When Darkness Turns to Light

The Hall of the Gods

Recappy From the Last Chappy: A man with silver hair stepped through wide, tan-colored doors adorned with a lightning bolt design, walking down steps onto an area full of sand. Golden urns burned with fire on either side of him, placed periodically until they met the walls. A few openings in the brick showed clouds, suggesting the world was within the sky.

A black, hooded cloak kept him mostly shrouded, but the light glinted against his glasses and a metal plate bearing a musical eighth-note beneath his hood. He took a few steps forward, walking toward a building whose double doors were sided by large, heroic golden statues, and sneered.

Chapter Nine: The Hall of the Gods

The cloaked man reached for something hidden by the concealing garment as he stood in front of a sign before one of the great golden statues. He procured a deck of cards whose backs were orange with a white circle in the center and the word "NINJA" adorning it. With hands covered in fingerless, purple gloves, he lifted the deck in front of him and looked through the blank faces.

He stopped at one around the middle of the deck and separated it, merging the two halves in his right hand. Holding the lone card in-between the middle and index finger of his left hand, he formed a sign around the card. The chakra inscribed within it manifested, creating an image of the world on which he stood. Information pertaining to the world-like its name, Olympus Coliseum, for instance-was also written below.

The door to the World Exit opened, but he paid no regard. Hikari, Sora, Donald, and Goofy were entering the world with Akamaru padding at her side. She was far ahead of them, having proceeded without waiting earlier on. They were jogging in order to catch up, Donald waddling in the rear-his face was bright red.

The duck raised his fist and yelled, "Hikari Uzumaki! Wait!"

The man lifted his gaze from the card and twisted, watching as the girl stopped and turned, waiting for the boys. He noticed that while she lacked zori and a ninja headband, she had a shuriken holster and kunai pouch. She clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on her heels; he raised his brow, recognizing the stance.

Taking out his cards, he shuffled toward the end of the deck, and performed the same as with the Coliseum's card. An amused smirk crossed his face when she turned and he saw hers. Little Hikari Uzumaki . . . looks almost like Lord Orochimaru, now. Her shell should be adequate.

Akamaru put his nose to the ground and began sniffing, drawing the man's attention. He was crawling away from Hikari, seeming to have homed in on an interesting scent in the man's direction-interesting, or perhaps even familiar. The man cautiously stepped back, sinking into the shadow of one of the golden gladiator statues. He raised his arm toward the corner and a dark corridor erupted into existence.

This seemed to whiff a particularly potent stench to the dog, for he lifted his head and watched as the man stepped through the corridor and disappeared with it. A low growl left his throat as he rushed over and barked into the corner, circling. It was almost as if he were chasing his tail, except that his snout was up.

Hikari stopped a few paces before the Coliseum's entrance, regarding the pup. She placed a hand on her hip and scolded, "Chill, there's nothing there." Then, she smelled the darkness and hesitated fleetingly, averting her eyes and narrowing them in calculation. She shrugged her shoulder. "If it was a Heartless, it disappeared already. Don't worry about it."

Her eyes fell on Akamaru, watching as he turned toward her and whined, flicking his snout back. She took her hand from her hip and pointed in front of her feet; reluctantly, he obeyed and approached. Contrary to her demand, she was not brushing off the event so frivolously. That scent . . . it's from a heart not completely without light, but still reeks so much of darkness. . . . I wonder if that's how Naruto would smell. . . . Absently, she placed her hand on her chest. Maybe . . . what if he is here?