Memory n

1. Ability to retain knowledge: the ability of the mind or person to retain learned information and knowledge of past events and experiences and to retrieve that information and knowledge
- Have a good memory for faces

2. Somebody's stock of retained knowledge: somebody's stock of retained knowledge and experience
- Recite the poem from memory

3. Retained impression of event: the knowledge or impression that somebody retains of a person, event, period, or subject
- Memories of a happy childhood

4. Recollection: the act or an instance of remembering

Within living memory: in the time experienced and remembered by people now alive

- - - - - - - - - ~TTM~ - - - - - - - - -

Chapter 1
Tribute to Memory

He didn't know when it started, when it began. When it ended, when it stopped. When exactly did he opened his eyes, and saw? (actually saw) All that he knew was that he wasn't where he was suppose to be, wherever that could've or suppose to have been.

(In and out)

The sky was the purest blue. (A color I saw everyday, in the many reflections) So blue, it enveloped the planet in a protective shield, always there, but never reachable. The sun, a blinding bright jewel on the blue, beat down on the ground with warmth that grew and grew until it became a unbearably temperature. Hot, excruciatingly hot and dry.

It didn't bother him, he didn't even take notice of it.

(In and out)

What… was he doing?

(In and out)

Breathing? Impossible. (Impossible) That didn't make sense. (But how would you know?)

Blue eyes (like the sky, like the ocean) slowly came back into focus, readjusting to the brightness with the agility of one who's lived years and years in the darkest caves. Long and slender fingers gripped the sand, course and gritty against his pale skin, and pushed him upwards into a sitting position.

The first thing he noticed were long silky black strands of hair cascading in straight locks around his shoulders, so long that they touched his arms and hands with a ghost-like velvety touch. There was a feeling of wrongness about it but it faded as quick as it came. Guarded eyes, squinting automatically against the sun, darting left and right, but all he could see was sand, stretching miles and miles into the horizon. The sight took his breathe away, and it was only the warning of his quickened heartbeat that made him remember to breathe again.

(Heartbeat?)

The feeling of wrongness came back, twice as strong and bringing with it a sense of something -fear- that made his pulse quicken and his breathe hitch. He could feel the sensation tingling across his skin as he staggered upright, his feet swaying on the unsteady ground. They sunk in the sand and it shifted under his weight, sending the small grains flying down the dunes.

Is this a dream, a nightmare? (Or were all those years a dream?) He walked on, his feet taking unsteady steps, making him pause at the strange feeling of pins and needles digging into his feet. Numb, he was numb. Why? The thoughts came into his mind but left as quickly as they came, his mind too dead like the rest of him to comprehend it.

Exhaustion was the logical result from walking on for hours and hours, but it never came. All he had was pent up energy, no, the more accurate term would be lack of energy, that he had no idea how to use. (you were suppose to be here. you were never suppose to be here) He kept his eyes, blurred into a vacant gaze, up at the midday bright blue sky, this time not even affected in the least by the glare of the sun. Thus, he didn't notice as his feet, once trudging deep into the sand, and shifting on the loose grains with every step, started to grow more steadier, until they literally began to walk on top of them, as a shinobi would on water, or ceilings, yet he never noticed. His trailing footsteps appeared to have suddenly stopped in the middle of the dunes behind him.

Time past by too quickly (always so slowly) for him to acknowledge it. The feeling of exhaustion or deprivation of anything didn't come after all, so there was no reason for him to stop in the first place. An unnatural stillness burned into his eardrums, but there was something else along with it that he, for one, didn't care to understand.

But he finally stopped, his whole body freezing subconsciously and not making a single sound, when he noticed something. The sun, once bright and hot against the sky, had fallen lower and lower, until it was almost swallowed into the horizon. The sky, once blue and familiar, (so familiar) had mellowed into other colours: pink, and orange, and red. (Red.)

(Blood red eyes, and slit pupils.)

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a sudden spinning sensation, and found himself face to face with a pissed off girl.

"-ou, who are you doing here?"

He tore his eyes reluctantly away from the unnervingly beautiful sunset, and finally noticed the pair of dark green eyes staring at him with guarded curiosity and something else he didn't recognize. Eyes travelled slowly to her arm, which was gripping his shoulder, and it took less than a second before he pushed it off. He slowly backtracked a step, and took a curious closer look at her. When did she appear? She was a young woman, with chestnut brown hair tied up in four pig tails; a kind of punk, and spiky hairstyle that he could honestly say he's never seen before. (Right?)

"I'll ask again, what is your name, foreigner?" she demanded quietly with a strong voice. The teen seemed headstrong, one used to intimidating, especially with the metre long Japanese war fan pointed directly at his neck.

He gazed curiously at the iron fan scratching against his neck, not worried at the least. Despite her seemingly confident voice, her hands were shaking ever so slightly, causing the bladed tips to cut into his smooth skin, sending a small bead of bright red blood to run down his neck and down his collar bone, contrasting sharply against the pale skin like blue would to orange. (So opposite and different that they complimented each other perfectly) A war fan was highly uncommon, and he briefly wondered who had the craftsmanship to make it, for it was beautifully done. But the most significant thing was the weapon itself, she had natural wind chakra. An exceedingly uncommon nature.

He felt a sudden urge to smile, as if in acknowledgement to something, anything, but his face remained impassive, a blank slate to the world, refusing to show something so casual, to show a shred of kindness. (they were cold, and ruthless. It was natural to have to adapt to the circumstances) A part of him wondered why exactly he was scrutinizing her so carefully, but he dismissed the thought. (After all, I've always done it for years)

"Are you listening to me?!"

'No' was the first thing that came to mind, and he actually opened his mouth to reply but paused. If he said no… that would mean that he replied a no, meaning that he was listening.

"Maybe." He answered finally. His voice was quiet, and hoarse, as with one unaccustomed to talking, but had a slight singsong quality that gave it both a soft and friendly feel, yet with undertones that felt just unnatural and eerie. The instant he spoke, the sound sent goose bumps crawling up and down her spine, and he could see her eyes flickering with understandable unnerve. The girl tightened her hold on the fan. Some would think if he was mentally mocking her, and the green eyed girl seemed to think so as well, for she bristled somewhat despite her nervousness.

"Well, listen up foreigner." she snarled impatiently. "You are on Suna territory, so state your business, or… or-"

"Feel your wrath?" He piped up helpfully. He couldn't help it, and seeing her flustered face, (she would always tease me when I blushed) a bubbly laugh escaped from him that surprised both of them and instantly broke the tension. A small smile broke out from the girl's face despite the situation, but the fan stayed poised on his neck.

"I'm sorry." he admitted, and his eyes drew back up to the sky. He was intrigued by the changing colors, and as much as he would love to stare at them, he felt a sudden urge to answer her. "I think-" he stopped, casting around in his mind for the right word. "I think that I'm lost," he finished. (I'm not suppose to be here.)

The girl seemed to contemplate his answer, before schooling her face into a cool expression. "Are you a shinobi?" she questioned.

Shinobi. His heart thumping painfully against his chest, (panicalarmfrustrationfearconfusion) but he didn't recognize the word. "A what?" he asked.

"Guess not." She murmured, before lowering her fan, and attaching it to her back with the ease of one who has had it for years. She gave him a small calculating glance, before turning around. "Come on, I'll lead you to the village, Sunagakure." she paused. "And don't you dare think of doing anything."

"Sunagakure." he echoed. A small alarm rang shrilly in his mind, and there was a smallest possible intake of breathe. "That's not…" he faltered, his eyes darting across the acres and acres of sand, before shaking his head slightly. (Not possible…)

The girl paused, and glanced behind her, an irritable expression on her face. "Are you coming or not?"

Piercing blue eyes drifted off from the ground, and settled on her face. He hesitated, and the barest glint of something appeared in his eyes, but disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Yeah."

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Temari didn't know what to think. When Baki-sensei signed her up for noon patrol duty, she almost protested. Walking around in the desert in the midday Suna sun wasn't pleasant at the least. It was with a smile that she took a last round through the eastern dunes. After all, it was the last few hours of her patrol, and there was a stunning sunset peaking out from the cloudless sky. The eastern dunes weren't normally travelled on, because of the higher risks of poisonous scorpions that appeared there, so when she noticed a person walking leisurely through the desert, and barefoot to boot, the first thing that came to mind was: 'Who the hell does this guy think he is?!'

She had stopped in front of him, her fan flashed out in front of her, and demanding what he was doing here. It took all she had not to show a smug grin. She had looked damn intimidating in her opinion, and for a split second, wished she had a camera.

What she didn't expect was for the guy to ignore her. He had been staring up at the sky, a utterly fascinated look on his face, and passed her by silently with nary a glance. Her good mood officially ruined, Temari had grabbed his shoulder before flipping him around to face her.

The first thing she had saw were surprised blue eyes. It was definitely the most deepest and most beautiful shade of blue that she had ever seen. The second she saw them, they reminded her of the Suna sky on a bright noon day. Just so uplifting, they were the only good thing that came out from the midday heat.

It had felt like eternity and more before she had torn her eyes off from that deep blue, and took an actual look at him. The man appeared to be in his early twenties, with long, spiky midnight black hair reaching his shoulders that either hung in silk-like straight locks around his face or spiking up towards the sky, with the bangs falling into his eyes.

A speckled light grey sleeveless shirt hung loosely from his wiry shoulders, the frayed ends flapping slightly in some unknown breeze. Long baggy black jeans wrapped around his legs in a slack hold, with the ends dragging slightly against the sand. They almost completely covered his bare feet, with only the tips of his toes showing. Overall, it was a very drab and dull clothing choice, but the dark colors managed to somehow make his blue eyes pop out even more if possible, and she had to resist to lock her eyes with that smoldering gaze.

His arms were bare to the world, and showed flawless pale, pale skin over firm muscles. Such a complexion was unusual for one travelling in a desert, but it gave him a vaguely beautiful yet unearthly appearance.

Temari had once read in a book that pale skin suggested a person of deviance and darkness, and while before she would've scoffed at such absurdity, she now agreed wholeheartedly. The man in front of her radiated a feeling she just couldn't explain. Something off, or wrong, but right at the same time.

It wasn't just the peculiar feeling that was off, there was also something strange about the guy himself. At first, she had thought he was deaf, but he wasn't, he just had the attention span of a duck. He would appear to be considering her questions, before continuing to stare at her fan with a blank expression and she had to repeat her questions twice before he would answer. It was unnerving.

She had to admit, though, that when he laughed, she had to fight back a large blu- er, her shock. When they were talking, (if you could call it talking) his face was always stuck in this expression that seemed emotionless, but wasn't. It was like… like as if he just couldn't decide on what emotion he was suppose to show. That alone unnerved her, along with his voice. Honestly, it reminded her of a mask, designed to show something yet nothing at the same time. The tension before was high, but it broke at that laugh, for it actually sounded human, and as pissed off as she was, she couldn't help but smile.

Temari had first thought that he was a shinobi, but the genuine shock on his face proved her otherwise. The guy had something, or everything, about him that Temari could shamelessly admit to be unforgettable. He was a mystery, that was for sure.

Or insane, she wasn't sure which.

Now, they were walking side by side back towards the village, and it couldn't be more awkward. There was complete silence except for the sound of sand shifting beneath their feet. Temari glanced down and, to her surprise, there was only one set of tracks behind them, hers. She gave the man a suspicious look. He was still staring up at the darkening sky. It was approaching twilight, and they've been walking for hours, and it was the only thing he could look at.

"So.." Temari said out loud, breaking the silence.

"So….." he echoed, cocking his head slightly.

Temari was surprised at the slight scornful undertone in his voice. Was it just her, or was he mocking her? Temari took one look at that small smirk, and huffed. "Oh shut up."

A pause. He was smirking again. Temari's eye twitched.

"What's your name?" Temari asked suddenly, gritting her teeth. Anything to wipe that smirk off his face.

He froze for less than a second. It was nearly impossible to tell unless you were carefully watching him, but his muscles tensed just a little bit, something that could've almost been dismissed as nothing. But Temari was a careful person by nature, and she spotted it immediately.

"Hey, can you hear me there?" Temari questioned, dark green eyes narrowing.

He didn't reply, his eyes still fixed on the sky.

Temari fell into silence. If he didn't want to tell her his name, that was okay, it was his business. Suspicious, yes, but…

Temari was pulled out of her thoughts by a sudden humming. She blinked owlishly, before glancing to her right to her companion, who was humming the strangest tune she's ever heard before. It didn't even look like as if he knew he was humming at all, for he was still staring at the dim, hazy sky.

Drip. Drip.

But she wouldn't really call it a tune. She hasn't heard that particular one in her entire life, and as soothing as his voice was, she really did not like that song. It was hummed in the same way a small child would as he would read aloud a poem. The poem itself was artistic, but it was voiced with no emotion, no passion, as one would read from a dictionary, and not a song. Dead but beautiful all the same.

She hated it.

Drip. Drip.

Temari's gaze was brought down to the sand below and behind them, where a long line of red dots could be seen side by side her trail of footsteps. What…? Then she saw it. Blood, running down his knuckles and falling onto the sand, staining it a dark angry crimson. She took a incredulous look behind them, and saw the long line of red stains retreating off as far as she could see.

Eyes wide, she stared at the long trail before her eyes darted back towards his bloody fists. Why hasn't she noticed it before? Behind the dry and dusty taste of the desert lay a vaguely familiar coppery smell that could only be from him.

And the bastard was still humming that dead tune, while his fists clenched tighter and tighter, the nails digging into his skin deep enough to draw blood. And Temari wanted to say something, anything to get him to stop humming, or bleeding-

"I got one." he said suddenly.

"W-what?" Temari stammered, tearing her gaze off his bleeding fists and onto his face, which held a slightly satisfied expression.

The man gave her a look as if the answer was obvious. "I've decided on a name," he announced.

"What do you mean, decided?" She almost winced when her voice cracked.

"My name is Raidyn," he said, and he let out a soft laugh. "It means thunder god. I don't know why, but it's really funny."

Raidyn laughed again, and Temari wondered for a second time if the man -Raidyn- was insane. The laugh faltered, making her eyes flicker to his, noting with alarm the swarming swirls of emotion, a whirlpool of confusion and anguish. There were no words to describe the pain she saw in those molten blue irises.

"I don't remember." he said finally. And just like that, his face schooled back into a blank slate, control and aloofness crashing back down to his reality. Temari let out a breathe she wasn't aware that she was holding in, and steadied herself.

"Remember…?"

"Everything. Anything. Nothing at all."

The sun disappeared, swallowed in by the horizon. The last tendrils of sunlight carried weakly across the desert before dying in the darkness. A cold and unmerciful wind blew suddenly through the pair, who had long ago stopped walking.

"Nothing?" Temari's voice was only a quiet whisper, but it broke through the silence like glass.

There was a long pregnant pause, before he answered. "Red. But it meant so many things."

Raidyn smiled, a small poignant smile but a smile nonetheless. It took less than a second before Temari realized that this was the first time she had ever seen the man smile, but by that time, he had already started walking again.

Drip. Drip.

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Pictures frozen in time, are coming clearer. But right now, they're still blurry.

Okaay then. I'm not sure if I should place this as a oneshot or continue. Review please, I'd really like your feedback on this! (this is my first fanfic after all hehehe)

update: if I was going to place this as a oneshot, I would make changes to the story idea, and place it as another story. so NO, this chapter is NOT the actual oneshot. just wanted to make that clear to people.

Just in advance: you may notice that this has many similarities to Reality's Illusion, by Shadow Rebirth, but that is completely coincidental. I for one, worship the ground Shadow Rebirth walks on, (big fan, big fan…) but will never, never steal his/her stories. That would just be incredibly insulting. For one, RL is a time travel with Naruto as the main, and the only similarities are that they both wake up in the desert, and the (bracket flashback thing.) I had no idea how else to place the flashbacks, so well, yeah. (if you're reading this Shadow Rebirth, can you msg me to tell me if it's okay to use the bracket flashback thing, because I feel sort of uneasy using them.)

And if you haven't figured it out yet, the main is Namikaze Minato, who is alive. The setting is somewhere around 12 years after the Kyuubi incident.

So click that button below and let me know what ya think ;)

~ L. Syrup