I do not own any Naruto characters or settings. I only own my OC, Musei Shiro.
Warning: This chapter contains vivid descriptions of blood and some violence.
I hope you enjoy the story of Shiro, the Weeping Samurai of the Land of Iron!
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Shiro cradled the katana hilts in her palms, grasping them lightly just so they hung limp from her fingers. She blinked away the saltiness that dripped to the corners of her eyes, her vision fogged up in a scarlet film for just a moment before she blinked once more. Her large, blazing charcoal orbs were possessed in some sort of craze, a frenzy that overwhelmed her thin, bony body as she glared down at her feet. There, a bloody head lay severed from its body, its wide eyes rolled to the back of its head, its mouth gaping open from its last shriek.
She stood before a large wooden gate, engraved with the kanji 鉄雪, "Iron Snow," that towered over the blood-soaked streets as she glared at all of the bodies that lay to the side, drained from their blood and stiff from the bitterness of death. The snow that had powdered the ground in small crystals were dyed a dark maroon, the warm, sticky red substance seeping from all of the wounds of the ones killed.
A drop of blood dripped from her fingertip, plopping onto the red slush below.
Her white blades were splattered crimson from the numerous bodies that slumped dead, deep gashes exposing chipped bones and chunks of mutilated muscle. Her simple white linen dress was dyed a deep burgundy, splotches of white succumbing to the blood that soaked the thin cloth. Her dark cloak flapped off her shoulders, splattering tiny droplets of maroon onto the chilled wet soil. Her face, paler than ever before, was adorned in droplets of the gore, shimmering in the early afternoon sun beams like tiny scarlet gems.
Shiro kicked the severed head to the side, the black hair splaying everywhere as the skull rolled across the bloody ground. She slowly began to walk down the street, her cloak dragging across the floor as she held her blades, their shimmering silver-white tips brushing against the dirt. She looked around at the bodies, her face still and quite, much like a white stone. Her obsidian eyes glimmered as she stared at all of the bleeding corpses, their eyes glazed over in a milky film of death, their limbs either sliced off and tossed to the side elsewhere, or slumped next to them as they gripped onto someone they loved.
The white haired samurai was attacked with dozens of flashbacks, her knees buckling as she landed on them, releasing her loose grip on her katana hilts and fell onto her hands. Her onyx eyes gazed down at the bloody snow below her, wide with a mixture of a rare fear and shock.
It was about eleven years ago, not even a year after her parents had been killed and her sister had gone missing. The only thing she had were her father's two blades on her hips and the linen dress that did absolutely nothing to protect her from the harsh weather conditions that came forth.
It was a snow day, the flakes falling from the sky in peaceful clumps as they floated down to touch the Earth. Shiro sat on the edge of the dirty street, packed with a few inches of snow. Many people passed her, but no one paid any attention to the orphan who sat by herself in the frigid wind, shaking and quivering herself almost to death. She was only nine, an unimportant being who had just taken up a little more space in the village. Her skin was turning blue and her eyes had been emptied from any source of life or feeling; she was nearing death soon.
If it wasn't for a group of foolish little boys who had gone up to her, she would have probably left the Earth in a tranquil manner, joining her parents in the heavens to watch over Yoru; if she was still alive, that is. But, as it seems that didn't happen, the inevitable fate unfolded.
"Hey guys! Look at this loser!" a boy about her age sneered in her direction. He wore a brown canvas shirt with dark pants, his eye-length bronze hair framing around his round face. "Oi! What are you doing out here by yourself, girl?"
Shiro didn't respond, though she knew he was addressing her; she didn't feel like acknowledging anyone, especially someone so indecent.
"He's talking to you, aku (scum)!" a boy next to him barked at her; she heard their crunching footsteps in the fresh snow, signaling their advancement on her.
"Why does she have those swords?" another boy added in, his dirty blond hair half covering his hazel eyes. "It's not like a girl can use them or anything!"
"C'mon, little girl!" the first boy taunted as he stood in front of her, his body looming over her scrawny one. "Show us what you've got!"
Shiro had no choice but to respond.
"I'd rather not humiliate any of you..." her tiny voice peeped.
The expressions on the boys' faces resembled something of shock mixed with rage, contorted so that the corner of their lips were pulled up in an obvious sight of disgust.
"Don't you go talking tough, you little rat," the head boy snarled as he reached down and grabbed a handful of her linen dress. He pulled her up by her collar, making her weak body sway a little. "You're just a little orphan!"
Shiro's eyes widened in surprised, a shimmer of disbelief reflecting off of them.
"W-wha - ?"
"What do you know about fighting?" he sneered as she thrust her back down against the wall, her body thumping off of the hard wood. "You're only a girl!"
Shiro's head was tipped down, her mind overflowing with the memories of her father, her mother, and Yoru...
Her body shook as she gripped both of her hands together in front of her bony chest, her shoulder-length white hair covering her face as the wind came and blew the locks gently.
"Look at her!" the brown-haired boy called over his back to his followers. "Crying like this on the streets! Serve her right for talking tough to us! Such scum shouldn't talk to her superiors like that!"
"Urusai!" a sudden growl ripped through her throat.
The boys all leaped back in shock. Shiro slowly looked up at them, her white hair falling to the side as she peeked past the snowy curtains. Her charcoal eyes burned with hatred, wide and menacing.
"What's wrong with you?!" the brown-haired boy raged as he scowled. "Growling like that! You sound like the animal you really are! Didn't your parents teach you any better to be growling like that?!"
"Did your parents..." Shiro slowly pushed herself up off the ground, shaking violently. She was shorter than all three boys, but by the looks of their trembling, she overpowered them immensely. "Did your parents...ever teach you to bite your tongue?"
The shaking brown-haired boy gave a quivering smirk, an attempt to look cruel.
"You're the one who should being biting your tongue." He took a giant step forward and pushed her back hard into the wall. "Talking tough like that!"
"Let's give her a lesson!" the dirty blond boy suggested, his fist slamming into his palm. "Show her how we don't take insults from puny scum like her!"
The three boys advanced on Shiro, her eyes gazing downward as she stood slumped against the wooden wall, an empty look glazing her still features. They shouted at her as they reached out their grubby hands towards her, clenched in fists and swiping at her furiously. Their voices could be heard down the empty road, the snow falling down peacefully as the sound of skin-on-skin contact echoed off of the still walls and seeped into the cracks under the desolate doors. It was obvious everyone could hear the clamor that uncurled, but no one came to her aid as her blood splattered out onto the white snow.
Her katana sheaths clattered together as they tossed her back and forth, her skinny body flailing around as they threw vicious punches and lashed out brutal hands. Her longer white hair was splattered in crimson, her own blood, as it spewed everywhere when they hit her cheeks.
Never once did she let out a whimper of defeat.
The beating commenced for ten minutes, Shiro's blood now splattering the wall and the snow below her. The boys gazed down at her limp body, smirks spreading across their barbaric faces as Shiro's onyx eyes stared off into space, unblinking and unresponsive. Satisfied with their work, the brown-haired boy turned around and started to lead his group away from the gory scene.
"Oi..." a tiny voice called behind them. The brown-haired boy's eyes widened as he stood frozen in place, his body stiff and ridged. "Where you do think you're going...kono yarou (you piece of shit)?"
"So after all of that..." The boy shook as he clenched his fists together once more, his voice quivering in rage. "You still decide to talk tough?"
"You've gotten your chance to inflict pain upon me," Shiro snarled as she slowly pushed herself up from the ground. Her bloody hands left crimson imprints onto the powdery white snow, her pale hair swaying in the wind as it draped over her face. "But you disappointed me deeply; such weak attacks cannot harm me, baka."
"Weak?!" The boy raged as he whipped around and ran towards her. "I'll show you week, aku (scum)!" His hard fist lashed out at her in fury.
A sheet of blood shimmered dark and sleek in the white backdrop of winter. A yowl of pain pierced all of the ears who sat shivering in their empty homes. Alarmed, everyone who had stayed silent until then peeked from their doors, their eyes widening as they saw the brutal sight before them.
A girl with blood-streaked white hair stood over a brown-haired boy who clutched at his wrist, his hand severed from his arm as the blood cascaded down from the wound in masses. The girl held a pure white blade in her hand, crimson liquid sprayed all over the long katana. The other two boys stood to the side, recoiling and shrieking as they saw their friend's slain hand fall to the cold ground.
Shiro gripped her single katana in her own slim, bony hand, her face cold and still like a stone. The sounds of protests penetrated her ears, making her burning charcoal eyes flicker to the side. The villagers who had resided quietly until now made their way to the gory scene, their arms flailing around as they advanced upon the girl.
"Chonan!" a woman called from the angry crowd, her canvas dress rippling as she ran up to the boy.
"Kaasan..." the brown-haired boy whimpered as tears continued to flood over his pale face. "M-my hand..."
"You!" Chonan's mother snapped her head up to Shiro. "What do you think you're doing to my son?"
"He had it coming to him." Shiro replied bleakly, her features still frozen like ice. "To avoid another event like this, tell him to watch his trap."
"Don't you tell me what to do!" the woman gasped as she held her son's head closer to her chest. "You're only a little orphan girl! We, as the people of Tsurara Gai, have tolerated you lurking within our streets! But now you've done nothing but destruction; you will pay for this, gaki (brat)!" The villagers behind her shouted in agreement; the mothers of the other two boys quickly claimed them back, their eyes wide and glaring at the white haired girl.
Shiro just blinked her narrowed, venomous onyx orbs.
"I never meant any harm..." she said simply in her low, grave voice.
"Lies!" Chonan's mother hissed. "Why did you cut off my Chonan's hand, then? You're just a pest here! Leave now or we'll make you leave!"
Shiro stared down at the woman, Chonan's eyes lowering as more hot blood spilled onto the freezing ground below.
"You can't make me leave." Shiro's eyes slowly crept back up at the woman. "You could try; but you can't make me do anything."
"What is that disrespect?" The woman snapped viciously. "Talking to your elders like a piece of trash!" She suddenly leaped up at Shiro, her hand lashing out in anger.
In a flash, the white blade sliced through the body of the poor woman like linen. Her severed torso twirled a bit, splattering blood everywhere before plopping onto the snow below. Chonan's screamed rang through the suddenly silent street; all eyes bore down on the fallen woman, only to glare at Shiro next.
The next thing she knew, Shiro was battling about fifty people, furious and raging. She slashed her katana everywhere, swiping at people and drawing more blood that pooled onto the cold ground as they kept on coming at her. With every person killed, three more loomed over her in an attempt at revenge for their fallen one. Her face was splotched in deep maroon, the warmth of the blood lingering of her cheeks for one second before disappearing into a thick, freezing droplet. Her onyx eyes stayed narrowed as she swept her relentless blade across countless people, killing them one by one as they threw themselves at her.
By the end of thirty minutes, most of the village had been slain. Their sliced bodies scattered all over the street, the snow dyed red as their limbs littered the abandoned road. The few who had not bothered to be nosy at first finally poked their heads out from their cracked open doors. Their timid eyes crept past the doors to see their village bathing in cold blood; at the center, a scrawny girl the age of nine stood with a single katana unsheathed, the white blade dripping in thick crimson blood. Her gore-splattered white hair waved serenely in the gentle breeze, her emotionless black eyes staring off into the blank gray sky.
Shiro couldn't even feel the thumping of her heart as she stared off into the heavens. The numbness was quite familiar, but she hadn't felt it in such a long time. She felt the hilt of her blade slip from her loose grasp, but she did nothing to stop it from lodging its bloody silver-white blade into the red snow below. Her mind was too preoccupied, overwhelmed in so many memories that her temples throbbed and her chest ached.
She threw her head back towards the grim sky and let out an agonizing shriek.
Her scream echoed in the barren landscape, blanketed in a haunting layer of snow.
The people who cowered in their homes flinched against their doors, pressing their shaking bodies against the hard wood planks. Tears streaked across their pale faces, struggling themselves to release a sob of horror.
Shiro fell to her knobby knees, her thin hands burying themselves deep into the snow as her shoulders were wrecked in terrible sobs. Her mouth widened into another scream, wailing as her hot tears cascaded down her face and dripping down to melt the powdery snow below her.
"Shidare no bushi...(A weeping samurai...)" the people murmured in fear as they hid inside their silent houses, peering back into the bloody streets with wide, horrified eyes. "Shidare no Bushi...(The Weeping Samurai...)"
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Updates will be slower since finals are coming up and I need to practice more for an audition in January. Anyways, please comment on how you liked or didn't like this chapter;and also vote, chodo! Remember to follow me to stay up-to-date on new chapters coming up soon! And as always, thanks for reading!