A Dash of Chili Powder

117

She fell to her knees, her eyes impossibly wide. The breath was caught in her small, overworked lungs, burning and aching. Her heart beat as hard as it could, ramming against her ribcage as if it wanted to run away.

'Do you want to see your followers?'

Amaya stayed frozen.

'Do you want to see how they almost murdered you?'

She stared into the hard wood of the hallway floor, her purple eyes widening slightly.

'Do you want to see how you turned their bodies into ash?'

Her ears flattened and her heart raced, the blood in her body boiling. What did she do? Why were her followers after her? Why? How? What for? For who? Why?!

'Do you want to see how you were utterly defeated?'

"No!" 

The sun had set, casting long, dark orange shadows across the flat, pillowed sky that had just begun to darken. Wind whistled through the thick green branches, twisting and batting at the already swirling leaves. Trees parted and made way for a winding dirt path, overhanging to give shade. Orange rays still shone through, lighting the way.

Twigs and shriveled leaves snapped and crunched underfoot as she ran, each stride quickening. Her destination was nowhere in sight, but still she bolted forward. She had been on the run for three months now, traversing from village to village in search of a safe place to hide. Sweat trickled down her forehead, sliding down to soak her dark purple scarf.

There were four trailing behind, their chakra signatures slowly diminishing until they were gone. Had they stopped following?

The breath in her lungs was strangling her, burning her insides. After being cooped up in a room no bigger than the size of a small apartment, surrounded by thick scrolls, for a good four years, one would find it hard to be fit. She let out a harsh cough, tiny knives seeming to drag down her throat. Her hands fluttered up, an attempt to soothe.

She forced herself to stop moving, collapsing into the tree she just now stood by. The protruding brown bark, now adorned with the dark orange light of the sinking sun, dug into her back. Having taught herself never to feel exterior pain, she couldn't feel it. Nor would she care to.

Breaths came easier, nowhere near as painful and difficult as before. She pushed herself away from the tree, the bark leaving oddly shaped indents in her clothed skin. Standing up straight, she took in a shaky breath. Then it hit her.

Four chakra signatures. Four bodies. Four men ready to brutally murder her. They wore such ugly uniforms... A purple rope tied around the waist; horrible light grey, unbuttoned shirts; black fingerless gloves; black pants and shoes.

"Hello, Amaya," one slimy voice stated slyly.

'Shit.'

Dimming sunlight revealed their disgusting faces; twisted and scarred, painted and rebuilt. These men were once under her command. They were once her followers. How... noble of her ex-sensei, ex-subordinate, ex-friend to send them after her.

"Hello, Tatsuke," Amaya wheezed, releasing her own throat. Jaw set, expression blank, she knew that no matter what she did, she wouldn't get out alive. She had little to no chakra left.

'There's always me, kid. I'm your trump card. Let me out and I'll take care of them for you,' a slick voice echoed from the inner recesses of Amaya. 'Listen to me and I'll save you.'

Liar. Houkou was such a sucky liar.

Only one heartbeat could be heard. The surrounding men were merely toys, heartless puppets of Orochimaru. Amaya's lips curled back in disgust, glaring down the supposed Tatsuke, who seemed to be a Kimimaro wanna-be. The only difference being the lack of make-up and longer hair.