Because I've fallen for the Rokubi Jinchuuriki on first sight, I decided to write about him. And if Naruto is mine, the Jinchuuriki would have gathered long ago and killed every goddamned Akatsuki.
{and we are all going to fall}
He is twenty-one, and a Jonin of a small Ninja village in the far east of the map.
He is a Shinobi, but he is also a Jinchuuriki (and will die as one).
He is far better off than the other Jinchuuriki. He heard that one of the Jinchuuriki in Suna had assassination attempts on him every single day. He's is a peaceful village, and even though the people feared him, they didn't lay a hand on him (is there any difference?), not if the village leader allowed them.
He became a Genin at five, Chuunin at six, Jonin at eight.
Genius, prodigy, they called him. Weapon, his village leader reminded him (he never forgets). Monster, they whispered behind his backs (he pretended he never heard). And the sting in his eyes – (he shook if off as the humid weather).
He is an ordinary person (too ordinary; that's why they choose him). His dark hair is the same as everyone (it shimmers a faint crimson under the moonlight), and covers the majority of his face. He is able to blend in with the crowd easily, and (no one would notices him). Orange eyes (a burning reminder he's not normal every time he looks into the mirror), but they look a very pale brown from far.
Once, he wonders how it feel to wander the world (to escape from reality, to run away), but the thought die away instantly when he received his next mission.
He has no parents. He doesn't remember them. The village leader told him that he killed his parents (did they died hating him?) after the Rokubi went out of control. He didn't react.
He didn't know them, and he holds no love for them (he hates them, because why, why did they allowed them to do this to him? Don'ttheylovehim?). He doesn't understand. He doesn't care.
When those men in black cloaks with red clouds came (Akatsuki, the monster whispers), the village gave him to them readily. They only needed an extra large red bow around his neck to complete the set.
He remembers the men looks (amusement, curiosity, laughter). Because he knows what they're thinking, he laughs too. How ironic are humans that they're willing to sacrifice even their weapon to save their own selves.
He is twenty-one, a Shinobi, a Jinchuuriki, and he'll die as one.
--
.owari