Forgotten

He was a living legacy, a Phoenix born from the ashes. She was a shadow, born from the same legacy, but destined to another path. They were one, yet another. They were the same, yet so different. They were once united, although unaware, and they were separated. One got the glory, and the other was left with no story. Those who hid the others half were unaware of their actions, as they tried to desperately erase the erasable. One was left to dwell with them, while the other was to become an outcast to humanity itself.

Now, years have gone by, and this shadow remains a shadow. Not even a memory for them to remember. Yet, the glorified boy had transformed into the savior of his people, blissfully unaware of his lost half. Not even the demon that resided within him dared utter a word, as he too lost a small fragment of his being.

This had been a tragic event that nature had planned for humanity, an anomaly no human could explain. How were they to explain the birth of twins? And how were they to explain the mysterious disappearance of one of them? For every action, there is a reason.

The wind was howling with regret, and the leaves would sing a lullaby for those to hear. A symphony of sorrow would play in the depths of the forest. The area was deserted, no living creature could be found, with one single exception. And as the leaves continued their ballad of despair, a shadow would creep along the edges, dancing to the bittersweet rhythm. A blur to the eyes, movements were hard to register. The only things visible were those pair of auburn eyes, burning with the same passion the wind blew with. It was the unmistakable feeling of solace.

Could you forget about those who were never remembered? A shadow that was once there, but never acknowledged? It was a shadow of the wind, always there, but never noticed; as fleeting as a breath, yet as insignificant as a blink of an eye. For auburn eyes that told the tale of harbored grudge were unable to make a shadow real.

Age had caused their mind to become frail and dubious. But they still remember, and out of so many horrors they had committed, they remembered that night perfectly well; the night they committed the biggest mistake of their lives. Instead of ridding themselves from a problem, they had created a cataclysm.

Leaves would crunch under the weight of the stranger’s foot. But the shadow was no stranger, as it had never been a person. Nameless and lost, those around were unaware of chaos’s stealthy approach. And try as hard as they wished, the leaves were unable to sing loud enough, and the rain wasn’t able to cry long enough. Not even the wind was fast enough. For this shadow had morphed into revenge, and its soul had transformed into hate. The demon that was fused in its being would take control and destroy everything in its path. For the tragic being had awoken from its slumber and vengeance was flowing through its veins. And who were they to deny it the only thing it had ever wanted? And so she continued to soundlessly walk with a morose pace; towards a place she could’ve called home.

With nimble movements and accurate leaps, the stealthy figure rushed through the forest. Those without shinobi eyes would’ve never seen her, as she was the exact replica of a shadow; only that she malleable. She was heading somewhere, and here she was, running from nowhere. If it weren’t for the single fact that she had a half, people would’ve thought she was nothing but a stray kitten. And they were almost correct, as she was the epitome of ‘lost’.

The abrupt halt of movement caused the world to go silent. Whispers; that’s all she’d been able to hear for years and years. She’d heard whispers from the wind, from the leaves, from her demon; yet never from another living creature. Ever since she had claimed the lives of those who took the time to raise her, no other living soul had dared approach her; and she never took time to listen.

These were not the whispers she was used to hear. So, she stood there wary of whatever might come out from the undergrowth. Her heartbeat became rapid and uneven. Don’t be scared my little Nakushita, a silky voice would whisper inside her own mind. Turn them into a memory.

The whispers had stopped, and the unknown started to close in. Weaponless, she stood there, idly waiting for the unknown to come out. They were like the wind, moving swiftly without leaving a trace, but even the lightest of wind made noise - unlike a shadow. A shadow left no trace and made no noise. She cracked a grin, oddly sharpened canines glimmering under the sinking sun. Her eyes widened, the gentle aroma of flesh entering her sense. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, knowing immediately that she was dealing with human flesh, and not any wandering animal.

A volley of kunais shot from the bushes, its blinding speed taking the standing figure by no surprise. She was already gone. Only the slight rustling of the dead leaves symbolized her abrupt escape, but it was only momentarily; for she had every intention to face the foe and bring them down. Turn them into a memory, the inner-beast would encourage. And since when has the demon failed her?

“I think we found her, Itachi.” Her head whipped towards the gruff voice, her toes digging deeper into the moist soil, the cold breeze stinging her exposed skin. She was dressed as nature required her to be dressed, and this made the blue skinned man to quirk a brow. “She’s naked.” She was already taking her third step backwards, when the strong scent of human wafted towards her. She leaped sideways a fraction of a second before a kunai embedded itself into the ground where she once stood. Her snarl was completely animalistic, the urge to kill howling in her veins.

Her spine curved as she bent forward, her fingers arching like hawk talons. A memory, the voice coaxed even further. She scanned her surroundings; perked ears unable to listen to their mute movements. They were standing, observing, waiting. She had no patience to play petty games, and as soon as her impatience overtook her, defeat sealed the deal.

“Oi, kid,” the loud guffaw echoed through the trees, the frantic flapping of wings joining the chaotic symphony. They were purposely deafening her; lowering her guard a high percentage. Her acute hearing was saturated with too many sounds, her ability in distinguishing each from another dawdling and hesitant. It was out of sheer instinct that she ducked when her moist skin felt the slight breeze that did not match the wind’s direction. A colossal sword nearly lopped her head off, but instead, strands of dirty blonde hair were severed.

For a moment, Nakushita doubted her ability to defeat the dangerous duo, but decided to press onward. “Nice one, kid. Let’s see if you can dodge this!” He was already swinging his sword in a wide arc once he finished speaking. The girl didn’t hesitate and jumped backwards, sparing her ribs a bone-crushing swing. One hit from that massive sword and she could already consider herself a corpse.

Her form vanished within a swirl of leaves, reappearing breaths away from the aquiline man, clawing thin air with vicious accuracy. When he punched her right across the face, Nakushita immediately felt part of her determination shatter possibly along with her jaw. She didn’t need to attend the Ninja Academy to know just how fucked she was. She could practically smell her demise, but her animalistic instinct was going berserk with the need for revenge. The word control was unknown to her, and soon, so was the word restraint.

The beast within was unleashing itself.

Her skin was coated with a slick coat of power. They simply observed. Her orange glowing aura overwhelmed her surroundings, the ground cracking under the unearthly pressure and the trees groaning. Her eyes were ballistic, the ravaging gaze of a lost beast present in every form. She bled feral savagery, and her enemies took notice of the drastic change with skeptical looks. This was definitely their target.

Flesh and metal collided, the burst of extra power giving the seemingly smaller figure an advantage. She nearly bit off the blue-man’s hand, but blind rage caused her to lose precision. She was losing control. She was losing. And in a desperate attempt to amend the lack of power, she summoned even more strength from the demon, carelessly wasting the precious substance of glory and ignoring the inner-beast’s hollers of distress. She was losing.

“It ends here,” said a voice as smooth as velvet. Nakushita simply growled and snarled and roared, her mangled surroundings oozing destruction and death. Livestock could be seen, some of it impaled by the flying trees, others ripped apart by the waking beast. There was too much collateral damage to take into consideration, the whole scenery representing nothing but gore and chaos. All created under the hand of a small girl, whose crazed gaze was losing its intensity with each passing pant. She could barely breathe and move, ripped muscle tissue stabbing her with immense pain – paralyzing her. A pair of assessing eyes took in every detail, noticing with great distaste just what an amateur she really was - lost potential. But that’s what she has always been.

Lost.

And then it was over. Eyes of blood and misery took her away, and for the first time in a whole life-time, she didn’t feel lost anymore. She felt gone.

She felt found.