Disclaimer: I do NOT own Naruto.
A demon of great height, walked slowly, steadily, and deadly past the numerous corpses of the shinobi and kunoichi who tried to stop it in its tracks. None were able. It did not even need to run. It just walked in a leisurely pace, stopping every now and then to swat away the bothersome insects that crawled around its feet.
A great village was soon in its sight, it was an obstacle that blocked its path. Nothing was going to hinder it from reaching its destination. Its destination was as far as the Kamigami would allow. As far away from the one it had insulted. Insulting an Akujin, especially an exiled Akujin, was a really bad thing to do.
As the beast grew closer and closer to the village, the village threw everything it had at it, all awaiting the arrival of their greatest warrior.
Once the red moon had risen to its peak in the midnight sky, golden eyes peered through the battlefield's surrounding foliage, and witnessed the defeat of a false Tenijn, at the hand of a mere mortal man. The circumstance didn't matter. Kyuubi no Yoko, had been sealed, never again to walk the mortal plane.
In its new abode the Kyuubi slept, its final thoughts before sleep claimed him were that the Akujin would be unable to find him, or even kill him where he now resided. The Kyuubi's sealed power forever intertwined with the soul of his host.
Golden eyes saw it occur. They witnessed as the remaining Konoha no Shinigami took the bodies of the dead back to their village. They saw the Sandaime Hokage announced the defeat of the Kyuubi, and it's sealing into a child of the sun and sky.
In those golden orbs, the knowledge that the one it stalked was still alive, though barely, it was only a soul now, trapped in a mortal shell, a shell that could die. The golden orbs gleamed with annoyance and irritation. If there were to be one to kill its prey, it would be the owner of those ghostly golden orbs, orbs fading into the night, just as the red moon leaves its home in the sky, hiding behind the clouds.
Five years pass a night of celebration, of happiness, of joy, and of laughter, these emotions filling the atmosphere to suffocation. Yet, as silent as an assassin, hate mingles with the crowded emotions seeking out is assigned kill. Stealthily it sought out its prey, like a pervert to porn, it does not take long until its target it found.
Granted strength and speed of an ageless god, and the will of immovable mountains, a child runs for his life, through the side streets and back alleys of his home, a village of great renown.
A mob had formed, like a pack of rabid dogs. The annual hunt, the yearly chase, had once again begun. Fear of the unknown drove the mob mad. Like hounds in a hunt they cornered their fox, in preparation for the kill.
With fists raised, pipes, poles, sticks, and stones, held in vice-like grips, it rained. A hurricane. A storm.
Like an endless waterfall, rivers of blood flowed unto the earth. No sound escaped its lips. Yet the sounds of piercing flesh, tearing muscle, breaking bone, and the death-filled-cry of long lost innocence could clearly be heard ringing in the October night air.
As sanity began its descent back into the crowd, they dispersed and returned back to the center of the village, back to civilization, to the world of men, exchanging hate for happiness.
A bloody mess, a living corpse, a cadaver gutted like a fish. Organs, bones, muscles, and flesh, splashed, scattered, squished, squeezed, torn, and stepped on littered the walls and ground of the nearly deserted alley.
Minutes pass, then suddenly an unnatural crimson and ghostly golden glow surrounds each and every body part, solid, liquid, and gas, each and every cell, tissue, muscle, bone, and flesh. The shell that housed the two souls could have been seen slowly and steadily rebuilding itself.
Four times prior had this child died. Four times prior had this child's soul walked through the gate to Makai and back. Four times has his body been rebuilt. But more times has he died. Has he floated a soul without a body, but always being pulled back, the Shinigami himself sometimes dragging the soul back into its shell, as if it feared something far eviler than itself.
Immortality of the mind, of the body, of the spirit, of the soul, a power others have dreamt of gaining but never, not one, succeeding. But such a unique power comes with great suffering. To have this power is to live a life where heaven is merely a dream, and shall never become a memory, unless the dark god smiles.
Continents away, iridescent eyes gain back their ghostly glow. On a shrouded face, a frown forms, and the figure fades.
Eerie swirling red orbs fly through the air, on the tops of trees, pursued swiftly by the eyes of the sky.
On the boundary that separated fire from wind, red meet blue, and the world shimmers and fades away. But instantaneously being replaced by another world, a world of nightmares, nightmares that kill.
In the world of nightmares, in the world of the God of the Moon, images, visions of horrors, of memories past present themselves before blue eyes.
In the real world three seconds pass. Eyes locked in battle, but then red blinks and flees. The memory of three eyes engraved forever in his mind. Forever to haunt him in some dreams and nightmares.
One, blue, blue as the sky, in the face of death, defiance. Another, crimson and demonic, a promise of eternal torture. The last, golden eyes, the eradication of the entirety of the soul, along with the destruction of existence.