Numb
four
Present Day
I had given up by the time we reached Konoha.
It was three day’s march at our pace, a slow, but steady, crawl; my wrists were bound in front of me with rope that cut into my skin, leaving long trails of blood between my fingers and down my arms. My clothing was dirty, stained with blood, both mine and others, and dirt, and my hair had fallen loose around my face, reaching almost halfway down my back. I knew, even without looking at myself, that I looked as though I had been through hell and back. I looked like I felt. Sleep had evaded me entirely, for every time I closed my eyes, I saw senbon, shining in the sunlight, coming towards me and piercing my skin. Never enough to kill, just enough to injure. I saw my brother’s body, hauntingly still and pale on the forest floor as we walked away. That was one of the only things I could think of during those three days, though I tried to keep my mind clear, empty of all things. I wondered mostly if they were aware of the pain that they were putting me through—if they knew how I longed to give up and wait for death.
Physically, I was beaten, bruised; mentally, I was crushed. My brother—the only family that I had left—was dead, his body probably collected by a tracker from our village and destroyed. For the past five years, he had been my everything, the only person that I had any real ties to; he had protected me from bullies in the schoolyard when we were children and, as we grew older, had protected me from dying at the hand of enemy nin, the freezing cold of winter, the extreme heat of a summer’s day in the desert. And what had I done for him?
The gates of the Village Hidden in the Leaves rose up before us mockingly, villagers, children, and shinobi walking about peacefully just within them. Most of them stopped and stared as we walked through the gates, my wrists still bound painfully; even with my hair covering my ears, I could hear their whispers. Poor girl, one woman had said, her voice so quiet that I almost didn’t catch it. Another applauded the Jounin that had captured me, saying something about how proud their village was of their ability to capture and kill. Nothing that one should be proud of. Even I knew that, and I was the one that they had attempted to kill only days before. Why they had spared my life was a mystery to me. Gender was not supposed to be an object in the ninja arts; men and women had always been considered equals.
The woman that led us into the Hokage’s office regarded me with eyes that were full of pity, knowing, understanding. She untied the ropes around my wrists and bandaged them as I sat, waiting, for the Hokage and for my sentencing, pushed my hair away from my face with a sigh and stared into my eyes for a moment, squeezing my shoulder. “You’ll be fine, imouto-kun. I promise.”
Her words surprised me, my eyes widening as she walked out of the room. Imouto. Even Shinobu hadn’t called me that, always referring me to as just Mei. The only time that he had actually acknowledged the fact that we were siblings was when we were small children, dueling it out against the others in the village. He had said that, because he was my older brother, it was his job to protect me—
A voice pulled me out of my daydream, saying, “Sahto Mei. Jounin. 15 years old. One of the last surviving members of the legendary Sahto clan, along with her brother…” The woman standing above me eyed me skeptically, her arms crossed. “You don’t look dangerous, but I suppose you must be if the Village Hidden in the Mist has you employed as one of the top ranking Jounin in their Black Ops, eh?”
I didn’t say anything.
“She and her brother were on a mission to steal the Sealing Scroll from our village, ma’am,” one of the Jounin said from behind me, his foot steps telling me that he moved closer to me. “That is a crime punishable by death. Her brother suffered the consequence.”
“So I heard,” the Hokage murmured, and she looked toward me, lifting my chin with one finger. “Tell me, Mei, how long have you been away from home?”
“A week and a half, ma’am,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“Yes, it has been that long since you began this mission. I’ve heard rumors that your father sent you and your brother away from your clan when you were small children, just Genin. Advanced for your age, as could only be expected of the Sahto clan. How long has it been since then?”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “Six years, ma’am.”
Her eyebrows drew together, her mouth forming a thin line. “You left when you were nine, yet you were a Genin? And you passed the Chunin exams at eleven, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for me to reply. “When did you find out that your clan had been assassinated?”
“Nearly two years ago. When we first returned the Village Hidden in the Mist.”
I would have given anything to go back to that time, when Shinobu and I had traveled by boat to our homeland, new Chunin, expecting to find our family waiting there for us. We were happy then, completely oblivious to everything that had happened in the three years that we had been absent. Jealously, suspicion, upset and, eventually, death. Villagers had worried that our clan was too powerful, our knowledge too great. That was why Baba had sent us away, not because of the bullies in the school yard or any of the other silly things that we told ourselves. He had saved our lives before they had even been threatened.
I had given up by the time we reached Konoha.
It was three day’s march at our pace, a slow, but steady, crawl; my wrists were bound in front of me with rope that cut into my skin, leaving long trails of blood between my fingers and down my arms. My clothing was dirty, stained with blood, both mine and others, and dirt, and my hair had fallen loose around my face, reaching almost halfway down my back. I knew, even without looking at myself, that I looked as though I had been through hell and back. I looked like I felt. Sleep had evaded me entirely, for every time I closed my eyes, I saw senbon, shining in the sunlight, coming towards me and piercing my skin. Never enough to kill, just enough to injure. I saw my brother’s body, hauntingly still and pale on the forest floor as we walked away. That was one of the only things I could think of during those three days, though I tried to keep my mind clear, empty of all things. I wondered mostly if they were aware of the pain that they were putting me through—if they knew how I longed to give up and wait for death.
Physically, I was beaten, bruised; mentally, I was crushed. My brother—the only family that I had left—was dead, his body probably collected by a tracker from our village and destroyed. For the past five years, he had been my everything, the only person that I had any real ties to; he had protected me from bullies in the schoolyard when we were children and, as we grew older, had protected me from dying at the hand of enemy nin, the freezing cold of winter, the extreme heat of a summer’s day in the desert. And what had I done for him?
The gates of the Village Hidden in the Leaves rose up before us mockingly, villagers, children, and shinobi walking about peacefully just within them. Most of them stopped and stared as we walked through the gates, my wrists still bound painfully; even with my hair covering my ears, I could hear their whispers. Poor girl, one woman had said, her voice so quiet that I almost didn’t catch it. Another applauded the Jounin that had captured me, saying something about how proud their village was of their ability to capture and kill. Nothing that one should be proud of. Even I knew that, and I was the one that they had attempted to kill only days before. Why they had spared my life was a mystery to me. Gender was not supposed to be an object in the ninja arts; men and women had always been considered equals.
The woman that led us into the Hokage’s office regarded me with eyes that were full of pity, knowing, understanding. She untied the ropes around my wrists and bandaged them as I sat, waiting, for the Hokage and for my sentencing, pushed my hair away from my face with a sigh and stared into my eyes for a moment, squeezing my shoulder. “You’ll be fine, imouto-kun. I promise.”
Her words surprised me, my eyes widening as she walked out of the room. Imouto. Even Shinobu hadn’t called me that, always referring me to as just Mei. The only time that he had actually acknowledged the fact that we were siblings was when we were small children, dueling it out against the others in the village. He had said that, because he was my older brother, it was his job to protect me—
A voice pulled me out of my daydream, saying, “Sahto Mei. Jounin. 15 years old. One of the last surviving members of the legendary Sahto clan, along with her brother…” The woman standing above me eyed me skeptically, her arms crossed. “You don’t look dangerous, but I suppose you must be if the Village Hidden in the Mist has you employed as one of the top ranking Jounin in their Black Ops, eh?”
I didn’t say anything.
“She and her brother were on a mission to steal the Sealing Scroll from our village, ma’am,” one of the Jounin said from behind me, his foot steps telling me that he moved closer to me. “That is a crime punishable by death. Her brother suffered the consequence.”
“So I heard,” the Hokage murmured, and she looked toward me, lifting my chin with one finger. “Tell me, Mei, how long have you been away from home?”
“A week and a half, ma’am,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“Yes, it has been that long since you began this mission. I’ve heard rumors that your father sent you and your brother away from your clan when you were small children, just Genin. Advanced for your age, as could only be expected of the Sahto clan. How long has it been since then?”
I swallowed back the lump in my throat. “Six years, ma’am.”
Her eyebrows drew together, her mouth forming a thin line. “You left when you were nine, yet you were a Genin? And you passed the Chunin exams at eleven, didn’t you?” She didn’t wait for me to reply. “When did you find out that your clan had been assassinated?”
“Nearly two years ago. When we first returned the Village Hidden in the Mist.”
I would have given anything to go back to that time, when Shinobu and I had traveled by boat to our homeland, new Chunin, expecting to find our family waiting there for us. We were happy then, completely oblivious to everything that had happened in the three years that we had been absent. Jealously, suspicion, upset and, eventually, death. Villagers had worried that our clan was too powerful, our knowledge too great. That was why Baba had sent us away, not because of the bullies in the school yard or any of the other silly things that we told ourselves. He had saved our lives before they had even been threatened.
♠ ♠ ♠
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