[fic] [naruto] This is How She Rises, This is How They Fall
Title: This is How She Rises, This is How They Fall
Rating: ehh.. R. Blood, violence, gore, pointy objects, and Tayuya.
Summary: The battle is silent, save for strangled cries of pain; the children move swiftly, ruthless murderers in the bodies of round-faced innocents.
She is six and moving alongide two comrades; boys, one her own age, the other twelve years old and--thusly--the leader of their mission. Short legs shift through the tall grass, their small bodies concealed in a sea of swaying green, approaching the camp of three jounin, each at least two times their ages.
"Stay down," says the older boy. She notices his voice is changing, and he is maturing early, or maybe he'd matured years before. He is their veteran; bandages cover his left eye as messy brown hair juts out from his skull, disshelved from a fight only two days before. "They're not expecting us," says the older boy, "So it should be quick." The younger boy gives a nod, eyes narrowing with a fierce determination; his right hand moving down toward a blade at his side, almost too big for him, as it nearly drags against the ground.
She knows that, despite the killer's intent that blazes through the younger boy's eyes, he is hardly prepared for this mission.
"Just as we planned. Three seconds," says their leader, eyes calm and wise beyond his years. She grins as she hears the younger boy take in a slow breath and moves to hit him in the stomach, but freezes at the sound of the older boy's voice.
"Move!"
They barely manage an inch forward before the younger boy falls, six wires tripped at once with his movement; six kunai plunging into his face and crushing fragile, young bone, his features caving in as he hits the ground soundlessly.
"Fuck!" she hears herself curse, ears tuning in to their surroundings, already aware of two more traps and the rapidly approaching enemy. She is well-trained in all elements of sound, and drops to the ground as a thin blade sails over her head.
The battle is silent, save for strangled cries of pain; the children move swiftly, ruthless murderers in the bodies of round-faced innocents. She catches sight of her superior ripping his katana from the chest of one of the jounin, and his eyes flicker to hers, both gritting their teeth and springing backward, a squad of ANBU surounding them. "Bastards were guarding the camp!"
They are outclassed, outmatched, and bound for death. They stand still, back to back, her leader grasping at the handle of his katana--covered in strips of leather, she can smell it's distinct scent--and tilting his chin up, dark eyes focused forward.
She hears one more breath drawn inward (is it her own?) and spins around, flicking her wrist and sending a kunai flying for a decorated mask. The ANBU move faster than her eyes can manage to keep up with, and she watches her leader spring into the air, silent and courageous, sending a stream of fire forward from his throat. He leads the ANBU away, and she follows, reaching back toward the sash around her waist and extracting a long, silver flute; one she had managed to use properly only the day before.
He is surrounded, and he rips his katana forward, determined to keep attention away from his younger comrade. His body is caught between blades and slipping in and out of the crowd, dirt and blood and sweat covering his face as his breathing becomes hollow. It is not until he falls that he notices the gigantic shurken piercing through his back and ripping out from his stomach and chest.
She is alone, and the ANBU have long since noticed her presence. "Double-Fuck."
Her heart is pounding and she finds herself covered in sweat, teeth tightly grit, shaky hands gripping against the cool feel of her flute. She raises it to her lips, whispering against it, as the ANBU race for her.
The giants seem to burst out from the earth itself, twenty times her size and then some. They howl, scream, shriek and roar, the ANBU immediately moving to attack them.
Blood splashes against the side of her face, but her fingers continue to move, pressing against the curved keys as she plays flautist and conductor all at once. Her melody seems to echo through the area as her summons rip the ANBU in two with their bare hands; maim them, devour them, bury them alive.
She is panting as the giants move back into the earth, blood raining down upon her for a few, silent moments until she holsters her flute and makes her way over the bodies--having to climb over one of the larger ones--and stops beside her leader, scowling.
She sheathes his sword and lays it by his side, chubby, bloodstained fingers moving into a seal, as she sets his body alight. Tattered sandals shift through the grass as she slips in and out of the enemy's destroyed encampment, snatching up a parcel and, finally, completing their mission.
She gives the eldest boy's body one last look before running, the area lighting to a magnificent fire behind her small form.
Rating: ehh.. R. Blood, violence, gore, pointy objects, and Tayuya.
Summary: The battle is silent, save for strangled cries of pain; the children move swiftly, ruthless murderers in the bodies of round-faced innocents.
She is six and moving alongide two comrades; boys, one her own age, the other twelve years old and--thusly--the leader of their mission. Short legs shift through the tall grass, their small bodies concealed in a sea of swaying green, approaching the camp of three jounin, each at least two times their ages.
"Stay down," says the older boy. She notices his voice is changing, and he is maturing early, or maybe he'd matured years before. He is their veteran; bandages cover his left eye as messy brown hair juts out from his skull, disshelved from a fight only two days before. "They're not expecting us," says the older boy, "So it should be quick." The younger boy gives a nod, eyes narrowing with a fierce determination; his right hand moving down toward a blade at his side, almost too big for him, as it nearly drags against the ground.
She knows that, despite the killer's intent that blazes through the younger boy's eyes, he is hardly prepared for this mission.
"Just as we planned. Three seconds," says their leader, eyes calm and wise beyond his years. She grins as she hears the younger boy take in a slow breath and moves to hit him in the stomach, but freezes at the sound of the older boy's voice.
"Move!"
They barely manage an inch forward before the younger boy falls, six wires tripped at once with his movement; six kunai plunging into his face and crushing fragile, young bone, his features caving in as he hits the ground soundlessly.
"Fuck!" she hears herself curse, ears tuning in to their surroundings, already aware of two more traps and the rapidly approaching enemy. She is well-trained in all elements of sound, and drops to the ground as a thin blade sails over her head.
The battle is silent, save for strangled cries of pain; the children move swiftly, ruthless murderers in the bodies of round-faced innocents. She catches sight of her superior ripping his katana from the chest of one of the jounin, and his eyes flicker to hers, both gritting their teeth and springing backward, a squad of ANBU surounding them. "Bastards were guarding the camp!"
They are outclassed, outmatched, and bound for death. They stand still, back to back, her leader grasping at the handle of his katana--covered in strips of leather, she can smell it's distinct scent--and tilting his chin up, dark eyes focused forward.
She hears one more breath drawn inward (is it her own?) and spins around, flicking her wrist and sending a kunai flying for a decorated mask. The ANBU move faster than her eyes can manage to keep up with, and she watches her leader spring into the air, silent and courageous, sending a stream of fire forward from his throat. He leads the ANBU away, and she follows, reaching back toward the sash around her waist and extracting a long, silver flute; one she had managed to use properly only the day before.
He is surrounded, and he rips his katana forward, determined to keep attention away from his younger comrade. His body is caught between blades and slipping in and out of the crowd, dirt and blood and sweat covering his face as his breathing becomes hollow. It is not until he falls that he notices the gigantic shurken piercing through his back and ripping out from his stomach and chest.
She is alone, and the ANBU have long since noticed her presence. "Double-Fuck."
Her heart is pounding and she finds herself covered in sweat, teeth tightly grit, shaky hands gripping against the cool feel of her flute. She raises it to her lips, whispering against it, as the ANBU race for her.
The giants seem to burst out from the earth itself, twenty times her size and then some. They howl, scream, shriek and roar, the ANBU immediately moving to attack them.
Blood splashes against the side of her face, but her fingers continue to move, pressing against the curved keys as she plays flautist and conductor all at once. Her melody seems to echo through the area as her summons rip the ANBU in two with their bare hands; maim them, devour them, bury them alive.
She is panting as the giants move back into the earth, blood raining down upon her for a few, silent moments until she holsters her flute and makes her way over the bodies--having to climb over one of the larger ones--and stops beside her leader, scowling.
She sheathes his sword and lays it by his side, chubby, bloodstained fingers moving into a seal, as she sets his body alight. Tattered sandals shift through the grass as she slips in and out of the enemy's destroyed encampment, snatching up a parcel and, finally, completing their mission.
She gives the eldest boy's body one last look before running, the area lighting to a magnificent fire behind her small form.