these_lines1 (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} these_lines1) wrote,@ 2007-12-29 22:21:00 |
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Naruto. Yugito Nii. 042. Triangle.
Title: Visions In A Blade
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Yugito Nii
Prompt: Triangle
Word Count: 1039
Rating: G
Summary: Yugito’s eyes moved over the kunai, and Masuru wondered what horrors she saw in the blade.
Author's Notes: None.
Masuru stood behind the Raikage as two of the sentries opened the heavy outer gates, the wooden doors groaning like someone dying. The Raikage, dressed in his formal robes, stepped over the threshold and nodded to one of the caretakers.
“It is an honor to have you here,” the caretaker said, muffled beneath the cloth of his black veil as he bowed obsequiously. The Raikage waved the greeting off impatiently, glancing around the foyer. It was completely bare, devoid of any signs of habitation. The pale light of the winter afternoon streamed in through the rice-paper screens, illuminating the piles of dust heaped in the corners.
“Where is it?”
“Right this way,” the caretaker said, ushering the Raikage down the hallway. Masuru glanced around, thankful that his ANBU mask hid his interest. The temple where the weapon lived had gained a sort of semi-mythical status, like a house that the neighborhood children believed to contain a witch, as no one ever went inside. The caretakers came out every night, but since no one knew who they were, details on the temple or the project were scarce. No one knew anything about the weapon, either: if it was a boy or a girl, how old it was, what plans the Raikage had for it.
The procession- caretaker, Raikage, and the two bodyguards- passed rooms with crumbling wooden frames, broken pottery and ceremonial weaponry scattered across the floors, cast-off remnants of the monks who had once lived there, worshipping their forgotten god- Jashin had been its name.
The caretaker was chattering away, informing the Raikage about how much the weapon ate, how it spent its days (making drawings in the courtyard sand seemed to be a common theme), how it talked (rarely), and whether it had bonded to anyone.
Apparently the weapon hadn’t- although if the disgust in the caretaker’s voice was any indication, the caretakers didn’t particularly want to engage in any bonding. ‘Wow,’ Masuru thought as he stepped down into the courtyard, looking around.
White sand stretched from wall to wall, drawings scattered everywhere. A pond was in the corner, the sluggish water black, the gold-and-white shapes of koi flickering through the gloom and the lacy shadows of the dead tree’s branches. Everything was neat as a pin, an air of quiet routine pervading the air. Masuru shifted uncomfortably, aware that he was an invader in something he didn’t understand.
A deadly silence filled the courtyard as the Raikage stilled, his fingers curling as the newcomers caught sight of the weapon. The hairs rose on the back of Masuru’s neck.
The weapon was a girl- well, that answered the question of gender, at least. She was crouched on the other side of the koi pond, her fingers, crooked into claws, resting on the surface of the water. Her blonde hair was short, barely brushing her earlobes, and her eyes- Masuru blinked, resisted the urge to move closer- were a bright, pure blue, a blue that most people would kill for.
She was dressed in black, blending into the dark rocks on the lip of the pool. Utterly still, utterly calm, her posture reminded Masuru of a cat’s on the hunt. Masuru shook his head, reminded once more of the beast that dwelled inside the girl. He couldn’t afford to forget that, not for a moment; he could never let himself be lulled into complacency by the weapon’s seeming harmlessness.
There was a splash, water droplets arcing through the air, sparkling like diamonds, the girl’s hand slashing through the water like a knife, surfacing with a turtle. She held it up, gazed into its reptilian eyes with her own blue, blue ones, before letting it plop back down into the pond.
“Yugito,” the caretaker said sharply, “come here. The Raikage wants to see you.” The girl- Yugito, and it seemed ridiculous that the weapon that was going to save their country had a name- looked up, her eyes pinning them in place, before she rose from her crouch with eerie, liquid grace. No child as young as her could move like that- children like her were supposed to run and play and fall down and skin their knees. But she wasn’t a child. She was their weapon.
Yugito flowed across the courtyard, barely disturbing the sand patterns, stopping before the Raikage and gazing up at him. The Raikage stared down at her: creator and creation, weapon and wielder.
“I have something for you,” the Raikage said after a long moment, obvious discomfort seething in his voice. Yugito tilted her head, blonde hair shimmering white-silver in the light, before she spoke,
“Really?” Her voice was the quiet rasp of someone unused to speech, carrying an undercurrent of sorrow, of death rattles in the throat. The Raikage nodded, fished something out of his billowing sleeves.
A kunai case gleamed in the light. Yugito took it in thin hands and undid the clasp, flipping the top open. Five kunai, shined mirror-bright, sparkled, throwing dots of light around the courtyard like stars. Yugito picked one out, balanced it on the tip of her finger- they were quality weapons, used by ANBU, feather-light and perfectly balanced, except these kunai were heavy with the weight of expectation, of symbolism- and stared at it, her eyes tracing the triangular blade, the keen edges, the potential humming in the shard of metal.
Masuru watched her, his mouth dry with fear, his hands clammy with cold sweat. The girl was only four, hardly a threat- and yet every cell in his body was screaming for him to flee.
Yugito’s eyes moved over the kunai, and Masuru wondered what horrors she saw in the blade.
“I understand what you want,” Yugito said, placing the kunai back in its case.
“You do?” the Raikage asked. Yugito looked up, met the Raikage’s grave, lined gaze. Masuru blinked. They looked terribly alike, at that moment, like father and daughter or uncle and niece. Yugito smiled. It was bitter and cold as the winter winds, the smile of someone who loved no one and was loved by no one.
“Yes.”
Masuru didn’t understand the transaction that had just occurred, but he knew this-
It was something that would haunt all of Kumo forever.
Title: Visions In A Blade
Fandom: Naruto
Characters: Yugito Nii
Prompt: Triangle
Word Count: 1039
Rating: G
Summary: Yugito’s eyes moved over the kunai, and Masuru wondered what horrors she saw in the blade.
Author's Notes: None.
Masuru stood behind the Raikage as two of the sentries opened the heavy outer gates, the wooden doors groaning like someone dying. The Raikage, dressed in his formal robes, stepped over the threshold and nodded to one of the caretakers.
“It is an honor to have you here,” the caretaker said, muffled beneath the cloth of his black veil as he bowed obsequiously. The Raikage waved the greeting off impatiently, glancing around the foyer. It was completely bare, devoid of any signs of habitation. The pale light of the winter afternoon streamed in through the rice-paper screens, illuminating the piles of dust heaped in the corners.
“Where is it?”
“Right this way,” the caretaker said, ushering the Raikage down the hallway. Masuru glanced around, thankful that his ANBU mask hid his interest. The temple where the weapon lived had gained a sort of semi-mythical status, like a house that the neighborhood children believed to contain a witch, as no one ever went inside. The caretakers came out every night, but since no one knew who they were, details on the temple or the project were scarce. No one knew anything about the weapon, either: if it was a boy or a girl, how old it was, what plans the Raikage had for it.
The procession- caretaker, Raikage, and the two bodyguards- passed rooms with crumbling wooden frames, broken pottery and ceremonial weaponry scattered across the floors, cast-off remnants of the monks who had once lived there, worshipping their forgotten god- Jashin had been its name.
The caretaker was chattering away, informing the Raikage about how much the weapon ate, how it spent its days (making drawings in the courtyard sand seemed to be a common theme), how it talked (rarely), and whether it had bonded to anyone.
Apparently the weapon hadn’t- although if the disgust in the caretaker’s voice was any indication, the caretakers didn’t particularly want to engage in any bonding. ‘Wow,’ Masuru thought as he stepped down into the courtyard, looking around.
White sand stretched from wall to wall, drawings scattered everywhere. A pond was in the corner, the sluggish water black, the gold-and-white shapes of koi flickering through the gloom and the lacy shadows of the dead tree’s branches. Everything was neat as a pin, an air of quiet routine pervading the air. Masuru shifted uncomfortably, aware that he was an invader in something he didn’t understand.
A deadly silence filled the courtyard as the Raikage stilled, his fingers curling as the newcomers caught sight of the weapon. The hairs rose on the back of Masuru’s neck.
The weapon was a girl- well, that answered the question of gender, at least. She was crouched on the other side of the koi pond, her fingers, crooked into claws, resting on the surface of the water. Her blonde hair was short, barely brushing her earlobes, and her eyes- Masuru blinked, resisted the urge to move closer- were a bright, pure blue, a blue that most people would kill for.
She was dressed in black, blending into the dark rocks on the lip of the pool. Utterly still, utterly calm, her posture reminded Masuru of a cat’s on the hunt. Masuru shook his head, reminded once more of the beast that dwelled inside the girl. He couldn’t afford to forget that, not for a moment; he could never let himself be lulled into complacency by the weapon’s seeming harmlessness.
There was a splash, water droplets arcing through the air, sparkling like diamonds, the girl’s hand slashing through the water like a knife, surfacing with a turtle. She held it up, gazed into its reptilian eyes with her own blue, blue ones, before letting it plop back down into the pond.
“Yugito,” the caretaker said sharply, “come here. The Raikage wants to see you.” The girl- Yugito, and it seemed ridiculous that the weapon that was going to save their country had a name- looked up, her eyes pinning them in place, before she rose from her crouch with eerie, liquid grace. No child as young as her could move like that- children like her were supposed to run and play and fall down and skin their knees. But she wasn’t a child. She was their weapon.
Yugito flowed across the courtyard, barely disturbing the sand patterns, stopping before the Raikage and gazing up at him. The Raikage stared down at her: creator and creation, weapon and wielder.
“I have something for you,” the Raikage said after a long moment, obvious discomfort seething in his voice. Yugito tilted her head, blonde hair shimmering white-silver in the light, before she spoke,
“Really?” Her voice was the quiet rasp of someone unused to speech, carrying an undercurrent of sorrow, of death rattles in the throat. The Raikage nodded, fished something out of his billowing sleeves.
A kunai case gleamed in the light. Yugito took it in thin hands and undid the clasp, flipping the top open. Five kunai, shined mirror-bright, sparkled, throwing dots of light around the courtyard like stars. Yugito picked one out, balanced it on the tip of her finger- they were quality weapons, used by ANBU, feather-light and perfectly balanced, except these kunai were heavy with the weight of expectation, of symbolism- and stared at it, her eyes tracing the triangular blade, the keen edges, the potential humming in the shard of metal.
Masuru watched her, his mouth dry with fear, his hands clammy with cold sweat. The girl was only four, hardly a threat- and yet every cell in his body was screaming for him to flee.
Yugito’s eyes moved over the kunai, and Masuru wondered what horrors she saw in the blade.
“I understand what you want,” Yugito said, placing the kunai back in its case.
“You do?” the Raikage asked. Yugito looked up, met the Raikage’s grave, lined gaze. Masuru blinked. They looked terribly alike, at that moment, like father and daughter or uncle and niece. Yugito smiled. It was bitter and cold as the winter winds, the smile of someone who loved no one and was loved by no one.
“Yes.”
Masuru didn’t understand the transaction that had just occurred, but he knew this-
It was something that would haunt all of Kumo forever.
