Times Change

Paks brushed a slim hand across her forehead, staring blankly at her hand afterwards. Her eyes were cool, but she couldn't stop them from narrowing. Wiping her hand over her forehead again she tried to tell herself that her skin was not clammy. No. There was nothing going on.

Standing so swiftly that the chair she had been sleeping in rattled on its legs she swept out of the room. She shouldn't have been sleeping there anyway, it was unbecoming of someone of her rank to be taking naps. It wasn't like she was a little kid anymore, she should be getting enough sleep at night. And dammit there was no reason for that not to be happening. It wasn't like there was anything going on, no late hour missions, no coups to stop or plots to deal with. There was nothing going on. So why the hell were the ghosts of the past returning now?

Stalking down the hallway she left the Tsuchikage's building, the purposeful movements and harsh glare enough to persuade anyone from trying to stop her. When she reached the bustle of the streets Paks scanned the area, her sharp gaze caressing the rocky buildings and cliffs so at odds with the forested landscapes of her dreams. Most people claimed the sharp craggy peaks and sheer rock walls that formed Iwagakure were just as inhospitable as the people living there. Was it strange then that when Paks thought of inhospitable places the picture that came to mind was a much brighter one? Full of warm streets and closely growing forests?

Paks paused, hand lashing out to slam into a nearby wall with enough force to draw blood. She snarled silently, the people on the street skittering away from the obviously off shinobi. Damn it. Damn it. She was not supposed to be thinking about these things. Jerking her fist back Paks picked up her pace, hopping to the rooftops so as to travel quicker.

Once she had gotten to a training area, blissfully deserted, Paks threw herself at the nearest large obstruction. This one turned out to be a huge boulder marring the somewhat flat field. No one really knew how all these rocks managed to roll their way to the strangest places, but at the moment Paks could care less how it got there, only that it was hard enough to stay there while she trained.

Clenching her hands into tight fists, she threw a punch at the hard rock. If she had been thinking, perhaps Paks would have taken the precaution of wrapping some bandages around her fists first, to support them and blunt the sharp impacts. And while Paks was technically currently thinking, her goal at the moment was to stop. So she threw a punch, and then another, and another. Fists hitting the rock face again and again.

The force behind her blows soon had her skin ripping and blood splatters coloring the otherwise gray boulder. Clenching her teeth, Paks continued to strike out. Pushing herself harder and harder. She felt the pain, but embraced it as a welcome distraction. If there was pain then her thoughts wouldn't wander to other things... Or other places... Snarling loudly she sped up, striking so quickly that her hands blurred.

Paks knew instinctively, and the jarring feeling of her bones certainly helped, that she was pushing it too far. Exerting too much force into something that wouldn't yield. When the loud crack resounded through the field, it came as no surprise. The sharp stabbing pain, bright and hot and redredred was enough to cause her to stumble back, left hand tucked in to her chest protectively.

Then she regained enough of her senses to grab the pain and shove it far away. If it wasn't going to help then she didn't need it. Thrusting it deep deep down, Paks strode forward again, eyes gleaming hotly. Tightening the fingers of her right hand and ignoring the twinge of pain as she pulled at the cuts and scrapes, Paks clenched her fist tightly enough for her nails to dig into the tender flesh of her palms.

She still had one good hand. Using that logic, Paks began to punch at the stone with a frenzied vigor. So deeply entrenched in the rote action that she finally mercifully found release. Her mind focused only on the action. Tightening the fingers. Chambering the arm. Throwing her weight forward. Meeting with the gray. Pulling back. Repeating.

Again and again and again, her fist met with the gray stone. The red grew, covering most of the gray. And then Paks pulled back her fist for another punch, relishing in the wonderful release. Reveling in the presence of nothing. Of blankness. As her fist descended on course for the gray splattered red, she paused eyes widening. The gray splattered red had morphed, what stood before her now was no longer a rock. Oh no. It was a body.

Crimson liquid dripped, sliding down the body's skin and falling. It took forever for the droplet to meet the ground. Accusing eyes stared back at her from the body. Red eyes.

Paks jerked back heavily, the motion so forceful that she fell backwards in a heap. Scrambling away from the red splashed body her breaths came quick and fast, hissing as she tried to suck in enough oxygen to actually feel it. When her back hit a large boulder her retreat was stopped, and Paks sat there shuddering. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the blood soaked body. Nose flaring the scent of coppery blood floated towards her.

Somehow she was on her feet, feeling lighter than air. As if she wasn't a body, merely a spirit. Ghosting away, Paks ran from the bloody rock. And ran. And ran. And ran.