guardian of the storm | ✓

Chapter Fifty-Two ~ Coruscating Kaleidoscope

~Chapter Fifty-Two~

The fire crackled noisily, sparks flying into the cool air, dancing on tiny breezes that swept through the area. Soft grass danced quietly, stars watching overhead as the young man sat silently. His knees were drawing up to his chest, his arms wrapped loosely around them, his cheek pressed lightly against his kneecap. His amber eyes reflected the lunging flames that reached for ink painted sky, his white hair moving in tune with the wind.

He stayed like that, silent and unmoving, in the clearing where he last talked to his best friend.

Naruto swallowed hard, lingering behind a tree, watching Ja'far continue his silent vigil. The white haired shinobi had been doing this for nearly a week now, and each time Naruto didn't know whether to approach him or not. He didn't know how Ja'far would react to the Naruto, he didn't know if Ja'far would blame him for Winter's death.

He wouldn't be surprised if he did... after all, Naruto blamed himself.

***

The river was partially frozen and yet it still roared with its usual vigor, crashing and churning over rocks and tumbling off short cliffs. Snowflakes fell from the sky in thick, lazy flakes, decorating Winter's long hair that rested on the hard packed snow she sat on. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her bare arms wrapped loosely around them, her cheek pressed against her kneecap. Her hair hung in a curtain around her, blocking out the view of everything but the booming river.

She felt so tired. Not physically, in fact, her body hummed with unused energy, but her mind felt like mush. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, her thoughts stuck in cement, her eyes unable to focus on anything.

Today had been hard, so incredibly hard. She'd visited address after address... and what did she find waiting behind each door? The sins of her past waiting to sink their wicked claws into her. People she'd killed to survive, people she'd assassinated for money, people she'd destroyed for revenge.

People who had every right to hate her for taking their lives.

Yet, each one let her in. Each one listened to her message, no matter how quiet or stoic Winter got. And, eventually, (after long, awkward conversations that made her heart ache and her head spin), they'd forgive her in someway. Then they'd hand her the next wretched address and off Winter went to battle the demons of her life. With each visit, her footsteps grew heavier, her mind started to shut down, and her emotions clawed their way to the surface hissing with wicked delight as they taunted her every breath.

Fifty-one houses. Fifty-one people. That was fifty deaths that she'd caused.

And those were only the ones that impacted her enough that the gods decided she needed to 'make peace' with them.

In. Out.

Each inhale invites shards of glass that invade her lungs, digging deep into her soul, making her bleed violet for her pride, a putrid green or her greed, but most overwhelming of all, a sick, sluggish, black and crimson mixture for her wrath.For Winter's wrath stretched over the shinobi world like a thick smoke that would suffocate those that notice. Her revenge carved deep scars into the earth, her anger filled gaze scorched the tops of mountains and charred the crests of ocean waves.

So lost in her world of mistakes and wrongdoings, she failed to notice she had company until the woman spoke.

"You're thinking too much."

Alive Winter would've bolted her feet. She would've drawn her katanas within a split second, lighting crackling overhead, ready for anything and everything the universe had to throw at her. Dead Winter simply turned her head to the left.