Chapter Text
Dot.
You hear it drop. You see it taint the forest floor red. Except it wasn't tainting — it was too small, too unnoticeable, too quiet.
Too irrelevant of a blood drop to affect the Leaf's restless, chaotic, already too dirtied battleground.
But you had watched its path. You had seen it leave the boy's eye, fruit of a sudden cut, the liquid result of a hefty kunai. Or maybe a small kunai, carried by a hefty hand. A hefty warrior. A hefty anger.
Why was he so angry? You couldn't know. The fiery desires other ninjas seemed to be filled with had never taken over you, not even in the slightest. Your body was, at the very least, humid and damp from the inside. It turned flames into smoke before it could reach your core. If for your well being or sad demise, you still weren't sure.
But as you watched the blood leak from his exploded eye, travelling down his arm until it left his fingers in a hopeful jump, your chest tightened. If your limbs weren't paralyzed in fear, you would've grabbed your shirt in an attempt to control the aching. Your body's structure collapsed from within. Your ribs weighed down on your lungs, hardening your breath. Your vision had to retake its path, retrace its way, so you could be sure. It left the bloody grass, finding, once again, the now unmoving hand, the crimeless arm and, around the wrist, the friendship bracelet. A simple token for an overtaking, web-weaving relationship that had formed in your training days. You remember making the bracelet: you collected flowers, sticks and pieces of fabric to award your two team members in a common afternoon. You gave it to them smiling. The path of a shinobi to you, then, was as light as the sun rays traversing a glass window.
But, now, as the dirt in the forest stung the cuts in your leg, as you laid on your knees, the only light shining was reflected onto the blade. The blade that had broken through your team member's skull. The blade that was handled by a similar boy, with a similar arm, and a similar bracelet wrapped around his wrist. But this boy was not as unmoving. Not as blameless.
He took the blade out of the head in a forceful swing. The innocent boy's body fell down in a thump.
The other one turned toward you.
It was such a shame you still recognized himself in his eyes.
If only he had been overtaken by something else.
"What are you doing, Kira?" you hear yourself say. It starts without any remarkable tone, completely devoid of strength. But as you ask the sentence, it imprints itself into your brain. You found you, the real you, not your instincts, wondering the same thing: what had happened? The second time you said it, the anger started creeping in. "What are you doing?"
But your change in tone did not affect Kira. He showed the same grace the forest around him made home to. The same stillness.
"I'm not doing anything," he said.
And maybe it was the familiarity of his voice. Maybe it was his gray hair, and his gray eyes, and the shape of his face which was so comforting to you. Maybe it was the fact he was your leader, and that he didn't like lying, and that he had confessed to you, in a quiet night, he wasn't sure if he could be a great shinobi because of it. Maybe it was because, that night, it was the first time you felt somebody understood you. The three of you, you believed, would achieve greatness, and succeed as ninjas, with the same clear heart and the inability to corrupt all that you had in the name of victory. Maybe because it was Kira, and you had trained yourself to move at the speed he dictated. To attack your enemies at his word. To change your will as he planned.
Or maybe it was due to your nature. To the metaphorical water filling your insides. Maybe because you started feeling angry, but that anger didn't find place, couldn't keep burning, didn't have fuel. Maybe because watered fire turns to smoke, and smoke can not be grabbed. Maybe because you were too hurt to be awake, and too clouded to see correctly.
Maybe, maybe...
But you believed him.
How had he gotten hurt, anyway?
"We have to... We have to take him somewhere safe," you said, squinting your eyes. His body was thrown on the ground. His bones shattered to pieces. "We have to take him somewhere we can heal him."
You were on a mission, after all. Taking an exam. The other teams couldn't take your scroll.
You touched the pocket on your left thigh and felt relief upon sensing the cylindrical structure.
You made to get up, but putting force on your feet made another place altogether, upper in your back, ache in a dull pain. Had you hurt your spine? It wasn't possible. Your team hadn't met other students since last night.
Ignoring the aching, you limped toward the body on the ground. "Here, Kira, help me carry him. I think still have one of my aunt's healing paste. He'll wake up in no time. We don't have to worry."
Kira watched, hands crossed behind his back, as you made your way. "Mhm? Ah, yes," he started, a different twinkle in his eyes. "It's a bit dangerous so out in the open."
You didn't give him a response, as it was obvious. Kneeling down beside your team member, you took his hair out of his forehead, in a gentle sweep... Ignoring the flesh, ignoring the cuts, ignoring the blood, ignoring the hole in the place of his eye. You saw him as you had always seen him: the youngest member, your little cousin, Kai. After all, his cheeks were still round and soft, and his clothes still smelled like the firewood your village burned before you both had travelled for the exams. Winter was soon to come, and Kai had always felt cold really easily.
Thinking of it, you took off your jacket and placed on top of him. You weren't as big as him, but it would suffice until you both went home. "I'll take care of you," you whispered, and the grass around stopped moving. You couldn't hear the cicadas screaming, neither were you surrounded by so many shadows anymore. It shone bright around you, and you started feeling like everything was a dream. You would wake up soon. You would be in your bed and the chuunin exam would be in a few days. You would meet your two best friends in an open field, and train until your legs trembled from the exhaustion, until your stomach ached from the laughter. You always laughed when they were with you. Regardless of the pain, regardless of the training, regardless of your fate. It was what you did: you fought fate. This time, too. You would wake up soon, you knew. They would still be with you. Alive. Everything would go back to what it was, and the crippling cold you felt in your fingertips would not last. It would go away. It would go... Everything... Everything... Would go....
Teardrops wet your hand. Your teardrops.
You were sobbing.
It wasn't peace that had dulled the sound of the cicadas. It wasn't the premise of waking up. It was your aching, your cry. Your screams.
Your fingers grabbed onto Kai's arms until your knuckles were white.
"No...!" you tried saying, but your throat got constricted. "My... My Kai..." you could only think you said it. You could only think.
Your head fell down to his torso, as your screams got louder. The coldness of his body came to you as a shock and it almost made you get up again. How soon did a soul leave its corpse?
How long had you been knelt down, watching him bleed?
You couldn't ponder about the answer. As soon as your cries got louder, something twitched inside Kira. It was one thing to deal with you, and it was another to deal with experienced ninjas. You both were still in the forest, surrounded by shinobis eager to destroy anything that moved. He had to act fast.
His kunai came down as heavy rain pounding over earth. The slash on your back took away the breath you struggled to gather in the first place.
It torn your clothes apart, burning your skin tissue, showering your back with dark blood.
And yet…
"sh*t," he cussed.
You knew that movement well. You had watched him train it endlessly, claiming it to be his path to victory. It was a technique exclusive to his clan. Something only shinobis with an exact knowledge of bone placement could attempt.
"Were you trying to paralyze me?" you hissed, already away from the body, away from the murderer. You had jerked your body back by instinct, but proved his failure in consequence.
Was he, too, losing control? It wasn't like Kira to make mistakes.
"I don't want you to be hard to kill," he calmly stated, ever so honest.
Although, at that point, you already had an idea of what was happening, his rational honesty was enough of a punch to take you out of the delusional state.
The fog disappeared.
Kira had killed Kai.
And you had watched it.
Tears started prickling your eyes again. "How could you do it?"
Kira stopped moving, dropping his arms to his side. He tilted his head in confusion.
"Well," he started, "how could you have let me?"
Your eyes widened. His words resonated around you like still water moving at the sound of a gong.
You jumped before you could recognize your own movements, taking a kunai out of your pocket, screaming in pain of what you had heard. You aimed for his head.
But you weren’t quick enough.
You had never been.
Kira dodged with ease, not making any unnecessary movements. Barely acknowledging you.
You let out another scream, turning to try and slash him again. He only moved his shoulders away.
“Why are you mad, little sister? I am just speaking the truth.” You tried hitting him again, but he held your arm in place. He lowered his voice, “you just… stayed there.”
A tear ran down your hot cheek. “I am not your sister,” you hissed, pulling your arm back, already crouching down so you could try your luck with hitting his thigh instead. But, as you reached his knee, he kicked your chin.
You were thrown back, the wind moving with you.
“Do not take the title back,” he stated.
Soon enough, you were back on your feet, running in his direction once again. As it was practice in your village, you were trained to be a medical-nin. You were not skilled in combat. In fact, you weren’t expected to be at the fore front of any fight. Being from your grandmother’s line, which excelled in producing potions, neither your family nor you mastered anything but taijutsu — and, even then, “mastering” only meant “knowing it enough to use it”. Your only chance of harming Kira was embedded in your limbs, reliant on your speed and strength.
That was why, there, standing in front of the man who killed your cousin, you damned your blood and your name.
There was no way you were winning that fight.
Not against him.
As soon as you neared him again, he punched you before you could do anything.
“I liked when you insisted on calling me brother before,” Kira spoke again, his necklace swaying from side to side. “You tried to make me feel like I was family, no? You made sure I didn’t feel excluded being in a team with your and your cousin. I am not a Hoki, after all.”
No, there was no winning this fight.
Not when he had known you for so long. Not when he had taught you how to stand in combat. Not when he had gifted you the very own kunai you now tried to slash him with.
The walls broke down, and despair started flooding your lungs.
You and the damned water inside your heart.
You couldn’t even gather enough hatred to kill him.
“Why are you doing this, Kira?” you asked, more to yourself than to him. Still on the ground, you tried grabbing the dirt under you for leveling. You fought against the stone in your throat. “We were supposed to win this together, become shinobis together, to fight together,” you screamed the last part, throwing the dirt you gathered in a pathetic attempt of… something. You whispered, “what did Kai do to deserve this?”
No, you had hatred enough alright.
You just didn’t have the strength. Or the skills. Or a way out.
Or hope, anymore.
As his figure loomed over you, his shadow only getting bigger against the rays of the setting sun, your heart dropped to your stomach.
You couldn’t do anything.
It was the end.
Kira looked at you, his eyes unwavering, as they tended to be. He seemed to analyse your giving up. “Dear sister. You have always been so… kind.”
The compliment stung and you couldn’t bear it anymore.
You were about to close your eyes, begging him to end it at once, when you felt something hit your hand. Not something. A lot of somethings. A lot of small somethings. You looked at it. Sand.
It was sand.
You watched as Kira’s eyes widened. You turned to see what he saw.
Standing proud, with blood-like hair and piercing green eyes, stood Gaara, surrounded by small gatherings of seemingly self-minded sand, with his arms crossed.
It was no wonder Kira was shocked. He had gotten so close, without even making a sound.
You knew what they said about him, as you were also from Suna. You heard what they used to call him.
The monster. The demon. The killer.
With a wave of relief washing over your body, you quickly got up only to throw yourself at his feet.
If Gaara was as blood-thirsty as everyone seemed to believe, he would be your salvation. He would be your answer.
He would be the one to kill you.
Not the boy you had grown up with. Not the one in your memories.
But, most importantly, not Kai’s murderer.
If you could, you would steal that satisfaction from him.
It would be your last attempt of protecting your cousin. This time, you wouldn’t fail.
Breathing heavily against the ground, you tried holding onto his ankle. ”Please…” you begged, without even telling what for.
You waited for a hit. Waited for his power. Surely, your petulance of touching him would be enough to rile up a monster. Or, even worse, a prince.
But the contact didn’t come. Instead, your heard his voice.
“Was he the one who cut you like this?” Gaara asked.
It was only then you remembered the slash in your back — adrenaline hiding any pain you could be feeling.
The shock of his question left you with an iron-y feeling in your mouth. Still, you looked up and slowly nodded.
Gaara’s stare, somehow, grew sharper, looking ahead.
You didn’t see Kira’s reaction, but, when you looked back, he wasn’t there anymore.
Coward, you thought.
Gaara took a step back, freeing his ankle from your hands, and your mind from your thoughts.
Being thrown into reality again, you quickly bowed, pressing your head to your hand and your hands to the ground.
Surely, this time, you thought, almost relieved with the thought of death. Surely, now.
But you waited, and you waited, and you waited.
Nothing happened.
You raised your head.
Nothing was there anymore. No one.
Just you and the forest.
And just like the falling leaves, the blowing wind, and the warm sand who did not announce their arrival, Gaara went away without a sound to his departure.
“Thank you,” you whispered, anyway. Hoping nature, which was so alike him, would eventually give him the message.
