Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ The Road We Walked ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

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

Summary Note: It’d be much appreciated if ya’ll were to leave a review every now and then. Original characters are a sensitive area, and I would like nothing more than to create characters readers will enjoy. Drop me a line anytime if you think my little guys are in danger of becoming the terrible Mary-Sue.

Characters: Hebiza Mikazuki, Uchiha Itachi, Uchiha Madara, Himura Chizuko, Tsunade, Uchiha Sasuke.

Rating: T

Warnings: I can’t write yaoi, but it’s present in the background because that is about as much as I’m capable of. So be warned.

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P RO LOGUE

It had become almost like habit. Every year on the first of December they would gather before her memorial stone, paying their respects to their former teammate and friend. For Himura Chizuko, 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 privilege of dying in battle while fighting to protect your home village; your life; there could be no greater honor, and honor was everything to a Shinobi. There had been no honor in her death, however. It had been unnecessary death to one so impossibly young for her rank and status. In her mind, Ayame had died in her place. Ayame 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.

And now she stood between her former sensei and best friend, trying her hardest not to cry and not to remember. Only she would be burdened with the memory of the young girl dying in her arms, and she wasn’t sure just how willing she was to do so. Ayame – little Ayame – was gone and she could do nothing and they wouldn’t understand because they just hadn’t been there. They hadn’t seen what’s she’d seen. And 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 nineteen when it had happened, Ayame four years younger, and 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. She didn’t want anyone’s pity, but Genma, she knew, would not say a word in false comfort; pretend to understand when he didn’t. Or maybe he did. He had years of experience in the department. After all, what Jounin hadn’t lost a few close friends? But she wasn’t one of them. She didn’t want to be one of them. Not if it meant losing her precious people – those she had sworn to protect. She didn’t want to become accustomed to loss. She didn’t want to become jaded.

She didn’t want to forget.

That was why she worked as hard as she did. The reason she spent hours upon hours in the training grounds, working herself to exhaustion. She didn’t sleep; she trained. Sparring with anyone she could. She needed to become strong, to be able to defend those close to her. She couldn’t bear to lose another. She did it all for Ayame. It was her pledge as a Shinobi. She needed to avenge Ayame's death, but she needed to live – not for herself, but for Mika, 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 it any longer. Turned away to face the small patch of irises growing in the small field beyond. She recalled Ayame loved irises. Would spend hours just studying them in the fields or in a shop.

Everything was so wrong. Ayame shouldn’t have died. Living with the reminder of her failure … she hated it. She could hardly stand this existence. She had heard that time healed all wounds. Genma had corrected this aphorism, telling her that time only numbed the wounds, but it couldn’t heal them all. But it felt as though time had forgotten her and left her to deal with the raw pain and perhaps to see just how long she could take it before she snapped.



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. 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. She turned away, tightening her grip on the narrow weapon in her hand.

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 of pain 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 causing her to become somewhat anxious. His lecherous smirk and eyes would stay with her forever. She took down the two who 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.

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 solar plexus and knocking the wind from her lungs. It did 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 encountered 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 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 back.

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. 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 and she appeared to struggle for air. Ayame’s eyes had widened in surprise, staring down at her with something akin to horror. Chizuko frowned in return, confused. That was, at least, until she saw the rivulet of blood spill from between the girl’s lips, followed milliseconds thereafter by the sudden eruption that Chizuko could not quite pinpoint through the shock that was gradually robbing her of all motor functions. It was not the kind of explosion that sent debris flying. It was of a smaller scale that seemed to come from her teammate’s midsection.

The kind that doused the crimson-eyed girl in blood.

She could only watch in numb shock as Ayame's frail body collapsed atop hers; resting on her; bleeding on her.

“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 with 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. She was Ayame. Ayame wasn’t supposed to die.

Just like Mika and Genma-sensei weren’t supposed to die. They were supposed to grow old together, train together, and go on 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.

Ayame was just trying to mess with her. This was all a game. It had to be a game. It was a game. Mika and Ayame were just trying to fuck with 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 Mika, for that matter. Why would she start now?

She had to wake Ayame 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 a face that portrayed no emotion other than shock and denial.

“Genma-sensei? Where is Chizuko…?”

Oh Gods.

It was Mika.

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 now. Maybe Genma would tell her. He knew. He had to know…

“Mika…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 Mika leave, rapid steps fading as she left their group. She kept her gaze on Ayame, 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 – will be 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 not dead! 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.”

Ayame always liked Mika.

Mika never teased her or played jokes on her. Mika was always nice to her, even when she was being a jerk. Mika 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 did.

So…why would Ayame …?

Why would Ayame do this to Mika?

That would just be mean, wouldn’t it? Mika might not have been the nicest girl, or the most amiable, but she never treated Ayame any differently than she did Chizuko. To Ayame, Mika had always been like an older sister.

And Ayame wasn’t the type to hurt others. Not intentionally.

Didn’t she know she was scaring Mika?

Because…

Mika never cried.

Mika was never scared, and when she was, she never showed it. She was always controlled and she was always confident. Mika never cried. Mika was strong. And Ayame had always said it was this which she respected about Mika. Mika was strong, but she wasn’t overconfident. She knew her limits, but didn’t show weakness.

Mika never cried…

So why was she crying now?



“I have to go, but Hokage-sama wants to speak 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 Mika 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 Mika wasn’t as understanding. Wished for once 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.

Mika had never cried again after that incident, or if she did, Chizuko never knew. For that one instance, the younger girl had shown weakness, and it had disturbed Chizuko more than she cared to admit. Mika wasn’t prone to showing that much emotion. Something had 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, her eyes remained empty. Lifeless and dull, like a living corpse of whom she once was.

She absently watched the iris before the stone flutter effortlessly, pedals dancing languidly in the breeze. An inaudible sigh escaped her lips, drained inexplicably. She wiped away her tears with a frown, rubbing her cheeks.

“We should go.”

Mika’s quiet, vacant voice shattered the foreboding silence, destroying the false sense of serenity. She nodded, deflated, taking a final glance over the marble stone before turning to go. Mika was a few feet ahead already, lost in her own thoughts. She watched her only friend with a swell of guilt in her chest.

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. Genma had once said that 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. She didn’t want that. She was human, and it was in her nature to crave the intimacy of a close friendship with another. She acknowledged this after years of denial and it had been Ayame who had made her realize this.

She refused to be the type who shoved aside her feelings for the greater good. Those who were willing to sacrifice a fellow Leaf for the village were despicable to her. She had no respect for those individuals. She would never be one of them. Ayame would never have wanted that. She knew that much. Life was precious, and it pained Chizuko to only now realize just how precious it truly was.

“Chizuko.”

She glanced up to see Mika staring at her. 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?

Unlike any other day, the Hokage lay waiting, awake and serious, face listless and nonchalant. Brown eyes rose from the growing heap of paperwork sitting atop her desk and awaiting her signature, fixing on them upon entry. Mika and Chizuko paused but a foot from the door, letting it close with a soft click behind them. Hokage stood from the high-backed chair, motioning them to take a seat.

The Hokage cleared her throat; sitting back again, reclined against the cushioned seat, elbows resting on the arms. A minute passed in complete silence.

“I know it’s your day off, and I’m sorry to have to call you in today,” She paused. “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.”

Finally, after so long, she finally had a chance to become ANBU. Had it been any other day, perhaps the joy would have been more incredible.

Mika spoke. “The mission?”

The Hokage watched Mika in that silent, calculating, suspicious way the Hokage always did when concerning Mika. It was always a little unnerving to see those eyes attempt to pierce through Mika’s façade, and Chizuko could only wonder how the younger girl didn’t squirm under the vigilance when Chizuko herself was so tempted to.

Finally, the Hokage pulled two identical documents from a nearby pile, setting them both on the desk. Chizuko stepped forward to take them, handing one to Mika. Finally breaking the staring match, the Hokage set her gaze on Chizuko with noticeably less frigidity. “Basic ANBU procedure: Eiichiro Metani and Tarukane Hirue have been causing problems with Kumogakure, and the Raikage has asked for our assistance in the matter. They are on the run, and have been seen along the borders of Raikou no Kuni.”

Chizuko tensed.

“They are wanted for the murder of … Raikage-sama’s nephew?” Mika asked, reading from her file.

“Correct. The Raikage’s nephew was killed trying to stop these two from stealing critical documents. There are rumors of a connection between these two and the criminal organization known as Akatsuki.”

“Akatsuki …?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard of them at some point. Or will. We don’t have much on them. But all we do is in those files right there. They are incredibly dangerous. Your mission is only to capture Eiichiro and Tarukane. If at any point you encounter anyone from Akatsuki, you are to avoid conflict at all costs.”

The gravity in the Hokage’s tone eliminated any protest from Mika’s mouth. A short silence proceeded, but was broken shortly when Chizuko finally found her words.

“Raikou no Kuni… Isn’t that near Oto?”

Hokage sighed, sweeping a strand of blonde hair from her vision. “Yes. But, that is not the point. Your mission is to find the two missing-nin, capture them if possible and retrieve the stolen scrolls. You should be wary of Sound ninjas, yes, but do not go searching for conflict. Understand? This is an exhibition mission, but it is still a mission, and I will be sending you out with a Jounin Elite to ensure you come back alive.”

Chizuko bristled, biting back on the compulsion to glare. “Who?”

“You might have heard of him,” the Hokage sighed, leaning back in her chair, “Hatake Kakashi.”

Chizuko frowned. “Kakashi? As in, Sharingan Kakashi?”

“Is that a problem?”

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

There, standing ever so lazily was the well renowned silver-haired Jounin.

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 Mika, bowing instead before the Hokage. “So,” he began, glancing from Mika to Chizuko. “What can I do for you, Hokage-sama?”

“You’re late…” the Hokage scowled, tapping her fingers on her desk in a manner that belayed her annoyance.

He chuckled, ruffling his wayward hair, “Ah, well…you see…”

The Hokage rolled her eyes, “Whatever. 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. Plus, the girls need to undergo a practice mission before being promoted to ANBU.” Hokage 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. Diss-”

“Just one more thing, Hokage-sama,” Mika cut in. The Hokage frowned, eyes narrowing a fraction as they settled back on the dark-haired girl.

“Yes?”

“About Akatsuki. If we do encounter them, and escape is not an option, what would you have us do?”

Tsunade frowned, but this time, Chizuko suspected it not due to Mika herself. “Engaging with Akatsuki … “ she trailed off, and her eyes rose to meet Hatake Kakashi’s.

A tinge of uncertainty took Chizuko then. She waited with bated breath for the Hokage’s answer, but none seemed to come. Chizuko frowned. Akatsuki? Who are they?

Mika stood, bowing.

“I understand.”

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