Title: paper fan
Beta-ed by: MelissaRose85
Characters/Pairing: Haruno Sakura and Uchiha Itachi
Type: One-shot (Complete)
Word Count: 5014
Theme: LJ Community, 50-shinobi theme #48, paper fan
Rating: T (Contains content not suitable for children)
Disclaimer: Naruto belongs to Kishimoto-san.
Summary: One day, he simply started to exist, started to breathe, started to live. Only, he was no longer the same. The flip side of a paper fan, same, but different; changed, by the gods.
Created on: 23/09/08
Completed on: 02/10/08
Chapter Last Revised on: 11/10/08
His rebirth had been nothing short of a miracle.
It had taken five years for his new form to develop and finally stabilize, five years that had felt like a peaceful, blessed, eternity, as his mind was subdued and shut down, as he no longer had to struggle against the guilt of humanity, against the desperate, hopeless pull of obligation, as he barely existed in what had seemed like an endless abyss. Limbo.
It wasn't heaven, and it wasn't hell. Just an endless stretch of darkness; no beginning, no end. It had seemed like such a long time ago when he had allowed himself to be killed by his brother's hand, finally, the truth that he had no choice but to hide was out, finally, he could be at peace with himself, and he was fully prepared to pay for the sins he had committed, the lives he had taken.
But the Gods had other plans.
The circumstances of his life—and subsequent death—had been so unusual that not even the deities knew what to do with him when he transcended the mortal realms. According to the Book of Life and Death, where the lifespan of every living being was duly recorded and predestined, this was his fate. He would die at the age of twenty, after a short, fleeting life torn between the burdens of heartache and duty.
However, when the man finally came before the Gods to receive his divine judgment, calm and accepting of whatever punishment would befall him for his deeds, he had been so imbued with power and chakra that it was impossible to just send him to the Wheel of Reincarnation to be reborn. Complications had arisen.
It may seem that the Amaterasu, Tsukuyomi and Susanoo were only mere jutsu borne from the manifestations of the Mangekyo Sharingan, but it had been an undeniable, albeit little known fact, that the powers of such abilities had been, in a way, indirectly gifted by the respective Gods themselves. After all, the truth was that the Kekkei Genkai had been obtained through an unholy union of demon and human, and demons—demigods—could only spring forth from the loins of the Gods themselves.
He had died after using all three, in the attempt to teach his brother a final lesson. Such power had been forbidden and kept locked away for a very good reason; they had never been meant for the use of humans—their frail bodies were never meant to take such strain and abuse from the discharge of raw power.
Combining with the heinous deeds that he had committed against Life and Nature, no matter how pure and noble his intentions might have been, each sin that he committed had badly fragmented his soul and spirit, now barely held together by the raw power that he had died unleashing. It had led to a unique situation, where it seemed that he belonged nowhere in the realms of the Afterlife. Despite his brutal actions in life, his intentions and character had been inherently good, and thus, he could not be sent to hell. For the exact same reasons, he could not be allowed to attain Nirvana as well. It was also impossible for him to be reincarnated at the moment because the taint of unnatural death and godly power that saturated his spirit would somehow carry over to his next life, and karma would ensure that tragedy would repeat itself—again and again and again, if need be.
And so the Gods stepped in, and made an unorthodox decision. They would allow him a second chance at life. Since it was clearly not his time to go yet, they would return him to the mortal realm.
But the meddling of the Divine Beings never came without consequence; because his rapidly deteriorating, mortal body had long since been destroyed, they had to provide him with a new form.
A new creation.
No longer human.
A messenger of the Gods.
It was said that Tengu were the harbingers of war, demons with long beaks and wings, half avian, half human, and sick terrors against humanity that were never supposed to be born.
Haruno Sakura stared at the being before her.
The pale expense of skin was marred by numerous bruises and long, bleeding gouges, a leanly muscled physique, almost to the point of gauntness, partially concealed by an incredulous expense of raven hair, badly knotted and matted from lack of care. Huge black wings, twisted and horribly mangled, sprouted from behind shoulder blades and emerged partially from the tangled, waist-length locks, and he was completely nude.
Clearly unconscious and left completely vulnerable and open to attacks in the middle of a forest clearing, what had puzzled the kunoichi most was the fact that she could detect no tracks, no trails that led, ultimately, to this man's current position. It was as if he had been dropped from the heavens, which would make sense considering the badly fractured pair of wings that seemed to be naturally attached to him.
However, once Sakura got a good look at the features of the man, she was immediately convinced that he must have been recently spat out from the jaws of hell.
Paling and backpedaling quickly the very moment she recognized the distinct features of the one Uchiha Itachi, the kunoichi gaped unabashed at the aristocratic appearance of the missing-nin. Or rather, supposed to be, deceased missing-nin.
Her brain raced to come up with plausible answers, only to get stuck on the barefaced facts that she herself had been so sure of a few years back, but not so much sure of any longer. He had died five years ago! How on earth was he still alive—and breathing?!
There was definitely no mistaking the subtle up and down motions of the pale chest as his ribcage moved to facilitate the expansion and contraction of his lungs each time he inhaled and exhaled. His breathing sounded a little ragged; there was no doubt that he may be suffering from some fracture of the ribs together with his extensive injuries.
How was he alive?
The question refused to leave Sakura the hell alone. The kunoichi stared hard at the man who appeared to look like Uchiha Itachi. The face was the same—high cheekbones, the lines of stress that marked him, thin lips—but it appeared that he had gone through some sort of body…modification. Sakura could not remember seeing the Uchiha possess a pair of wings and sporting the most intimidating set of black claws that tipped his fingers and toes before, but now…
"What is going on?"
And most importantly, what was she supposed to do now?
Bewildered emerald eyes hardened slightly, and then, before she could even reconsider, she swooped down towards the unconscious male and started pushing chakra into various vital points of his body.
It would serve to immobilize him…until she could bring him back to Konoha.
"Where did you find him?"
Tsunade asked the pink-haired kunoichi in a hushed voice as the two conversed outside the highly guarded hospital ward, where Konoha's newest captive currently resided.
"At the outskirts of Fire Country, near Ame." Sakura proceeded to explain the circumstances of her accidental capture. Her shishou listened without interrupting, and then returned Sakura's courtesy by sharing her own findings.
"He isn't normal, Sakura," Tsunade spoke bluntly, even as the other kunoichi gave her a surprised look.
"What do you mean?"
"We still had his data and statistics from back when he was still a shinobi of Konoha, and I was putting him through the protocol, health and identity checks, in order to confirm his person as Uchiha Itachi, but…there is something wrong." The busty blonde looked at Sakura oddly. "I cannot identify his blood type at all."
Sakura's eyes widened slightly.
Cannot identify blood type? There were only 4 different blood groups for human beings; what did shishou mean by she could not identify his blood group? Even Naruto's blood type was a B, and her blonde brother had demonic energy circulating within his chakra coils.
And Tsunade wasn't even done yet.
"That's not all. His previous dental records and imprints are a complete mismatch; his incisors are elongated and sharper, jaw muscles have thickened to accommodate the growth and usage of his new fangs. The wings and claws appear to be genuine and not grafted upon him like previously assumed; natural, developed muscles lined along his body and external appendages support that fact. The shape and design of his ears are not normal as well; they seem to suggest an improved aural ability that we cannot test further, due to his unconscious state. His eyes are a permanent, cat-slit crimson, and tests suggest that they are extremely sensitive to light stimulation. I suspect that his other sensory abilities will be similarly enhanced; we may be able to test that when he awakens. Also, his bone density is clearly not that of a human being's; I would say that it is almost avian-like, only that the bone particles are even more compact and a lot less fragile."
The Hokage frowned as she paused in her recital from the medical record that she had collected so far.
"It is mystifying; there is no curse seal or any oddity visible on him to explain this supernatural physique, and his musculature is mostly unused, not even atrophied. It is more like that of a newborn infant, brand new and untried."
"Are you sure?" the pink-haired kunoichi asked at last. How was that even possible? Unused muscles resembling those of a newborn? He wouldn't have been able to move at all!!
Tsunade nodded grimly, though the wonder in her eyes was a little more difficult to conceal.
"I can tell the difference from atrophy, and in his case, that's clearly not it. I'm beginning to doubt that this is Uchiha Itachi," the blonde spoke frankly. "The physical resemblance may be there, but biologically, there is nothing similar at all. Uchiha Itachi had possessed biological traits that were distinctly human, and I don't know what he is now, but I can tell you that the male whom you just brought in isn't human at all. There is no way in hell Uchiha Itachi could have pulled off something like this. Not even I have the ability to alter the basic make up of the human physiology into something entirely different."
An eerie tingle crept up Sakura's spine at her teacher's almost awed words.
"Not to mention that pair of wings and those claws…" The older med-nin flipped her file shut and handed it over to Sakura solemnly. "The resemblance to the mythical Tengu is beyond startling."
At that, Sakura's eyes darkened.
If this really was a Tengu, then he had appeared at the right time. Konoha was on the verge of war, after all.
"I'm keeping this from the Council and the village," Tsunade decided at last. "The villagers are highly superstitious, and so are most of the elders on the Council. They would surely see this as a bad omen, and that would bring down the village's morale. Still, as your captive's resemblance to the late Uchiha Itachi raises some cause for concern, I will put you in charge of him for now. I wouldn't worry about him trying to escape any time soon. Judging by the state of his unlearned body, he is going to have to undergo extensive physiotherapy in order to even function normally; literally weak as a baby."
The Godaime Hokage glanced at her student.
"At the moment, no one is aware of his presence here, thanks to your covert reentry into Konoha. You will observe and learn what you can from him, and if you think that he can be trusted, try to persuade him to join our ranks."
The blonde gave her surprised student a bittersweet smile.
"We are going to need all the help that we can get."
"What if he really is Uchiha Itachi?" Sakura asked cautiously.
Amber eyes blanked.
"On the unlikely possibility that he really is Uchiha Itachi reborn," Tsunade spoke slowly. "Things will be a lot different."
Sakura frowned inwardly at the cryptic reply, but before she could enquire further, Tsunade's defenses were already fully back in place, ever the no-nonsense Fifth Generation Fire Shadow.
"Jounin Haruno Sakura, you understand that this is a long term SS-class mission that you will have to undertake. Optimal secrecy is required, and you answer to no one but myself, is that clear?"
Sakura nodded once. Sharply.
He had been rather badly injured, though his wounds didn't appear as if he had gotten them from combat. The fracture of his ribs, pelvis, and limbs seemed to indicate that he had fallen from a great height, and it was a good thing that his wings had taken the brunt of the damage, otherwise his head would have suffered. As such, he had to be put to rest on his stomach, and alongside his other injuries, his wings were also splinted carefully to prevent further damage.
There was also the fact that his chakra seemed to be different from hers. It wasn't like the potent, harmful, lava-red youki from Naruto's nine-tailed parasite, but it wasn't entirely human, either. As such, her healing efforts with chakra did not seem to be able to aid his injuries as quickly when compared to her normal curing of other nin, though interestingly enough, his rate of healing seemed to be unprecedented among other patients, almost as powerful as that of Naruto's.
The inner workings of his body were simply intriguing, and Sakura found herself unwillingly fascinated as the days passed. Her time—and duty—was now devoted to looking after the unconscious male, and because of the utter secrecy of her mission, her shishou had given her clearance to take her winged patient to an undisclosed, unused ANBU training facility a day's journey away from Konoha but still well within the hearth of Fire Country.
It had been two weeks since they were relocated to this remote valley, and still he showed no sign of waking up. His injuries were all healed up already, and so Sakura spent most of her time tending to the unconscious male, keeping him nourished via intravenous therapy and cleaning up after him daily, like the comatose patient that he was. It was a lonely assignment for the pink-haired kunoichi; as much as she understood how important it was to keep her patient a secret, it did not help at all with the fact that she happened to be the only one assigned to this mission. Manpower in Konoha had been stretched thin in recent times, and it had been all Tsunade could do to free Sakura from her other duties for this.
The younger medic-nin tried to treat her mission as a chance for her to get away from the tense atmosphere of Konoha, and it almost worked, too. For the first few days, she tried to ignore her worry for her village, and she was almost successful until she realized that she had been constantly pushing herself to the very limits whilst training, and that happened whenever she wasn't looking after her new charge.
Preparing for war.
Eyes hard, jaw clenched, she had continued her strenuous and demanding taijutsu exercises, often working herself to exhaustion. Her ability to fight and protect would one day determine the life and death of her teammates, friends, and family. She would not let them down.
And so the days flew past quickly enough, and Sakura immersed herself in her mission and training, penning weekly reports to her shishou on the status of her patient and generally busying herself with things to do as often as she could. At the same time, she was also beginning to relax her guard around the unconscious winged male, if only for a little bit. The human psychology was so vulnerable sometimes, and after a month or so of complete isolation from the world outside, coupled with the mindless and grueling training sessions that she had set for herself daily, Sakura had started to develop a sense of comradeship with her patient, her only companion in the isolated ANBU facility, never mind the fact that his appearance was that of the S-class missing-nin, Uchiha Itachi. It wasn't much, but she found it relaxing to speak to the comatose male daily, usually of non-important Konoha-related matters, just about the most general topics that came to mind, be it the fine weather outside or the utterly mystifying puzzle that was the man himself.
Sakura had carried out a bit of investigating on her own, and it turned out that shishou was right; this being couldn't possibly be human. His physical characteristics were completely different from what she had seen before, and it appeared that his biological makeup seemed to support a combative and violent existence, be it the deadly claws and fangs that would allow brutal attacks, the strange, inhuman chakra that was housed within massive chakra coils that implied an ability to utilize jutsu, or the inhuman bone density and thickened muscle mass that appeared to be able to support great speed and, at the same time, withstand massive trauma.
It was almost as if he was made for battle, and a chill always went down Sakura's spine whenever she thought about it.
However, he was still unconscious, and even when he awoke, she had no doubt that it would be like her shishou had mentioned; it would take quite awhile of physiotherapy before he could condition his new muscles to work the way they were meant. Somehow, the pink-haired kunoichi was sure that it would be a sight to behold when that happened, though she wasn't quite sure just when it would happen, or if it would even happen at all.
After all, it had been over a month since she found him, and even though his many external injuries were fully healed already, he was still unresponsive, in a deep cataleptic state that made her wonder often if he was ever going to arouse from his comatose state. A part of her pondered over the repercussions of his awakening, and if he was really Tengu, if it would have been better for Konoha if he never woke at all. Then she shook her thoughts away.
How silly of her to believe in superstitions; besides, conscious or asleep, mythical Tengu or not, there was simply no denying that the dawn of war was near for the Leaf. It had been inevitable; something that had started a long time ago, since Konoha's founding, and now, it appeared as if the very climax of the long feud that had spanned generations would begin soon.
And like shishou had mentioned, they would need all the help they could get.
If this potentially powerful male did wake, it would be her duty to ascertain that he would be no threat to Konoha, as well as to ensure that he would fight for her beloved village.
He did wake, a few days later.
His transition from unconsciousness to the realm of the living was subtle, slow, but he had a guide. The soft, feminine voice that he had been hearing for as long as he had gained the ability to sense and perceive in this new form was singing this time, humming a light, gentle tune that was somehow hauntingly familiar to him. The manner in which the melody jarred discordantly at his emotions disturbed him at a primal level, but still, he strove instinctively towards that voice. It seemed as though he had been suspended in a dark, endless void for so very long, and this voice had been the only thing that had kept him company when he had been lost and disorientated in the alien, pitch black environment that he could not seem to get out of. Strangely enough, he had only been able to catch the soft tones of this voice in the past, but it had always been muffled so much so that he could never hope to interpret the words that were being spoken.
But this time around, he could clearly hear the tune that was being sung, and it seemed to become even clearer the harder he listened for it. Maybe this time around, he would be able to discern the source of this voice, to see the face that it belonged to.
His senses, dulled and never used before, were beginning to twitch and come to life slowly. Somehow, he became aware of his own beating heart, slowly and steadily increasing as he began to stir, as well as the gentle motions of his breathing. Almost as if someone had slowly turned the volume of Life up, he was beginning to hear as well, the various trickle of sounds a great welcome compared to the disturbing stillness of the vacuum that he had been cloistered in for so long. Different scents filtered into his nose, sharper and even more distinct than he had ever remembered before, and he was somehow hypersensitive to the movements around him—was she the owner of the voice?
Then, there was a quick, internal struggle to open his eyes, to see, but when his eyelids refused to obey his commands, he panicked briefly. Something was wrong, he was supposed to—
By sheer force of will, he forced his eyes open—and immediately regretted it.
The piercing light stabbed viciously into his highly sensitive retinas. The world was not like the utter darkness that he had been trapped in for so long; it was bright, vibrant, dazzling, blinding. It burned. The sharp draw of breath that escaped his lips was unmistakable before his eyelids slammed shut in a last ditch attempt to protect his disused sight from its abrupt introduction to light, but even then, the glaring afterimages were firmly imprinted onto the back of his eyelids, fading in a painfully slow manner that didn't fail to remind him of his impatient folly.
He didn't quite remember being so sensitive to light exposure, though he couldn't quite remember how he had come to possess that particular bit of knowledge, either. The many mental blanks in his memory were enough to disturb him, and by then, his instincts informed him that the soft humming had stopped abruptly, and so had all the movements around him. The sudden stillness made him tense despite his current disorientation, an inherent sixth sense warning him to be prepared, though for what, he only had a vague idea.
Then his ears detected quick footsteps towards him, and he was immediately on high alert. Now temporarily blinded, weak and utterly helpless, he was entirely at the mercy of whoever was beside him, and that frailty did not sit well with him. The surge of cold disgust that erupted suddenly from the very depths of his mentality surprised him momentarily, but before he could ponder about it, the presence that he had sensed earlier approached swiftly and placed a pair of hands on the top of his head. There was a brief flare of chakra, and he stiffened, almost as if anticipating an attack.
There were none, and instead, he felt the piercing headache ease away with the application of warm energy.
"Take your time to recover." The voice spoke calmly, the same feminine tone that he had heard for so long, and he relaxed minutely. It was her.
She had been the only living constant when he had been trapped in the darkness, and whether she knew it or not, he had grabbed hold of her voice, the voice that had brought him back to consciousness. And now, he could almost see her.
Unfocused crimson eyes slid opened slowly, even as those gentle hands did not take themselves away from his temple. The energy that she gave out was soothing, and it managed to block off most of the discomfort as his eyes gradually readjusted to the new sights around him. Instinctively, without even knowing the purpose of his behavior, he began to scope out his surroundings warily, automatically creating a mental map of what he could see in his mind.
White walls. Sterile environment. A window right beside the bed that he was lying on, streaming in sunlight and fresh air.
He tried to move, and found that he couldn't do so at all. He wasn't restricted by any bonds, but he was weak, very weak; his limbs and muscles not moving at all the way that he had once been accustomed to. As it was, just the mere effort of turning his head made him dizzy and nauseous. It didn't take much to understand that his strength and stamina were nonexistent, and with that realization, the icy fury of self-induced loathing flooded his mind again, and the sensation was so completely overpowering and unexpected that he flinched inwardly in reaction.
Why was he feeling so angry?
It took a brief moment of concentration to quell his restless anger, and when he did calm down, the cool hands that rested against his brow were removed, and after some brief sounds of shifting, she stepped into his currently somewhat limited line of sight.
His eyes were a dark shade of red that was synonymous with the color of blood, almost like the same shade of the Sharingan, but still, somehow, different. There were no signs of tomoe whatsoever in his pupils, nor was there the often elaborate, bladed designs that were the manifestations of the Mangekyo Sharingan, only a single narrowed slit in each of his eyes that was almost cat-like in nature. Forcibly controlling her growing excitement and pleasure—finally, he had woken up—she observed him almost curiously, watching the way those pupils of his contracted and focused impossibly upon her.
His large, raven black wings had twitched slightly behind him earlier, and that minute movement had been what had alerted her to his slow return to consciousness. She had watched unobtrusively as he struggled silently to open his eyes, and it was only when he overdid it that she decided to interfere, and now, when he was finally able to look at her with the faintest trace of wonder and confusion in his quietly watchful gaze, she could not help but come to her own conclusion that he certainly wasn't acting like the impassive, cold, S-class nuke-nin that she had seen years ago.
For one, this male clearly lacked the Sharingan. For another, his mental defenses didn't appear to be anywhere as strong or as impenetrable as the ones Uchiha Itachi had been infamous for, judging by the obvious lack of hostile intent as well as the current…expressivity in his eyes.
A part of Sakura had been momentarily taken aback by the emotions that flitted swiftly across his face before he finally saw fit to school his features to a neutral expression, so quick that she couldn't quite catch what he was feeling at all, but it was enough to show her that there were definitely emotions running under that now blanked appearance of his.
It was likely that shishou was right after all; this man couldn't possibly be the deceased Uchiha Itachi.
"…Who are you?" she asked at last, after a long pause of silence whereby patient and healer had been silently staring at the other, quietly sizing each other up. "Are you aware of your identity?"
She had asked a very good question.
He had been looking at her, reconciling the voice that he had been hearing the very moment he had become sentient in this body to this strangely attention-catching girl-woman. Petite, slender, pink hair, eyes of the purest shade of emeralds; he was fairly certain that he had never seen her before—
So why was his subconscious telling him that those deep verdant eyes were so very familiar?
A brief search of his memories came up blank when it came to her, but come to think of it, there seemed to be something faulty with him; he couldn't seem to remember anything at all. Still, it wasn't that he possessed no recollections whatsoever of his past, it just felt as if something was keeping him away from the mental vault where his memories lay. The pictures of the past, his past, eluded his grasp even as he tried actively to hold onto them; he was sure that they were there somewhere, just out of reach. It was disturbingly frustrating, and just when he had been about to experience another brief, nervous breakdown at the realization of his currently foreign and helpless situation, she had asked her question.
The suffocating sense of not knowing, followed quickly by the growing frustration and roiling rage was completely genuine as his mind drew yet another blank. How could he not know?
However, before, he could say a word, something within his mind shifted back into place, and in doing so, revealing tiny bits of information that he couldn't have known before. It was a sensation that felt completely natural to him, it was a trickle of awareness that made him stiffen and relax at the same time with realization and relief, it was the knowledge of something that was only his and no one else's, and it clicked so perfectly in his mind that he knew instinctively that it was the truth, never mind the fact that he still could not remember a thing, that his past might as well have been a blank canvas for all he knew about it.
But at least, this canvas had a name now.
He looked up, almost bewildered, at the pink-haired female before him, and for the first time, he spoke, his voice husky from the lack of use, but there was no concealing the calm surety behind that lilting tone that was his true voice, the sheer confidence that what he was saying was correct.
"My name is Uchiha Itachi."
"And I am Tengu."
Questions That I Would Like To Answer Before You Ask:
Yep, you read correctly. I had just recreated Itachi into the Batman of Naruto-verse. Clichéd, angsty past, partial amnesia and all.
And the super cool wings; we mustn't forget the wings, which are of course, a lot more aesthetically pleasing (and useful) compared to those of the One-Who-Shalt-Not-Be-Named, in Cursed Seal mode.
Holy Shat, Batman!
Cower with envy, Sasuke!!
Bad jokes aside, this was my take on a possible, supernatural CU scenario since Kishimoto had so inconsiderately decided to off Itachi in the series. I figured that since there were demons like the Kyuubi no Youko rampaging about the Naruto-verse countryside, then the appearance of youkai like the mythical Tengu shouldn't be all that surprising.
Of course, you can also take this fic as a devout fangirl's way of rejecting a character's death ala foolish little brother, which might be mostly true. Other Itachi fans quit reading Naruto in protest; I just had to bring him back to life in my own little, imaginary world.
Here is a brief explanation of the Tengu for those who are curious and unaware.
According to Wikipedia, Tengu (天狗, Tengu? "heavenly dogs") are a class of supernatural creatures found in Japanese folklore, art, theatre, and literature. They are one of the best known youkai (monster-spirits) and are sometimes worshipped as Shinto kami (revered spirits or gods). The Tengu were originally thought to take the forms of birds of prey, and they are traditionally depicted with both human and avian characteristics. The earliest Tengu were pictured with beaks, but this feature has often been humanized as an unnaturally long nose, which today is practically the Tengu's defining characteristic in the popular imagination. Buddhism long held that the Tengu were disruptive demons and harbingers of war. Their image gradually softened, however, into one of protective, if still dangerous, spirits of the mountains and forests.
Well, so thanks to Itachi's strange fixation with ravens and amazing prowess in battle, I thought that the Tengu seemed to be a rather fitting spirit/demon for him to take form from. Not to mention that Itachi's Mangekyo techniques were all named after the Shinto Gods as well; Amaterasu, Tsukuyomi and Susanoo. They do seem to be able to form a likely link, and so, I shamelessly took advantage of it and wrote this out.
Personally, I myself have never seen Tengu!Itachi written in the Naruto fanfiction archives before, and so I thought, why the hell not, and here we are! My dear beta and friends had assured me that this is an intriguing idea, though I'm not very sure how the readers would take to this new, strange twist. I do have a vague outline of a plot in mind, and when I do continue this, it's definitely going to be a continuous epic. Again.
So yes, like 'panic button', this is something of a 'teaser' one-shot.
Like or not; do tell me what you think!
Your reviews fuel my passion for writing. So please leave a comment if you like this fic, thank you.