OOC: First Memory
Sound/Touch/Smell
[Memory from Naruto chapters 146-148.]
Crow hadn’t been doing much, heading home from a day at the book store when a cloaked figure had appeared in front of him, thrust two items into his hand and turned to leave without a word. “Who-“ Crow never finished the sentence, his fingers closing around the strange crystal he’d been given.
Everything went black, and he had the strange feeling of being somewhere else entirely, without ever having moved. He felt different, slightly-shorter? But he couldn’t see at all. He was wearing a heavy cloak, he could tell, and the dull ache in his chest that he was so accustomed to was barely a whisper of pain.
“Well…?” The voice was deep and gravelly, not entirely impatient but not entirely patient, either. It came from directly behind and above him. But he could tell his own attention wasn’t on the figure behind him. His head was turned to the left, looking… He couldn't see what his memory was looking at.
“It has been a while…” He was too shocked at the sound of his own voice, younger, colder, to catch the words he spoke. The next voice was even more of a shock, he remembered it from his dream, his brother. Though now it sounded older, more mature, if not entirely adult.
It wasn’t the voice that shocked him so much as the cold, hard hatred in the voice. Directed at him.
“-“ The words weren’t clear, but the tone of voice was. He couldn’t process the sheer anger and loathing in those syllables, he was surprised he didn’t jump. But his body stayed motionless, indifferent. He missed whatever the child said next, too stunned to hear clearly.
“My my… Indeed today is a special day, don’t you think? This is the second time I’ve seen another Sharingan.” It was the first voice again. Amused and eager. Sharingan. That word was important.
“I will… KILL YOU!” That was the voice of his little brother from his dream again. The pure rage rocked him. He knew--How do I know?--that the anger was directed at him. He felt satisfaction over that. Why?
The man with the deep voice was talking, but Crow missed everything but his last words. “…Who is this guy?”
“He is my younger brother.” His own voice again. Crow felt his lips move, heard the hardness in his own voice. The cold indifference. The tone that said clearly ‘He’s a cockroach.’
“…I heard the entire Uchiha clan was wiped out… By you.” What? The other man’s voice seemed amused and questioning. He couldn’t figure out what the question was though, stuck on the first revelation. What’s an Uchiha? Why would I destroy a clan?
“Gyaaaaaaahhh!” That was a growl from his little brother. And Crow was fairly sure now, by the way their voices carried, that they were in some sort of hallway. A sudden sharp chirping noise, irritating and high pitched came from his little brother’s direction, and the small of ozone hit Crow’s senses like a hammer. “I’ve been wanting to say this to you… I’ve lived hating you… And also that I have lived only to kill you. I have lived for this!” The words were angry and overwhelming. Crow wasn’t sure how many strange shocks he could take. He was so sure he’d loved his brother, his dream had indicated they’d been close. But this? This hatred the child had for him was all too real and felt... correct.
“… Chidori…?” He barely paid attention to his own voice, not even sure what a chidori was. Instead his attention was on the chirping, it was approaching rapidly, and somehow he knew it was an attack. Or maybe it was just that his memory knew, and reacted accordingly.
He reached forward, caught a slender wrist that he couldn’t see, felt the static of electricity crawl along his arm, heard the harsh breathing of the younger man. There was an explosion right next to his ear, and the tangy smell of ozone intensified, accompanied by the scent of dust, mortar, melting metal and burning.
“… Bastard..!” His brother’s voice again, up close, the faint smell of sweat.
“You’re in the way.” Crow heard himself comment, disdain chilling his voice as his fingers closed harshly around that fragile wrist, squeezed and twisted cruelly until he felt bones shift beneath the flesh and the hard snap of a clean break.
There was something happening behind Crow, he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the words, listened instead to the anguished cry of the boy he knew was his family--My only family? He dropped the child’s wrists, heard the thump as his brother hit the floor, the soft groaning of pain.
“Ugh…”
Crow’s attention was on that moan, but his memory had apparently been paying attention to whatever was going on behind them. “In any case, it seems you have already undone the genjutsu binding the woman.” His own voice contributed to the conversation. Genjutsu? Woman?
“You guys wanted to draw me away so you used the Sharingan to cast a genjutsu on the woman, huh? Not a very manly way of doing things. So you really are after…” It was a new voice, one that had appeared while Crow was distracted with his brother’s pain, though what sounded like it could have been a name was swallowed in the sound of distant crows, birds that existed only in Crow's own mind. And those words again. What is a Sharingan? Genjutsu? So familiar.
“No wonder…” A harsh cackling of maddened carrion birds in his mind. “…knew about this. You were the source of information. ‘To abduct…’. Those were the orders given to us by the higher echelons of our organization…” Crow forced himself to try and focus, to listen to his own voice explaining, to the conversation, and ignore the harsh, pained breathing behind him. It seemed like every time something that might have been a name or an important word was mentioned the crows in his head began to caw, screaming their harsh language at each other.
The man who opposed them spoke. “You won’t get….” Won’t get what?
“And why not?” Crow's voice.
“Because right now, right here, you two will die by my hand.” The other voice sounded so assured. Neither Crow nor his memory felt particularly threatened, however.
“Don’t do it! This guy… IS MINE!!!!” That was his brother again, struggling to his feet. His voice raw with emotion.
“………I have absolutely no interest in you right now.” Crow listened to the contrast-where his brother seemed to be cracking at the seams with rage, his own voice showed about as much interest and emotion as a corpse.
Crow missed a moment of exchange, distracted by his memory’s distinct thoughts: The seal is unraveling…
What does that mean?
“THIS FIGHT IS MINE!!” His brother yelled. Crow felt his arm move, connect harshly with flesh as he backhanded his brother away. He heard the crash down the hall as the boy connected with something. A wall, probably.
“COME ON!” His brother’s voice was cracking, breaking. It made Crow feel ill.
Crow felt himself move forward. Felt his fist connect harshly with the boy’s flesh. He moved deliberately, his elbow, knee, foot, fist-over and over again they struck flesh. The harsh, meaty sounds of a beating accompanied the feel of striking his brother. He smelled blood, familiar and sickening. Finally Crow let the boy drop, heard his brother’s labored breathing as he reached down, long fingers wrapping around a warm neck. The skin beneath his hands was slick with sweat I hope it’s sweat and he could feel the pulse racing beneath his palm.
“No mercy at all…” The comment was the first man, still down the hall, his voice approving and fierce.
Crow felt his eyes close as he pressed the boy against the wall. He felt himself do something, activate something and open his eyes. But Crow still couldn’t see, even if his memory could. Somehow he felt a strange sensation, heard his own voice echoing in a way that indicated a different space than the one they were actually in. “You are weak… From now on, for 24 hours… You will relive that day.” What day?
“AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!” The scream tore from the boy's lungs, pure anguish, but his memory kept hold of the boy’s throat, even as the child continued to scream and scream and scream, even after the boy’s voice cracked and his throat was surely damaged-he felt the scream continue under his fingers even when the vocal chords gave out.
“--advise you against using your eye so many times in a single day!” Crow didn’t even really register the man’s words, too focused on the way the scream continued, silent, until the boy slumped, broken, in Crow’s hands.
Something happened behind him, Crow couldn’t bring himself to care what. A strange new smell assaulted his nose and he felt the boy being pulled from his fingertips, felt himself lean forward, and heard his own whisper.
“Why are you so weak? You lack… Hatred.”
Everything shifted, that strange displacement and color and light returned, Crow was back where the man had found him.
Crow reeled, caught himself against the side of a building as his mind tried to process the sounds, smells, sensations. Tried to fit them in with some sort of context. Nothing.
Crow stared blankly at the piece of paper that had accompanied the cloaked man’s gift, eyes too glazed with shock to register it. He was distantly glad he was in a somewhat secluded area. He wasn’t going to be able to move for a while, mind too busy trying to reconcile his memory and his dream and himself. He felt ill and empty.
[Memory from Naruto chapters 146-148.]
Crow hadn’t been doing much, heading home from a day at the book store when a cloaked figure had appeared in front of him, thrust two items into his hand and turned to leave without a word. “Who-“ Crow never finished the sentence, his fingers closing around the strange crystal he’d been given.
Everything went black, and he had the strange feeling of being somewhere else entirely, without ever having moved. He felt different, slightly-shorter? But he couldn’t see at all. He was wearing a heavy cloak, he could tell, and the dull ache in his chest that he was so accustomed to was barely a whisper of pain.
“Well…?” The voice was deep and gravelly, not entirely impatient but not entirely patient, either. It came from directly behind and above him. But he could tell his own attention wasn’t on the figure behind him. His head was turned to the left, looking… He couldn't see what his memory was looking at.
“It has been a while…” He was too shocked at the sound of his own voice, younger, colder, to catch the words he spoke. The next voice was even more of a shock, he remembered it from his dream, his brother. Though now it sounded older, more mature, if not entirely adult.
It wasn’t the voice that shocked him so much as the cold, hard hatred in the voice. Directed at him.
“-“ The words weren’t clear, but the tone of voice was. He couldn’t process the sheer anger and loathing in those syllables, he was surprised he didn’t jump. But his body stayed motionless, indifferent. He missed whatever the child said next, too stunned to hear clearly.
“My my… Indeed today is a special day, don’t you think? This is the second time I’ve seen another Sharingan.” It was the first voice again. Amused and eager. Sharingan. That word was important.
“I will… KILL YOU!” That was the voice of his little brother from his dream again. The pure rage rocked him. He knew--How do I know?--that the anger was directed at him. He felt satisfaction over that. Why?
The man with the deep voice was talking, but Crow missed everything but his last words. “…Who is this guy?”
“He is my younger brother.” His own voice again. Crow felt his lips move, heard the hardness in his own voice. The cold indifference. The tone that said clearly ‘He’s a cockroach.’
“…I heard the entire Uchiha clan was wiped out… By you.” What? The other man’s voice seemed amused and questioning. He couldn’t figure out what the question was though, stuck on the first revelation. What’s an Uchiha? Why would I destroy a clan?
“Gyaaaaaaahhh!” That was a growl from his little brother. And Crow was fairly sure now, by the way their voices carried, that they were in some sort of hallway. A sudden sharp chirping noise, irritating and high pitched came from his little brother’s direction, and the small of ozone hit Crow’s senses like a hammer. “I’ve been wanting to say this to you… I’ve lived hating you… And also that I have lived only to kill you. I have lived for this!” The words were angry and overwhelming. Crow wasn’t sure how many strange shocks he could take. He was so sure he’d loved his brother, his dream had indicated they’d been close. But this? This hatred the child had for him was all too real and felt... correct.
“… Chidori…?” He barely paid attention to his own voice, not even sure what a chidori was. Instead his attention was on the chirping, it was approaching rapidly, and somehow he knew it was an attack. Or maybe it was just that his memory knew, and reacted accordingly.
He reached forward, caught a slender wrist that he couldn’t see, felt the static of electricity crawl along his arm, heard the harsh breathing of the younger man. There was an explosion right next to his ear, and the tangy smell of ozone intensified, accompanied by the scent of dust, mortar, melting metal and burning.
“… Bastard..!” His brother’s voice again, up close, the faint smell of sweat.
“You’re in the way.” Crow heard himself comment, disdain chilling his voice as his fingers closed harshly around that fragile wrist, squeezed and twisted cruelly until he felt bones shift beneath the flesh and the hard snap of a clean break.
There was something happening behind Crow, he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the words, listened instead to the anguished cry of the boy he knew was his family--My only family? He dropped the child’s wrists, heard the thump as his brother hit the floor, the soft groaning of pain.
“Ugh…”
Crow’s attention was on that moan, but his memory had apparently been paying attention to whatever was going on behind them. “In any case, it seems you have already undone the genjutsu binding the woman.” His own voice contributed to the conversation. Genjutsu? Woman?
“You guys wanted to draw me away so you used the Sharingan to cast a genjutsu on the woman, huh? Not a very manly way of doing things. So you really are after…” It was a new voice, one that had appeared while Crow was distracted with his brother’s pain, though what sounded like it could have been a name was swallowed in the sound of distant crows, birds that existed only in Crow's own mind. And those words again. What is a Sharingan? Genjutsu? So familiar.
“No wonder…” A harsh cackling of maddened carrion birds in his mind. “…knew about this. You were the source of information. ‘To abduct…’. Those were the orders given to us by the higher echelons of our organization…” Crow forced himself to try and focus, to listen to his own voice explaining, to the conversation, and ignore the harsh, pained breathing behind him. It seemed like every time something that might have been a name or an important word was mentioned the crows in his head began to caw, screaming their harsh language at each other.
The man who opposed them spoke. “You won’t get….” Won’t get what?
“And why not?” Crow's voice.
“Because right now, right here, you two will die by my hand.” The other voice sounded so assured. Neither Crow nor his memory felt particularly threatened, however.
“Don’t do it! This guy… IS MINE!!!!” That was his brother again, struggling to his feet. His voice raw with emotion.
“………I have absolutely no interest in you right now.” Crow listened to the contrast-where his brother seemed to be cracking at the seams with rage, his own voice showed about as much interest and emotion as a corpse.
Crow missed a moment of exchange, distracted by his memory’s distinct thoughts: The seal is unraveling…
What does that mean?
“THIS FIGHT IS MINE!!” His brother yelled. Crow felt his arm move, connect harshly with flesh as he backhanded his brother away. He heard the crash down the hall as the boy connected with something. A wall, probably.
“COME ON!” His brother’s voice was cracking, breaking. It made Crow feel ill.
Crow felt himself move forward. Felt his fist connect harshly with the boy’s flesh. He moved deliberately, his elbow, knee, foot, fist-over and over again they struck flesh. The harsh, meaty sounds of a beating accompanied the feel of striking his brother. He smelled blood, familiar and sickening. Finally Crow let the boy drop, heard his brother’s labored breathing as he reached down, long fingers wrapping around a warm neck. The skin beneath his hands was slick with sweat I hope it’s sweat and he could feel the pulse racing beneath his palm.
“No mercy at all…” The comment was the first man, still down the hall, his voice approving and fierce.
Crow felt his eyes close as he pressed the boy against the wall. He felt himself do something, activate something and open his eyes. But Crow still couldn’t see, even if his memory could. Somehow he felt a strange sensation, heard his own voice echoing in a way that indicated a different space than the one they were actually in. “You are weak… From now on, for 24 hours… You will relive that day.” What day?
“AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!” The scream tore from the boy's lungs, pure anguish, but his memory kept hold of the boy’s throat, even as the child continued to scream and scream and scream, even after the boy’s voice cracked and his throat was surely damaged-he felt the scream continue under his fingers even when the vocal chords gave out.
“--advise you against using your eye so many times in a single day!” Crow didn’t even really register the man’s words, too focused on the way the scream continued, silent, until the boy slumped, broken, in Crow’s hands.
Something happened behind him, Crow couldn’t bring himself to care what. A strange new smell assaulted his nose and he felt the boy being pulled from his fingertips, felt himself lean forward, and heard his own whisper.
“Why are you so weak? You lack… Hatred.”
Everything shifted, that strange displacement and color and light returned, Crow was back where the man had found him.
Crow reeled, caught himself against the side of a building as his mind tried to process the sounds, smells, sensations. Tried to fit them in with some sort of context. Nothing.
Crow stared blankly at the piece of paper that had accompanied the cloaked man’s gift, eyes too glazed with shock to register it. He was distantly glad he was in a somewhat secluded area. He wasn’t going to be able to move for a while, mind too busy trying to reconcile his memory and his dream and himself. He felt ill and empty.