Naruto Fan Fiction ❯ Nothing's Shadow ❯ Prologue: Storms ( Prologue )

Prologue: Storms

Yoshi: Naruto does not, and will not, belong to me!

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In Sunagakure, a storm was raging. A redheaded boy sat in the window seat of a dimly lit room, tracing the patterns of water droplets as they hit the windowpane. He stared moodily out at the blue-misted village, patiently waiting for the rain to stop. The sound of the door opening caused him to move his head a small distance, just enough to glimpse the newcomer out of the corner of his eye.

It was a girl, her blonde hair done in four pigtails, bearing a tray of food. The boy's black rimmed eyes flicked completely over to view her.

"Temari, what are you doing in here?" He asked, speaking in a deathly calm and quiet voice.

The girl flinched. Only those who knew this dangerous boy would understand that what he just said was a thinly veiled threat.

"Umm…" she stuttered, fear locking her tongue. If she said the wrong thing, what would he do? "I brought you some food. I-it has been t-twelve days since you've eaten G-gaara."

Gaara sighed, then swung his legs over the side of the seat. Twelve days. Had he really been sitting in that room for so long? His thoughts were interrupted as Temari set the tray down beside him. She then left, shooting one frightened glance back at her younger brother.

His pupil-less blue eyes were only accented by the heavy, dark lines that surrounded them. Fire red hair was slightly mussed, yet not of it drifted down into the blood-red scar on his forehead. The scar was the Chinese symbol for `love' that had appeared one day above his left eye.

Gaara's eyes tightened when he caught her glance. Why? Why did every single person look at him that way? So…scared... and… and wary. What were they afraid of? Why were they afraid? A snap diverted his attention from the hatred that was building up inside of him. The metal fork he had picked up was broken clear in half because of his clenching fist.

He sighed, then picked up the pronged half and began eating.

In Sunagakure, a storm was raging. But there wasn't just one. Gaara, too, was creating a storm. One of fear.

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Somewhere in the ocean, two girls clung grimly to a single piece of wood, soaked to the bone, half dead and half numb. The storm that was hitting Sunagakure was also over the young girls. The storm-tossed waves flung them high into the air, and then continued to batter them unconscious. A piece of wood, stuck in a rise of the sandy bottom, struck the board straight on.

The plank, already wet and soft, couldn't bear this one last strike. Before the girls were swept apart, they lunged at each other, hands closing on the other's necklace. The clasp wasn't strong; it ripped open and the girls flew apart, borne by the waves.

The white haired girl soon felt sand touch her feet. Grateful for the small extra support, she tried to stay in one place, so she could regain her strength. Yet doing so was impossible, as the underwater currents were too strong. Drawn up by a huge wave, she pulled herself onto the piece of wood she had. The front end of the wood caught on a current and upended, slamming hard into her stomach.

Gasping for breath, tired as can be and barely alive, she started to pray silently that someone would come and help her. When her feet touched the bottom again, she sent out a soundless plea: Someone… Please help me…please…anyone. Then one last wave sent her spinning into unconsciousness.

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Gaara blinked and looked up. In the back of his mind, he heard a distant cry for help. A small tug at his hand seemed to be telling him where to find the person that was calling him.

As he rose to leave the room, his eyes drifted over to a sand gourd lying on its side close to the door. Almost out of habit, Gaara reached down to pick up the enormous gourd. The comforting weight of sand inside settled over his shoulders as he slung it over to carry it.

Whatever it was that called him probably wouldn't live long. Especially once he got there. Gaara smiled grimly. Yes, once he got there it would definitely die.

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A short walk to the edge of the village and one warp to the border of the neighboring country found Gaara at his destination. As he surveyed the long coast of the beach, some part of his mind noted that the strange pull at him had stopped. The familiar feel of sand under his feet and the strangely calming rush of waves cooled his thirst to kill. It was only then that he noticed a flock of seagulls hovering over the sea.

That's strange, Gaara thought. Why aren't they diving? Then he realized that whatever had caught the birds' attention wasn't dead.

The sand nin wandered over until he was parallel to the crowd of birds. As the boy looked out, he saw that the `whatever' was a human girl, clinging desperately to a broken plank of wood.

Gaara raised one hand, beckoning the sand. Obediently, sand came up from the ocean floor and took hold of the weak person. Feeling the grip on her leg that was slowing moving closer to her arms, she started to struggle.

The sand nin grudgingly admired her spirit. Even in such an emaciated condition, this young human would fight to the last. Then he realized that, with her struggling, he wouldn't be able to concentrate enough to pull her to shore.

He gave the girl a very evil look and let out a disgruntled sigh. Now he was going to get wet. And he did NOT like getting wet. He waded out to the girl. The chest deep water made it difficult to move but he put up with it for the moment. As he took hold of her, she started trying to get loose.

"Stop moving," he ordered coldly. A first he had been amazed that she had this much endurance, but now he was just plain pissed off at her for making it hard.

Strangely enough, she followed his command, seeming to realize that whoever was holding on to her probably wasn't going to drown her and she was more likely to drown herself if she kept moving.

Gaara glanced down, then back up at the shoreline. He muttered under his breath about how much she was bleeding on him, yet he noticed that she was listening to him grumble about the indignities of the world.

As he moved towards the coast, he soon realized that he wouldn't be able to just drag her across the water much longer. The water level was getting too low. He picked up the girl and continued moving. She curled up against him, seemingly grateful for the extra warmth.

Finally he managed to slog up to shore. He set the girl down and straightened up, cracking his back in the process. Gazing down at his charge, he was surprised to see that she was only a child.

That would explain why she hardly weighs anything at all, Gaara realized, guessing her weight to be, at most, fifty pounds.

He looked up at the sky, innocently clear above him but cloudy on the horizon, and the sand nin tried to calculate her age. When he glanced back at her to see if there were any clues in her face, all he saw was a trail of footprints leading back to the dunes. The path swayed all over the place, as she was probably dizzy from blood loss.

Blue eyes just stared at the start of the path for a minute before slowly following it until the trail was hidden by the start of the dunes. Shaking his head incredulously, he moved quietly along the track wondering if she would die because of her own foolishness, or by his hand.

About 15 minutes later he found her, collapsed in a ring of sandy hills with her blood everywhere. He calmly turned her over and swore. The small wound on her abdomen, which he had guessed came from the plank of wood, had ripped open and became larger. Quite a lot larger. So large, in fact, that it nearly spread over onto her back.

"Damn it all, girl. Don't you know when and where to just let common sense take over?" he asked, not expecting her to answer. He noticed the glint of metal in her hand, and reached over to pull a silver necklace with two iron rings on it, both of the rings black with red, green and gold markings on them, out of her hand.

An exasperated sigh came out before he could stop it. This was what she had risked her life to get? One measly necklace? Gaara picked the girl up and got ready to warp. Why didn't he just kill her right there? He supposed it was just a matter of natural curiosity. The ten-year old wanted to know what type of girl would fight a losing battle the entire way down, and then nearly kill herself looking for jewelry. This is going to be one heck of an explanation to Temari, he realized. Oh well. More fun for me.

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A white haired Jounin silently moved among the upper regions of the vast forest that spread across the Land of Fire. His newest assignment was understandable. The Hokage wanted him to go to the Fushichou's estate and find out what happened. Earlier that week, just as a killer storm hit, their house burned down. There had been no reports of any survivors, but Desa and Atue's two young children hadn't been found.

When he came upon the remains of the once beautiful house, even Hatake Kakashi couldn't suppress a gasp.

Everything was gone. There were no exceptions. Two blackened forms on the outskirts of the destruction were the only items left intact. As Kakashi moved closer, the smell of burnt flesh made him gag behind his facemask. The figures were none other than the bodies of Desa and Atue. He bowed his head and silently promised to bury them when he got back.

When he turned around, the soft sound of moving water reminded him that one of the girls might of made to the ocean that was close to their house. The Jounin rushed towards the shoreline, keeping his eyes and ears open for any ambushes or traps that might have been set.

He halted, his one visible eye taking in everything on the shore. A glint of metal caught his eye. A small, dark lump interrupted with the pristine white of the sand that surrounded it.

"Kaisou!" he cried, bolting to the girl's side. As Kakashi picked up the smaller yet older twin, he brushed the dark locks of hair out of his way, trying desperately to find a pulse. When his sensitive fingers picked up a faint throb on the side of her neck, he let out a sigh of relief. There had been, at least, one survivor. The powerful Fushichou bloodline lived on.

"Wha? Who..." her weak voice croaked. Her strangely lavender eyes cracked open, trying to focus on the face above her. "Who are you?"

Kakashi smiled, though no one could have guessed. It was Kaisou all right. Nobody could fake the hereditary amnesia that affected the entire family until they got married to the right person. Or until someone could tell them exactly who they were.

"I am Hatake Kakashi, Jounin of Konohagakure. You are Fushichou Kaisou," he explained placidly.

She blinked and realization dawned in her eyes, "Oh. Sorry, Kashi-nisan."

Her use of the nickname for him only proved that it was Kaisou, and not just a very good fake. "Where's your sister?" At a shake from her head, Kakashi remembered that she probably didn't recall anything that happened during or after the fire. The Fushichou's had a handy ability to lock away hurtful memories until someone or something made the memory resurface.

"Well, lets get you back to the village," he said, picking her up, "They'll want to know you're okay." Kaisou just nodded sleepily and burrowed closer to his body as they took off.

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Yoshi: So what will happen now? Please R&R. You can have rest and relaxation too, but please.