You've guessed it. I don't own Naruto. If I did, well . . . things'd change. I also do not own Claymore. If I did . . . well, things'd also change.
Normally, I wouldn't write something like this. I mean, it goes against my now reformed morals. With that said, think of this fic as just a bunch of randomness chaotically glued with half-cooked rice together. Also, this is not supposed to be some major project (I hope) that I would be working on so don't expect much. I'll just be typing down whatever I feel like typing so . . . yeah.
If you're confused with how I'll use Italics . . . well, get used to it. Part of the way that I'll write this is confusing. After all, there isn't much thought put into this fic. I'm just writing this since the idea won't get out of my head and it's driving me more insane than usual.
May the souls of those fallen in Pieta find their peace.
His blue eyes were glazed and hazy, his mind fighting back the blurriness than just wouldn't go away.
The old man found him and asked him what he thought of his life. The little blond promptly answered that it sucked. The old man laughed a bit before smiling apologetically at him.
"Naruto . . . what would you say if I said you have a living relative, an elder sister?"
The blond stared wide-eyed before he fainted. Sandaime Hokage, however, caught the blonde's smile.
He kept on walking, drunkenly, dizzy and sore. He felt so hot. He was burning and tingly all over. His body seemed to be much, much more sensitive than normal. He could even feel the caress of a passing breeze which sent sharp shivers and spikes up his spine.
"Nee-chama!" the little boy ran up to a red-haired girl nearing her pre-teen years. He was carrying a piece of paper that he was waving around wildly. "Nee-chama! Look! Look!"
The little blond boy shoved the paper in front of his sister's face. The girl, annoyed, glared at the paper before crumpling it and throwing it into the trash bin. "I'm busy, brat. Go bother someone else."
A kunai whizzed by his hand and imbedded itself on the trash can just as he was about to retrieve the crumpled piece of paper. "And didn't I tell you not to touch the garbage? You'll just dirty your filthy self even more."
The little blond smiled apologetically as a small stream of blood dripped down from the cut on his hand. "Gomen ne, Nee-chama."
He needed something cold . . . something that would cool him down; something to put out the fire spreading throughout his body. His breaths grew into gasps, his mouth dry. Water. He needed water.
Lots and lots of fresh, cold, water.
"Brat, what the hell are you doing in my room?!" she screamed as the boy looked at her like alarmed. In his hands was a pair of scissors and around him laid a lot of littered paper of different colors and pictures that were cut and other stuff such as ribbons. "For that matter, what the hell did you do to my room?!"
The little boy forced a grin back at her, trying steady his rapidly beating heart. "Nee-chama . . .uhh . . . happy birthday!"
"Get out of my room you stupid brat!"
He fell on the ground, face tilted at the last second before touch down against the soil to prevent his nose from being smashed. He groaned painfully as a strong pounding sensation filled his head, adding even more pressure to his already strong head ache.
"I really dislike – no – hate you, you stupid brat." She glared at the little blond. His clothes were dirty and had some spots of red. His face was a bit scratched but the scratches were already disappearing at a fast rate. In his hand was a small cupcake. Behind him were the charred remains of the kitchen.
"Nee . . . chama?" the blond ventured uncertainly. His eyes were already tearing up. "H-hate is a pretty s-strong word r-right? Y-you can't r-really mean-"
"You can't do anything right!" she screamed slamming her hand against a nearby wall. "Look! You even destroyed the kitchen! When you weren't here, everything was fine and peaceful. Now, I've got so many problems. All of them because of you! I don't even know what possessed me to allow that stupid old man to make me take you in!"
"B-but nee-chama, we're family, right?" he tried to smile.
"I am not your sister!" she struck the little blonde's chest painfully with a finger, causing him to fall on his rear. "I am not related to a monster!"
"Yes! Don't you even get it?! You killed mother and that's why father himself cursed you!"
"Y-you know who father is?"
Tears were already flowing down from hazy blue eyes as he gazed up at her, tearfully hopeful.
"I know who MY father is." She growled back. "We never had a monster in the family."
"F-father! Mother! Tell me about them!" his little hands wrapped desperately around her leg. "Please!"
"Get out of my apartment!" she backhanded the young blond. "Out!"
"P-please . . . tell me about father!"
The elder sibling dragged the young boy by his blond hair out the door.
The blond clawed at the ground, his hand grasping a fistful of dirt as he tried to force the bleariness in his head away. His body felt so sore and hot already. He started crawling on the ground, trying to move forward.
Water. He needed water. He needed something to cool him.
Water . . .
"Please!" the blond groaned through the pain as he used his arm and foot to stop her apartment door from slamming close. "Please! Tell me . . . tell me if father loved me! That's all I need to know!"
"Get away, monster!"
"Please! Tell me the truth!" the blond begged, even more tear streaming down his face.
"You want to know the truth?!" the elder sibling practically screamed. "Fine then! Father himself said that he hated you for killing mother! That's why he cursed you!"
"Father . . . hates me?"
"Yes! Understand?!" she shoved him roughly out the door again. "Now stay out!"
His ears picked up the sound of a stream. His mouth running dry at the sound, the young blond shakily stood up, falling once on his knee before standing up again. He started wobbling towards the sound before eventually walking then running.
He tripped and fell down again. His head was throbbing even more painfully than before. His temperature was rising again, he could just feel it. Hot blood was coursing throughout his body, making him gasp and pant, trying to cool his body.
Water . . .
So close . . .
"Naruto . . . what are you doing out here on the streets?" the old man questioned. "It's dangerous out here, why don't you run along home?"
The little blond looked up to the old man and smiled. He nodded before scampering away. The old man smiled back before resuming his walk towards the Hokage Tower. As he took a turn around a corner, he realized that the blond was headed a different direction from his sister's apartment.
The old man suddenly vanished in a swirl of leaves.
He could hear it already. The sound of running water filled through his ears, his nose already letting him taste its freshness. Closer . . . just a little bit more . . .
He clawed on the ground, crawling towards the sound. Water. Fresh, cooling water.
The little blond opened his eyes and through blurry vision saw the blue source of life. He couldn't help but smile more. He stretched his arm towards it but realized that his arm was too short.
Not when he was so close!
He strained his arm farther and farther, trying to reach it . . .
"Child . . . please, answer me truthfully, have you been living here for long?" the old man motioned the run down apartment room, filthy as if there was no one living in it.
The little blonde's eyes roamed around the room before returning to look at the old man. He smiled pleasantly and nodded his head. The old man groaned silently then continued. "What about your sister? Won't she be worried that you've been gone for so long?"
The blond shook his head. "I'm staying right here."
"Did you get into a fight?"
The little boy thought for a bit before shaking his head. "I wanna be indi . . . pi-pen . . . tent! I wanna be indipentent!" he nodded to himself in approval.
The old man with the funny hat sighed. "Child, you are still very young. You can't survive on your own. You need a guardian."
"Nopee!" the blond shouted happily. "I'll be indipentent and then become the greatest ninja ever!"
The old man mulled his options in his head. "Are you sure you didn't get into a fight with your sister? That'd be a rather petty reason to run away from home, my dear boy."
The blond shook his head happily.
"Alright. From now on, this is your new home. I'll send somebody - " 'I can trust' " - to clean your room later and appoint the landlady of this complex as your guardian during your stay here." The little boy cocked his head to the side questioningly. The old Hokage smiled. "She will take care of you for the duration of your stay here. Think of her as a mother. I will give you money once every month in order to pay for your lodging so, please, do remember to drop by my office every first day of the month." Sarutobi then pulled out a pouch of coins. "Here, I hope this is enough to pay for the previous months and this."
The blond smiled happily before giving the old man a hug, muttering an excited thanks, and then started running away out the broken doorway, the door falling to the ground just as the blond touched it. Grinning sheepishly, the blond left the room.
The old man's smile left his face in favor of a serious, albeit contemplative, look.
A little bit more!
The water suddenly burst upwards as his body interrupted the powerful current for a second. He resurfaced several feet downstream, gasping for breath.
Need . . . more . . . AIR!
His body fought for the surface this time, headache seemingly forgotten in his anguish, his eyes reddening as water stung them, his body gasping for breath and choking on the water that would occasionally invade his mouth and nose, leaving another stinging sensation that filled his chest.
The pounding in his head suddenly returned with full force, making him sink underwater for a moment before he forced his body to continue fighting for the surface.
Live . . .
He broke the surface again, arms flailing around to keep himself afloat.
I must live!
His usually wild blond hair framed his face, his bangs hitting his eye forcing it to redden even more. He gagged again as he inhaled water.
I must survive!
"Why won't you just die, you filthy beast!" the woman screamed as she backhanded him. A thud signified his body hitting the floor . . . or was it the foot that buried itself in his abdomen?
He didn't know anymore. He didn't know if it really something he did. His heart kept pounding painfully in his chest, dulling the pain of the foot re-lodging itself in his body. He gasped for the air that was suddenly stolen from him.
"Mother's Day?" the woman, appearing to be in her mid-twenty's, sneered. "I'm not your mother you filthy mongrel!" she accentuated it with another boot to the head. "How dare you! HOW DARE YOU!"
He winced as she roughly grabbed his now-dirty yellow locks. She pulled on it as she made him face her.
"Don't you dare treat me like a mother you filthy, arrogant, demon!" she threw him to the side with his hair. His head hit the side of the one of the desk's legs painfully. "You took my son and my husband and you actually have the nerve to give me a present for Mother's Day?! It's because of you that I'm not a mother anymore!"
Throughout the blood and the beating he received, he couldn't help but wonder how come she was crying. He really wanted to wipe them away.
Demon . . .
Demon she called him . . .
Was that why he could not seem to cry anymore? Was that why she was crying?
"Get out! Get out of my room!" she screamed. She grabbed him by his hair again and threw him out into the hallway. "Be grateful that I will still let you stay in this apartment complex even after this insult!"
The door slammed hard.
Am I really a demon?
His body was weakening. He could already feel the fatigue pulling down on his body.
Was this it?
Was this the end?
His eyes suddenly widened as he once more broke the surface and fought. He fought against the current, trying to grab on to something. He spotted the roots of a tree he was rapidly approaching. He reached out for it.
His heart pounding heavily as he woke up, tied to a post, the cutting gales of an upcoming storm painfully piercing his eyes . . .
His heart pounding heavily as he grabbed on to the root. He hissed in pain as the sudden halt of movement caused the current behind him to slam painfully on his shoulder, making him let go of the root and receiving a large gash on his hand for all his effort.
His eyes blurrily looking up to face the storm clouds cackling with electricity, as if threatening him with it's display of power.
His eyes blurrily tried to see past the water beating with power. The air was forced out of his lungs again as he broke the surface once more. His eyes closed for a bit as the blue water pricked his own blue hues.
He could feel his heart cry out for help, his mouth already screaming the words onto the deaf walls of the houses and buildings around him, the wind and thunder stealing the sound away. He knew it as soon as the first downpour of rain beat down on his skin. He was going to die.
He could feel his heart cry out for air. He should have known that his endeavor would be fruitless. Now . . . now he was going to die.
He screamed painfully into the night as lightning struck. He blacked out.
He howled in finality as his body finally gave in. His world darkened and thoughts plagued him.
But they were not about the conclusion of his dangerous predicament. He did not worry about what would happen to him. He had nothing to fear.
No . . .
He did not fear death for he had already cast it away.
Instead, his thoughts were those of which did not suit well with his situation.
Instead, one Uzumaki Naruto worried about his older sister whom he had already hurt painfully so and that of the kindly landlady that gave him shelter despite his grave insult against her. He hoped and wished and prayed that neither of the two would be too deeply affected by his death.
"What a fool indeed."
One lone silver eye opened in the thicket of the woods. Vision hazy and equilibrium distorted, the figure shakily stood up, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Trying to remember what had happened . . .
Sword and organic metal clashed and the scent of mucky iron filled the air, sparks igniting as the massive blade tore through the monster's thick armor. The beast howled in fury and was about to strike once more before he realized his other arm was now laying down in front of him.
The figure adorned in a dark cloak stared impassively at the monster, eye unseen from under the shadow of a hood, uncaring as it snarled and growled at her.
"Ouch! That hurt! You'll pay for that, bitch!"
He took another step before the hulking monstrosity suddenly burst into minute pieces.
The cloaked figure walked away from the scene calmly.
She shook her head. There was nothing abnormal about that situation. Something must have happened afterwards. She tried to think harder. She needed to remember what exactly happened.
Several more beasts appeared. However, despite their number, they were just the average demon. Nothing like the one before it. Compared to that abomination, these were mere small fry. She absently wondered why these canon fodder were not deployed beforehand.
The pack seemed unsettled, as if deciding what they were supposed to do. On one hand, their leader was killed right in front of their eyes by the hooded stranger. On the other, their fear made them want to flee.
Too bad the choice was not theirs.
Passing by the purple-smeared trees, the figure continued its trek through the demon infested forest.
A tingling in her senses made her draw her large blade just in time to parry a black blur.
"Ara, you are good." A terrifyingly large amount of youki suddenly filled the clearing she had just entered. A large silky black figured seemingly appeared out of thin air onto the moonlit garden. "To actually kill him single-handedly. . . I am unsure as to what I should feel: enraged or impressed."
A black tentacle-like thing lashed out at her at blinding speeds. She held her ground as she swung her sword, cutting it, before jumping out of the way as several more impaled themselves on the ground she just seconds before stood on. Several more deadly black ribbons lashed out at her from all directions.
She tried to block all but one which managed to pierce through her guard and impaled itself through her abdomen, halting her movements. The deceitful witch used the ribbon that impaled her to bring her closer so she could take a better look at the cloaked warrior.
"Somehow, you feel familiar." She said before metal imbedded itself on her head. Apparently, she had lured herself into a trap as the figure had intentionally let itself get hit in order to get closer to her. The witch's shock turned into a smile, delighted at the cloaked warrior's strength. "Ahah . . . I think I want you to be my friend now."
The figure cursed silently as she was grabbed by a tentacle and thrown back, slamming hard into several trees which all gave way to the might of the throw. The dark enchantress sighed angrily; she had forgotten that her opponent was most skillful at cloaking herself, essentially giving her the advantage of making preemptive strikes.
Her senses flared but she was only able to put up several tentacles as her shield to stop the cleaving strike. She was thankful to even be able to stop the horizontal strike midway towards her right eye from the left part of her head; the warrior she was facing was apparently that skillful in youki manipulation.
She immediately captured one of the warrior's legs and used it to slam the warrior unto the ground repeatedly. She made sure, however, to not overdo it else she might kill her potential ally.
"Can you please awaken now? As long as I keep you within my grasp, your cloaking tricks are useless against me." She asked politely as another slash cut through her ribbon that held the warrior's leg. She impaled the warrior once more, this time through her sword arm in order to halt its movement. "I really, really want you to be my friend, you know? Can't we just be friends and help each other out?"
The figure's other hand tore at the ribbons before disappearing once again into to the night sky.
"Hmmhmm . . ." the enchantress looked around. She wondered if her opponent finally gave up on trying to kill her. A flash of silver alerted her and she dodged at the last millisecond, part of her silky ribbon-like hair severed. She tried to catch her prey once more only to find out that all she caught was a piece of torn bloodied cloth.
"You're starting to grow tired, you know." She informed her foe calmly. "Unless you can kill me in one blow, this match will only end up in a stalemate." She sighed longingly before dodging another head-cleaving strike. She retaliated again only to find several more ribbons cut into pieces. The dweller of the deep smiled as her eyes finally caught sight of her elusive foe. "Gotcha'."
The figure's eyes widened before she found herself impaled through the chest once more. The figured coughed out blood. She glared at the Abyssal as hard as she could, trying to steady her breath.
"Ah. . . I think I know you now . . ." the dark enchantress smiled. "Tell me, do you have a sister?"
The blonde growled back as her eyes changed for second before she freed herself from the Abyssal's grasp. She threw her massive claymore straight at her foe's head. The silky black enchantress, however, did not flinch as she allowed the sword to pass through her forehead.
"Ara . . . you seem to be going all out." The Abyssal of the West commented, however, this time without her usual playfulness. The demonic atmosphere started to grow thicker and thicker. "I wonder . . . shall I allow you to grow or not?"
The telltale feeling of approaching power-wielding individuals brought her out of her musings. Standing up, feeling a slight pain in her abdomen starting to fade, she faced the direction of several energy signatures. She wondered what they were. After all, the energy signatures were larger than normal humans yet lacking the sickeningly demonic quality of youki.
She decided to wait for the figures to arrive. After several minutes, during which her wounds had all healed and she pulled down her hood as to avoid suspicion, she sheathed her massive sword on her back, yet still remained in a guarded stance.
Her trained eye spotted five figures jumping off tree branches only to land on another until they passed her. Feeling slightly annoyed at being ignored, she sighed. She supposed she could not do anything about it.
She started walking in the opposite direction of the five figures. After all, they were bound to have come from some fort or village. All she had to do was find it.
Several minutes into her walk, her stomach suddenly rumbled. She ignored it and continued walking. She favored trying to remember what happened during her battle with the Abyssal of the West over everything. After all, the big question was still unanswered.
Why was she still alive?
The sound of running water nudged her out of her train of thought. She approached the river and took note of the speed of the current. She crouched down a bit and cupped some water in her hands before bringing it up to her lips, drinking and trying not to relish in its freshness.
After all, those seeking death do not want to enjoy life.
A spark of irritating orange which clashed with the blue river caught her eye. Her silver orb spotted what appeared to be a body several feet upstream and rapidly approached her. Her hand automatically plucked the body out of the river and placed it on the grass beside her.
Oh . . .
It was a human boy.
Her eye narrowed. If she let the boy live . . . then there might be complications that would arise. She did not need any complications. However, the organization did not condone their warriors allowing humans to die. That is, humans that pay them gold, to die.
This little blond did not pay her or the organization anything. That fact known, she had no obligation to save the boy's life. Given that, why the hell was she frantically trying to let the boy cough out the water lodged in his body instead of throwing him back to the water whence he came from?!
Just as she was about to listen for his heartbeat again, the little blond coughed and wheezed, turning to his side as he spat out the water. The armored warrior rubbed and patted his back just enough force to help him through his ordeal.
"Ah . . . that . . . hurt . . ." the blond managed in between breaths. "That's . . . the last time . . . I . . . swear . . . that I'd . . . I'd . . ."
She closed her eyes just as the blond slumped. He must have been through quite the adventure, she mused. Sighing, she decided to help the blond dry himself and his clothes first so that he wouldn't get sick then she'd leave him alone. She didn't care, anyways, whatever would happen to him.
Her hand reached out to him and she turned him around so that he was laying on his back. Her features hardened, however, as she saw his labored breathing.
Fevers don't usually start this fast, do they?
She ripped a small piece of her cloak and used it to wipe the young boy's face and neck. She then rested her hand on the boy's forehead and her eye widened at how hot it was.
Is it even possible for normal humans to survive these temperatures?! She internally screamed in her mind. Why she was screaming in the first place, she attributed to the shock and oddity of the situation.
Cursing under her breath at how she was acting during such a serious situation, she quickly took off all of the blonde's clothes, and squeezed the water out of them before clothing him in them again as she lacked proper clothing. She then took off her cloak and wrapped it around the young boy. She really had no idea if what she was doing was right as she had no experience with illnesses aside from severed arms and legs. She then cradled the boy in her arms, one of her arms situated below the boy's knees while the other supporting his neck.
As she stood up and prepared to make a dash for whatever civilization she could find, she suddenly stopped.
The boy is dying, right? A voice at the back of her head spoke. You do not know him so why must we save him? You should just let him die.
She suddenly shook her head. Those thoughts are exactly what made humans think they were monsters. Those thoughts made the humans believe that she and her fellow warriors were just like the youma.
Then again, there was little sense in keeping the boy alive. If he was dying . . . it was not her fault anyway. And so what if she was just like a youma . . . she had killed so many times already . . . hell, she even killed –
Her mind suddenly returned to reality as the blond stirred in her arms. His blue eyes, hazy, looked up to her face. She stared back at him with her one silver eye, wondering what he was going to do.
The blond smiled.
"Thank you . . . so . . . much . . ." the blonde's smile faltered as oblivion grabbed his consciousness. "Tenshi-chan . . ."
She suddenly found herself racing through the thick forest.
Tenshi-chan . . . she thought as she stole a quick glance at the boy whose breath was very shallow and infrequent. He called me . . . Tenshi-chan . . .
She started to hasten her pace even more as she stretched her senses to find the closest sign of civilization.
If he only knew what I was about to do . . .
Confused yet? I sure am. Honest. Even I don't know what I wrote. If you wanna review, go ahead. Anyway, I'm sure that those of you who know Claymore could already guess who among the Claymores I used. Those who don't could just go to my profile and check the gallery in my homepage to see how she looks like. Anyway, I hope that, knowing her, her fight made at least a little bit of sense.
Now, for a rant (Do not read this for those who could be offended) :
I'm tired of god-Sharingan and Emo-god Sasuke. So, in this fic, while Sharingan may still seem to be godly, trust me, it won't be. That, and Naruto will be super. Don't like? Oh well.
Power Rankings are screwed-up so beware:
Abyssal Level equals Kyuubi no Kitsune. I don't care what you guys say. Look at the Isley vs. Luciela fight. They could level the mountains. Damn.
Average Fully Functional Claymore (a.k.a. not Clarice-y) equals mid - Jounin. Crazy? Yup. Got the joke? Great job.
Youma equals High Chuunin. Bwahahaha! This is messed up!
Awakened Beings equals Bijuu which are not equal to wussy Bijuu from the manga where they can easily be beaten up by cloak-wearing guys. Sure the Akatsuki are strong but, come on, why are people so terrified by Bijuus when they seem to keep falling one after the other in a two-on-one battle? Are Bijuu's not strong or fearsome anymore?
. . . Okay, that was childish. Ignore that. This is just a rant, anyways . . .
Moving on, here's how I'll try to justify this insane logic of my power rankings. I will use the "AFF Claymore equals mid - Jounin" as an example. The AFF Claymore, basically, has the physical abilities of a Jounin. Whether it's with 80 percent Youki or not, bahala na. You decide. What the Jounins have, however, is versatility in technique and an arsenal of attacks. Claymores are, technically, swords(wo)men so they don't really have jutsus. They just cut youma and awakened beings.
Same goes for the Abyssal equals Kyuubi no Kitsune. Abyssals have similar power levels but different techniques and specialties when compared to the Kyuubi.
If you understood (or even read) this rant. . .
Well, good for you!
Chapter 1 done, let's hope there won't be a chapter 2! Now I can hopefully focus on my Geass fic and my next NarutoHanabi . . .
Okay, review if you want.