Surreal

Same as Always

2007-12-01T15:55:42Z

Type: One-shot
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: General/Angst
Rating: T
Pairing: None (Naruto Centric)
Author: grey_muffin
Posted on Fanfiction.net: Dec/25/06
Warning: A slightly darkish portrayal of Christmas

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any characters that appear in this one-shot.

A boy slowly kicked his legs, lifting himself higher into the air. He soared higher and higher until he saw the ebony fingers of bare tree branches above him.

“Tch. Look it’s that kid.” Someone snorted.

The boy felt himself careen down and the tips of his sandals drove into the ground, coveting them with a blanket of dirt. His choked laughter filled the air and the serene breath of wind flaring his blonde locks enticed him.

“Look at him. He doesn’t deserve to be happy, not after what he did 7 years…”

“Shh! We’re not allowed to talk about it!”

“It..?” Sapphire orbs trailed along the vast hilltops, searching for the haunting voices. He craned his neck in all directions, but all he could see were the fresh canvases of green, yellow, and grey… “Grey..?”

The boy leaned forward, shuffling to edge of his seat and squinted. The sun’s glare strained his eyesight, painting white-yellow patches in his vision, but he slitted his eyes and concentrated. At first, it looked like a river of dark grey but as his vision sharpened, he could make out distinctive forms and curves. What is it?

Shapes, curves, and colours, they continued to appear as the blonde’s vision sharpened. It was clear; he saw, but he didn’t want to see. The boy sank back onto the piece of wood, knowing with a familiar expression what it was. It was the villagers, standing before him, staring, but not with beady eyes but with their backs. Their backs were turned, staring blankly. Their backs, cold and stiff as always stared at the neglected boy. He always hated that.

“Just stay away from him. He’s a burden to Konoha.”

Rigid fingers entwined the chains tethered to the swing.

“I hate his face. His face sickens me!”

Hollow orbs stared down at the bladed grass.

“It’s the face of death. Blood has stained his hands.”

He seethed through gritted teeth.

“Baka! No one would want him as Hokage.”

The chains rattled as he gripped them tighter…

“A monstrosity doesn’t deserve to live!”

and tighter.

“I hate him! I hate that demon child!”

Demon child...?

Naruto swung up in his bed, wrinkling the sheets with an iron grip. Moist lathering sweat drenched his face and strands of disheveled hair embraced the sides of his burning cheeks. His breathing was hoarse and distorted, puffing up his chest with each struggling intake of air. Somehow, the air felt too heavy for him to appreciate.

“It…” Trembling sapphires stared down at his pale knuckles. “It was that dream again.”

A vibrant chill swept into the room, accenting its contents with an icy touch. A shudder escaped his sore lips, but the cool whispers of wind seemed to have a soothing affect on the traumatized genin. His eyes softened and he felt his fingers curl around the bounds of white fabric, conveying a gentler grip. His chest rose slowly as the endeavors became light and even.

Why..? A sigh trailed out of Naruto’s lips. Why do I always have that dream? His eyes stalked the egg-white ceiling as if the answer was hidden up there – somewhere.

They scrutinized the deep creases engraved in its rigid texture and then traveled downwards grimacing at the empty noodle cups piled on his desk, dripping with cold savory soup. Naruto stared listlessly, but it wasn’t his bilious etiquette that he was peering at, it was the trifle hung above it. There, flapping against winter’s breath was his half-torn calendar and on it was a beaming circle marking the number, 25.

“That’s right…” Half-lidded eyes flickered. “It’s Christmas.”

An echoing thump bellowed as Naruto dragged himself off his bed and onto the frosty floorboards. His slouched figure pursued into his quaint living room, one which was illuminated by ghostly auras of light. Its radiance reflected a brilliant blue, but its harsh glare was much too unbearable as the hunched boy looked away with the palm of his hand raised. It wasn’t really the metallic glare, but there was a sense about it that he found utterly petulant.

Naruto paced towards a towering figure standing by the open window. Its arms were ebony and sharp needles pierced around them, giving it a thick coat of green. Adorning the lush tree were hooked balls of red and gold and ribbons of tinsel entwined its branches. From where he stood, he could make out the bronzed texture of the star he had put up last night – though it took him a dozen attempts before it finally tired of falling to the floor. Normally, remembering his comical antics would plaster a foxy grin on his groggily face, but for reasons unknown, Naruto only saw dull eyes mirror off the glistening decorations.

Every year, He thought, rummaging through the prickly branches until the pads of his fingers met the tree’s trunk. He crouched down onto his knees, vaguely searching for colourfully wrapped boxes and bags. There were none. It’s all the same. There have never been any gifts snuggling the tree, only the cold feeling where he crouched down every year.

He wasn’t really surprised by the fact though. Naruto heaved a heavy sigh before hoisting himself up and brushing the sprinkles of dust from his sagging pajamas. Turning around, he inspected the tray of cookies he left the night before, lingering with Santa’s myth. It wasn’t that he really believed an obese man would fall down the chimney to deliver gifts to all the pleading children; it’s just that he found it enticing to play with such a feigned story. There were five oatmeal biscuits – still in their distorted states. Barely any crumbs stained the porcelain plate.

Same as always

He didn’t know why, but it had become a ludicrous routine to check under the crooked tree and the cold plate of cookies – even though he already knew the answer. Yet, what was the point? There will never be presents under the tree or a missing cookie from the plate, but there is a meaning to his livid actions. Deep in the forlorn crevices of the genin’s mind, a single fragment of hope lies – hope that he could believe there were people precious to him. It was a hope the desperate boy had built ever since he could remember, but it was one that became more feigned as the years pass. With the frosty floor tiles and the untouched treats welcoming him once again, Naruto found it harder to believe and he knows, one day a lonely Christmas will finally push him over the edge and there won’t be a single shard of belief left for him to hold onto. For the 12th time in a row, Christmas was the same as always: lonely.

Naruto bent down and raised a biscuit to his lips. He had heard that Kiba will be having a family reunion and that Shino will be vacationing in Bird Country to find new specimens. For him though, he doesn’t quite smile at the thought of Iruka treating him to ramen for the 12th time in a row. Naruto takes a bite of the stale treat, wincing at its daunt flavour. After all, on a tumultuous holiday like Christmas, the Kyuubi-bearer doesn’t expect much.

The Rhythm of Hardwork

2007-12-01T15:52:48Z

Type: One-shot
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: Angst/General
Rating: T
Pairing: None (Lee Centric)
Author: grey_muffin
Posted on Fanfiction.net: Sep/2/06

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any characters that appear in this one-shot.

‘Even though I can’t use ninjutsu or genjutsu, I want to work hard to become an excellent ninja!’

That was the goal he set out for himself, a promise that wouldn’t be broken. No matter what others thought of him, Rock Lee, one of the few in this power-driven world who isn’t able to concentrate their charka to even do a simple Bushin no Jutsu, will exceed them all. It’s because, he’s a genius,

a genius of hardwork.

He was a dropout, an academy student that was little to nothing in ninjutsu and genjutsu and even back then, a thick-browed eight year old with under-average taijutsu skills. What kind of ninja was he? An inferior ninja? Was he a new breed of ninja, ones that were shunned and scoffed at for their nonexistent skills? What was he? Was he born this way? Who was he...really? Lee had asked himself these questions each evening, while walking home from the academy, bruised and dishelved, but a droned expression was always etched on a porcelain face. Wide onyx orbs reflected every echoing laughter and immoral smirk that stabbed at his beating heart, the rhythm of it slowly fading, fading into barren silence. He knew if he didn’t keep his promise that was set miles before him, his heart…

would stop beating.

Lee never goes back on his word.

-+-

An eight year old Lee clad in a green Chinese style jacket and brown pants that reached just above his ninja sandals, huffed and panted as he ran laps around the academy with his classmates in tow. The solid dirt ground felt softer as more dust fogged their visions and familiar trashcans, trees – their usual landmarks became mentally expected. Lee watched as his legs mechanically paced, the left one before the right.

“Come on, do your best!” Their shaggy navy-haired sensei hollered from his post next to the steel-wired fence, his sunken orbs stalking the oncoming stampede. “I’m going to add an additional two hundred laps!”

At that warning, the crowd of boys kicked their legs rigorously, their constant pants leading their weary paces into a slowly fading rhythm. Lee wore a determined expression, his bushy brows furrowed as his saucer-like eyes stared distantly forward. One thought repeated itself like a broken tape recorder: ‘I will finish the laps!’

A silver-haired boy in front of him looked behind his shoulder, only to find the determinedly scrunched up face of Rock Lee. He stifled a boastful laugh. “Baka! You can’t become a ninja!”

This caused a single chain reaction as an orchestra of laughter overpowered the chirping birds and the whispering trees. It felt as if their howls of enjoyment shook the ground underneath them. Lee could feel his jaw tighten and his hands clench into small fists. “I can!” He cried, kicking his legs forward.

“A guy who can’t use ninjutsu or genjutsu can’t become a ninja!” A brunette retorted, joining the foul game that was reluctantly played each day.

“I can!” He cried again, his tone less vigor this time.

The silver-haired boy looked back at him, a vile smirk written on his taunting face. “Actually, it makes no sense why a guy like you is in this ninja academy when you can’t use ninjutsu or genjutsu and possess below average taijutsu skills.”

He silently bit his lip, vainly ignoring another wave of laughter. He heard their voices, the voices of blood-thirst demons, his demons. He heard them laugh and snicker, their voices high and low, cold venom trailing out of fanged sneers. The mop-top’s knuckles bore a pale white and his lips adorned a scarlet red, but his legs hesitantly kept their pace, the left one before the right.

Rock Lee will finish the laps.

He never loses faith. That’s a promise.

“Do you know what you’re called around here?” A blue-haired boy questioned, bumping shoulders with him.

The boy wasn’t taken back by the subtle question, he already knew the answer. It was one word, one that had fragmented his life, one that had weaved a concrete barrier, pushing him farther from his goal. It, was the one word he hated.

“Hot-blooded!” The demons roared.

Lee felt his pace quicken, the soles of his sandals pounding brutally into the innocent dirt floor. He felt his pulse’s constant rhythm, beating in his ears, blocking every other sound, except for the conspiracy that haunted him.

“Hot-blooded!” They recited the mantra again, blocking the mop-top from his escape.

The word echoed in his head, whispering over and over again. It rang, screamed, in his ears, mocking him once more. The air around him felt suffocatingly heavy. He couldn’t breathe, his throat was taintingly dry as if someone had an iron grip around his neck. It felt as if that one word was slowly killing him.

It was.

As Lee stared wide-eyed at the sneering monsters, a pitiful glint illuminated their orbs. He felt as if the dam he had built had shattered, washing away everything he had worked for – everything he believed. Before, when he secretly trained by himself, to prove everyone wrong, to prove his way of the ninja, he would ruthlessly suffer blood-drenched scars, a red river dripping through pale knuckles. He wouldn’t mind the pain, it only marked how closer he was to his goal, but it was different this time. This time, Rock Lee hated the pain. He felt so vulnerable, like a mouse hiding in a hole, traumatized with fear. He could feel it all. He could feel his body shake uncontrollably, his hands mechanically balling up into fists and extending back outwards. He could feel onyx orbs shift from one spot to another, his chin quiver and shake, and the hollow silence of a skipped beat. It felt as if, a kunai was lodged into his heart.

This is Rock Lee. This isn’t Rock Lee.

“Hot-blooded drop…”

‘No…that’s…NO THAT’S NOT TRUE!’ Lee screamed, but no words came out, only the taunting whimpers of tantalizing fear were heard. This fear, the one sensation he knew more than anything else was eating at his heart.

He felt his legs begin to buckle and his quivering body ready to collapse, collapse in terror. ‘No…don’t say it…’ That was the last straw. As if he was the victim of Shintenshin no Jutsu, Lee did something he thought he would never do:

He ran away.

The mop-top had shut his eyes tight and covered his ears as he sped off, acting not of a shinobi, but as a desperate child. It didn’t matter where he was going, as long as he had escaped his nightmare. The child couldn’t hear or see anything, he was alone in his own world. Even as he ran, his sandals sinking deeper into the dirt floor, Lee was running away, away from all his problems, demons that have haunted him. Silence, empty silence, it was sheer bliss. That was all he could hear, except for the lone whispering rhythm of a bleeding heart…

his bleeding heart.

“Lee, get in line!” His sensei called after the fugitive. “Lee!”

Silence was his reply.

He never came back.

-+-

Lee realized that day, as he ran into the forest, driven by his own lack of self-esteem, he didn’t want that life, the life of a scurrying mouse. He wanted to live his life as a shinobi, one who followed their own way of the ninja, his own way of the ninja. Lee doesn’t want to hesitantly hide behind others, others who had scoffed and sneered at his inferiority. He doesn’t want others, his demons looking down at him, their fanged smirks barred with requiem. The dropout wanted blood-stained fists blocking kunai and shuriken, washing away the pitiful memories of his once shaking hands. He wanted to prove his worth, to feel his adrenaline rushing, his heart beating out of ambition. He had never worn a mask, shielding his fear from watchful eyes, and he never will. It didn’t make him feel naked, the unveiled truth etched in porcelain skin. The boy isn’t afraid to let everyone know how he feels, because Lee will be Lee. The fugitive will face them, his demons, and fight them as a shinobi, one who had shattered the concrete barrier and kept his promise. He will become an excellent ninja. That, was his redemption.

The dropout won’t run away any longer.

-+-

“396, 397, 398, 399, 400, 401, 402, 403. If I can’t finish kicking the log five hundred times, I’ll have to do one thousand squats!” The boy huffed, bringing his leg back and forth, assaulting the rugged exterior of a tree trunk. “413, 414, 415, 416...”

He’ll never fall, he’ll stand up again…

“One thousand squats! If I can’t do them, I’ll have to do two thousand punches!” A determined Lee declared through gritted teeth, luminous crystals drenching the now dewy grass.

and again…

“Two thousand punches! If I can’t do them, I’ll have to jump rope two thousand times!”

because when he falls, he’ll hear silence…

The rhythm will stop.

-+-

“196, 197, 198…” An exhausted Lee huffed, ignorantly putting aside the throbbing pain in his left appendages as he pushed himself up. “I have to do two hundred pushups! Just one more…”

He heard the shrill screams of a nurse as a curtain of beige cloth velveted his blurry vision. They whispered silent words to each other and gazed down at the limp figure on the ground, but all he saw as he looked up at their faces were silent moving lips and blank hollow stares. He felt numb. Why did he feel so numb? Of course he knew why. Rock Lee felt his skin brush against the dirt floor, sending chills through his almost lifeless corpse. His face was cushioned with brown velvet and his arms and legs laid limply astray. He didn’t speak or move. All he did was stare at the white monster wrapped around his left arm with blank onyx orbs. Lee was a pitiful sight. He never made it to two hundred.

‘When did the ground become so cold…?’

‘When they told you that you couldn’t live the life of a shinobi anymore…’ Whispered a sickening voice that he found out to be his own.

Lee felt his heart skip a beat…

but the rhythm never stopped.

Rain

2007-12-01T15:48:34Z

Type: Poem
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: Poetry/Angst
Rating: T
Pairing: None (No one)
Author: grey_muffin
Posted on Fanfiction.net: Aug/28/06

Diclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any characters that appear in this poem.

Rain

I always watch the rain.

Not with weary eyes

Or with a doleful frown.

I watch from the windowsill,

With blank eyes

And a straight line.

When I was little,

I thought the rain

Were crystal tears.

It rained when people cried,

Spreading their sorrow,

Misery,

Heartache.

Even shinobi made them fall

But their masks won’t show tears.

There’s too much pride to care.

Nobody cares.

They collapse,

Wither,

Drown,

On the inside.

When someone close dies,

They die,

Yet they live,

They breathe,

They finally care.

The rain will fall

It always does.

It doesn’t matter,

If you’re strong

You can’t stop it.

Death will fall,

Staining everything

But will anyone care?

No,

Nobody cares,

Ever.

When I was little,

I thought the rain

Were crystal tears.

Still do.

I hate the rain.

Shattered Mask

2007-12-01T15:42:55Z

Type: One-shot
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: Angst
Rating: T
Pairing: None (Hinata Centric)
Author: grey_muffin
Posted on Fanfiction.net: Jul/29/06

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any characters that appear in this one-shot.

Hinata was said to be weak. She was an unfit kunoichi. Even her sister, who’s five years her junior, was more skilled than her. Neglected as heir of the Hyuuga main house, disowned by the man she called father, Hinata tried to stay out of everyone’s way, to make them satisfied, but by doing this ritual of her own making, the shunned Hyuuga forced herself to be in the sidelines.

She forced herself to smile when it was actually a frown.

She forced herself to be happy, but she was crying.

She forced herself to be quiet when she wanted to yell and scream.

She forced herself to be obedient when she wanted to neglect orders.

She forced herself to shy away when she wanted to confess her feelings.

She forced herself to think she’s weak when she wanted to be strong.

She forced herself to be like this when she doesn’t want to be.

She forced herself to accept it when she wanted to change.

The list would go on, but Hinata would list them in her head until she starts repeating the mask of lies over. Then she would start from the beginning again, repeating the spells of façade that bound her to this ludicrous life. Each time though, as she drowns in shattered pieces of memory, a single nonexistent crystal would taint the rim of her soulless eyes.

Now, Hinata had pushed away her mask, but shards of it’s porcelain shell still remained, hung loosely on her face. She wasn’t free and the pearl-eyed girl knows that. She has to earn her freedom, to stop the losing war that plagued her conscience. With that set miles before her, the Hyuuga trained alone, assaulting the wooden log rooted near her family estate. She wants to be herself, to be strong. She doesn’t want to be left behind, in the sidelines where she used to find safe. She wants to block kunai and Jyuuken enemies, to feel her heart pounding rigorously in her chest.

She wants to, because nowhere is safe, it never was.

That’s why when blood stains her once soft smooth hands, a slight smile plays on her lips. It was her blood. Her’s…her skin’s no longer embedded in the blood and guilt of her former teammates or Naruto, who had left her behind, becoming what she could not. Hinata now smiled at the red monster. It showed her determination to change, to break down the barrier she had weaved with her own lies.

The raven-haired girl won’t be left behind anymore.

Hinata stared at the white bandages wrapped around her hands. Waves of pain throbbed through them, but pearl orbs would stare confidently. It was only another symbol of the last porcelain shards that still haunted her.

The wary chuunin pushed herself up, wincing at the pain of her arms supporting her weight. Rubbing the palms of her hands, the feeling of blood drenched cloth brushing against skin brought the corners of a straight line to curve upwards. Walking warily to the wooden enemy that was adorned with specks of gleaming red, Hinata positioned herself. A jaded expression crawled it’s way onto her face, shielding the smile etched behind it. Then, ignoring the pain, the lies, and the sideline girl that was once her, Hinata began her assault.

That list of her façade still goes on, but one thing has always remained true…

Hyuuga Hinata wants to be a ninja.

Withering Flowers

2007-12-01T15:39:58Z

Type: One-shot
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: Romance/Angst
Rating: T
Pairing: Shikaino
Author: grey_muffin
Posted on Fanfiction.net: Jul/1/06

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters that appear in this one-shot.

The sky was dipped in canvases of gray and blue. The ground was veiled with a thick blanket of snow as white dust continued to plummet the Earth. It was winter, a rare site in Konoha, with it’s heat waves and blazing suns. A magnificent season, pure and angelic. Everyone found winter as a time of frozen beauty…everyone except a blonde flower girl.

Yamanaka Ino walked through the frozen desert park. She was now 15, three years after becoming a full-fledged kunoichi…no ninja. Her blonde locks were outgrown again and the single bang of hair she always had, now covered about half her face. She wore a dark purple trench coat, black pants, with black gloves for her hands.

Ino continued her stroll as her boots sunk into the white sheet with every step and she winced at the wind’s icy breath. Feeling the need to take a rest, the blonde sat down on a nearby bench, glaring at the frozen sun and the waterfall of snow. She could feel her eyes burn in disgust and her smile etched into a frown. Oh how she wanted to dust off the snowflakes that plagued her clothes and scream at the sky for…for….but her train of thought was interrupted by her pineapple-haired lazy teammate.

“Hey Shikamaru.” Ino plainly greeted, redirecting her gaze to the lazy chuunin who was now sitting beside her.

Shikamaru furrowed his brows. This wasn’t like Ino. She’s a troublesome woman alright, but she’s always full of energy and spirit. He was always greeted by “Shika-kun!” always with the suffix at the end. No matter how troublesome Ino was, it left him dumbfounded at the low-morale words that were spoken.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Shikamaru asked.

There was no reply, only winter’s empty silence. Ino had turned her gaze back to the snow buried ground, her crystal eyes no longer a glare. Shikamaru studied those eyes. They were lowered and sadness stained them. But how could that be? Ino’s always strong. She never backs out and let others insult her or her friends without paying a price. Even through the three years they’ve fought together, he had never seen her like this.

‘How troublesome…’ He thought. ‘It makes her look so vulnerable….’ He opened his mouth to speak, but she had beaten him to it.

“I hate winter,” Ino didn’t redirect her gaze, but the words came out bluntly. “It’s ugly.”

Shikamaru watched without a smile or frown as his teammate’s hands tightly clenched her trench coat.

“I hate it because it’s a thief. It steals beauty.” She spoke again, but her tone was shadowed with displeased hatred. “It withers all the flowers and plants. It makes the trees lose their leaves, exposing their dull branches. Winter steals the flowers’ colours, withering them dry and dead. It steals all the flowers, leaving behind sheets of snow and a frozen sun. Winter has no colours, it’s only white and gray. It stole the flowers, the beauty, and the colours. That’s why I hate winter…” There was a pause as her hands violently wrinkled the fabric. “Because it’s ugly.”

The boy beside her could see her eyes travel along the tree branches and then to the sky, but they had looked away from the ground, where there was nothing, but clouds of snow. Shikamaru didn’t know what to do or say. He was a ninja with an IQ over 200, but he had no knowledge of how to handle women, especially Yamanaka Ino…when she looked so vulnerable. So, like the lazy person he was, he didn’t reply and only nodded. Then he leaned back on the bench and watched the clouds float by, his arms behind his head. Unbeknownst to him though, a certain blonde was quite displeased by this.

“How can you do that?” Ino snapped at him, her crystal orbs finally meeting his.

‘How troublesome…’ Shikamaru tilted his head, only to meet a fiery glare, one that was somewhat familiar. “Do what?”

“How can you still watch the clouds?”

“Huh?...”

“How can you like watching the clouds?” She thrust her arm upward and pointed at the blue and gray sky. “How can you still watch them in this time of year? In the spring and summer, they’re pure white and floating freely, but in the winter, they look like stained ink puddles, weighed down by the sky itself! They use to have beauty and now…now…”

“And now they’re ugly?...” He simply finished for her, his blank stare competing against her fading glare.

It was as if something mentally hit the blonde as Ino stared wide-eyed at her teammate, her orbs drowning in realization. She couldn’t speak, her mouth left agape. Only the sharp intake of breath was spoken. Her arm was no longer raised, but resting limply at her sides. For the second time that day, empty silence was her reply.

“Geez…troublesome women.” Shikamaru had expected a slap across the face, but no pain was felt.

“Sorry Shikamaru….” He heard her whisper to the crushed blanket of snow. Shikamaru…that’s what she said. Not Shika-kun like what she usually calls him. Shikamaru’s eyes lowered to the ground, staring at the white monster that buried his boots. They were now like mirror reflections of each other, each facing the thief that surrounded them.

He didn’t know what made him do it, but he kicked the mound of snow in front of him, making white crystals dance in the icy breeze. It might have been because it was fun or maybe because it really was true….winter was ugly.

The next day, as Ino finished putting on her boots, she unlocked her front door to take another depressing walk. To glare at the snow, to challenge winter, but what she didn’t expect was a little gift left on her porch.

The blonde kneeled down to brush off the veil of snow that tainted it, only to have a short intake of breath at what was before her. It was a vase of flowers….paper flowers. They were assorted in different shapes and colours. There were red ones, blue ones, yellow ones, but there were no dull gray ones.

Ino reached out to study one when she noticed a note stuck to the transparent vase. Snatching it and holding it up, it wrote:

How troublesome…

You’re right. Winter stole beauty. It withered all the flowers, but you shouldn’t let yourself wither away too. Even though your troublesome a times, you’re like a flower, you’re fragile. I don’t know what made me do this, but I guess I wanted to return some of the stolen beauty.

Shikamaru

An overdue smile played on her lips as she was suddenly mesmerized by the vase of paper flowers. ‘He folded these all for me?...Thank you...Shika-kun.’

Fragments of Myself

2007-12-01T15:35:51Z

Type: Poem
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: Poetry/Angst
Rating: T
Pairing: None (Hinata Centric)
Author: grey_muffin
Posted on Fanfiction.net: Jun/30/06

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any characters that appear in this poem.

Fragments of Myself

Who Am I, I ask you

Who is the girl you see before your eyes?

A girl of lavender orbs and raven hair

Begging for the truth, begging for lies.

Gasping for air,

As I desperately train.

Smiling from satisfaction

Frowning from dreaded pain.

Always with my fingers together

Looking down with a scarlet red.

I’m drowning in a sea of pity.

Why do I scream when nothing is said?

Tell me I’m strong.

Tell me I’m weak.

Say the truth, Tell a lie

But which one do I seek?

With a mask of dirt,

I stand up to face the foe.

My eyes determined, but wary

Ignoring every bitter blow.

Why do I let myself down?

There’s always someone protecting me.

Watching their pain, not mine

I’m blind to what I want to see.

I beg you to answer,

Why are there tears when I do not cry?

Letting crystals burn my face,

Why won’t I let myself live by lies?

Shinobi live and die;

It’s ways we’re taught to follow.

But they only break fragments of sanity,

Amidst watching eyes that are hollow.

Wanting to scream and yell

I’m crying from the unknown.

Is my reflection me or her?

What have I done, What have I shown?

Please say what I could not

My mind is blank and it is to stay.

There’s no warmth, I’m shaking

Shattered, pieces of me lay astray.

Cherry Blossoms Wither

2007-12-01T15:28:29Z

Type: One-shot
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: T
Pairing: One-sided Sasusaku
Author: grey_muffin
Posted on Fanfiction.net: May/7/06

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters that appear in this one-shot.

“You’re annoying. Get lost.” Those cold harsh words escaped like venom from the Uchiha’s lips.

Sakura stood there, eye-wide with complete shock, confusion and most of all disappointment. She couldn’t breathe as if the air was forced out of her, but she didn’t struggle to get it back. That morning, Sakura had asked him if they could train together, wanting to spend some time with the boy she loves.

Is it even love that she feels? Why does it seem wrong to love him?

Sasuke, not wanting to wait for a response, buried his hands in his pockets and stepped forward, taking his leave. Sakura saw this and quickly regained her composure, finally breathing and with a swift turn of her legs, she stepped in front of the boy, stopping him in his tracks. A piercing expression seemed to have crawled onto his face as he waited for an explanation.

Sakura looked down at the ground, her pink hair covering her face. “I just want to spend some time with you. You’ve been gone for 3 years and I missed you, Sasuke-kun. Not one day have I lived that you weren’t in my thoughts. I cried for you. I risked my life for you. My life was so dark when you left Konoha. I even tried rescuing you, getting wounded and hurt, but I didn’t care. I never regretted it because….” The pink haired girl looked up, her eyes stared lovingly into his, but the onyx orbs didn’t change, they were icy cold and full of hate. It took most of her strength to continue. “Because…because I lo…”

This time she hadn’t stopped on purpose. Loving eyes turned into shocked green canvases as Sasuke, in one fluent movement, stepped aside and walked on, the touch of his arm brush against hers. Sakura didn’t flinch as the contact ran chills down her spine, but she had turned around, facing not those cold onyx eyes, she faced his back. The kunoichi didn’t go after the Uchiha, her legs were planted to the ground. All she did was stare at the boy she loved walk away, tears threatening to fall.

Why doesn’t she go after him? Is he really the boy she loved?

It took a lot of strength to fight back the tears. She didn’t want to cry, but at the same time she wanted to. Every time she closed her eyes, he would be a few steps farther from her, it’s always been like that.

‘Why does he always show his back to me? Every time I try to show him I care, he would say I’m annoying and walk away. Does he hate me that much? I’ve done everything for him. I’ve cried, endangered my life, and helped him out of a few tight situations. All just for him, but no, there’s always a smirk where a smile should be. Are all the tears I’ve cried meaningless? Doesn’t he know how much I love him? Love him….It’s always his back that I face, not his gaze! Am I that meaningless to him! Why Sasuke-kun….WHY!’ Something in Sakura finally snapped. The dam that she had built was broken. Her gaze towards his back was no longer shock and despair, it was a spark of hatred, concealed in a glare.

She could feel her hands clench into fists and her legs regain composure. Something seemed to have burned into of her and it made her feel free, being caged since her academy days. It was like she had been blind, but now her vision was clear.

As if her legs had a mind of their own, she ran up to him from behind and swung her arm, trying to slap him across the face, the face she never saw. Feeble as it was, the Uchiha stepped aside, dodging her attack and continued walking, all without looking back at the figure. Sakura looked down at her hands, bringing them up to her face. They were so fragile. She was weak, but she wasn’t stunned. She stayed there, her eyes shadowed with a glare full of hate. Hate for the Uchiha.

She doesn’t love him anymore.

It was just a lie.

She regrets it now.

The truth hurts, but it makes us stronger.

Only if you’re willing to accept it.

That day, a cherry blossom withered and another one blossomed.

Nightmare of the Youth

2007-12-01T15:22:02Z

Type: One-shot
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: Humor/Horror
Rating: K+
Pairing: None
Author: grey_muffin
Posted on Fanfiction.net: May/7/06

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters that appear in this one-shot.

The night was still and quiet. The moon was shadowed by black clouds, with only hung lit lamps in wake. A soft gentle mist loomed over Konoha, eclipsing it with a night breeze as trees wavered, leaves dancing everywhere. The only sounds that would be heard were the motion of trees and the presence of night animals. In a night just like this, every person would be fast asleep, peacefully transfixed in their own worlds that would leave them heartbroken if it was shattered, but in one building, it was just the opposite.

What if Konoha wasn’t what you remember it to be? Green spandex jumpsuits and hideous orange legwarmers would be everyone’s required attire, not to mention having bushy eyebrows (if you don’t have them naturally, improvise by making some). Everyone would have over-whitened teeth that would sparkle like newly polished china, which would result dentists to give free teeth whitenings to all the citizens. It’s not just about the attire, but their personality too. All the citizens would be talking hyperly about the springtime of youth, the love of youth, how lateness isn’t youthful, and just about anything with the hated word in it. You will see them running horrid amounts of laps around the village and sunsets, over-dramatic crying, and jazzy music coming from nowhere will be seen almost anywhere (even at the ramen stand). You would think that these citizens would be bowing down to Gai-sesei…but they will be doing Gai poses with the green beast and handsome devil of Konoha. What a horrible world! It’s corny enough to cause ninjas to suicide without regret and jounins to go into fetal positions! Everyone will look the same, act the same, and live life the same! Lectures of youth bellowing from everyone’s lips will be the only sound you’ll hear. It throws the whole universe off balance. The scale will be tipped, as the honorable Konoha you once knew disappears.

This was the one thing Neji, Ten Ten, Lee and Gai visioned that night.

The Hyuuga’s and Weapon Mistress’ worst nightmare. Lee’s and Gai’s best dream.

The next day, chaos plagued the village. Sakura and Ino were throwing fits (not to mention every heavy object they could find…). Naruto didn’t have the hunger for ramen and Sasuke was sharpening his kunai and shuriken until they could penetrate steel. Hinata was hiding in the corner of her room, Kiba and Akamaru hid in the forest, Shino sent his bugs out to call for help, the adults were in fetal positions, and everyone else were going insane, banging walls, and kicking trashcans. This was all topped off with Neji and Ten Ten banging their heads on desks, trying to make sure this was only a nightmare.

It wasn’t, and reality hit them with more pain than the strikes of a thousand kunai.

That day, Konoha was nothing, but chaos…all because….

Gai-sensei was made Hokage for a day.

Little Gai

2007-12-01T15:18:40Z

Type: One-shot
Fandom: Naruto
Genre: Humor/General
Rating: K+
Pairing: None
Author: grey_muffin
Posted on Fanfiction.net: Apr/16/06

Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto or any of the characters that appear in this one-shot.

Kunai and shuriken laid astray on the dirt ground…not to mention an exhausted Ten Ten and Neji (it’s a miracle he actually got tired). They sat down next to each other for a small break, their backs against a log as their panting droned out every other sound in the forest. Ten Ten looked like she had been attacked by a bear with her dishelved buns and bruises, while her training partner had only a few scratches and an undone ponytail. Yes, they’ve been training since dawn, but that wouldn’t stop the green beast of Konoha and his little counterpart.

“Don’t stop now…” The soup bowl haired man began his youthful lecture.

“Yes! Gai-sensei’s right! Let the power of youth make us stronger!” Lee finished for his sensei as they both did Gai poses with a thumbs up and over-whitened teeth.

Meanwhile, their audience witnessing “the dance of the green men” had repelled every word about youth.

‘Those teeth can’t be real…’ Ten Ten’s eyes twitched.

Neji on the other hand, showed no emotion, but cringed on the inside when Lee and his sensei did ridiculous poses. “We trained earlier, so we don’t have anymore energy left…” He lied. He didn’t want to hear anything more about youth and really didn’t need to see them posing.

Lee, who jumped up and down like a “green frog” spoke up. “Did you heart that sensei! They’ve been training before dawn, just like what you told them to do. They must have the spirit of youth in them!”

“Yes Lee, I heard! They’re becoming very youthful now…” Gai didn’t finish his sentence as both Lee and him embraced, glistening waterfalls running down their faces. The night sky was no more as it was replaced with an orange sunset that looked like it was a background scene of a corny movie. This was all wrapped together with jazzy music echoing out of nowhere.

‘This is worse than them posing!’ Neji’s eyes for the first time twitched with annoyance. ‘How did I get stuck with a sensei like him!’

On the other hand, the brunette looked puzzled. ‘Where did the sunset, sparkles, and music come from….?’ Her eyes were equally twitching.

‘If they don’t stop soon, I think I’m going to be sick!’ Ten Ten screamed in her head, trying to block out images of the soup bowl people’s other embraces. That’s it, she had enough. Ten Ten looked forward, ready to pull the two apart, when she suddenly stopped and thumped to the ground.

Her eyes were locked on the sunseted scene and they dulled as she lost herself in thought. Her lips were curved in a wondering smile as if something amused her.

And something did.

Ten Ten had finally realized how much Lee was like their sensei. Well, everyone knew that, but to her, it was different. Her eyes were still transfixed. They both had soup bowl shaped hair and she could imagine them actually using a soup bowl to help cut their hair. They both wore green spandex jumpsuits and hideous orange leg warmers, adorned with their red headbands tied around their waists. Ten Ten had always wondered how they got out of those jumpsuits, but she really didn’t want to know or maybe she was too afraid to ask them for they would always say something about youth.

The two also had bushy rectangular eyebrows that won them the nicknames of bushy brows. Whenever they were in the village, people would run up to them and ask if they were real. One was so curious that they had ripped off Gai-sensei’s left eyebrow with duct tape and nearly screamed to death when they found out they were real. This had left Gai wearing a toque to cover his tear-stained face and Kakashi laughing so hard, he was distracted from his book. Ten Ten giggled as the memory flashed through her mind.

Lee and their sensei were also always lecturing about the youth, that it drove people insane and repelled women (or maybe that was because of their appearance). The only difference you will probably find is that Lee’s eyes are wider and bigger than Gai’s and Gai can do ninjutsu while Lee can’t. It was like doubles with flaws.

Suddenly, the jazzy music stopped and the sunset was gone. The two no longer had waterfalls running down their faces. This snapped the brunette out of her trance and come back to reality.

“Come, Lee. Youth cannot be wasted. We must train tenfold now!” Gai spoke, his voice swifting with energy.

“Yes Gai-sensei! I will run 600 laps around Konoha to make up for my wastefulness. Then I’ll do 300 sit-ups and 200 push-ups before dawn!” His counterpart yelled, wiping the last drops of tears from his eyes.

“Lateness cannot be allowed!” And with that, they started for Konoha, making them look like a flash of green lightning.

“Humph. Big Gai, Little Gai.” Ten Ten whispered, her eyes laughing and her lips curved in an amused smile as she watched the two out the forest.

‘They’re one and the same…Big Gai-sensei and Little Gai-kun.’

I Thought I Hated You

2007-12-01T15:12:22Z

Type: Poem
Fandom: Gundam Seed
Genre: Romance/General
Rating: K+
Pairing: Dearka X Miriallia
Author: grey_muffin
Posted on Fanfiction.net: Jan/2/06

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed or any of the characters that appear in this poem.

I Thought I Hated You

The first time I met you

You were arrogant and rude.

A feeling inside me was born anew.

Hatred.

I know why I tried to kill you;

I was clouded in sadness and pain.

But why did I save you?

What was I trying to gain?

You were a puzzle to me,

You protected me from war.

Why do my cheeks burn

With every cocky grin you bore?

You made me feel nervous when you were around.

You made me feel happy with every joke you'd say.

You made me feel worried when you were fighting

But I thought these feelings were self-bound,

Until this faithful day.

You’ve swept away my tears

And I no longer mourn.

And because of you

Something familiar was born.

Love.

Tangled Between the Past and Present

2007-12-01T15:01:10Z

Type: Discontinued One-shot
Fandom: Gundam Seed
Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: T
Pairing: Dearka X Miriallia
Author: grey_muffin
Posted on Fanfiction.net: Jan/2/06

Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed or any of the characters that appear in this one-shot.

Summary:

It has been 2 years since the end of the war between naturals and coordinators. A treaty was signed by both sides ensuring that this peace will remain intact. Though, now that no more lives shall be taken by the guns and blasts of mobile suits, the memories, stories, and remembrance of the mothers, children, soldiers and the sacrificed will never come back. The war has left scars in the hearts and minds of everyone involved and they will never be healed…or will they? (A/N: just to let you know, Dearka has already been demoted for joining the Clyne Fraction. Don’t kill me, but it helps the fic.)

At the PLANT…

Beams of sunlight shone through the dark brownish curtains, illuminating the beige coloured walls that isolated everything in the room from the rest of the world.

There, lying in the middle of the room was Dearka quietly snoozing away. Apparently, he had fallen off his bed sometime during the night, causing him to lay in a fetal position, his legs still cruising on the edge of his bed and the rest of him lying flat on his carpeted floor. His eyes were in slits and his hair looked dishelved, probably from falling off his bed and landing in that weird position he was in. Neither the less, he seemed to be at peace until….

“BEEEEEP!” his alarm clock rang at full blast. Dearka’s eyes immediately shot opened, his arms flung up in the air, and his body flinched from head to toe.

“STUPID CLOCK!” he hissed at it while he cursed under his breath. His hands were now balled up into a fist and a huge blood vein was forming on the right side of his forehead, but that didn’t stop the beeping sounds of his notorious clock. It kept beeping and beeping as if God was taunting the blonde boy. The long hand on the clock was now one tick away from reaching the 12 hand corner. It was about to move when a muscular fist collided with the clock’s plastic covering. With the covering shattered, the frame bent, and the insides totally wrecked, plastic shards, gears, and batteries were sent flying through the air. Dearka pulled back his fist and his once tightened lips were replaced by a faint yet visible smile.

“ I guess it’s another typical day…” He sighed as he started to change into his ZAFT uniform that was buried under the piles of paperwork, swimsuit magazines, and sport equipment. “ But of course, no day is typical with Yzak around. I wonder if Ryo recovered from the pounding he got for calling his mother hot!” Dearka let out a faint chuckle as he buttoned his dress shirt.

He scanned the room for his ZAFT uniform jacket, but he couldn’t locate it. He lunged at the piles of stuff on the floor throwing scattered random items out of his way. Dearka searched pile after pile of junk, but it was no use. It was no where to be seen.

“uh…where is it,” Dearka groaned irritatedly while combing his fingers through his golden locks of hair. “If I show up at work without my full uniform, I’ll get a beating from Yzak.”

Dearka then scanned his room one more time, making sure he didn’t miss anything. Suddenly, something caught his eye. It was a mixture of green and white and it matched the green pants he was wearing. It seemed like it was buried under a pile of paperwork that was left unfinished. (A/N: What do you expect? This is Dearka.)

“That’s got to be it!” The blonde boy yelled in relief as he rushed over to the pile of scattered “Who the hell cares” paper (as Dearka would call it) and lifted up the jacket and began putting it on.

As he was attending to the buttons and buckles, the shifting motion he was causing had caused something from his jacket pocket to flutter to the ground like a rejected autumn leaf. Dearka had finished putting on the jacket and was about to walk away when a ray of light bounced off the fallen object and onto his face. He winced at the brightness and was about to close the curtains when he too noticed the object. He bent down and was about to pick it up when realization hit him and he knew what the object was. With his eyes widened in shock, he hesitated for a moment, but soon he gave in and picked it up.

It was a photograph. Shadowed in black and white and in the centre was a girl who’s eyes glistened with happiness and harmony. Dearka gazed at the photograph with lowered eyes and an uncertain smile.

“Miriallia…” was the one word in his mind.

Ever since the treaty was signed, that was the last time he ever saw her. She was a puzzle to him, yet part way through he thought he understood her…her and her portrayal of war. He still remembered his first encounter with the auburn haired girl.

Flashback in Dearka’s POV

I was only a day ago, captured by my enemy, the EA. They tied me up and sent me into the infirmary where I would be to stay until that woman captain of their’s decides what to do with me. Sentence me to death or to be killed right there in a room where they’re suppose to help people not use an AK47 and shoot my head off. Really, I didn’t care. I was on an enemy ship, a ship run by naturals so my life was going to be short anyway.

Suddenly, the door swooshed open, but of course I couldn’t see who it was because of the bed curtains. The visitor sat on the stool positioned near my bed, so of course I thought it was the doctor.

“Hey Doc!” I called trying to get his attention.

The visitor let out a faint gasp and turned to face me. It was the auburn haired girl I saw in the hallway, the one that was crying. With her eyes wide, she couldn’t believe who was behind her. She ran to the wall putting some distance between us. I gazed at her face, it was tear-stained and her eyes reflected with the sense of loss, depression and fear, but I got to admit, she was the cutest girl I’ve ever seen.

“Why are you crying? I should be the one crying.” I joked around sarcastically as I could see her backing into the wall still feeling uncomfortable with me around. “Or did your natural boyfriend die or something?”

That was the last straw for her. A stream of tears rolled down her cheeks and her breathing was loud and shallow. She scanned her surroundings from left to right, not really knowing what to do.

“Look, I can’t hurt you. See?” I sat up and showed her my cuffed arms, but the next thing I knew, I could see the girl lunging at me with a knife in her hands. The knife stabbed my pillow and I barely escaped as a trickle of blood flowed down the side of my forehead. She had grazed me.

“What the hell!” I yelled, but I could see the anger in her sapphire eyes. She lunged at me again with both hands on the knife, but luckily I dodged it and we tumbled through the curtains and onto the floor. The auburn haired girl stood up and was about to attack again when the doors opened revealing a red-head and a blonde boy with tinted shades.

“Mir!” I heard the boy shout as he pulled both of her arms back, restricting her from attacking.

“Tolle’s gone and he can’t come back! Then why is this scumbag doing here!” The armed girl yelled kicking and screaming, struggling from the boy’s grip.

From the view I had on the floor, I could see drops of crystals flow down her cheeks and hit the cold tiled floor. The sound of it splashing echoed in my head and for some weird reason, I could’ve sworn I felt sorry for her…her, a NATURAL!

“All you coordinators are the same! You should all die!” The red-head yelled with a gun in hand. She had anger and vengeance in her voice, something I was used to. The gun had it’s safety off and it was directed at me.

“So this is where it ends…”

I was going to die at the hands of a stupid natural! I felt no fear for in the military, we fight to the bitter end, my end. I was going to die defenseless on a natural war ship….

The red-head smirked and began pulling the trigger when suddenly…

“NO!” Pacing footsteps followed. Then the sound of a gunshot and the crackling sounds of shattered glass.

That girl, the auburn girl, MY FORMER ATTACKER! Saved my life. She had pulled out of the boy’s grip and redirected the gun.

“But why?...”

End of Flashback Normal POV

For the past 2 years, she was on Dearka’s mind. Lots of girls come to mind, but this one seemed special. Every time he looked up he would see her eyes, the one’s that use to tire of war. In the fall, he would see her smooth auburn hair. Dearka didn’t know why he felt like this because he had gone out with a lot of girls, but none like her.

“Could it be…that I fell for her?” Dearka thought with mixed emotions.

The tanned boy safely tucked the photo in his jacket pocket, grabbed his car keys and set out for work. When he reached his silver convertible, he got in and started up the engine. (A/N: No need for seatbelts!)

Dearka pushed a few buttons and the car roof started to disappear. “That’s better.” He said as he started to run his left hand through his hair.

Just then, as he was nearing the highway, Dearka saw a memorial cemetery. He quickly turned left and hit the brakes. The screeching tires made a loud shriek, scaring birds, onlookers, and even an overweight policeman. They had all ran away.

Dearka jumped out of his car and ran into the cemetery. The crunching grass and chirping birds were all he could hear. He looked at each gravestone from left to right, trying to search for a certain one. Finally, after about 1 minute of searching, Dearka found the one he was looking for. He bent down and brushed off the dust from the curved granet and stared at the engraved words:

Nicol Amarfi

56CE-71CE

ZAFT Elite Soldier

And Hero

A solemn smile had been plastered on Dearka’s face as he gave his former teammate a solute. Just as he did that gesture, a cool gust of wind came by, followed by a horrid scream, a woman’s scream.

“What the…” The ZAFT soldier whispered as he looked to the direction where the scream was heard. It came from the north side of the cemetery where most of the Bloody Valentine victims lay. “Why would anyone be there this early in…”

Suddenly, his words were interrupted by another blood threatening scream. It echoed throughout the area, disturbing birds, squirrels…and the souls of the dead. Dearka ignored the fearful cries of the animals and ran in the direction of the cries, carrying his ZAFT pride with him. He high-jumped over a gravestone and continued his pacing.

“I know I’m close…” the military soldier told himself. He could hear the annoying crushing sounds of grass chippings caused by himself…and someone nearby…

Dearka slowed down his pacing and squinted his eyes. Up ahead, he could see 2 shadowy figures forming under a canopy of shady trees. With that in mind, he ducked behind a gravestone not too far away from the unidentified figures and with one hand gripping his gun and the other firmly placed on the rim of the stone wall. He could feel the stone shield his presence from the shadowy figure and knew that he would be safely hidden. He motioned his body to tilt left and his head to do the same, letting his eyes peek out from the stone shield.

Dearka scanned the two figures from head to toe as if his eyes were security cameras. His vision wasn’t too clear because of the bright sunlight beaming down on him, but he could see that the taller, more bustier figure had cornered the shorter, thinner figure, most likely a woman.

Dearka raised his right hand over his eyes to shield them from the sunlight. “GRRR the sunlight!” He muttered irritatedly adding a few curses under his breath.

With the sunlight gone, he leaned closer for a better view. He could almost make out the faces of the figures now. Dearka looked at the taller one and could see short wavy evergreen hair and slanted blood red eyes that contrasted his hair colour. He then looked at the slimmer one. It was indeed a girl. He could make out shoulder-length auburn hair…and…the tan boy squinted closer…sapphire eyes…

Dearka felt his heart skip a beat. His legs turned numb and his arms began to shake. He could feel the energy slowly being drained from his body. No matter how much he tried to move, his body wouldn’t obey his commands. His mind was in shock and his body was a living statue. He knew who it was. The auburn hair. The sapphire eyes…it was all too familiar.

“It can’t be. It couldn’t,” Dearka could feel his left hand lose it’s grip on the gun, as it silently fell from his fingers and dropped down into the cushiony grass with a faint thump. It all happened as one heart-stopping word escaped his lips. “Miriallia…”

With Miriallia

Miriallia could feel the rocky tree bark caress her back and her nails buried underneath the cold moist soil. She looked at her surroundings and then her eyes traveled up to the face of her attacker. He bore a grimaced smile and an immoral pair of blood red eyes. She could sense from the look on his face that this wasn’t going to be a joyride. She had to escape fast or her last day would be spent brutally murdered in a memorial cemetery where she’ll become one of the lost. Her eyes darted left to right trying to find a way to escape, but found none. She was cornered. Her attacker seemed ridiculely amused by her feeble attempts and an etched grim smirk showed it. Mir had to get away fast, so her last resort was to try to outmaneuver the human Christmas tree.

With one hand on the ground and the other gripping onto a low tree branch, Miriallia slowly hoisted herself onto her feet. She stared eye to eye to the smirking Christmas tree. He seemed even more amused now with his smirk growing more irritating each second. This is it, Miriallia’s legs started moving forward, the right one then the left. At first she was slowly pacing, then she began dashing and moments later her legs had a mind of it’s own and the desperate dashing became determined sprinting. The auburn haired refugee ran around her attacker and began sprinting as fast as her legs would carry her. She had been running for a few moments now and was sure she was a safe distance from that green freak, so to make sure, she turned her head back to look.

To her surprise, that kiwi-haired psycho hadn’t moved an inch. He was still facing the giant oak tree as if he didn’t even acknowledge his victim’s escape, but that didn’t matter because Miriallia knew that if she kept running, she would live to see another day.

“All I have to do now is to…” Her thoughts were cut short when her eyes widened in shock as a curtain of green and red blocked her path. “Crap!” was the one word that came to mind when a spine shivering hand grabbed her arm and threw her to the ground like a rag doll.

“Where did you think you were going,” Her attacker scornfully spoke as he took a step forward and with his right hand, grabbed his victim by the neck, lifting her one foot in the air. They were now eye to eye. “I’m not done with you yet!” and with that, he took out a knife and placed it a hair’s width from her throat.

Mir’s eyes were half open, reflecting the light the metal blade made. She didn’t speak, but hidden inside her, deep within ocean blue eyes, she winced at the iron grip on her throat and the image of the knife. Mir could hardly breathe, let alone talk. She felt like she was falling, falling into a deep abyss shadowed in nothing, but total darkness. This was all happening in her universe, in the coffin of her mind.

“So I guess this is it. This is where it all ends. I’m going to be brutally slaughtered in…in this memorial cemetery. I’m going to be one of the lost, one of the people who faced the war, but would lose their lives anyway…just like…” Suddenly something tugged at her heart as the memories of Tolle’s death flashed through Miriallia’s mind. From the explosion to the fall of the skygrasper, it all echoed in her head. “No, I won’t let it happen. I won’t end up like…like Tolle! Tolle wouldn’t have wanted it!”

Suddenly Miriallia’s eyes became distant. Her pupil looked smaller and the innocent, fearful ocean that was once there was replaced by an empty lake that showed no emotion, but anger and rage. She felt like something was controlling her like a strung up puppet. She felt like she wasn’t there, yet she felt like she was, hidden beneath a fog of conscience. Miriallia was in SEED MODE…

“I won’t let myself die!” Both her innocent and raged self yelled with every speck of determination in her voice. With that echoing behind her distant eyes, Miriallia raised her leg and kicked her attacker in the “man spot”. (A/N: Ouch! She’s wearing dress shoes!) The Christmas tree freak yelled out in pain, flinging his arms in the air, accidently releasing the auburn haired girl from his iron grip.

“What the hell! CRAP!” Those were his last words before he staggered backwards and collapsed to the cushioned ground.

Miriallia hit the ground with a loud thump. Her arms drooped to the side of her figure and legs kept close to her chest. She was tattooed with many scratches and bruises from her earlier struggles. Dearka had seen this and ran to her side.

“You okay!” the blonde boy questioned with ever speck of concern he could muster. His amethyst eyes locked onto hers and he could see that they were distant and fogged with a raging flame. Miriallia didn’t reply as if she never acknowledged his presence. Her breathing was heavy and shallow. She touched her neck, circling it with her finger.

“Why does the air feel so thick? I can’t breathe!” She yelled to herself. She felt like the attacker still had his iron grip on her neck, but it wasn’t, her fingers only felt the presence of the air. “What’s happening…” Her vision started to blur. The corners of her eyes were shadowed in nothing, but darkness and it was growing.

Dearka noticed her strange behaviour and tried grabbing for her hand. Their fingers were almost entwined when too late. Mir’s eyes felt heavy and her body felt weak as her vision was now all darkness and her head, light-headed. She collapsed to the ground unconscious.

“Miriallia, MIRIALLIA!” Dearka yelled, but no avail, she had already fallen from reality.

The last thing Miriallia saw before she fainted, was a blurry canvas of brown, lavender, and yellow and the echoes of her name….