SEVEN
It's a year later that she hears rumours about a man wandering the elemental countries with a single Sharingan. Ling doesn't dare to hope. But the seed that the boy who had been her first friend is alive and kicking, somewhere, lodges: too quickly, too fast, and the very possibility is too much to resist. She requests another leave outside the village in between another retrieval mission. She sends the ANBU agent back on her Crane summons and heads toward (or back to) Kannabi Bridge.
( Minato stares at her with unreadable eyes during one of her rare renters, a brief glimpse of her and she wonders why he isn't the least bit suspicious— because why she was, and why she is, the seventy page long report by a foreign but infamous ANBU he's never met on this desk with writing so similar to her scrawl—
But a part of her is relieved that he doesn't check. He'll try to help, he might try to get her out of it— But maybe he won't, because as she is now: brimming with information and brutally efficient, she is good at her job, she knows it and there is no one to replace her, no one with this particular type of darkness— Not Anko, not Kakashi, not Gai, not any of the geniuses of their generation can take her place because of that. Though she's not quite sure what it is that she's afraid of: is she afraid that he'll help her? Or is she afraid that he won't? Or perhaps, she could even be afraid that he'll make the choice and choose the village over her — like they both know he must and like she knows he will.
Ling doesn't know if she'll be ready to face the fact that the first man she's ever trusted will inevitably abandon her if she forces him to choose. Oh, Ling, always, always so selfish. So self-important, giving herself worth when she doesn't receive it from others.
( Kakashi might, she knows deep down, but she won't take his light by shoving him into the darkness because she was too weak. )
Besides, in the end, even if she comes to term with all those things, even if she tells Minato and he understands: she's not ready, she's just not ready; she tells herself this every single year since she left the village. Even so, at the back of her mind she knows (because Ling's nothing if not self-aware), if she's not ready: not now, not then, not next year, then when will she ever be ready? And she, too, knows that the longer she waits, the bigger the gap between them is.
But maybe some bridges do need to be burned. Maybe some bridges can't be repaired. Maybe this is the cost she pays because home is already gone. Because someone set fire to it and Ling let it burn. Or perhaps, it's because Ling poured the gasoline, bought the maches and someone lit it up.
Kannabi in ruins— As it should be.
And Ling doesn't dare hope that she'll find anything, because Obito died so many years before. And there is no guarantee that the man— The one with a single Sharingan — even exists. But this search is closure, this is a duty to honour Obito, Kakashi, sensei and most importantly: herself. To those years. To that fading fire. To the teacher she's hurt and the other boy that she led on.
And to the Ling she might've never stopped being had Obito not die.
But, but, so many buts— Brutal efficiency, her mind whispers. She had been chosen for ANBU because of it. Ling was the black sheep of a civilian merchant family. She longed to be acknowledged her entire life: that desire made her cold and harsh and brilliant. Perhaps even if Obito hadn't died...
She doesn't know where to start, she realizes suddenly, despairingly. Coming here was foolish and she should've prepped first. Should've, should've, could've, so many possibilities, so many buts, so many things that should've been done differently, so many things that could've been different. And she'd always been hasty— so, so temperamental. She's supposed to be better than this, better than this rash, reckless, rush of adrenaline. This impulse. Better than this foolish fantasy and the charming chimeras of martyrs long gone.
Even so; this is the one thing Ling has always clung onto. The rage of Obito's death, the rage over her family's inattention, the rage over Kakashi's inability to save Obito. Her life has and always been spurred on by rage.
x
Burning chakra, toxic and corrosive, she remembers, one night in the forest, gazing at the stars, ( the night that they'd stopped searching for Obito, the night that Minato had raved and ranted behind closed doors. Kakashi's empty stare and her own furious grief. ) Unique, ancient and so very powerful.
Like Kushina's.
Her eyes widen. It shouldn't be possible, it shouldn't be, but while Ling doesn't know where to find a dead man, she definitely knows how to find a Jinchuuriki.
+
She finds him—
A man with strange chakra. Half unnatural, half toxic and half— What even was it? An eerie brush of talons against her skin, the caress of ancient branches and the scorching, burning fire against her flesh.
She opens her mouth because the man might not be him— She's only twenty-one (twenty one is old, in this world — this world so different from the civilian one in which she was born). But the years have taught her, Obito's death have taught her, and the world has taught her that the gods weren't kind because he hasn't realized she is there yet. A Jinchuuriki would've sensed her from a country away ( she could be wrong— ), but with shinobi training, even one who cannot even use chakra should've heard, seen her.
Ling opens her mouth, hands clenching, nails digging crescent moons into her palm. Hoping against hope, praying with the words she never learned, for the gods she does not know. Please, she begs the stars — these stars that have watched her all her life, that have watched all these tragedies, all these worlds.
"Obito?" A whisper, a prayer, again, for the Gods whose names she's never known, never cared to learn— As she says that name, feels the familiar syllables curving against her mouth, even as her tongue stumbles awkwardly to say this name.
The man tenses, muscles clenching and he turns— Scarred and tanned. But those eyes are those of a Sharingan and one of his eyes is are missing. His hair is spiky and the same shade— tanned, so very different from the pale Uchiha genes: but, how long did it take the sun to tan the skin of a man travelling constantly? How could he possibly have escaped those ruins without scars even with the assistance of an ancient beast?
The spinning tomoe scan her— Her attire, the haori, the ohenro with the veil flipped up, more in pursuit of aesthetics than practicality. They stop at the faint flush of pink that barely glints beneath the straw hat. She reaches up, slowly, to take off her ohenro.
Please, please, please, please. Please.
Pink hair spills out and gold pupils are in full colour beneath the shining sun. At the sight of her, red slowly fades into a light, ash grey.
He takes a step forward, wariness gone and eyes wide.
"Ling?"
She collapses, startling him a few steps back and all she can is folded into herself, crying out the years of grief and desperation and pain obitoisaliveobitoisaliveobitoisalive obito is alive, alive, he is alive, my best friend is alive.
There's silence.
And then there are a pair of strong arms that fold around her and she continues crying with the boy— now a man, but alive nonetheless.
Alive.
( A lie, perhaps, she knew, even then — at the back of her mind. )
x
wooooohoooooooooooo!!!!!!! obittooooooo is bacccckkkkkk !!!
and now, let's move onto some freaking plot and potential character development. and then rin shall probably enter left stage and then.... kakashi will have to wait another couple of chapters before he can return to stage from right.
a couple of chapters might mean five;;;; or ten but lets not talk about that (he's back in my drafts though hahahaha you'll have to wait)
this was just one big ling angst fest and some self indulgent character analysis for my oc. now, while i am trying to make this fic as realistic as i can — i am still trying to push forward a plot (like konoha politics, etc) which means that there are certain things that i will not explore both because of time and because i don't believe i have enough expertise to portray it with the degree of accuracy that i would've liked.
anyway, sorry for the super long a/n but like, anyway — this chapter portrays ling as even more of the selfish bitch we've come to know. so, we now realize that she is excelling in anbu but she's most motivated when she's chasing a boy over the hills (priorities, am i right?) but, something i've realized in naruto and mostly the world is that people are more likely to excel when they have a clear goal: naruto, sasuke, and ling — who wants to be acknowledged (kinda naruto). while those who don't suffer pretty bad: like kakashi in the initial days of trauma after both obito and minato & kushina's death. but what makes ling different is that she considers the consequences — not that the characters don't, but she considers the consequences only when they will affect her, i wanted to show her thought process. show how selfish she is and how being a civilian — especially during a more feudal era — affects her.
i have lots more to say. but, well i mean if u've read until now you're a champ already so im not gonna bother you anymore
pEaCE
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: AzTruyen.Top