If a dreamer faces a question from reality; which do they fear more, the answer or the slumber afterwards? When heroes ignore the cries of those in need and instead are forcibly ripped from existence, can they ever stand for what’s right? The metallic door was a heavy and cold presence for Anri; a long missing Genin enshrouded by darkness. It has been so long since he has seen light, and even longer since he has actually stood on his own two feet without getting knocked back down, but it seemed as though this day, however long it has been since he was last seen, was the day that he can finally make his escape. For a dreaming hero like him, a fool that dare dreamt to be more than a frail nerd trapped in a singular room, confined to the reality that his body would force him to become a NEET, this entire ordeal has torn the hero from his being, and left him blinded and bound.

He was someone imprisoned, his right hand holding weakly onto the steel handle that could grant him freedom, his veins shackled to IVs and his mouth muzzled by a respirator. It took just a bit more strength, a bit more will within his wobbly legs. He screamed for his alias to help him in his time of need, for his once dividing egos to come together to help free him. He was like a wolf howling at the moon, begging for a response, and nothing but echoes of his own thoughts returned. It took him over an hour just to get his ability to walk back, let alone muster the strength to move across the black room and seek out the door, and now that he found it, he had to come to the conclusion that he would have to rely on his own strength to push through.

He placed a decent amount of weight onto his hand, almost making himself fall against the door just to push down the handle, and through moving his body back the barrier between himself and freedom was opened, and he could smell the smell of wilderness, and hear the chirping of birds and faint noise of buzzing cicadas, a symphony of life greeting his ears that had grown so accustomed to the white noise of murmuring, blind commands, questions, and pained howls. His ears that helped whisk him away to different dreamscapes to escape the time spent captured through the soft buzzing of monitors and the monotonous beeps of his heartbeat craved for this noise. He wanted more.

As he had begun to take a step out, to blindly embrace whatever land he was stuck in, he felt his IVs tug against him, the tubes that went into his right arm forcing him to not take that step just yet, the tape keeping them in holding on tightly. Each weak tug forced him to hear voices on the past. “What if your name?”, “What clan are you from?”, “What secrets does your village have?” The dialogue repeating over and over with each tug, each incorrect answer bringing about yet another session of punishment, of various small incisions that now left marks upon his body, the memories of a torture which had kept him more company than the heroes he had admired so dearly. He could remember each answer he gave being the same, a defiant display of a shinobi’s will. “My stone can’t be broken.”

Those words as he remembered them now brought him nothing but pain, but as someone of Iwagakure; a coward that had little use in anything else but his strong will, he had to deny his unknown captors that much, so he wouldn’t disappoint his squad. “My stone can’t be broken..” He muttered to himself, his mouth dried out though his cracked lips still finding it in them to make the movements. He tried moving his left arm, but that’s when he recalled with empty feelings that it was taken away from him at his most shameful moment, and so he instead would grab the tube with his right hand, his fingers clasping around it, his wrist ready to pull and flick. ‘My stone can’t be broken!’ His mind screamed blindly as, with a fresh stinging sensation he tore the tube with the bandages off of his hand, releasing his veins and himself and causing him to fall outside, his worn bandaged body embracing the grass beneath him.

The light was dim, but not dark. He had to believe that because of this it was more than likely in the mid to late afternoon, and through his dizzying sense of balance he could still tell that he was facing towards the sky, laying flat on the ground. ‘I’m actually free..’ For once he felt relief wash over him, a constant river of joy beginning to course through his body. Never had he expected to actually be free from that. He figured that once they were finished they would just kill him, but he guessed he lucked out somehow, as now he could finally try to make his way back home from wherever he is. Sadly tracking isn’t exactly a strong suit of his, especially when blinded, but he couldn’t muster up the will to tear off his bandages even if he wanted to, less he comes face to face with the idea that he may still be alone and stranded with little hope of making it. Still, through the dull sensations from the pain medication and sedatives still pumped through him, Anri new that, by hoisting himself up back onto his feet with his right hand, he had to stumble his way through.

It had been a few hours since he was freed from wherever he was kept hostage, and at this point he had done so many changes in direction that he couldn’t even find out where he was himself if he tried, only that through using a stranded stick he had the misfortune of stepping on that this was most definitely a forest, and even as he swung it around to help guide him, he could definitely tell that those thick masses of wood it was clanking against were trees. This much was a good sign, as since he’s not stuck in a desert nor is he knee deep in swamp muck that must imply that he’s somewhat closer to home than he previously thought, although how close was something he couldn’t quite tell.

Suddenly, the bushes and the leaves rustled, and Anri’s entire being panicked all at once. Turning around and letting out a panicked shriek, the boy would swing his one meter long stick towards the sound, feeling and hearing it connect with a nearby bush, though nothing was coming out. “W-Who’s there?!” He mustered out through his throat grating like sandpaper, hoping it was just his imagination.

Wc 1168

A cold sweat seeping from the pours of her flesh to coat her flesh, soaking into the deep red fabric that hugged tightly to her form turning it a darker shade, similar to that of a gushing blood flow of a severed femoral artery. Her form would twitch violently, and tighter she would curl.


Her body would jolt violently awake, bolting to sit up only for her head to connect to the floorboards above her sending her straight back down again. Yet her mind filled and the blood pumped the adrenaline around her body. He was alive... he was alive, why was it only now that she withdrew this memory. It was a memory, right? With a hiss she would feel about, her fingers seeking out the loop to open the floorboards up to get out, yet the adrenaline made her usually deft fingers fumble enough for the irritation to take over. Shifting to her hands and knees she would twist before forcing upwards a couple of times before bursting up and out as she dislodged a few of the floorboards. Scrambling from the hole in which she had taken to sleeping she would sprint towards the basement door tugging it open. She needed to find him. Missing out every other step as she bolted down into the basement as the door swung shut behind her.  Heading straight out through the hidden passageway through the tunnels that led to the outskirts of the village, emensly hidden by genjutsu. Setting off into a sprint across the landscape she would follow the footsteps from her memory of the squad's movements, right down to the change over in their position. It would seem as though she had been moving for hours yet she would press on further and further, the adrenaline beating her heart against the cage of her ribs enough for her to grasp at her chest with her right ungloved hand as her left shifted over her weaponry, her tessen tucked into the draped srowdes of cloth that wrapped about her form, one at her stomach whilst the other resided against the base of her spine both tilted for easy access should they be needed as Ripa tsume remained sheathed and tucked between the folds of the draped fabric, out of sight.  

Her deep red bodysuit hugging tightly to her form, playing part in keeping some of her bandages in place covering her form completely right up to her neck whilst a veil like material shielded the left side of her face from view completely; attached to the loops that hung from the left side of her braided fringe following the loops about to the half updo bun before clasping the material down to her body suit to ensure that it wouldn't blow up in the wind at random, covering completely the left side of her face ear and neck, the veil like material simply obscuring that parts it covered from sight, though with how close to her eye it sat, her visibility through it was enough.  The glove worn by her left hand had been made to keep the missing digits area covered missing out the finger completely whilst being slightly passed over the area to attempt to give a form of comfort to the raw area od slightly exposed bone and extending up along her forearm to her elbow.  

She would skid to a stop, her movements sharp enough to unbalance her forcing her into a crouch to stop herself from falling to the ground. That scent... so … familiar. Her gaze would shift back and forth as she surveyed the area before cursing herself as she pressed on, yet a part of her tugged her back. Nothing would bring her to a halt again as the familiar scent draw her towards a small building, its door open wide. Heading straight in she would prepare to cut down any in her way only for the strongest of the scent to draw her into an empty room set up like a makeshift medical station. Baring her teeth as a primordial growing found its way into her throat at its sight. What had happened to him in this godforsaken place? Pushing om the room she would search the building again and again yet found nothing. As she stood in the doorway to the makeshift medical room cursing not only this place but herself. What had happened to him? What had they done? Where was he? Was she too late? The thought pumped anger like venom through her veins as her fist drew back to launch at the wall. Her body shuddering as she dropped to her knees, her first implanted in the thin wall. yet when her forehead touched the wall the recollection of catching the scent out in the open would snap her back from the despair in which she had begun to fall.  

Her form would twist before voting forwards leaving as quick as she had originally entered, taking in gulps of air, to full the full capacity of her lungs as she followed his scent. It had to be him, didn’t it? It would take far less time for her to breach the edge of the small forest just off of the beaten track, busting through the undergrowth, though it slowed her pace as the veins and brambles tugged at her clothing and flesh. Yet she would come to a halt as a figure came into view. The sight before her was not one that she recognized outright yet his scent thick in the air she would step closer, she needed to know. Her chest constricted limiting her lungs capacity as she moved closer, the bushes rustling as they brushed past her thighs. Yet as he turned her form would come to a halt allowing the stick to make sharp contact with her form, the sound would echo as she looked at him. It was him... the sound of his nervous voice giving the sensation that she had been dropped in a deep water she would gasp for air as the well of emotions attempted to drown her as they stood before one another. Her gaze would wash over him, each silent gasp for breath forcing the bock in her throat to send a wave of lightheadedness through her. Her right hand would raise of its own accord reaching for him before retracting slightly he wasn’t a figment of her imagination...was he? she needed to know yet she feared if she touched him he might disappear before her eyes. Finally catching a choked breath her heavy accent would cling to her voice as she breathed, “Anri...”  

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Word count: 2014.

He froze as the stick smacked against something hard, the thwack of wood against body creating echoes through the otherwise quiet forested area. His face was twisted with his exposed mouth revealing his gritting teeth, his chapped lips curling downwards while his brows were furrowed, distress was washing over him when nothing moved in response, though he swears something is there, that someone is there, watching him, not reacting at all to being struck. He could tell immediately that they were strong, or that he got weaker, though nonetheless there he was unknowingly striking someone and creating a sense of fear as he anticipated what would happen next. It seemed as though time itself stopped around them, that they were two beings cloaked in darkness, that he was going to meet his end there and at the cold, unloving hands of none other than death herself. His heart sank as he waited but a bit longer, and strangely enough, he began to feel a sense of relief as he waited for what he thought would come next.

All it took was a single word; a calling of his name in an all too familiar tone of voice. This was something that could defeat him in a singular blow at this moment, a word coming from someone he thought he wouldn’t see ever again. His right hand released its hold upon the stick, leaving it to fall, his mouth opened slightly as he did this, and he couldn’t help but reach up with his now shaking hand, grabbing the bandages covering his eyes, clawing at them and tearing them off layer by layer. Finally, the blinding flash of light stung only as mild as a bee before fading slowly, and his blurring grey eyes slowly came into focus, revealing that it was none other than Taeru before him.

He couldn’t speak. His chapped lips moved to mouth put what he wished to say, to acknowledge who it is. He panicked for but a moment, his first thoughts being to actually lash out, thinking of it as a hallucination. His eyes trained upon her, the dust in the air forming into four small one-inch balls of heated earth, ready to fire put towards this hallucination. This had to be some sort of Genjutsu. It couldn’t actually be her, not her! Where is their squad leader, where are their allies?! He could barely recognize Taeru in the appearance she held now, with that red bodysuit hugging her, that veil covering the left side of her face, her braided fringe with loops. She dressed like how Anri would expect Taeru to dress, with both a sense of elegance and practicality, but this can’t be her.

And yet, that voice was real. The feeling of that stick against hardened flesh was real and so was the fact the environment reacted as well. If this was a Genjutsu it would be crueler than Anri could ever imagine, and yet, out a blind hope that this was the end to his torment, he had to take a chance. The four now molten rocks flew away as he looked to the side, embedding themselves into a nearby tree, and as he looked back towards her, his hand would hover over his empty left side while the corners of his mouth raised, tears welling in his eyes. “Hey Taeru, I-I think I’m missing my arm.” A cocktail of a weak laugh with small whimpers came accompanied by tears, and just like that he could feel his previously discovered strength to move begin to drain away, his hospital garb covering his torso and legs beginning to crumple as his body slumped forward, his muscles and bones relaxing as he discovered what he felt was his friend standing before him. He was safe. “Do you have anything to drink?”

Wc 646

Oh how she prayed that the image before her wasn’t a hallucination like the many she had been subjected too as of late yet this was not the vision of Anri she knew yet her mind had twisted and warped imaged before her already, was this her guilt manifest? Though the stick hit, the sensation would barely register as her limbs became numb and her body felt an odd mixture of weight threatening to drag her down as her head felt light enough to drift away, save for the pounding of her head, much like beating waves as she struggled simply to stay upright under the pure force. Very few times had she been presented where she felt truly weak and helpless and right here and now boiled down to become one of those moments. In retaliation her chakra would lash within her before flooding as though flowing from the depth of the crevis of her chest, spilling from her like a thick smog, dragging with it the eerie sensation of a creeping sickness. Her chakra like a mind of its own heavily compensating for the weakness that had burnt through her.

And now before her very eyes, the vision of him did something she did now expect. The lone hand had begun tearing away at the bandages if his face. Her hand would retrace a touch further, what now had she conjured forth from the depths of her mind. To suffer this way, as the longer they stood the more she believed he was a figment of her imagination yet she could not move, when all’s she wanted to do was crumple under the weight, yet knew that she deserved to suffer. To have to live with the guilt that she had not protected any of her squad. Had it not been spoken of the day they left upon their venture? had she not uttered the words ‘and since we’re a team, if I were to become strong enough, I could protect you as a guard.’ Had that not been a form of a vow within itself? And now the guilt had come to swallow her whole as she peered into the grey orbs of the boy.  

As the air seemed to shift as the sensation of his chakra entered the atmosphere, twisting the particles that danced in the air into four separate clumps of earth that radiated heat, yet she would not shy away, if anything, should they truly wound the flesh she would know that he was real and truthfully what would a few more scars be to her damaged form? Though she stood her ground ready, the heated molds of the earth would zip to a tree, within that moment her heart would sink, the hopes it held that he was real would vanish, almost as though notwithstanding more physical pain indicated that he was in fact not truly there.

Her own lips would part again at not only from the harsh doubt of what she thought to be true but his words. Not words that condemned her yet innocently morbid. Tears would well into her eyes giving a weak flush of colour within her face, unable to muster a response. But what could one say to such a statement? Within that moment as the image before her crumpled her body would move instinctively dipping forwards to coil her arms around him to catch him. The heat of him in a total contrast her own cold flesh and the sheer force of the contact would snap her back into the moment and the flair of her chakra would cut off with the simple connection. He was real. She could feel him. Her hands would grip at the garb he wore as her form shook, what had the done to him? With her knees weakening a silently choked sob would draw pressure into her chest as her tears threatened to spill. It would be his request however that would cause a shift in her demeanor as she held him. The drive to protect now kicking in.  Her weight would shift onto her right side a little more, keeping her left arm cradled around him to keep a hold of him, possibly a little too tightly as a small part of her feared, should she let go, would he then disappear, whilst her right hand fumbled within the back of her belt like drape of fabric. She did not have a drink, the thought hadn't crossed her mind as she left upon the sheer whim of a possible memory to find him, she did, however, withdraw a small instrument only to drive it with a frightening force into the closest tree. Embedding the spile into the tree that by normal means would have taken a hammer to secure. “Here.” Her right hand would return to him to help shift him closer to the tree before reaching for one of the curled leave of the underbrush to use as a bowel if needed. within the time it took or such simple actions a slow trickle of at first sap would dip from the hole of the spile before a steady flow of sweet earthy water began to flow. “It’s safe to drink.”

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Word count: 878.
Total word count: 2892.

Anri hadn't expected what happened next to actually be what happened, especially with a lack of a response that she gave him to what he had said. When he heard nothing in return from her and instead had watched her seem visibly disturbed by what he had said, he had once again began to doubt himself. Maybe he should've just attacked instead, to make sure, as he was expecting some sort of response, anything to validate what he felt and seen was in fact the real deal. Nothing came though, at least not until he began to fall apart like a home without a foundation to stand upon, the already cracking pillar that was his revitalized energy giving way, though he met the embrace of Taeru's coiled arms, that cold, unfeeling flesh contrasting with his own, and that's when his doubts had truly left him.

It would be just like her as well that what seemed to be an extremely emotional reunion could also be interrupted in a moment when a request was made to drink some water. He could still recall their initial meeting and how she attempted to protect him back then, as well. Seeing that not everything about her changed brought a weak smile to his face, his lips curling slightly as he watched her fumble for something. When he saw some sort of spile in her hand, he could already make sense of what was going to happen, though it flew through the air fast than he could see. It was no more a tool but instead a small, fast moving blur, whooshing through the air and into the tree closest to them, already buried deep enough to actually be ready to extract water.

With help from his friend he felt his body boosted up a bit, where he could get closer to the tree. He watched, his grey eyes beaded onto the dripping water, watching with his dried mouth slightly agape from the lust for hydration he held in that moment. Soon enough the drips transitioned to a steady flow, and immediately he went to the spile, mouth opened underneath it, though his lips not touching, where the liquid made contact with his lower lip and tongue. At first he had to stop, the sudden wetness of his lips stinging him and his throat forcing him to cough violently for a few moments before his throat muscles calmed, at which he could actually begin to fully drink.

In the name of the Sage, it felt so good, almost as if he was consuming the most delicious thing in the world. It was almost a precious resource for Anri at that moment, a miner digging for gold, finding their prize finally. He could actually feel his insides cool down from his earthly drink, and as he drank he could feel more and more awake with it. After around five minutes of seemingly nonstop drinking, Anri had to stop, forcing himself to the ground, where he sat down, his arm serving to support his body and keeping him sitting up. "I... I really needed that." He said with a clearer and louder voice now, the tone most definitely different than the hoarse, quiet one from before.

"I can't believe you found me." He would say, smiling and staring into an empty space before rubbing his tear-lined cheeks with his right hand. "After we got separated... I thought it was all over. I never would've thought this would've happened." His mind was still feeling foggy from the drugs that were still in his system, leaving him unable to fully recall what happened exactly, although knowing without a doubt that it had definitely been a while. "Still, I guess w-we should find someplace less open to catch up. I-I don't like it out here."

His concerns were perfectly valid to him personally, especially since they couldn't have been far enough from that place to make him feel comfortable. Those shinobi could come back to finish the job, and he was in no condition to even see it happen, let alone deal with it. No, he needed to get away again, the only thing stopping him being Taeru, his savior and comrade.

wc 714

With her form now so tense and the temperature so cold to the touch like a corpse, maybe she would have passed for one. In that moment of time as she watched the boy before her gulp down the earthen water, yet not just a boy, It was Anri, in all of his being, it was him, from the stutter in his voice to the subtle hint of a smile along his lips even before the fluid could reach him. Yet the longer he drank the more itchy she seemed to become, too much too quickly could become dangerous yet her mind easily recalled that need for water to the point even the putrid would do. Just the simple memory of such a need would sap the moisture from her lips and mouth leaving behind the dry tickle.  

And slowly something began to creep within the back of her mind as she became transfixed upon her long lost squad mate, all other thought being trust aside as she slipped back into an alert sense of awareness, now no longer drowning. What were they to do now? How could she tell him what little she knew? What she suspected?  Once she felt he was secure enough for her to release some pressure she would lean back to attempt to access his damage, her gaze seeking out anything that needed immediate attention. Only when his voice came back into her ears had her mind straightened, he would either need immediate medical care at the hospital, at which she would have no choice but to take him with haste or they could bide some time to remain hidden, they knew that she was alive but they did not know that she had now regained a part of her squad.  

And now his voice stronger her own felt cracked and dry becoming little more than a low hush as she replied, only the swell of things she wished to say was once again shut down and pushed aside by reason and necessity as she took on board his word’s, “Do you think you can walk?” Regardless of his answer she would help him to  stand, pausing for but a moment to retrieve the spile from the tree; The fingers of her right hand curling easily around the  tool to press it firmly against her palm as her form shifted ever so slightly to not only support their weight but to place her foot against the bottom of the tree's trunk, prizing the spile from the tree, leaving the tree itself to weep, yet the old tree would remain unwavering without much of a sway to its branches. If he preferred she would help him to stumble their way through the wooded area, favoring the cover that the trees and the shrubbery gave them, or she would carefully slip her arms around him, one to support his back as her other would rest beneath his knees to cradle him to her chest raising him with seeming little effort, much like a married couple would step over the threshold of a new house. With a slight shift in her weight, position how they were she could press into a run.  

Regardless of the way they took to fleeing the area of their lucky meet, she would wait until the space was far, far away before speaking in reply, “We need to talk but we can’t do it out in the open like this, it’s not safe. I don't trust...” Almost as though a nuce had been slipped around her throat they tight sensation would well within her throat, threatening to cut off her air supply as the pain in her chest flared for but a moment before calming, as though reminding her of the weight of her words, effectively silencing her once again. Only as they neared the edge of the wooded area would she begin to slow their pace. She had left in so much of a hurry she could barely recall a time or what position the few guards they had would be patrolling as she looked up at the great stone all. “I’m going to take you someplace safe, there is so much I need to tell you... but you need the hospital, you need a proper doctor... I just... I don't know if it’s safe. Home no longer feels that way." She would bite down on the chopped flesh of her bottom lip causing the visible sides scar to indent further before creasing, aging her features further as she waited for his decision. She would come to a halt to observe not only the movements atop the grand wall to listening out for the ground patrol. “If we chose to hide before getting you to a doctor, we will only have a few minutes to get inside.”

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Word count: 813.
Total word count: 3705