Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Vulnerable ❯ The Chains of Anguish ( Chapter 3 )

A/N: Here is the next chapter. In this chapter, Sakura will find out some personal things about Zaku. Enjoy!

 

 

X.i.X

 

Vulnerable

 

Chapter 3: The Chains of Anguish

 

By: Melissa Norvell

 

X.i.X

 

 

After sparring practice a few days after she initially promised, Sakura showed up at the abandon house. She knocked on the door repetitively and waited for him a few minutes there was nothing but calm and silence.

 

“Hmm…” The girl stood there, and then knocked on the door again a bit louder and more rapidly paced.

 

`Just my luck. I actually show up at the place he told me to show up at and he's not even there. Well, guess I'd better go in and wait for him to come back, though I don't know why I'm doing this…He must be out doing a mission or something.' She thought to herself.

 

She twisted the door knob slowly if the door opened, and well enough, it did. The kunoichi looked a bit perplexed by the fact that the door was left ajar.

 

“I wonder why this place was just left unlocked. He should watch out. He's liable to get everything stolen in here.” She said aloud as she walked into the room that they once were in sitting at the table and having a talk the day before. She looked around; everything had felt so eerie with no form of life in the room besides herself. There were wilted roses on the table, green rugs on the wood, which had been stained with red spots, indicating that something malicious had happened inside of the house. She looked around to see the curtains, long, flowing, white with small blood stains.

 

She had wondered what exactly happened there.

 

Sakura walked a few paced over towards the table, the sound of her feet on the hard wood floors could be heard like a haunting echo. She then sat down at the lone table, looking around at the objects placed at it. She then spied a book of sorts. Viridian orbs looked to the book in curiosity.

 

She picked it up and opened it where one of the wilted flowers had been placed as a book mark. `If he's going to keep me locked up in here, might as well read some black mail. Besides, it's not my fault he didn't keep his end of the deal. Hw shouldn't have left his things just lying around where anyone can find them.'

 

Sakura glanced at the book, temptation slowly luring her to read the words inscribed within the pages. Stopping on a random entry, she read:

 

`Well, here I am again. I don't know why I bother keeping this stupid thing.

 

Though I'm away from him at the moment, I remember his teaching. My wisdom of the mission grows by the day. I will accomplish my goals and defeat the punk ninja. I'll accomplish this mission, no sweat.'

 

Green eyes looked unamused. “Oh come on, there's nothing in this book that's any good. This is pathetic. He's just talking about some mission to beat some ninja.” The girl sighed and flipped through the parchment, until she found some pages that looked a bit older then stopped on them. “What's this?

 

A dehydrated flower fell from in-between the pages. The fragile blossom chipped when she picked it back up, holding it in her hand. She began to read over the text.

 

Him…

 

His reflection set out before me, staring me in the eyes. The figure's eyes seem so unfulfilled, so frozen…and yet, if you gaze deeper into this boy's stare, you can see something that is…In a sense much deeper. Beyond the dark orbs you can see the dejection, the loss, the sheer misery and false sense of pride…

 

What pride?

 

There is no pride because he has failed at everything and failed everyone in life. Every pace he took, has failed him. He's no ninja, he's nothing special…Hell, he's not even a free spirit anymore. He's let everyone down, and his labors are disregarded.

 

I slowly extend a hand to him, but I touched the smooth barrier before me. An obstruction between us, separating what seems to be two halves of a whole. Two side of a being. At the same time, he reaches out to me, but we can't touch each other…The barricade prevents it. As if in perfect synchronization, we both run our hands down the smooth, perfect surface of the glass.

 

Perfect.

 

The one thing that both of us could never be. The one thing that seems so far out of reach. The one fixation we could both never attain. We both had worked so hard to obtain something…To seek something better for ourselves….I must do more then divulge, the both of us had some pretty bad luck.

 

Or, perhaps we've both been damned.

 

Both of us are identical, yet dissimilar. My eyes are vacant, and often blinded by antagonism and malevolence. His eyes are grief-stricken, seeming to be drowning in wretchedness. His gaze makes him unfamiliar to me. I could swear at times, the once vivid colors and hues churn around in such a haunting pattern that it seems as if he is mutely crying invisible tears…Or, perhaps one day, that color will become the tears and run out, all sensation locked within, escaping his face and body, leaving him a dehydrated hull. There had been far too many times he had wished that it would. Perhaps feeling vacant would be better then feeling emotions and getting impaired over and over again, like a skipping record. The pain and manipulation at times, is too much to bear. I frown, as does he.

 

But why smile?

 

A smile is hardly ever authentic anymore, just a smug demeanor or a counterfeit front. Then again, if you don't pull off a fake front, you have 500 people asking you the same damn questions.

 

“Are you all right?”

 

“What's wrong?”

 

“Are you okay?”

 

I swear, if one more person asks me that damn question, I'll sincerely rip out their vocal chords. Both of us seemed to push on the barricade, anger seething through our forms as the thin plate of glass between us began to emit cracking and rupturing noises. Our hands shook in unison, both unrestrained rage that seemed to emit from the both of us.

 

The contrast between us seemed so major, yet negligible as well. He was the light, the virtuousness, the emotion and I was the delusion, the bare shell, the conceit and the sadism. I was the dark.

 

He looked ghastly, decrepit in feelings, a silhouette of his former self, a being filled with so much grief that you'd think that was the eternal punishment bestowed upon him, and the eternal hope he sought was fatality.

 

It's odd really…is this what someone feels when looking at their reflection? Do they see their own ache like this?

 

When many look into the mirror, they don't really bother to look into themselves enough. They'd rather take a glance, or apply make-up, or some garbage like that.

 

Perhaps the image I see before me is some sort of irony or symbolism, telling me that I shouldn't be hiding behind such an artic façade. I heard an inhumanly loud snapping noise beneath my fingers. My head jolted and I think my brain did as well. My eyes widened for a moment, pulling me out of the deep contemplation.

 

After that, they looked over to our hands, both matching on the surface. There was a large crack on the mirror. Had I caused that? I suppose I did. Making a frown, I thought for a few moments, eyebrows furrowed…Then eyes tapering. My hand pushed a little more on the glass, and I could feel the shards going into my hand, ripping the tender flesh, causing more blood to rise.

 

Blood…

 

The life giving quintessence. A small stream of blood ran down the glass. I watched it as it tainted the mirror. Why does it feel better now? How can that small amount of pressure released tranquil me like that?

 

I smirked and looked comfortable as I watched the thick, scarlet liquid trail down the clear glass and onto the ashen, ceramic surface of the bathroom sink.

 

I lifted my hand off of the glass to notice a large, deep cut on it. Slowly, I picked the glass shards out of my hand and chunked them into the trash can beside of me, still smiling a contented smirk as I looked at the palm of my hand. The blood still oozing out of the open laceration.

 

I clenched my wounded hand and put it into my pocket, concealing it. There wouldn't be anyone around. I slain them all…as usual.

 

So, feeling as if I should do something, other then staying in an unoccupied room, I headed for the door. Besides, if I stuck around, my team mates would grow suspicious of me, considering the fact that I didn't even bother to clean it off.

 

I walked out of the door, a few feet away from the bathroom. My team members eyed me as I stood there. I put on that, ever so fake confident smirk.

 

I began to walk away, with my hand clenched. When I got past them, I managed to bandage my cuts. Staring at the bandage, I seemed in a daze, my thoughts void.

 

Then came the ramification of my thoughts. How would I handle the question of “what happened to you?”

 

I would tell them it was a miscalculation in preparation or performance of a jutsu. Seems plausible. Hmpf. What I should tell them is it's none of their damn concern and they shouldn't ask such personal questions.

 

I walked down the path of dirt, with Dosu and Kin behind me. My stature seemed to vanish within the trees, a renowned figure of the Village of the Hidden Sound…if so, then why do I feel so alone?

 

`Wow…That's some pretty deep stuff…' Viridian eyes blinked as she flipped another page, reading the contents within.

 

`I must train more. There's no cause for weakness. Who am I trying to kid?...I am a loser. That's why I got caught stealing that bread, because I never deserved it in the first place. I tried to convince myself that I needed it…But my efforts will forever be disregarded.

 

I am nothing, and I know this…

 

This is why I never learned compassion for my team mates. I never wanted to show them anything. Why would I want them to see me at my weakest? I had cared so much when I was little…But that innocence had been stripped. Those kind mannerisms are gone.

 

To be cold was my only option. I must shun them, and in turn be shunned back.'

 

`What the-?' Viridian eyes widened on their discovery into the working of the Sound Nin.

 

She flipped through the pages until she reached the beginning of the entries, and began to read through them from the beginning.

 

`U guess I stole this to write in. To tell my feelings to and I don't mean the ones I have toward other people, though I'll cover that subject as well. No one will have to know about this, as long as I keep it hidden, no one will have to know, or call me weak on the matter. If they ever saw how pathetic I truly was, they'd just laugh at me…Well, more then they already do.

 

I suppose most of my problems stem from childhood. Things were hard back then, the memories make my stomach churn. I was never good enough…The others got praise so easily, and yet if I worked to the point of fainting from exhaustion, I would only get a slap in the face from my efforts.

 

All I ever wanted…Was someone to think I was worth something…'

 

Sakura frowned. “So, that's one of the reasons behind entering the Chuunin Exams. Still trying to prove your worth?”

 

`I was told that I only escape death by fluke. I can't count how many days that I have sat and cried, clutching a false hope. It was painful and degrading to hold something that I hadn't earned fairly. It felt like everyone was laughing at me for holding hope…I'm sure that Kin and Dosu had one hell of a time laughing about themselves.'

 

Suddenly, Sakura's head snapped up at the twisting of the doorknob. She quickly shut the book and sat it silently on the table. The author walked in, covered in splatters of blood from accomplishing a mission which was assigned to him earlier that day. Sakura acted as usual as ever.

 

“So, you're here.” Zaku stated.

 

“Surprised?” The pink haired kunoichi asked.

 

“Heh, I didn't think you'd show.” The Sound Nin walked over and sat across the table from her, wiping a bit of blood from his cheek. “How long have you been here?”

 

“A while.” Sakura shrugged.

 

Zaku placed his hands on the surface of the table. One of his hands had a bandage around it, crimson liquid bleeding through the fabric. Viridian eyes remained transfixed on the wound.

 

“What happened to you?”

 

“Why do you care?”

 

“I don't. I never knew you wrote a diary.” She pointed to the book on the table.

 

Dark eyes glared at her.

 

“Are you glaring at me? Or is your face stuck like that from being in such a fowl mood all of the time?”

 

“…”

 

“What? You act like I said something wrong.”

 

“It's none of your concern.” He picked up the book from the table and walked slowly over and dropped it into the trash. The heavy object made a loud thunk in the empty trash bin.

 

The kunoichi walked over and bent over slightly, picking up the book. “Do you have to over react to everything?” She asked, sitting the book back on the table. “If it's so unimportant…” She opened the book and began to read, but before her eyes could skim one word, the book was slammed shut by two hands lying flat on either side.

 

“Guilty conscience?”

 

`He's more desperate then I thought. He'll do anything to hide his pain…'

 

“As I said before: This isn't any of your business.” Zaku stressed.

 

He took the book away…

 

…Or at least he tried to, because the pink haired girl's appendage was still attached to it.

 

“What are you hiding?” She asked a determined edge to her voice.

 

“Stay the hell out of my business!” The opposing ninja's hand shook from stress and nerves.

 

“There must be something in here that you don't want me to see.” She replied. “And I'm going to find out.”

 

TBC

 

Preview for Chapter 4: Darkness and Inspiration

 

This book of Zaku's leaves Sakura with many questions, but not so many answers.

 

A/N: That chapter was longer then the other ones. Sorry about that. I hope that I'm making a good fanfic here. This is my representation of the most inner feelings of Zaku. I hope that these are accurate. Please R&R!