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Old 11-02-2007, 06:24 PM   #1
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Nothing Within: A Naruto Fanfiction

Hello, AnticitizenOne here with a fanfiction by me. To everyone who saw my other Fanfiction, known as "Already Dead: A Naruto Fanfiction" this is the exact same story idea only rewritten with different ideas in mind. Note: I do have an idea about the plot, but haven't written the entire story yet. The only thing I have written as far as this is the Prologue. Before I tried to give you one chapter per day, but I'm not doing that this time.

The reason for that is that I believe it increases the atmosphere of the fanfiction itself to keep people reading it guessing as to what exact time the next chapter comes out. I promise you, however, that I will add the chapters as soon as possible after writing them. I hope you enjoy my first (well, second) writing here on Narutolounge (or or whatever it's called now).

Chapter Zero, Prologue: “The Pale Man”

It was no surprise that it was another uneventful day in the outpost town of the Village Hidden in the Leaves. People there lacked the exciting life of the Shinobi in that village and they craved something more exciting to happen. Sad people, since their wishes would never be granted. Every man, woman, and child in that town had some kind of job such as farming in the fields, making barrels, or tanning cowhides to make into leather clothes.

They were living in the past, each man teaching his son the tricks of his trade and the cycle seemed to repeat endlessly. Needless to say, life wasn’t very much fun for them. And so it was the highlight of a man’s day to visit the local Tavern on the west of the town, called the “Tin Cup”. It wasn’t very impressive to an average person, but it was all of the alcohol in their town in the form of strong ale that the citizens just loved.

People in this town were friendly and accommodating then people came there, even though there weren’t that many. Most people just passed them by or occasionally made a pit-stop or stayed the night in the upstairs of the Tavern for a tip never exceeding fifty dollars a night. Because of this general lack of traffic in this small town, you could understand the surprise on the citizen’s faces when a man about eight feet tall, give or take a few inches. He walked in a bit and sat down in a table at the end of the tavern.

The man walked up to the bar after a few minutes realizing that nobody would serve him. He ordered an average sized ale and sat back down at the very same table. This was about time most people would enter the Tavern around midday after work to enjoy a tall ale and laugh with friends. The men in this town thought they were strong men who worked with their hands, which they took pride in, but they found themselves belittled by this giant.

They couldn’t even see his face, or any part of him for that matter. He was covered with a black cloak that covered his body completely from head to toe. They couldn’t see a single hair on his head. One of the more friendly citizens, Tom was his name, sat down across from him and decided to be friendly.

“Hello there,” Tom said calmly, attempting to make eye contact, “What brings you to our humble town?” The man grunted and looked up, it was as if he was deliberately covering his face with a cloth that only showed his eyes and made him able to see. He made a sort of grunting sound and then spoke in an extremely deep voice to respond.

“Travel,” he said, “I’m meeting a friend somewhere around here. He lives in the forest.”

“Mind if I have a drink with you?” Tom said, ignoring how strange and suspicious everyone could clearly see that the comment was. He looked down at the tall man’s glass “I’ll go get you another round of ale.” As he got up and grabbed for the glass, the taller man waved him down and stood up.

“Allow me,” said the man, lifting his own glass after Tom sat down. He walked with his dignified stride, dwarfing every man in his presence. The black leather face mask made him look even more intimidating. Even worse were his eyes, they were like a pale blue color, as if he lived in constant sickness. He approached the barkeep while he was cleaning out a glass, and put two silver coins on the bar. “Two, please.”

The barkeep handed him two glasses in a nervous sort of matter, not wanting to upset a man who by the looks of him could squash him like an insect. He turned and filled both glasses, handing him both. He turned around, and once nobody was looking the pale man put his glove above one glass and a drop of water extended out from it.

But this was no normal drop of water, it was black, and looked like it was polluted with crude oil or something. It dripped into the glass and seemed to disappear. He carried the glasses back to the table and both took a hearty swig after he dropped his leather mask to take a drink. He was actually pretty much the same color as his eyes, indescribably pale blue. It was sickening to look at him for more than a few minutes.

For a few more hours they kept drinking, it seemed like he kept to himself and certainly wasn’t a problem to the citizens. Eventually, like every other night, all the men in the bar except for him were drunk. Needless to say, this made them prone to immature and occasionally violent behavior.

Man after man engaged in some kind of arm wrestling tournament to determine who was the strongest in the town. It wasn’t long until someone sat down across from the pale man and challenged him. This was one of the most violent men in the area, a hearty blacksmith named Jack.

He put his elbow on the table, and so did the pale man. He shouted some kind of challenge that nobody could understand and tried to pin the pale man’s arm. Nothing, not even a millimeter was displaced in this man’s arm. As hard as he tried, he put another hand on top of the first one, even his entire weight in a childish attempt at victory. Still nothing, he didn’t even move an inch. When he finally decided to make a move, he quickly and easily pinned both hands underneath his massively strong bicep muscles.

Jack couldn’t accept this, there was nothing this strange man from out of town could do to damage his pride. He put his hand back in a punch as the pale man didn’t even move in response. His fist flew through the air before anyone could possibly see it, but even faster was the pale man’s response.

His open hand slammed across Jack’s forearm, you could hear the bones snap from fifty feet away. Jack was in such pain he tried to get away, but the pale man had a hold of his arm, he didn’t stand a chance. The same arm he used to block whipped across to his face with a closed hand, causing him to fly in the other direction.

The only thing that could cause him to stop was the wall in the tavern, he hit his head off of it and bled. The pale man wasn’t impressed; he took his cup for ale back to the bar and laid a coin down, presumably for a tip. The only person who wasn’t staring in awe as he walked out was Tom, who ran over to the fallen man and placed his two fingers along the side of his neck. There was nothing, he was dead.

Tom shed a tear, and everyone else knew what it meant. The pale man just strolled out the door past everyone. Tom was fully in tears, red in the face, weeping on the floor by the time he had walked out. Two men followed him outside, but he was gone, disappeared into the black night. They looked around the side of the Tavern wall, but he wasn’t there either.

The only thing they could find there was a name, carved into the wooden walls of the building. “K A G I Z U” Even then, though, they couldn’t stay there long, as they heard gasps from inside the building. They went in to investigate, and there was Tom, lying on the floor, unable to breathe. Something had gotten into his lungs and was rapidly spreading so there was no room for air, there was nothing they could do to stop it.

The fastest man in the village was sent to the Village Hidden in the Leaves, and they sent a Jounin to investigate the death. Word was sent back that a full inquiry would be done to find the perpetrator. Though the townsfolk didn’t believe it, they did just that.
When you're pushed, killin's as easy as breathin': John Rambo
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