Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Shinobi: Pride of Pride ❯ Chapter One ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Here's the first chapter of Shinobi. Yes, I'm posting again. Hopefully, I'll get more responses. Please give it a shot and review if you like it. It'd be nice to know if I'm doing good. This was my first story, and I've still yet to finish it. Well, actually, I have, but I'm only editing now.

Anime/Manga: Naruto Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Drama / Romance / Angst | Type: Self Insertion | Uploaded On: 11.27.2005 | Updated On: 11.27.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 6.8K | Visits: 392 | Status: Completed

Shinobi: The Price of Pride

By: Hanasaki Rikku

Summary: With a clan like the Hanasaki, is it any wonder why Rikku is the way she is? She lost her brother and friend at such a young age, and things with Chizuko have seemed to only gotten worse. What does Itachi want and why does a certain Snake Sannin seem so interested in her life all of the sudden? This is their story.

Disclaimer: This will be the only one posted for the story, for I don't feel a need to repeat myself. I do not own Naruto, Masahiro-san does. And trust me, I don't look a thing like him. That'd be just...wrong.

Rating: T/M. For violence (poorly written, but still there), language, and some other stuff I can't quite recall at the moment. Just be warned. Oh, that, and my horrible writing.

Genre: Romance/Action/Adventure/Angst

The romance will come much later in the story. I'm not the romantic type, but I've never been able to write a story without someone ending up with someone else, and yea. Action/Adventure? One word: Naruto. And angst is only because this story revolves a lot around death.

`We thrive in the chaos of every tide

Quiet Shinobi don't need dens to hide.

Our only concern is to watch and wait

Until the enemy lowers the gate.'

((CHAPTER ONE))

It had become almost like habit, every year on the first of December they would gather before her memorial slab, paying their respects to their former teammate and friend.

For one, it was an important ritual to never break, the weight of guilt too much to bear. It had been a mistake on her part, the result of her inexperience and adolescent immaturity that one of her few friends - her own goddamned teammate! - had died.

Many Shinobi hope to come to their ends with the knowledge and honor of dying in battle while fighting to protect your home village; your life.

There had been no honor in her death, however. An unnecessary death to one so impossibly young for her rank and status. In the mind of one Himura Chizuko, Ayame had died in her place. She had died because of her. Because she had been too inept and quick to act, not stopping once to consider the effects on her fellow comrades.

So now she stood beside her old sensei and friend, both of which had not been there to witness the girl's death, to witness the coldhearted murder. She would never forgive the one responsible for her death; never forget his face. She would hunt him down, and she would show him the true nature of a Himura.

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, crimson eyes burning with the forthcoming of tears, yet she held them at bay, willing herself not to breakdown once again.

She had been fourteen when it had happened, Ayame just a year younger, the youngest in their team. Yet, between now and the two years since the incident, the attack upon Konoha and the first in the following series, she had barely learned to cope. She should have been able to do something, save her… Anything! If she hadn't been so wrapped up in showing off - in proving she was the best - she could have saved her.

She felt a comforting hand rest upon her shoulder but did nothing to push it away, despite the fact she did not want anyone's pity. But Rikku, she knew, would not say a word in false comfort; pretend to understand when she didn't. She hadn't been there; she hadn't seen what she'd seen. Although Rikku had been somewhat closer to the other girl, there was no possible way she could understand, could know how it felt like to watch one of her closest friends die before her eyes without any hope to save the other.

That's why she worked as hard as she did. That was the reason for her spending hours upon hours in the training grounds, working herself to exhaustion. She didn't sleep; she trained, sparring with anyone she could. She knew it wasn't safe, wasn't healthy. But frankly, she couldn't care less. She needed to become strong, to be able to defend those close to her.

It really was the only reason why she even bothered with life. She needed to avenge Ayame's death, but she also needed to live, not for herself, but for Rikku and Genma and every other individual in her life who had bothered to give a shit about her. Who cared whether she lived to see the next day or not.

She turned away, refusing to look at the epitaph any longer, turned away to face the small patch of irises growing in the small field beyond. She recalled Ayame loved irises. It had been a habit of the girl's, to collect such flowers, something that didn't include the world of Shinobi, where people killed for the sake of killing, and fought for the sake of fighting. It had been the only thing that had kept her fragile mind from breaking.

Ayame…

Everything was so wrong. The sun was not supposed to be out and shining brilliantly in a clear blue sky. The birds were not supposed to be chirping merrily, singing their songs of mirth and happiness. Nothing deserved to be happy, bright and cheerful. Not today of all days. But, when living in a village where the sun shines nearly every season of the year, there was nothing she could do but just accept the simple fact.

And she hated it.

More so than that, however, she hated remembering. She hated remembering that dreadful day, wishing she could just erase the other girl's existence completely from her mind.

…But that would be selfish. Ayame didn't deserve to be forgotten, not when she had sacrificed herself for her.

She didn't deserve to be forgotten.

She watched her sensei and dark-haired teammate fade behind the crowds of Shinobi, all fighting to survive. Some had forgotten, completely forgotten which side they were on, which side they were supposed to be fighting to defend. Nothing mattered in war, however. And she had soon come to realize that. Men and woman fought each other regardless of class or village or age, bloodlust overtaking their system, controlling them.

It sickened her to see her fellow Shinobi murder those who had barely lived to see their eighth summer, geniuses, no doubt, but still only children. Children who still had a hope of normalcy.

She turned away, tightening her grip on the narrow weapon in her hand, the elongated throwing knife serving to both defend her and aid her in battle.

A head of red, almost orange, hair caught her eye, and she relaxed only slightly knowing her teammate was still very much safe.

That had been her first mistake.

She dodged the fist aimed at her head, scowling in the attacker's direction. She flexed her wrist and blocked the Nin's follow-up kick effortlessly, spin-kicking the man in the ribs and sending him flying.

He was out in an instant.

Three more Shinobi, two from Oto and one from Suna, dropped before her, weapon in hand. Jounin, she concluded from their stances, preparing herself for the fight. To her great surprise, it had been an easy feat to defeat the three. Disabling the first two by breaking their arms, ensuring they would not be using any form of sound jutsu she was sure she'd be unable to block. The last, the Sand-nin, was slightly more difficult to deal with, but a quick blast with her chakra and he was out.

A smirk formed at her lips; this was too easy. Where three had once been, six more took their place. She dodged several blows as they attempted to corner her, barely feeling the slight pricks as a few kunai whizzed past her, skinning her cheek, the adrenaline rush enough to sensor out the pain. One was out quick enough, but the other five swiftly took advantage and pounced like lions in wait, catching her off guard for the moment.

Two held her arms in an impossible, vice-like grip, causing a tinge of panic to rise up within her. She blasted her chakra as the three men advanced on her, one in particular making her somewhat anxious. His lecherous smirk and dark eyes causing her to inwardly shudder. She took down the two that had been holding her just seconds ago as she momentarily lost control of her emotions, searing the skin off their bodies with her fiery chakra.

It was like acid to the flesh, melting the skin clear off, bit by agonizing bit, yet done so quickly it was nearly hard to believe. Few had ever survived the Himura's Kurushimeru technique. No hand seals were needed to activate their bloodline limit, making it all the more formidable; it was all in their chakra.

Their cries of pain and utter anguish fell on deaf ears as she dashed forward, slamming a fist into the Sand-nin's jaw, paralyzing her for a second. It gave her enough time to deliver the next and final blow to her throat; she could hear the cracking of the woman's trachea, feel it break under the pressure her fist administered. She was dead before she even hit the ground. Her attention turned to the man beside the fallen Ninja, a sadistic smirk placed upon her lips.

The Sound-nin was too quick for her, punching her abdomen and knocking the wind from her lungs, doing well to wipe the smirk from her lips as well. She didn't have time to dodge the next blow, too quick for her to register, and could only raise her arm in defense.

She winced, cursing as she was thrown to the ground, shoving her hands before her to soften the blow to the ground. She gritted her teeth against the pain that shot up her arms as they came into contact with the rough earth, flesh tearing and pebbles the size of an insect embedding themselves into her palms.

A kick to her ribs shortly followed her fall, and she heard rather than felt the sickening crack as her ribs buckled under the sandal-clad foot. Black dots of oblivion danced in her vision but she blinked them away, struggling to focus her chakra and attack the man before her. She managed, but just barely, to knock him away.

Her teammate was at her side in an instant, pushing her down with less effort than if she had held even half her energy, hands hovering just above her chest.

“What…the hell are you doing!” She broke off in a cough, blood trickling from her mouth. The redhead didn't bother to even glance at her, focusing rather on the task at hand, which, at the moment, appeared to be healing her, hands glowing a verdant green. She felt the bones click back into place, the blood being absorbed back into their respective veins. She shook her head, feeling her stamina recover and couldn't help but sigh in relief when she realized no one seemed to notice them for the moment. “You can be so stupid sometimes, Ayame…”

Ayame shrugged, grinning, “Yeah well…” She stopped, her words seemed to catch in her throat. When the girl didn't continue, she frowned, pushing herself into a half-sitting position, watching her friend closely. She appeared to struggle for air, her eyes widened in surprise, staring down at her with something akin to horror. She frowned in return, confused.

That was, at least, until she saw the rivulet of blood trail from the girl's parted lips, followed milliseconds thereafter by the sudden eruption within the girl's stomach, dousing the crimson-eyed girl in blood. She could only watch in numb shock as Ayame's frail body collapsed atop hers, her lifeless corpse resting on her; bleeding on her.

Time froze, and her heart stopped.

“Chizuko…?” It was Genma. She didn't have to look up to know it was him, her eyes glued to the figure before her, the prickling in her eyes the only warning before they began to tear, mixing amongst the fresh blood - Ayame's blood - coating her face, body, and clothes. Her arm snaked around the still form above her, absently tightening as if to reassure her it wasn't a dream.

But it had to be a dream, right? Ayame couldn't be dead, right? She was Ayame. Ayame wasn't supposed to die. Just like Rikku and Genma-sensei weren't supposed to die. They were supposed to grow old together, train together, and go on useless missions together. You couldn't do that if you were dead. How could you? You were dead.

So then, Ayame couldn't be dead. Because…because if she died, then they would have to go on without her. Ayame wasn't dead. No. She was just sleeping. And that wasn't blood. No. It wasn't blood. Ayame was just trying to mess with her. This was all a game. It had to be a game. It wasa game. Rikku and Ayame were just trying to fuckwith her head! To get back for all those times she had teased them.

So Ayame wasn't dead. She was sleeping. But…if she was sleeping, then why wasn't she breathing? Why didn't the red stop seeping into her clothes? Weren't they supposed to be battling with the treacherous Sand and Sound-nin? Why was Ayame playing jokes at a time like this? Why wouldn't she get up? Why did Genma-sensei look so sad? Didn't he know Ayame was just being her usual stupid self?

But… Ayame didn't play jokes. And neither did Rikku, for that matter. Why would she start now? She had to wake her up. She had to tell her this wasn't funny. It wasn't time for jokes! She had to wake up!

But, her body couldn't seem to function correctly at the moment. It simply lay beneath the motionless girl, ignoring any and all command sent to it by her brain, numb and broken. Holding Ayame in one arm as the other held her up in a half sitting position, tears streaking uncontrollably down her face, a face that portrayed no emotion other than shock and denial.

“Genma-sensei? Where is Chizuko…?” Oh Gods. It was Rikku. What if she didn't know Ayame was just playing? What if she thought Ayame was really dead? She had to tell her…but…her mouth just wouldn't cooperate at the moment. Maybe Genma would tell her. He knew. He had to know…

“Rikku…don't look.” Genma spoke in a low, somber voice and she heard the shuffling of feet as he turned to face the girl.

“What…? But…”

“No. The invaders have dispersed. I want you to go search for any survivors. Now!”

“…Hai.”

Chizuko heard her leave, her footsteps fading as she furthered from their group. She kept her gaze on Ayame, however, going over the possibilities, barely hearing her sensei's mumble as he too left to search the area for survivors. Did that mean the fighting was over? Great! Ayame would - willbe so happy…when she wakes up.

“I'm sorry…she was so young…”

Chizuko frowned as the sentence registered in her head, going over it again to make sure. Why would he be sorry? Did he do something wrong? Who was young? Ayame? She would have rolled her eyes had she not been so exhausted and her body so defiant.

Well of course Ayame was young! She was the youngest in the group! But what did that have to do with anything? Unless…

She wanted to shake her head, instead shutting her eyes against the onslaught of never-ending tears. Ayame was notdead! No way in fucking hell! Ayame could not be dead! Hadn't she just gone over this!

Ayame. Was. Not. Dead!

Her eyes didn't open, but she heard the nearing footsteps. “Chizuko? I'm back. Genma-sensei…. Oh my god…”

Ayame always liked Rikku. Rikku never teased her or played jokes on her. Rikku was always nice to her, even when she was being a prick. Rikku always tried to be there for the two of them, knowing when to just shut up and listen. She didn't poke fun at them or chastise what they did. She understood them…more so than anyone else.

So… why would Ayame pretend with Rikku? That would just be mean, wouldn't it? Rikku might not have been the nicest girl, or the most amiable, but she never treated Ayame any differently than she did Chizuko. To her, Rikku had always been like an older sister. Defending her from bullies and smart-asses - namely Chizuko.

And Ayame wasn't heartless. She wasn't as closed off as Rikku and Chizuko. So why was she still pretending? Didn't she know she was scaring Rikku? Because… Rikku never cried… Rikku was never scared, and when she was, she never showed it. She was always controlled, knowing how to handle them each like any sister would.

Rikku never cried. Rikku was strong, just like her. And that was what Ayame had told her she always respected most about Rikku. Rikku was strong, but she wasn't overconfident. She knew her limits, but didn't show weakness.

Rikku never cried… so why was she crying now?

“I have to go, but the Hokage-sama has issued a private meeting with the two of you.” Genma spoke in a dull voice, nodding in silent goodbye as he turned to leave.

Chizuko broke out of her nostalgic thoughts in time to mumble a goodbye, realizing a minute too late that she had indeed begun to cry. If Rikku noticed, she made no move to show it, simply staring at the stone in which their friend's name had been so carefully carved with her usual blank features, emotions carefully hidden. It made her wonder whether the girl felt anything anymore.

At times like these, she truly wished Rikku wasn't as understanding, wished for once that the other girl would just blame her and hate her for the death of Ayame. But she didn't, and she wasn't sure whether to be grateful or not.

Rikku had never cried again after that incident, or if she did, she hid it well. For that one instance, the younger girl had shown weakness, and it had scared Chizuko more than she cared to admit. Rikku wasn't prone to showing that kind of emotion, something must have happened at some point in her life to prevent that. She hadn't always been like that. Quiet, yes. But not… cold.

Despite her rare smirks and smiles, those supposed expressions expected as a sign of empathy, her eyes remained empty. Lifeless and dull, like a living corpse of whom she once was.

Niamoshi Ayame

1985 - 99

A Wonderful Daughter

Faithful Comrade

And

Loyal Friend

May She Rest In Peace

She absently watched the iris before the stone flutter effortlessly, pedals dancing languidly in the breeze. An inaudible sigh escaped her lips, drained as she was by the long gone tears of which streaks could still be seen along her cheeks. She wiped them away with a frown, rubbing her cheeks while her crimson gaze rested once again on the grave.

“We should go,” Rikku's quiet, vacant voice shattered the foreboding silence, destroying the false sense of serenity, and she realized somewhat belatedly that she had begun to loose herself in her thoughts. She nodded lethargically, deflated, taking a final glance over the marble stone before turning to go. Rikku was a few feet ahead already, lost in her own thoughts. Once again the guilt returned full force, causing her pace to falter if only for a moment, because, at least when Ayame was alive, Rikku had found a way to smile.

Chizuko was the oldest, nearly two years older than Ayame herself had been. So, then, why did she feel so small? So Incompetent. But, that was how it had always been. While she was the oldest, the leader, Ayame had been the youngest, innocent and unprepared for the world - the real world - in her own way.

And Rikku…

She was a constant center. Keeping the balance between them; doing well to keep them from killing one another.

But Ayame was already dead…

Chizuko held her thoughts at bay upon exiting the gate leading to the cemetery in which all the victims and casualties of time and battle lay, the ever-common farce of indifference molding her features. Genma had been right; to be a Ninja one must first learn to build a wall between themselves and the world. No one could truly be themselves, be capable to trust, while serving as a Shinobi.

“Chizuko…” She glanced up to see the amber-eyed girl watching her with a typical look of nonchalance. She forced a half smile, following the girl inside the building.

When had they arrived? Had she been so lost in her own thoughts to even notice?

Rikku nodded simply in understanding - always so fucking understanding. Crimson eyes darkened several shades as she blatantly ignored the woman at the receptionist's desk, walking past to where the Hokage's room lay.

Unlike any other day, the Hokage lay waiting, awake and serious, face listless and nonchalant. Cinnamon eyes rose from the growing heap of paperwork sitting atop her desk and awaiting her signature, fixing on them upon entry. Rikku and Chizuko paused but a foot from the door, letting it close with a soft click behind them.

Tsunade stood from the high-backed chair, motioning for them to take a seat.

She cleared her throat, sitting back again, reclined against the cushioned seat, elbows resting on the arms. A minute passed in complete silence as she took the two girls in, “I know it's your day off, and I'm sorry to have to call you in today,” She seemed unsure of how to go on, pausing for a moment as if hesitant. “Your applications for the Ansatsu Senjutsu Tokushu Butai Exam have been thoroughly reviewed, and the results have come in. As a final test, I have a mission for you two. This will decide whether you are ready to excel into ANBU…that is, of course, if you're still interested.”

A swell of emotions surged within her at that moment, and she couldn't help but grinning. Finally, after so long, she finally had a chance to become ANBU.

Rikku spoke. “What's the mission about?”

Tsunade watched her, and something seemed to flicker behind those honey colored eyes of her, but Chizuko couldn't quite place it. She never understood the faint, barely visible sense of hostility the Hokage always seemed to hold around Rikku.

The woman pulled two identical documents from a nearby pile, handing them each a folder. Nodding, she explained, “Basic ANBU procedure: Eiichiro Metani and Tarukane Hirue have been causing problems with Iwa, and the Tsuchikage has asked for our assistance in the matter. They are on the run, and have been seen near the borders of Konoha and Kusa.”

Chizuko's eyes narrowed at that, her grip on the noncommittal sheaf of papers in her hand tightening. “Isn't that where Oto is?”

Tsunade sighed, sweeping a strand of blonde hair from her vision. “Yes. Oto lies just outside Kusa and Konoha borders. But, that is not the point. I'm sending you two on an exhibition mission. However, I will have an ANBU captain, a rather strong Jounin Elite, assist you.”

“Who?”

“You might have heard of him,” Tsunade relayed easily, “Hatake Kakashi.”

Chizuko frowned, leaning back on her seat. “Kakashi? As in, Copy Ninja Kakashi?” She mumbled, waiting patiently for her response. Why would the Copy Ninja Kakashi bother to tutor them on being an ANBU? Wasn't he supposed to be initiating some sort of search for something involving a missing student? She couldn't recall for sure, never bothering to remember before.

“Yes. Is that a problem, kid?”

Chizuko twitched slightly at the comment, frowning, but only glanced back in the direction the voice had come from.

There, standing ever so lazily was the well renowned silver-haired Jounin. His unique hairstyle was enough to elucidate the Jounin. Not many donned facemasks to cover half their face and their hitai-ate pulled down to hide a scarred eye. Even less wore their hair as if they'd just awoken from bed - which, considering Kakashi, was not far from the truth in itself.

Chizuko watched him carefully, intrigued, to say the least, that this was the actual Copy Ninja she had heard so much about. He nodded to both her and Rikku, bowing instead before the Hokage. “So,” he began, glancing from Rikku to Chizuko. “What can I do for you, Hokage-sama?”

“You're late…” Tsunade scowled, tapping her fingers on her desk impetuously.

He chuckled in a nervous manner, scratching his head in an almost childish way, “Ah, well…you see…”

The blonde rolled her eyes, “Enough. I want you three to do a full-scale search of the given perimeters; I want no stone left unturned. We have to find these two, the Tsuchikage has been going insane, plus, the girls need to undergo a practice mission before being promoted to ANBU.” Tsunade elaborated, clearly uninterested in the man's excuse. She motioned towards the folders, “Everything else you need to know are in those, read them over and prepare to leave first thing in the morning. You girls stop by later to pick up your uniforms and pick out your masks. Dismissed.”

Chizuko and Rikku rose from their seat simultaneously, bowing briefly as they turned to leave.

((CHAPTER END))

HR: Edited again. Sorry. Hopefully this is the last time. I'm done with the story, though. So I'm just editing and proofreading it all now.