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The Curse

Chapter Thirty-Two: Sacrifice

Adrenaline ran rampant throughout his fatigued body and powered his movements with heightened awareness. The darkness around him was inciting involuntary claustrophobia. Soft whispers of promised pain echoed in his head. And his breaths were becoming heavy and laborious as his legs screamed-

'Run! Keep running! Don't stop!'

The floorboards creaked and groaned under the weight of his frantic stride. His grey-blue irises shifted frantically, blind to everything around him. All his thoughts revolved around the gleeful shadows that were chasing him, laughing with their dark amusement in response to his very real fears.

Panic crawled higher up his spine as he felt a spectral finger graze his ear; he stumbled, before muttering a curse and grunting with resolve. What was only minutes felt like hours as he ran without any direction through the pitch-black, in-between corridors of the ancient palace.

Daisuke had been pulled into the darkness, his agonized screams still ringing in his ears. Takeru had been forcefully herded from him in their attempt to escape from The Little Girl and the sudden emergence of multiple, dangerous spikes of black-red blood.

Isamu, Jounin of Rain Country, needed a plan.

His grey-blue irises darted around the never ending darkness around him, survival instincts propelling his body forward.

But those noises - Kami, the noises:

"Keep running, Isamu-san. Don't stop. Keep running. Keep fleeing. This is so...much...fun..."

And, the darkness - Kami, where could he go?

He was trapped. He could see nothing. They were playing with him.

The trembling fingers of his right hand clenched around the cool steel of one of his double-ronin swords. His left hand twitched at his pouch.

'If this is death...' Isamu's jaw locked and, with growing resolve, he spun around - his left hand smoothly removed an exploding tag and threw it into the chasing darkness before unsheathing both his swords in determined readiness. Waiting for the predators that followed his path, Isaumu watched in anticipation as the sizzling tag disappeared into the blackness, '...If this is death...'

His heart thrummed. Sweat traveled languidly across slicked skin. The handles of his weapons creaked with his grip. His knees bent, taking on a stance of defense - ready for the inevitable, ruthless wave of hostility.

'...Then I'll go down fighting...'

He blinked. Everything became silent.

And when his eyes opened, the atmosphere charged. A ball of yellow-white light exploded yards away and expanded in quick illumination of his immediate surroundings.

One beat.

Grey-blue eyes swept across the expanse in front of him. Bodies were lined in wait only feet in front of him. He was outnumbered.

Two beats.

Grey-blue eyes gazed upward, taking in the shadowed hands rising from unknown depths and arching towards him with obvious intent. Fuck, he was very outnumbered.

Three beats.

Takeshi Isamu crouched lower. His blades lifted in preparation.

'There're too many...But, fuck it, I've got to try!'

Chakra bordered him. His brows furrowed with intense concentration.

The flash of light dimmed away, along with Isamu's visibility.

He breathed. Closed his eyes. Felt the stillness.

"Isamu-san..." Her light and whimsical voice echoed condescendingly in his head, "...You put up an impressive fight."

A growl sounded on his left. A moan on his right. Her voice...right behind him. He clenched his jaw tighter.

Her laugh was haunting, "Game Over."

The silence ended, the explosion of Isamu's tag rocked the ancient building and the howling screams resumed.

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