The Land of Grass flew by within a day, the trio entering the Land of Fire but refusing to slow down on their pace to get to the Rice Paddies. Shiro’s life was on the line, and Itachi was indeed sincerely worried about her survival. Kisame however was more grim and passive, just wanting to finish the mission Leader-sama had given them and bring the samurai back to the Land of Rain.
This, of course, was impossible.
Shiro was going to die; there was no doubt about that. Even with her skin turning white as paper and cold as snow, Itachi trudged on with the limp girl dangling in his arms like a skeleton. Her kimono, which had been soiled with streaks of dark blood and smears of mud, had been switched out to another white dress. Her feet were still covered in her black flats, still caked in the dirt and blood that it had trodden on back in the last Earth village.
The Land of Fire was lush and green, the summer air warm with sunshine and cooled with wisps of occasional wind. Shiro could feel her skin, frosting from the yang Chakra that pulsed through her veins like ice, tingling from the sun’s rays as she lay there in Itachi’s arms, her eyes cracked open and glued onto the cerulean sky above, clear save for the few streaks of white clouds that drifted by.
Day by day, Shiro felt her infamous strength drain from her body; the only feeling within her was the beating of her frail heart and burning iciness of white Chakra. She felt like she was back in the Iron, struggling for warmth within her small hut of a house with her family…
Her family…
She thought of her mother, gentle and kind with her soothing voice and her soft touch. She remembered of the times she would fall ill, and her sickly mother would be forced to take care of her; not that the woman minded, of course. Her daughter was precious to her, and she worried about Shiro constantly. The similarity between the two of them frightened her, and made her heart sink when she thought of the possibility Shiro would share the same fate as her.
When Shiro was born, Misaki cried when she saw the tuft of white hair upon her pale head. She hugged the newborn baby close to her chest, Ichiro standing close to his heartbroken wife, and wept while murmuring frequent apologies to the baby. She blamed herself for giving Shiro the instability of only possessing yang Chakra, dooming the baby girl for the rest of her life; the only physical evidence that the child wasn’t overwhelmed with yang Chakra were her midnight-black eyes.
Her wailing filled the nearly empty house, the parents of the new daughter clutching her tightly in her shaking arms.
Shiro was the first tragedy of the Musei family.
Four years later, another baby girl was born, with similar characteristics to her father. With jet-black hair and silver eyes, she was the exact opposite of Shiro; and this scared the girls’ parents to the core.
A child with yin Chakra, succumbed to the flaring darkness of the black essence, was the last thing the couple expected. It made sense in a way however, as the yin Chakra that was supposed to be Shiro’s would be deposited into her younger sister.
Ichiro and Misaki dared not have another child, as they feared something worse would enter this world.
Raising one energetically unstable daughter was tough; the first four years of parenting were haunted with the fear their snowy daughter would snap, her white Chakra overflowing from her pores. She was unbalanced and very delicate, threatening to drop dead at any given moment.
When the second daughter came into the picture, some stability was provided to the family; Yoru’s black Chakra that surrounded her being offered some extra yin Chakra for Shiro, the elder sister offering Yoru her own yang Chakra.
For this reason, the sisters grew inseparable.
The devotion to each other was fueled by their unconscious need for each other, never being able to split from their sides for a specific length of time. The girls entered four years of peace, growing up in the most decent conditions a child could have. Most importantly, they grew up with the stability they would lack for the next thirteen years.
Lying there blankly, Shiro thought of the memories with her younger sister, beloved and treasured by her deteriorating mind. She reviewed on the days Yoru would watch her train with their father, and when they would visit that damned well together to fetch water for the house; it was only a one-time thing, as Yoru couldn’t handle the three mile walk inland from the village to the well.
Shiro let out a fluttery laugh, surprising the man who held her.
“Shiro-san?” he asked quietly, the wind ruffling his hair as he ran. The smallest trace of sweat beaded on his face, making his fair skin gleam rather gloriously.
The girl in his arms cracked a small smile, her cheek pressing against the shinobi’s chest.
“Have you had…any good memories…with Sasuke-san…?”
The question made the man stiffen, but Itachi brushed it aside and grunted in confirmation.
“Hai. He used to ask me to help him train all the time.”
“Did you ever help him…?”
There was silence, only the sound of feet rustling and leaping from branch to branch filling Shiro’s muffled ears.
“No,” Itachi finally said gruffly. “I’d only flick his forehead and apologize to him…”
“What did you say…?” Shiro sighed.
The tiniest trace of a smile crept up on Itachi’s lips.
“Yuruse Sasuke… Mata kondo da…”
The girl giggled.
“You’re such a lair…”
Itachi lowered his gaze, solemn and filled with despair.
“It’s for the sake of my otouto…and for my village.”
Shiro stopped chuckling, staring up at the shinobi’s face blankly. Her dark silvery eyes shimmered, her head resting against the man’s ironically stable body.
“What will I do…?” Shiro murmured, her voice cracking as she felt a large lump crawl up her throat. “Itachi-san…what will I do?”
“For what, Shiro-san?” Itachi grunted in reply.
“When I see Yoru again…?” Shiro squeaked. “She wants to kill me…”
“You talk sense into her,” the shinobi said bleakly, his legs launching him further. “At least, that’s what I think you should do.”
Shiro blinked her dazed eyes, layered over in a film of torment. The rims of her irises, which had begun to lighten, were now a silvery hue, veins of the paleness reached in towards the dark pupil that dilated in the bright afternoon sunlight. She blinked again.
“I shouldn’t have gone…” Shiro murmured painfully, her lightened eyes brimming with tears.
“What do you mean, Shiro-san?” Itachi muttered back, leaping off yet another branch.
“Okaasan…” Shiro cried softly. “Why did you have to make me go…?”
“Shiro-san…”
“WHY DID SHE HAVE TO MAKE ME GO?!” the girl boomed, her voice screeching and echoing in the forest.
“Shiro-san…!” Itachi called her name frantically.
“If I hadn’t gone,” the samurai wept. “If I hadn’t gone…I would be dead too! If I hadn’t gone, I could have protected Yoru…”
“Shiro-san,” Itachi said the girl’s name one last time. “There’s no use dwelling in the past; it will only make you regret everything further.”
“But Itachi-san,” the white-haired girl sobbed, her tears overflowing from the corners of her eyes, “if I hadn’t gone to the well to fetch water…”
“It doesn’t matter,” the shinobi said darkly, his gaze hardening, “the past is the past. There is nothing you can do to change it; there’s so use in wanting to change it because you can’t. You must push on and try to make up for it in the future.”
Shiro stared at him with red puffy eyes, clutching at her throat with heavily bandaged hands as she forced back choked sobs that fought to break through the surface.
“I only want Yoru…” she murmured softly, gazing longingly at the ninja who carried her. “I only want her to be safe again…”
“Then get strong,” Itachi huffed, leaping onto the next branch. “Heal yourself so you can confront her again.”
Shiro let out a soft chuckle, her head rolling to the side to bury her face inside Itachi’s heaving chest as she sighed.
“I need yin Chakra in order to do that…” Shiro whispered. “So take me to Yoru…and I’m sure I can take her back…”
“You’re going to have to fight, you know.” Itachi stared into the distance, clearly not in the realm in which they were physically within.
“My blades…” Shiro croaked, hearing the white scabbards clink against each other on the ninja’s hips. “They’ll bring me victory…”
“They’re the things that are killing you right now, Shiro-san,” Itachi growled, pushing his leg off yet another tree.
“But they also saved me…” Shiro sighed darkly. “When you stabbed me with them, some of the yang Chakra I had stored inside them when I was younger was absorbed back into my body; my father’s Chakra came along with it too.”
There was silence.
Itachi stared forward, dreading the moment where they would finally arrive to the Land of Rice Paddies.
He sighed.
“Those blades are chaos in their physical form,” he said. “They shouldn’t have ever been created; they’re monsters.”
Shiro breathed softly into his chest, hearing the words and letting them enter through one ear and escape through the other. She didn’t want to believe her father’s creations were monsters. Hell, she didn’t want to believe anything he was saying. But the thing is, all of the words that escaped the ninja’s mouth were absolutely true.
These blades were beasts; chaos in their physical form, as Itachi had said. Unstable and incredibly dangerous to even touch, it was a miracle that Shiro had even survived her first year alone with them. Still, they kept her alive, and they gave her the drive to search for Yoru for thirteen years.
Thirteen years of travelling and suffering, creating the monstrous reputation that would make her feared all throughout the Land of Iron.
All because of these blades.
Shiro kept her eyes shut, ruminating about what has happened to her all of those years, dwelling in the fact that she would die soon enough. Before she would die though, she promised herself that she would take back Yoru and ensure her safety for the rest of her years to come.
Itachi carried the limp girl in his strong arms, Kisame silently following behind him as they flew through his homeland of the Land of Fire. Drinking in the familiar forests and feeling the warm sunlight upon his face, Itachi trudged on towards the dreaded place called the Land of Rice Paddies.
~~~*~~~
Another chapter up!!
Sorry for the really long gap between this chapter and the last; there wasn't a lot of inspiration for me to make this one other than explaining more backstory stuff.
Nevertheless, I really hope you enjoyed this section! There's intense and violent chapters coming your way soon!!
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And as always, thanks for reading!