Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ A Red Rose ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

IMPORATANT NOTE FOR PAST READERS!
A/N (06-27-13): Please see the A/N in the Prologue.

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There was a woman holding a little girl about six years old high over her head as the girl laughed in joyous rapture. The woman was laughing along with the little girl, obviously her daughter.

They faded and disappeared to be replaced with a young family sitting on a white blanket, surrounding a wicker picnic basket. There was a father and son now with the mother and daughter. The boy looked to be older than the girl by a couple years. The father was leaning back on his arms, a small smile on his face as he watched his daughter and son debating over who should get the last cookie.

There was an intense feeling of loneliness that passed in an instant.

Then the boy was a few years older, around ten. He was seated at a wooden desk, bent over a scroll that he was focused intently on. His younger sister, now looking about eight, watched contentedly from the doorway as he worked.

Now, a new man with short black hair, a spiral mask, and a single red eye was speaking to a restless crowd, pointing to a large house in the background. The happy family was nowhere in sight while the crowd moved forward with their knives and other dangerous-looking weapons.

The scene turned red with blood. The crimson colour spread and seeped across the picture, consuming the moving vision of the mob reaching the house, shouting in anger, and breaking down the door. The last thing visible before the blood totally covered it was the image of three bodies, bloodied and crumpled on a forest floor – the family. The only one missing was the daughter.

I woke up screaming.

Tears ran down my face at the memory of the dream – no, the nightmare – and I wiped at them with the back of my hand. I refused to believe that it could be more than a nightmare. My family was not…

Damn it. I hated crying. My face would get all red and puffy and make me look like a splotchy tomato. I continued swiping at the tears that refused to stop and looked beside me for something other than my hand to wipe them with.

I was back in the white room but this time Itachi was actually sitting on the chair beside my bed. I shrank back instinctively. Itachi was the last person I wanted to see upon awakening, right up there next to the man who I still only assumed to be his father from their similar appearances. Considering that these were two out of the four people I ‘knew’, it wasn’t a very cheering thought.

When Itachi didn’t make any threatening, maiming, or generally aggravating gestures towards me, however, I forced myself to relax a little. He was just looking at me, which was kind of creepy in its own right, with the curtains drawn over his eyes once again.

“Stop it,” he said suddenly.

I stared blankly. “Stop what?”

He pointed at my face where the tears still flowed weakly down my cheeks that were probably cherry red by now.

“I would if I could.” My tone got defensive. “No one can just turn off their tears whenever they want.”

My frustration, combined with the lingering feeling of helplessness from the nightmare, had the stream of tears increasing as if to spite us both. I scrubbed furiously at the persistent tears and fumed under my breath at becoming a walking tomato for the next hour until the splotches faded away.

A sharp intake of breath drew my attention away from my internal volcano of emotions. Itachi was still watching me but now surprise was obvious in his eyes and the way his hands clenched the arms of the chair. Confused, it took me a second to realize what had shocked this stoic boy in front of me into revealing even one iota of feeling. The realization, when it came, shocked me too.

He had heard my mutterings. I had somehow known that my face turned red and splotchy when I cried. I had known that I hated the way it looked. It was painfully clear now that I had always known and amazingly enough I realized I could recall many more facts about my physical body and internal emotions.

I was stubborn, very stubborn, with an almost vicious competitive streak. I hated being wrong and loved correcting other people’s mistakes whether I was actually trying to help or simply annoying them. But I was caring too, and a little carefree, however odd that sounded. I was excessively loyal and once someone had earned my trust and respect, they had it for life. I didn’t believe in betrayal. On the other hand, because of this, I was extremely defensive about those I cared about and didn't form new bonds easily. However, I liked helping people and would do whatever I felt needed to be done, right or wrong, which sometimes got me into trouble.

I tried to follow this thought further into my mind but I hit a wall. I couldn’t bring forth any memories of times I had actually gotten in trouble or what I had done in the first place to deserve that trouble. It was just a feeling and my memory wouldn’t let me expand on those feelings. So I decided to try following a different path.

I was spontaneous, not afraid to speak my mind, and people around me had called me a ‘heartbreaker’. Whether they had meant that in a good or bad way, I couldn’t tell. It was blocked from my conscious mind, as were their names and faces. I dug further, trying desperately to put faces to these feelings but nothing came.

Distressed at my failure to derive memories from emotions, I turned instead to the physical aspects of myself.

I realized now that had never really needed a mirror and I was glad that I had never gotten one, thus, allowing me to make the connection myself. I had seen that my hair was a dark red before so that didn’t count. But now I knew that my eyes were a light shade of grey and that they lightened almost to silver when I was overwhelmed with emotion.

I liked my face, except after I had been crying, of course. My complexion was fair. I had a smallish nose, expressive eyes, and rosy pink rather than red lips. My hands were callused from physical labour that I couldn’t recall doing but they were also dainty enough to appear feminine. Looking down at them, I could see that it was true.

I was five feet at my assumed twelve years. Itachi was taller than me by almost half a foot. My arm, I recalled. I had broken my right arm before, along with a couple knuckles. I had twisted an ankle and had sustained bruises and/or cuts on almost every part of my body at one time or another, but once again, I had no idea as to how any of those injuries had occurred. What had I been doing to receive so many injuries?

And, of course, I knew why my arm was still wrapped up and why there was a new bandage secured along my throat. I just didn’t want to think about it.

Finishing my personal inspection, I noticed that Itachi was staring at me oddly; not very surprising since I had just sat there for the past couple minutes, not saying a word. I was surprised he hadn’t said anything.

“What did you remember?” I could hear genuine curiosity in his voice, whether he realized it or not. Then I understood that he had actually been waiting for me to finish remembering. He had been letting me recall things on my own, in my own time, without interruption. How…considerate.

“Nothing much really,” I answered without thinking. I mentally cursed myself. I was not about to openly talk to the boy who had not long ago threatened my life. Before I might have done so, but not anymore, not with everything that had happened. He had held a kunai to my throat and I wasn’t about to forget it.

Itachi just kept watching me like he’d been doing the entire time, as though he expected me to continue.

“Would you stop that?” I snapped.

“Stop what?”

“Stop staring at me!”

Itachi just raised an eyebrow.

I scowled at him. “I’m serious. This isn’t funny!”

“I wasn’t laughing.”

I groaned inwardly. Talking to him was impossible.

Sweeping the white sheets off my legs, I moved until I was sitting on the side of the bed, my bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. Still scowling, I faced Itachi directly.

“Questions need to be answered. Now,” I demanded.

“I agree,” Itachi replied. “You will explain how you were able to identify a kunai hidden in my father’s sleeve and why you reacted the way you did when you were confronted about it, as well as during the other… incident.”

“What? No! I need answers! I’m the one with a lack of memories. I think I deserve a few answers.”

“I have already stated this: you will get no answers until we can trust you.”

“How the hell are you supposed to start trusting me if you don’t let me prove myself trustworthy!” I shouted back at him.

Itachi couldn’t seem to come up with a response to that.

I counted to ten slowly in my head and my fiery anger left me as exhaustion took its place. I had just slept but I was already tired, tired of being here, tired of having to deal with being alone in the world. I sighed. “You really need to talk more. How are we supposed to have a conversation if you don’t say anything?”

Still no response. Just perfect, I thought sarcastically.

“Fine,” I growled, my anger quickly returning. Being tired made me easy to piss off and I was seriously pissed at being ignored. It didn’t help that Itachi was infuriating. Turning around, I proceed to dish out the silent treatment. I knew I was being extremely immature, but I was frustrated, angry, and sick and tired of being bullied and ignored.

The silence continued for a good five minutes before I heard Itachi just get up and leave. Dumbfounded at his abrupt departure, I spun around and just barely stopped myself from calling out his name. Stunned, the internal shields I had unknowingly put up to protect myself dropped, allowing despair to wash over me.

Once again I was alone. A village full of people I assumed surrounded me, but I was just as alone as when I had first woke up in that damned forest. Tears welled up and threatened to spill over for the second time within half an hour. My hands were shaking again.

When Itachi and his teammates had found me, I had thought that maybe I would be safe. I had thought that I might get some answers. At the very least, I had thought that I wouldn’t be alone. I had thought wrong.

I hadn’t even been allowed to go outside, let alone look for any family I might have. I was constantly frightened, even threatened. I had no idea what these people planned to do with me but I didn’t intend to stay and find out.

These people were not friendly. They would not help me. I was alone and I couldn’t let myself think I wasn’t. It would only cause more pain.

Tears made silent, unnoticed tracks down my already tear-stained cheeks. My emotions ran hot in my veins, merging the despair, anger, and hurt and becoming stronger until there was nothing left but utter desperation.

I had to leave. I needed to escape from this unfeeling, hostile place.

I stood and walked over to the window. It opened easily. Outside, it was already growing dark. I climbed over the frame and landed deftly on solid stone. I snuck slowly away along paved walkways amid lush greens, farther and farther from my elegantly furnished prison until I came to a stone wall. Scaling its pitted surface easily, I hopped down the other side. I was getting better at letting my natural abilities take over.

On the other side of the wall was a broad road. Cautiously, I moved down the dark street which was lined with comfortable, inviting houses with lightened windows. Inside, I could briefly spot families moving about in preparation for their evening meal, but I couldn’t linger to enjoy the simple domesticity. They would be after me soon and I had to get as far away as I could.

Eventually, I came to a set of large, open gates. They were impressive structures, intimidating and just radiating wealth and power. Beyond them were smaller houses but they also had brightly lit windows and their own domestic scenes. Apparently the main area of village awaited me. Most likely Konoha, I reminded myself.

I breathed in heavily and prepared myself to face what came next: the search for my parents, my family, and whoever else may know me. I walked forward.

Passing through the gate, I glanced back once. Etched on the gates was the familiar symbol from the room where I had fainted, but I had no time to wonder why it was there. Itachi and that man would not let me go easily. If I knew anything, I knew that much. They would search for me and, unless I was careful, they would likely succeed in securing me once again. They knew this village and, even if by some chance it was my home, I did not.

With that knowledge embedded in my mind alongside the dark space that should have held my memories, I left the compound. It was a shame that little Sasuke was the only one I was going to miss, I mused.

Walking down residential street after residential street, I must have passed a hundred houses before I came upon the village market. The sun had only just set so there were still crowds of people walking the shop-lined streets, browsing through the goods on display. The evening air was cool compared to the previous heat of the day.

I meandered between the groups of chatting teenagers, families with small children in tow, and men and women who were dressed oddly similar. It was those last groups men and women that I quickly became weary of. They exuded power, skill, and intelligence, but that was not the only reason why I began avoiding them as much as possible. Rather, it was mostly because they all wore, somewhere on their bodies, a metal band with the exact same symbol etched into it that Itachi and his comrades had worn.

My only comfort, and it was a very small one at that, was that none of the people I saw wore the same outfit as Itachi and his group. Instead, they wore grey or green vests covered with numerous pockets and green, blue or black clothing under that, with various other assorted articles. Some of the symbol-wearers wore nothing like either outfit, Itachi’s or this new one, and the only thing that identified them was that ever-present band. It was... odd.

Observing them carefully as I passed them on the street, I recalled the name that had came into my mind when I had been confronted by the men in the forest: shinobi. Dangerous, my instincts added.

I was shaking my head, telling myself not to dwell on it too much, when a particularly tantalizing scent wafted in my direction. I had been smelling the unique smells of the market since I had entered, but this particular scent promised hot, delicious food and my stomach responded with a hearty growl.

Damn, I thought. When was the last time I had eaten? Surprise, surprise, I couldn’t remember. Of course, Itachi hadn’t bothered to feed me, I fumed.

Another insistent growl and I cursed myself for not thinking to scout for some money before I had left the compound. How the hell had that slipped my mind? Evidently, depression made me stupid. Although, considering some more, I had no idea if I would even recognize the currency that they used here. If this wasn’t my country, then it could be completely foreign to me.

Nevertheless, I followed the smell of cooking food to an unassuming ramen house. The sign over the entrance identified it as Ichiraku Ramen. A quick glance inside had my mouth watering. A steaming bowl of yummy-looking ramen was being served to a young, blond kid who was enthusiastically devouring his fourth helping, the three empty bowls piled up beside him.

I couldn’t help but want to linger there a few minutes, furtively hoping to absorb some of the food through smell alone. It was as I stood there with drool hanging from the corner of my mouth that the shop owner noticed me and my hesitation to leave. When he began beckoning me inside the shop, I started and quickly began backing away from the man and his addictive-smelling food.

Unfortunately, both the girl heading into the shop with a heavily-laden tray and I failed to notice that we were on a collision course. The sound of the tray hitting the ground and the bowls shattering echoed across the suddenly silent market road. My face flushed beet red, I immediately stammered out apologizes to the girl and once again began backing away from the scene. Attention was not a good thing while attempting to run away. Before I could get five steps, however, I was stopped by a firm hand on my shoulder. I froze and all I could think was, “Shit, that didn’t take long.”

Then I heard, “How about you help my daughter clean up this mess then come inside for a bowl of ramen.”

I turned and, sure enough, it was the ramen man. I breathed a blessed sigh of relief. At least he didn’t look angry. If Itachi found me I was sure that he would be furious. Well, at least internally anyway.

“I’d love to help clean up,” I said,” but I don’t exactly have any money on me to buy food right now.”

“That’s fine,” the portly man said, smiling. “It’s on the house.”

I could have cried in relief.

Fifteen minutes later found me inside the ramen bar, chowing down on all the ramen I could eat, which turned out to be a lot. I was starving.

“This is delicious!” I exclaimed, slurping down more noodles. The man, whose name I had learned was Teuchi, just smiled at me and kept on washing dishes. His daughter, Ayame, who turned out to be only a year older then me, had gone in the back to make more of the delicious ramen. It tasted as good as it had smelled.

The blond boy had left while I had been helping Ayame clean up the mess that I had inadvertently caused. Apparently, the little boy had polished off their remaining ramen and Ayame had been retrieving some more ingredients when I had run into her. Luckily, there had been more than enough ingredients left to make more ramen.

I polished off the bowl I had been working on and sat back with a contented sigh.

“Another bowl?” Teuchi asked.

“No, no,” I said, shaking my head, “I couldn’t eat another bite. I think I would explode.”

Teuchi laughed, “Well, I’m glad to hear it.”

I smiled. They were such nice people. Saints when compared with everyone else in my limited acquaintance.

“What did you say your name was again? I can’t seem to recall.”

“Oh,” I said, “I... Well... That is... I don’t know what my name is, to tell you the truth.”

Teuchi’s expression was confused as he placed the last dish on the counter with the rest.

“I... Well, I lost my memories. All of them since before just recently.” I tried to explain. “Almost three days ago, actually.”

“I see,” Teuchi said. His expression was solemn and thoughtful but he didn’t press for more information. I was grateful for that after the interrogation I had experienced at both Itachi’s and the older man’s hands.

“Do you have some people to help you? Was your family with you when it happened?” Teuchi asked, merely out of concern rather than curiosity or suspicion.

“No,” I replied. “No, I don’t have anyone.” My eyes began to sting. Damn it.

Concern and compassion were obvious when Teuchi spoke again. “Do you need a place to stay?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

“Well, in that case, give me a minute to close down the shop and I’ll set up a mat for you in the back. It should be comfortable enough for the night.”

“Thank you,” I said sincerely. “I promise to repay you somehow for all your kindness.”

“Please don’t,” Teuchi said, “We’re happy to help.”

“Nevertheless,” I insisted.

Teuchi just smiled. “Whatever you think is best then.”

I was warm inside from good food and good company. For the first time in my memory I felt happy, cared for. I was scared to leave and lose this feeling though I knew, come morning, I would have to if I wanted any hope of staying  out of Itachi’s grasp. But for now, I would allow myself a brief respite. Tonight, I could pretend, just for a little while, that I was home.

Later on, while I was lying down to sleep on the mat that Teuchi had prepared, I was able to close for the first time with a smile lingering on my face.