, and her vision swam before her. Focusing on nothing, and then Kakashi. He was equal parts too close and too far away. Her vision tunneled, fading to nothing outside of her immediate object of focus. Blood rushed in her ears and the sound of nothingness had never been louder.

Rin collapsed, falling to her hands and knees, desperately trying to regain control of herself. But the panic gripped her in a vice-grip.

"I didn't mean to," Rin said, trying to justify it between gasps for a steady breath.

"I didn't mean to..."