Post by SORAbear on Dec 6, 2010 13:22:04 GMT -5
Chapter One: Running
The sun had set, casting long, dark orange shadows across the flat, pillowed sky that had just begun to darken. Wind whistled through the thick green branches, twisting and batting at the already swirling leaves. Trees parted and made way for a winding dirt path, overhanging to give shade. Orange rays still shone through, lighting the way.
Twigs and shriveled leaves snapped and crunched underfoot as she ran, each stride quickening. Her destination was nowhere in sight, but still she bolted forward. She had been on the run for three months now, traversing from village to village in search of a safe place to hide. Sweat trickled down her forehead, sliding down to soak her dark purple scarf.
There were four trailing behind, their chakra signatures slowly diminishing until they were gone. Had they stopped following?
The breath in her lungs was strangling her, burning her insides. After being cooped up in a room no bigger than the size of a small apartment, surrounded by thick scrolls, for a good four years, one would find it hard to be fit. She let out a harsh cough, tiny knives seeming to drag down her throat. Her hands fluttered up, an attempt to soothe.
She forced herself to stop moving, collapsing into the tree she just now stood by. The protruding brown bark, now adorned with the dark orange light of the sinking sun, dug into her back. Having taught herself never to feel exterior pain, she couldn't feel it. Nor would she care to.
Breaths came easier, nowhere near as painful and difficult as before. She pushed herself away from the tree, the bark leaving oddly shaped indents in her clothed skin. Standing up straight, she took in a shaky breath. Then it hit her.
Four chakra signatures. Four bodies. Four men ready to brutally murder her. They wore such ugly uniforms... A purple rope tied around the waist; horrible light grey, unbuttoned shirts; black fingerless gloves; black pants and shoes.
"Hello, Amaya," one slimy voice stated slyly.
'No! Why'd I stop?!'
Dimming sunlight revealed their disgusting faces; twisted and scarred, painted and rebuilt. These men were once under her command. They were once her followers. How... noble of her ex-sensei, ex-subordinate, ex-friend to send them after her.
"Hello, Tatsuke," Amaya wheezed, releasing her own throat. Jaw set, expression blank, she knew that no matter what she did, she wouldn't get out alive. She had little to no chakra left.
'There's always me, kid. I'm your trump card. Let me out and I'll take care of them for you,' a slick voice echoed from the inner recesses of Amaya. 'Listen to me and I'll save you.'
Liar. Houkou was such a sucky liar.
Only one heartbeat could be heard. The surrounding men were merely toys, heartless puppets of Orochimaru. Amaya's lips curled back in disgust, glaring down the supposed Tatsuke, who seemed to be a Kimimaro wanna-be. The only difference being the lack of make-up and longer hair.
Orochimaru had been her teacher, her friend, her subordinate. He had taught her most of what she knew and doted on her like she was his favorite. But the bastard was also a murderer and... an evil cow. The man switched from body to body in hopes of living forever. It was sickening. At one moment in time, a year ago, he wanted to use Amaya as his 'vessel'. Yet, he didn't because of the repercussions. There were certain things he would never be prepared to deal with. So he backed off of that idea and began his search for a more... fitting 'vessel'. And about three months ago, Amaya wanted to leave and start her own search. But of something much more normal, like a real friend or maybe even her sister and brother. Orochimaru didn't like that at all.
Weight shifted and the next thing she knew, they were circling her. Vengeful smirks tattooed their ugly faces.
'Play it cool.'
A slow sigh, her eyelids slowly sagged shut over her intense purple irises. Dust and dirt rumbled quietly under her once favored followers' feet as they moved in a sluggish circle around her person. She stood perfectly still, listening to their movements. Soft, quick swishes.
Something warm and wet began to trickle from a fresh cut on her cheek, dripping down like molasses. Same could be said for the other cheek. As for her arms and legs. A gash on her exposed stomach, in particular, gushed the hot liquid coursing through her veins.
More swishes. "I thought you'd put up a fight, Ami. I thought you'd wanna kill us." More gashes and cuts. "Turns out I was wrong," Tatsuke pointed out, disappointed. But he followed that up with a murderous cackle.
Tatsuke was her favorite little desciple, for lack of a better term. The wanna-be always sided with her whenever she and Orochimaru argued over certain matters. But ever since she left, he's betrayed the loyalty he had for her and volunteered to hunt her down.
'If all he's going to do is mock me and give me scratches, he won't get very far,' Amaya mumbled inwardly, her fingers giving the slightest twitch at the thought.
She was... usually a bloodlusting, murderous person. But during her confinement, she had forced herself into a stoic shell of her former self, afraid of the harm she could inflict unto the one person that she might possibly feel something for. However, that one boy was never going to forgive her for leaving, never going to let her be anywhere near him because she left...
It's been five years since Amaya deserted her home village, Sunagakure. Before she had left, she befriended a boy, a boy similar to her. Friendless, emotionless, lonely, tired, quiet, sad, angry, violent. A boy just like her. Yet, she kept herself different from him. Instead of murdering, she would analyze other people and decide whether or not they were worth her time.
Moving along... She met this boy in a field of that unmistakable light brown sand. The time was around noon, judging from the position of the sun. Academy students flocked together to play stupid games like kick-ball or soccar, sometimes tag. None of these people she found particularly interesting. They were all so... bland and hateful.
She could notice and note how the other kids would exclude this boy she had soon befriended. Let's just say it wasn't her cup of tea. Stoic as always, she quietly made her way over to him, ridden with emptiness. Emotions hadn't mattered to her at the time, so she didn't keep them on a leash.
Red hair, sea-foam eyes, no eyebrows. Amaya had to admit that the boy looked funny, but in a cute way. Kinda like a chipmunk.
This boy was horribly misunderstood and treated badly. She could sympathize since her sister would always attempt to murder her, since the wolf demon Houkou was sealed inside her, since she looked like she never slept either. A few steps toward him and the glaring contest began.
The walk down memory lane had been interrupted.
A brutal strike to her abdomen. She found herself in the air, suspended by a hand soaked in the blood seeping from the long wound just below her belly-button, facing the ground. And for the first time in a long time, she sensed a certain tingle. A pain that she was never supposed to feel again.
Years ago, as been explained before, she taught herself to never feel exterior pain. It would only get in the way, slow her down. She hated pain. Absolutely despised it. Not because it hurt, but because she didn't want to know how it felt to die. She wanted death to be painless. Now those foreign pangs of agony were going to slowly return.
Now... she was scared. And her second to last resort was her only option.
"No!" Amaya shrieked, blowing her composure. Her bleeding arms bolting in front of her, fingers forming the necessary hand-signs for the one jutsu that would make them go away.
A gust of cutting winds swirled around harshly, forcing deep slices to surface in the skin of her enemies. The leaf-and-twig littered ground rumbled around them all, slowly cracking and inching its way up the four men's legs. Essentially, the earth was going to be a thick weight, keeping the four cemented to the ground for the painful beating soon to come.
Amaya was sweating rivers, she was so horrified.
The air suddenly became cooler, freezing like the frost-bitten winds in winter. Icicles were forming, that much was apparent.
But before she could see it through to the end..., everything went black and she was on a collision course with the crunchy leaves and twigs hiding the path.
The sun had set, casting long, dark orange shadows across the flat, pillowed sky that had just begun to darken. Wind whistled through the thick green branches, twisting and batting at the already swirling leaves. Trees parted and made way for a winding dirt path, overhanging to give shade. Orange rays still shone through, lighting the way.
Twigs and shriveled leaves snapped and crunched underfoot as she ran, each stride quickening. Her destination was nowhere in sight, but still she bolted forward. She had been on the run for three months now, traversing from village to village in search of a safe place to hide. Sweat trickled down her forehead, sliding down to soak her dark purple scarf.
There were four trailing behind, their chakra signatures slowly diminishing until they were gone. Had they stopped following?
The breath in her lungs was strangling her, burning her insides. After being cooped up in a room no bigger than the size of a small apartment, surrounded by thick scrolls, for a good four years, one would find it hard to be fit. She let out a harsh cough, tiny knives seeming to drag down her throat. Her hands fluttered up, an attempt to soothe.
She forced herself to stop moving, collapsing into the tree she just now stood by. The protruding brown bark, now adorned with the dark orange light of the sinking sun, dug into her back. Having taught herself never to feel exterior pain, she couldn't feel it. Nor would she care to.
Breaths came easier, nowhere near as painful and difficult as before. She pushed herself away from the tree, the bark leaving oddly shaped indents in her clothed skin. Standing up straight, she took in a shaky breath. Then it hit her.
Four chakra signatures. Four bodies. Four men ready to brutally murder her. They wore such ugly uniforms... A purple rope tied around the waist; horrible light grey, unbuttoned shirts; black fingerless gloves; black pants and shoes.
"Hello, Amaya," one slimy voice stated slyly.
'No! Why'd I stop?!'
Dimming sunlight revealed their disgusting faces; twisted and scarred, painted and rebuilt. These men were once under her command. They were once her followers. How... noble of her ex-sensei, ex-subordinate, ex-friend to send them after her.
"Hello, Tatsuke," Amaya wheezed, releasing her own throat. Jaw set, expression blank, she knew that no matter what she did, she wouldn't get out alive. She had little to no chakra left.
'There's always me, kid. I'm your trump card. Let me out and I'll take care of them for you,' a slick voice echoed from the inner recesses of Amaya. 'Listen to me and I'll save you.'
Liar. Houkou was such a sucky liar.
Only one heartbeat could be heard. The surrounding men were merely toys, heartless puppets of Orochimaru. Amaya's lips curled back in disgust, glaring down the supposed Tatsuke, who seemed to be a Kimimaro wanna-be. The only difference being the lack of make-up and longer hair.
Orochimaru had been her teacher, her friend, her subordinate. He had taught her most of what she knew and doted on her like she was his favorite. But the bastard was also a murderer and... an evil cow. The man switched from body to body in hopes of living forever. It was sickening. At one moment in time, a year ago, he wanted to use Amaya as his 'vessel'. Yet, he didn't because of the repercussions. There were certain things he would never be prepared to deal with. So he backed off of that idea and began his search for a more... fitting 'vessel'. And about three months ago, Amaya wanted to leave and start her own search. But of something much more normal, like a real friend or maybe even her sister and brother. Orochimaru didn't like that at all.
Weight shifted and the next thing she knew, they were circling her. Vengeful smirks tattooed their ugly faces.
'Play it cool.'
A slow sigh, her eyelids slowly sagged shut over her intense purple irises. Dust and dirt rumbled quietly under her once favored followers' feet as they moved in a sluggish circle around her person. She stood perfectly still, listening to their movements. Soft, quick swishes.
Something warm and wet began to trickle from a fresh cut on her cheek, dripping down like molasses. Same could be said for the other cheek. As for her arms and legs. A gash on her exposed stomach, in particular, gushed the hot liquid coursing through her veins.
More swishes. "I thought you'd put up a fight, Ami. I thought you'd wanna kill us." More gashes and cuts. "Turns out I was wrong," Tatsuke pointed out, disappointed. But he followed that up with a murderous cackle.
Tatsuke was her favorite little desciple, for lack of a better term. The wanna-be always sided with her whenever she and Orochimaru argued over certain matters. But ever since she left, he's betrayed the loyalty he had for her and volunteered to hunt her down.
'If all he's going to do is mock me and give me scratches, he won't get very far,' Amaya mumbled inwardly, her fingers giving the slightest twitch at the thought.
She was... usually a bloodlusting, murderous person. But during her confinement, she had forced herself into a stoic shell of her former self, afraid of the harm she could inflict unto the one person that she might possibly feel something for. However, that one boy was never going to forgive her for leaving, never going to let her be anywhere near him because she left...
It's been five years since Amaya deserted her home village, Sunagakure. Before she had left, she befriended a boy, a boy similar to her. Friendless, emotionless, lonely, tired, quiet, sad, angry, violent. A boy just like her. Yet, she kept herself different from him. Instead of murdering, she would analyze other people and decide whether or not they were worth her time.
Moving along... She met this boy in a field of that unmistakable light brown sand. The time was around noon, judging from the position of the sun. Academy students flocked together to play stupid games like kick-ball or soccar, sometimes tag. None of these people she found particularly interesting. They were all so... bland and hateful.
She could notice and note how the other kids would exclude this boy she had soon befriended. Let's just say it wasn't her cup of tea. Stoic as always, she quietly made her way over to him, ridden with emptiness. Emotions hadn't mattered to her at the time, so she didn't keep them on a leash.
Red hair, sea-foam eyes, no eyebrows. Amaya had to admit that the boy looked funny, but in a cute way. Kinda like a chipmunk.
This boy was horribly misunderstood and treated badly. She could sympathize since her sister would always attempt to murder her, since the wolf demon Houkou was sealed inside her, since she looked like she never slept either. A few steps toward him and the glaring contest began.
The walk down memory lane had been interrupted.
A brutal strike to her abdomen. She found herself in the air, suspended by a hand soaked in the blood seeping from the long wound just below her belly-button, facing the ground. And for the first time in a long time, she sensed a certain tingle. A pain that she was never supposed to feel again.
Years ago, as been explained before, she taught herself to never feel exterior pain. It would only get in the way, slow her down. She hated pain. Absolutely despised it. Not because it hurt, but because she didn't want to know how it felt to die. She wanted death to be painless. Now those foreign pangs of agony were going to slowly return.
Now... she was scared. And her second to last resort was her only option.
"No!" Amaya shrieked, blowing her composure. Her bleeding arms bolting in front of her, fingers forming the necessary hand-signs for the one jutsu that would make them go away.
A gust of cutting winds swirled around harshly, forcing deep slices to surface in the skin of her enemies. The leaf-and-twig littered ground rumbled around them all, slowly cracking and inching its way up the four men's legs. Essentially, the earth was going to be a thick weight, keeping the four cemented to the ground for the painful beating soon to come.
Amaya was sweating rivers, she was so horrified.
The air suddenly became cooler, freezing like the frost-bitten winds in winter. Icicles were forming, that much was apparent.
But before she could see it through to the end..., everything went black and she was on a collision course with the crunchy leaves and twigs hiding the path.