I do not own any Naruto characters or settings.  I only own my OC, Musei Shiro.

Warning: This chapter contains vivid descriptions of blood and violence.

I hope you enjoy the story of Shiro, the Weeping Samurai of the Land of Iron!

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Shiro blinked her heavy eyes in the blinding white light, scrunching her pale face in annoyance as her vision blanked out for a few seconds. She felt a warm hand pressing against the small of her back, and under her cheek was a solid but also warm surface. Her slender, pale hand shifted, her fingers grabbing a handful of cloth, as she fluttered her eyelids open once more to focus her blurred vision.

Itachi lay sleeping under her, and for the first time, she saw his smooth face clear from any pain that was inflicted upon him in this world. His chest rose and fell softly, Shiro's hand still pressed against his body, and his lips, parted ever so slightly, let out a calming sigh. Shiro flicked her eyes back down to her own self, staring blankly at her hand that laid atop his chest; her head rested on his shoulder while her body curled up against his side.

She started to shift, trailing her fingers across his slumbering body, before a soft hiss interrupted her actions.

“Oi!” Kisame grunted in front of her. Shiro could barely make out his silhouette, his physique outlined by the rising morning sun.

“Nani? (What?)” Shiro blinked her eyes.

“It's rare that Itachi-san can sleep this well,” the large shinobi nodded to his partner. “It's best to let him rest while he can.”

Shiro's attention wandered back to Itachi, his head tilted to the side as he rested his cheek on the top of her head; she shivered as she could feel his hot breath escaping his lips and seeping into her hair.

“Alright,” Shiro sighed, nuzzling her cheek into the crook of his neck. “I'll let him sleep.”

Kisame let out a soft chuckle as he continued to sit across the two teammates. Shiro blinked her eyes closed and took a deep breath, listening to the sound of Itachi's breathing and once again falling into the empty space of sleep.

It only felt like a few seconds when she felt Itachi stir from beneath her. Shiro fluttered her eyes open again, shifting her body only to feel the frighteningly cold stone floor kiss her thin, pale legs. That iciness transported her mind into another world; a world full of pain and suffering. She relived the hostility she had endured in that one fated village on that inevitable winter day; the afternoon with the three boys, taunting and pushing her around like she was some vermin; and perhaps she was, as useless and weak as she was back then, her hollow face may have portrayed a skeletal beast sulking in the darkness of the alleys.

Her wince made Itachi tense up, his strong arm wrapping itself protectively over her torso.

“Shiro-san?” he questioned, a hint of worry dappling his warm tone.

Shiro sucked in a sharp breath, only to close her eyes calmly once more, replying in a collected manner.

“I'm alright. I'm just hungry.”

Itachi laid there for a second before leaning his face down to touch his lips into her soft white hair. His sigh brought an unearthly spread of warmth upon her chilled scalp, her body sent in a series of relentless but soothing shivers.

“There should be a village not too far from here,” Itachi murmured softly as he blinked. “We can stop by there to get something to eat.”

“Sounds great,” Shiro whispered, sitting up and breaking Itachi's embrace.

The shinobi followed her up, lifting up a knee to rest his arm on top of it. From the side, Kisame grunted in annoyance.

“One night without a proper bed is tolerable,” he puffed angrily. Shiro turned her attention to the large ninja, who stood propped up against the hard wall of the cavern. “But two nights? Why Itachi-san, it does seem like you're testing my patience after all.”

“It's not like I planned this,” Itachi sighed, placing his cheek into his palm.

“But that's exactly what's wrong with this! We have a map now, don't we? We can just plan our route to the hideout with stops along the way!”

“If we stop at every single village, it'd take us three months to get to the Land of Rice Paddies,” Itachi groaned in exasperation. “With the route we've plotted out currently, we'd be there in about a week.”

Kisame scoffed in a sort of disgust, whipping his head away from his two teammates. Shiro rolled her eyes, getting up from her warm spot on the ground and brushing the excess dust from her kimono; she tightened the ribbon that wrapped securely across her slim waist. She wiped a sleeve across her forehead, which was grainy and grimy from yesterday's training.

“It'd be a good idea to stay at an inn every other night or so,” Shiro murmured. “A good compromise, I think. The extension of time will bring me some extra training for me anyways, so I think we can manage to squeeze a few villages into our path.”

Itachi nodded, flickering his dark eyes to Kisame before pulling out the map from his pants pocket. He unrolled the scroll and bit his thumb, drawing a large dot of blood from the wound.

“We'll stay at Tanima Gai first, the travelers' village located at the pit of the valley. We'll follow the majority of the villages leading to the Land of Grass and take stops if necessary.”

Kisame could help but beam in triumph.

“That wasn't so hard, was it Itachi-san?”

The shinobi flashed his partner a murderous glare.

“I'm not doing this for you, Kisame,” Itachi growled lowly. “Shiro-san needs the time to prepare if she's to face Orochimaru and live; remember why we're here.”

Kisame's grin flashed away from his face, replacing it with a grim line. His beady black eyes flickered over to Shiro, who stood next to the crouching Itachi with a scroll spread out across the cold cavern floor.

“Yes, it'd be a shame if she died,” Kisame mused.  A twitch of a smile made a reappearance on his features. “Such a beautiful talent with blades...gone.”

Shiro scoffed and rolled her eyes, letting her gaze fall back down to the map.

“That sounds like a good route to take,” she murmured, touching back on the original subject. She turned on her heel and ambled towards the glowing mouth of the cave, a blinding white due to the sun that was climbing higher and higher in to the cerulean sky. “Ikuzo (let's go).”

Kisame sighed and immediately followed her, leaving Itachi to roll up the map and catch up on his own.

The afternoon was calm and quiet, the green grass that was growing in the endless fields swayed in the silent breeze. The mountains that surrounded them in the distance stood tall and mighty, their jagged peaks poking up at the wispy white clouds that gently floated across the land. Flowers on tall, thin stalks shot up from the emerald grass, their colorful petals dappling the field. In the few trees that grew along the narrow dirt path, Shiro could hear the bright melodies of birds of all sorts.

The girl sighed as she closed her eyes, her fingertips brushing against the binding on her hilt, breathing in the freshly cooled air through her delicate pale nose. She felt her face relax, the stress ebbing away and her shoulders drooped in satisfaction as she walked on. The warm sun tingled her usually cold skin, sending shivers of delight throughout her entire body.

“Shiro-san,” Itachi called her from the back.

“Nani?” she sighed, not bothering to look back at him.

“We have to cut through the field if we want to get to Tanima Gai,” he said. “If we keep following this trail, we'd get further away from our destination.” Itachi stressed the last word, glaring in disgust at the large shinobi in front of him.

Itachi lurched forward, running swiftly to the right as he left his two companions behind.

“We can utilize this opportunity to increase your stamina and speed,” he yelled at her as he bolted passed her. “Ikuzo!”

“H-hai!” Shiro stammered, veering off the dirt path to follow the shinobi.

Kisame growled in annoyance, only to tail behind his two teammates.

Shiro leaped long strides, almost prancing as she pushed off the ground with her thin but strong legs. Her white kimono, streaked in dirt, rippled behind her as the katana sheaths on her hips clattered and bumped against her thighs. Her long white hair fluttered past her pale face, her expressionless mask plastered to her face.

They ran in the general direction for an hour, seeing the scenery whiz by them in green and brown blurs as they made their way to Tanima Gai.

The travelers' village, located within the deepest valley of the Land of Earth, was an ordinary stop for wanderers and merchants. There, a tall open gate welcomed the visitors, bamboo and bell chimes ringing in the frequent breeze. The people who lived there carried on their normal activities, straightening up chairs and tables or sweeping their worn wooden floors. A few travelers sat together on the porch of a restaurant, enjoying a cup of green tea, a bowl of rice, and some sashimi. Their laughs rang through the town as the giggling of some children dashed down the main street.

Itachi slowed down to a walk, Kisame jogging up next to him. Shiro stumbled behind them, her knees failing every other step. The trio reached the gate, Shiro lurching forward to clutch onto the thick wooden pole. Her heart thumped rapidly, pounding inside her heaving chest. Her gasps turned to strangled wheezes, her hand clutching her throat as she suddenly bent over to vomit.

Her stomach was empty and pinching, hungry from not eating for a while. Normally, she would have dealt with it like it was nothing, since hunger was a common pain in her Iron days. The constant running though tipped her mind over the edge, and a spray of acid erupted from her mouth and nostrils.

She choked on the liquid, her throat burning and her stomach lurching as her body continued to convulse in waves of vomiting. Kisame stared down at her, a disgusted look on his face as he turned forward, ignoring her ill suffering.

Itachi was at her side instantly, pulling back her long hair as she hacked up all of the biting acid from within her empty stomach.

“Shiro-san,” Itachi murmured to her as she threw up the last of her stomach contents. She gasped for breath, feeling the acid burn her nose. “Are you alright?”

“I-I need to rest,” Shiro panted as she clutched her head, her fingers gripping the white strands from their roots.

Itachi nodded once, his lips pressed into a thin line as he helped her up. Her arm was thrown across his shoulders as he slowly stood up, his black cloak brushing against the dusty ground. Shiro stumbled onto her legs, her other arm crossing her aching abdomen. The two proceeded to slowly step forward into Tanima Gai, Kisame already ahead of them and veering off on his own path.

The new travelers passed various shops and cafes, receiving unblinking stars from everyone. The cloaks were a major siren for some, but for the majority of the residents, the samurai's twin white blades screamed out to them. Shiro was half dragged, half carried to a close kissaten, where they slid open the shoji doors and entered. The soft chime of a bell greeted them into the warm atmosphere. Shiro was then deposited onto a cushioned couch inside; Itachi immediately went up to the counter to order some food. Kisame was long gone by the time Shiro had collapsed onto the couch.

There was a squeal of terror as Itachi approached the counter; the girl behind it recognized the Akatsuki cloak. Her wide, horrified eyes flickered their way over to Shiro, who lay panting heavily on the cushions.

“You must leave immediately,” she said firmly, though her voice quivered like a sapling on a high cliff. “I'm calling the police – ”

“We only want food,” Itachi said with a grim expression. “My...friend...she's terribly hungry, and she can't go on without having something to eat.”

“Good; the police can arrest her easily, and I can get a reward for turning her in.” Her voice shook as she backed up. “The Shidare no Bushi doesn't deserve to have the freedom she dwells in now...”

Shiro's eyes suddenly snapped open, her pupils dilated and her jaw ridged.

She sat up and hopped off of the couch, standing up with little difficulty and unsheathed Raiha. The girl behind the counter screamed.

“Shidare no Bushi!”

Itachi's Sharingan merged a bright crimson in his usually dark eyes, his face etched in tension.

“Shiro-san!”

Shiro bounded forward, slamming her body against the girl who had dared to speak her cursed title. She opened her mouth to let out another terrified shriek, but was cut off as Raiha slid across her soft throat, silencing her forever.

“Shiro-san!!” Itachi bellowed, jumping across the counter to grab the rampaging girl's arm.

Shiro shook it off and glared at him with vicious eyes, filled with hatred and disgust. Itachi stared back at her, his brow furrowed as he opened his mouth to speak.

A strangled yell interrupted him, causing Shiro to turn her head sharply around. Behind her, a large man dressed in a white apron stood, his face scrambled in a sense of confusion and horror.

“Shi...shi...”

“Don't – !” Itachi called out to the man, stretching out his arm.

“Shidare no Bushi!”

As if it was an involuntary reflex, Shiro whipped around and advanced upon the man with blinding speed. Her single white blade flashed only a second, as quick as a strike of lightning, and a spurt of crimson spilled onto the polished wooden floors. The man, who swayed in place, rolled his eyes to the back of his head. His mouth fell ajar, crashing down onto the floor below that was splattered in blood.

The jingle of a bell tinkled from the front of the kissaten, catching the attention of both the shinobi and samurai. A man, who seemed to be a traveler himself, decided to drop by the cafe at the wrong time. His eyes grew wide as he glanced at the bodies on the floor, laying in shallow pools of crimson blood, to the girl who stood with a maroon-splattered white blade glistening in the low light.

The man stood there for a couple seconds before bolting back out the door, shouting “Shidare no Bushi!” at the top of his lungs. The response to his call was instantaneous.

The entire village quickly fell into a riot, people rushing to the kissaten to gang up on the samurai.

“Shidare no Bushi!” they snarled at her.

“My father died by your hands!”

“Murderer!”

"Monster!"

“My sister will be avenged!”

The provoking shouts of the villagers rang in her ears, bouncing around uselessly in her cranium, emptied from all emotion and pity by the words of “Shidare no Bushi.”

She sprang forward as the first of the villagers burst into the cafe, slicing her blade deep into their flesh as they entered. The first two opposing men fell, crumpling down to the floor in a heap of flesh and bone, blood pouring from the wounds and oozed like puss. The samurai shot through the opening door, discarding three more people as she escaped the building.

“Don't let her get away – !”

Raiha swiped through another person, their limp body crashing to the ground below. The entrance of the kissaten was sticky with blood, splattered against the wall and splashed against the freshly-cleaned windows. The dirt surrounding the door grew thick with blood, a dark maroon mud forming at the base of the building. Drips of the fluid trailed behind the charging samurai girl, her face fixated on the path before her. The villagers came bounding after her, their screams and yowls rose above the once peaceful town. Another mob of angry townsmen appeared before her, cutting her off from escaping the village.

“You will pay for the deeds you have done!” one man barked, pointing an accusing finger at her.

“Shidare no Bushi, give up now or we'll have no choice but to force you down!”

Shiro scoffed, lifting up Raiha to her chest. Everyone around her flinched, but with no point. She wiped both sides of the blade on her kimono, staining the white fabric in dark blood.

“Your feeble attempts are pitiful,” Shiro murmured grimly. “There's only two paths your lives can take right now: death by my hand, or fleeing like the cowards you are.”

The citizens of the village glanced around at each other, unsure what to do and fear overcoming their desire for revenge. Shiro let out a dark chuckle.

“Foolish you all are,” she snarled, “like little children who need to be guided around. Those lost looks on your faces...what will you do next, hmm?”

The people around her began to panic, all hoping for a secret hero to emerge from their group to save the day. No one stepped forward. No one even dared to breathe.

“Shiro-san,” a male voice called from behind her. Shiro immediately spun around, only to see a raven-haired shinobi walking towards her, his scarlet eyes gleaming. “You've had enough bloodshed for today; give it a rest and we'll go someplace else for tonight.”

The fiery glow in her dark eyes began to smother as her gaze fell upon his eyes. Her muscles relaxed a bit as she sighed, drooping her katana to the ground.

“Let's get out of here.”

A man, about the age of nineteen, pushed through the crowd and stumbled to the middle, facing Shiro with a look of burning determination carved into his scowling face.

“You can't leave!” he boomed. “You're the Shidare no Bushi, the one who killed my beloved grandmother in the hot spring resort by the border of the Land of Iron! She did nothing wrong to deserve the fate you had set upon her! In return, I'll give you the fate you deserve!”

He reached into a shuriken holster on the side of his thigh. He thrust the weapon at her, the iron star bolting towards her at an incredible speed. She lifted up her blade though and blocked the shuriken with ease, flashing her eyes at the boy. Itachi sucked in a breath and immediately grabbed her shoulder, but she shook it off and floated over to the boy, Raiha held up in front of her threateningly.

“Listen here, gaki (brat),” she growled down at him. The boy ripped out a kunai and tried to swipe it at her, but Shiro dodged it and landed a kick to his side, sending him flying back into a few people lining the circle in which they were caged in. “Everyone deserves to die in this world, including that grandmother of yours. I don't even remember her really, just that I didn't like that look on her face when she laid her eyes on me. Of course, that's the face you all give me when you look at me. So in reality, as I said, everyone deserves to die.”

Shiro slashed her blade up, cutting a deep vertical gash in the boy's abdomen. He staggered backwards, clutching at the long gouge at a sad attempt to stop the heavy bleeding. His shirt, now shredded down the middle, quickly seeped in a dark burgundy. His brown eyes rolled to the back of his head before he tumbled to the ground, his body convulsing and twitching before he lay still in a pool of blood. Shiro stared down at the boy, his now white face smeared with a streak of crimson, with a look of neither pain nor regret, but of boredom.

Her plain eyes were dull like coal. Her pale face shimmered softly from tiny beads of sweat and was wiped clean from expression. Nothing but plainness spread across her features, cold and unforgiving as a winter blizzard.

The disbelief on the others' faces, including Itachi's, was something she was used to. It didn't faze her at all that the reflections within their eyes showed a ruthless murderer. Her white hair flowed gently in the breeze, the wind biting her cheeks and the tip of her nose, despite the sun warming the area around her; the iciness of her heart froze the air, the people surrounding her stood so still they could be mistaken as statues.

Everything was quiet as the townspeople comprehended what had just happened. Then came the part where she knew how to handle the most.

They charged at her, furious and determined with a false and idiotic sense of hope. They knew of the rumors of the Shidare no Bushi, yet they threw themselves at her anyways. Her mind went blank as they shouted her cursed title, her eyes glazing over in a film of pure ecstasy. The blood lust heightened as she threw her blade around effortlessly, the thick liquid dousing her feet and staining her face in a murderous crimson hue. Her black eyes, which represented burning coal, never even blinked as Raiha did what it did best: killing.

The screams of the villagers filled her ears like a sweet melody of death; unpleasant and dissonant to some, but beautiful and harmonious to hers. Her footsteps provided a backdrop for the voices to weave into, the thudding of their bodies hitting the ground acting as the low bass notes to support the song of the killed. In her mind, jumbled and insane, she heard an orchestra hack away at their strings, the winds piping their instruments and the brass buzzing their sounds away like bees. The percussion, the thumping of the bodies, pounded muffled but present beats as the shrill melodies of voices echoed through the valley. Harmonizing with the shrieks were the attempts to fight back, the occasional clang of metal as Shiro blocked an attack rang clear and sharp. The gurgling and coughing of the dying wound then end the phrase.

Death was all around her, but her feet danced to the music like a graceful ballerina. Her black flats, moistened with blood, tiptoed across the dusty ground and her arms flew majestically as Raiha sliced through another person's flesh. The blood would splatter onto her pale face, make up for her costume as the Bringer of Death. Lips slightly parted and her eyes slightly narrowed, her rather calm demeanor contrasted with the horrified and panicked thrusts of the townspeople.

Within ten minutes the majority of Tanima Gai was slain. Piles of bodies littered the area, with some stray limbs thrust about here and there. The blood was plentiful, growing cold upon the dirt streets and mixing in with the dust to create a thick mud. Itachi, who had fled to the safety of the rooftops before the massacre raged on, had his scarlet eyes glued onto the girl who was adorned in splotches of foreign blood. He watched her closely, feeling a bit helpless as she weaved around the bodies of those she had killed, her face as straight and bleak as ever.

She stopped in mid-step though, in the middle of the town, when her coal-black eyes landed on the body of a woman. Her frame was slightly larger than Shiro's but her long night-black hair was splayed everywhere from under her. Her pale skin was white, drained from the blood that had once pumped lively through her slender body. The sight of the young woman made something snap inside Shiro's unstable mind. The samurai dropped the katana in her right hand and fell to her knees, letting out a scream of defeat and loss.

The sobs came quickly, the hot tears clearing streaks of blood from her ivory face. Her head was dipped down, the tears dripping from her chin as she crouched beside the black-haired woman's body. Her shoulders heaved from the heavy crying, her throat dry and scratchy but she couldn't stop the tears from flooding her eyes.

Itachi hopped down from the rooftop, striding over to the crumpled girl who felt the relentless throbbing inside her lonely chest. She cried out her pain, which seemed to be an endless ocean of abandonment and agony.

This is what she was. This was the Shidare no Bushi.

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Gomen'nasai for not posting lately!! I've been so caught up in schoolwork and practicing!  This month was just so busy for me!  As a treat, I crafted an extra-long chapter for you all!!

Anyhow, if you enjoyed this chapter, please don't hesitate to comment, vote, and to follow me for future updates, which I will try to do more frequently!

And as always, thanks for reading!