DiSCERN (Naruto Fanfic)

Chapter One.

"Anko!"

Violet hair is too far away to hear him, so he brings himself to her instead. He calls her again, but she's charging so much faster.

Clutching the kunai and the scroll to his chest, his arm hangs limply at his side. It's broken, so he tries not to move it about. His feet staggers, slips over some dead body's arm, and he collapses. His face skids across the rough soil, but he can't pick himself up.

Fuck, he swears to himself, fuck, not now.

He tries to blink. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them everything is still a blur. Everything is still on fire, everything is still dark and swirly and-

And somehow, he knows he doesn't have long enough.

His limbs are weak and limp by his side, and a certain tremble overtakes everything in his senses as he tries not to cry because why was the fear of death taking him now?

It didn't matter.

"Ank-" his voice breaks, and he doesn't manage more than a hoarse whisper, "Anko--"

He struggles. Clawing across the ground and trying to lift his head-- something swishes inside his head at the movement, and with a pathetic whimper he falters, flattens, and tries again. A heavy sting by his right temple, definitely a head injury, made it so much harder.

"Itsuki?!" another voice was by his side now.

His eyes squeeze shut as a hand rests on the middle of his back.

It's like a painful assurance, he realizes-- and the warm chakra signature radiating off the man-- somehow, it makes him realize that his own was spiking so weakly and barely holding together.

"Gen...ma," he chokes out, hand resting on the hem of his broken arm, weakly turning around.

"Fuck-" the man bites back more words as he reaches down, pressing a hand at a wound in Itsuki's side, though it really wasn't working, "we need to get you back to the Medics! Don't talk!"

A hand reaches up weakly, and Itsuki grasps at Genma's flak jacket, dragging his body up (was it always this heavy?) until it was meagerly upright.

He coughs. Hacking up a whole fistful of blood that reminded him of Hayate's little bouts-- when that man was still alive, so many years back. Damn, had it really been so long since Hayate died? He chuckles at the thought.

"Why... are you laughing? Itsuki?"

Genma's gaze, so distressed, sends Itsuki reeling back with a wave of guilt. He barely realizes he's leaning heavily into the man's chest, supported in the back with a steady arm and looked over so tenderly-- haha, Raidou would've been jealous.

His hands shake uncontrollably as he raised the scroll in his hand, and presses it into Genma's chest.

"Get this to Anko," he musters up the words, no explanation needed.

Just a request, a simple command-- his voice breaking out in more of a plea than of the authority he boasted.

He forces out a smile, and manages a dry chuckle.

"Win this war," his voice is barely a whisper now, "...okay?"

He doesn't hear Genma respond. His eyes don't close, and he doesn't hear anything else.

His body stills, and only Genma hears his end of the promise.

-

He opens his eyes.

No, they were never closed. But he tries anyways, blinking hard, rubbing them over for a while before deciding that it was much too dark out to see anything.

He rubs his fingers over his palm, and a faintly warm, slightly sticky and slippery sensation tells him he's bleeding and the blood is fairly fresh.

But something's strange . His hand, even through whatever slick he's feeling, is far too smooth . Where had that scar at the base of his pinky gone? Last he's known it was scarred far too badly to feel this flat over his skin.

The dull throbbing in his head spikes, and he hisses, moaning in pain. At all cost, he should be getting to the medics soon. He thought it was a minor wound, but maybe he'd left it far too long and there was too much blood lost. But that didn't explain why he now felt pain in the top, back, and sides of his head, rather than just the one cut he remembers receiving.

Then something else made no more sense. Wasn't... Genma , with him? It was incredulous to think Genma would leave him here without sending him to a medic.

It all comes back to him.

He doesn't remember when he stopped breathing, but he remembered the second his chakra reserves ran dry, and the resignation he breathed out as his arms fell limp at his sides.

Now, his chakra's stable. Weak, untamed, but stable. Rejuvenated, somehow-- why? Wasn't his arm broken? He couldn't feel even the remnant pangs of pain from the shattered bone--

He hears a door slam open as someone breaks in-- break in? Wasn't he in the middle of a battlefield? He feels around and brushes across something cold and sharp-- glass? Metal?

Wasn't he surrounded by dead bodies just a second ago?

Footsteps are loud and frantic and he sucks in a breath, shrinking back in fear and panic, because crap, someone's closing in! An enemy?

He scrambled around. Suddenly, his belt is gone. His vest, too. He doesn't have a single kunai on hand, not even the shuriken he bound to the middle of his sleeve as a hidden emergency weapon. His swords-- where were his swords?

No , his gloves-- his gloves were gone too.

A sharp clatter resounds as something falls, sounding oddly like plastic. Beside him, a strange structure-- a vertical stretch with two flat bars-- a... cart? A carriage? No, was this a shelf? His hand makes its way across a row of things further in-- feelingtangy rub of leather-- pouches? No, books? A cup-shaped object fit right into his hand-- a trophy?

"Itsuki!"

He jumps. He can't tell where the sound is coming from. Everything is still too dark and suddenly a spiking orb of someone's chakra flares enough for him to sense it.

It's distressed.

And it's close.

"Itsuki, you-- hell, what happened here?"

It's a voice he doesn't think he recognizes. It's not Genma. Not Anko-- this was a high voice, but not a girl's-- was this a child's voice? A young boy?

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he jerks it away, almost too sharply shooting back.

He scrambles around beside him. Where were his weapons? Where were his weapons? Was he captured? Was he taken by the enemy and ensnared for torture-- no, how did the boy know his name? Itsuki was confident he had no Genin acquaintances.

"Wh-" he winces at his own tone, so scared, so much more scared than he wanted to make it sound-- it sounded a little high. Was he so sluggish he couldn't even form his serious tone?

He chokes out the words, raising his hands defensively to his own face, looking around so desperately because why isn't the light coming back yet? Why aren't his eyes getting used to the darkness yet because for all he knew, he was surrounded and alone and--

"Who's there?"

When he manages to choke it out of his throat, he freezes.

Because no , it wasn't his lack of consciousness nor the injuries nor anything else for that matter-- this was definitely his voice -- and to his utmost horror, he sounded like akid .