Snap.
Left arm.
Crack.
Collarbone.
Pain dulled when it got old. She was used to it.
Slam.
Her opponent, ANBU Tiger if she remembered correctly, slammed his shin into her stomach, catapulting her towards the closest wall.
Impact.
Plaster rained around her, white specks of a bad paint job burying in her hair. Not that anyone would be able to see them, anyways; Houzuki hair came white as anything was. Groaning, Eri peeled herself off the dented wall, collapsing in a heap of broken bones, blood, sweat, and plaster.
Karatachi-sensei stared impassively at her from alcove, tucked above the Hokage Tower's private training ground. A sharp flick of his wrist told her he wanted the spar to continue. She cursed quietly to herself. Usually, by this time, Karatachi-sensei would've enforced a break period. It seemed like he wouldn't be as nice today. Well, it wasn't like she could disobey her teacher, was it? Up, it was.
She crawled up on hesitant legs, muscles shaking from overuse. Concentrate.
Settling into the Houzuki stance, crouched low, left leg perpendicular to the body, right leg pointed sideways of front, two hands pincered like scorpion talons, Eri moved.
Direct chakra towards the lower body for speed. ANBU's moving towards the arm, direct chakra towards the arm to block. You're sliding across the floor, direct chakra to the feet, weigh them down, touch your hands to the floor, weight the hands. ANBU's going on the offensive, evade.
The ANBU brought his right leg up in a roundhouse kick, aiming a knockout hit towards her ribs. With a burst of chakra-enhanced speed, she leapt up, barely managing to force a catapult before her opponent made use of his momentum to spin a one-eighty, utilizing the boost in an attempt to pound her into the ground before she landed. Which, in retrospect, was one of the downfalls of flipping through the air; gravity oftentimes acted slower than the opponent.
Thinking quickly, Eri twisted in the air, catching the fist before it slammed into her ribs, and swung her body up, right leg smashing into the ANBU's face.
Shit. She hadn't enhanced it with enough chakra. Best case, her ankle was sprained. Worst case, broken.
The ANBU leapt back, forearms rising in a defensive posture, right eye leaking out a small rivulet of blood. Eri smirked to herself. At least she'd hurt him.
Concentrating a burst of chakra to her legs, she went on the offensive, attacking her opponent in a flurry of kicks, punches, and jabs.
Chakra to the knuckles, harden it. He's going for your ankle, sidestep, don't overstep.
"Enough."
Eri flipped in mid-air, landing in a back-spring. The ANBU retracted his fist, the glow of blue-white chakra dimming in his hands.
In the small balcony where only Karatachi-sensei had been standing just a while ago, the Sandaime stood with an entourage of ANBU guards.
"Hai. Sandaime-sama." Turning to face her opponent, Eri gave a small Seal of Reconciliation. ANBU Tiger gave her a grunt and shunshin'ed away, the only telltale that he'd been her sparring partner for the last few hours a small breeze that drifted in the wake of his speed.
Eri waited patiently for her next orders, although it seemed that the Sandaime wouldn't be speaking with her. Karatachi-sensei was kneeling on the ground in front of him, taking note of orders Eri wasn't able to hear. Clamping down on the desire to strain chakra towards her ears, Eri shuffled around, kicking at the dirt ground. Her ankle gave a dull twinge of protest, probably broken.
In the next moment, Karatachi-sensei dropped gracefully from the balcony and made a slight motion for Eri to join him, already starting to head out of the private practice grounds. She hesitated, glancing up at the balcony. The Sandaime was still there, conversing quietly with ANBU Tiger, probably asking about her taijutsu improvements. Keeping her head low, she scampered over to Karatachi-sensei's side.
Eri knew that she was a prodigy; there wasn't really any way to hide it. What five-year-old could train on par with ANBU? ANBU who had, of course, lowered their capability to high-chuunin, low tokujo status, but ANBU nevertheless? She was yet only four, but she was already capable of her two-tails transformation with Isobu-chama. She'd tried to go for three, once, but she'd ended up in the Mizukage Tower's private medical facility room, loaded up on painkillers from third-degree burns.
She knew her own story. Daughter of Uzushio's Uzumaki-hime and Kiri's Houzuki Heir, forcefully adopted at birth by the Mizukage who had sealed the sanbi into her. From birth, she'd been put through torturous training, the likes of which she knew even Kirigakure's noble clans wouldn't even be able to provide for their heirs. At four, when all of Kirigakure's children would be forcibly entered into the Shinobi Academy, she was given a free pass; the Sandaime had deemed her too advanced to suffer through the Academy and had drawn up a training regimen for her himself, complete with monthly check-ups.
But it still wasn't enough.
Karatachi-sensei seemed to sense her disquiet. He glanced at her and ruffled her hair, chuckling lightly.
"Lay off yourself, would you? Your progression this year has been exponential—it's quite near destroyed the drawn graph of your predicted improvement."
Eri felt her face warm, a budding feeling of earthy satisfaction filling her gut. Karatachi-sensei had always been nice with his words.
"Your speed has improved, as have your action-reaction patterns. Your largest problem is poor control over your chakra and limbs. During live battle, chakra usage should come as instinct. There is too much unnecessary thinking in your taijutsu. You need to train in instinctual chakra usage while using your brain to notice patterns in the opponent's offense."
"Hai, Karatachi-sensei."
"Also, in the last few seconds of the fight, I could tell that you overshot yourself, didn't you?"
Eri winced. So he'd noticed. She'd been too concentrated on keeping the offensive and had tried to take her ANBU opponent out with a well-aimed roundhouse. Except he'd evaded and she'd lost her balance.
Karatachi nodded. "Just as I thought. As a shinobi, you should never be overly greedy for a win. Small increments, Eri. Shinobi may not be daoists, but we do utilize chakra energy. You need to balance yourself. In battle, that one mistake could cost you your life."
Master and apprentice glanced slightly at each other, stopping right before the private hospital in the Mizukage tower. Yagura smiled softly at Eri, bending down to ruffle her hair. "Now, get yourself healed before doing anything else. The Mizukage had some orders for you he wanted me to pass on. Come find me when you're finished."
"Hai, Karatachi-sensei."
He watched as the small five-year-old Houzuki scampered into the medic room. Watched, as her left arm dangled by her side, broken.
The smile he'd let overcome his face fell into a deep frown. With a sigh, he peeled himself off the wall and stalked towards his office.
Sometimes, Yagura hated the Mizukage. As a shinobi, there was a certain amount of trust placed within the administration in that the actions taken by the mass throughout war and peace were justified. But with the current administration, with the birth of the Bloody Mist, Yagura couldn't help but feel that Kiri's trust had been given all to readily to a man who wasn't worthy of it in the least.
The Sandaime had been in power for over thirty years and had lived through three Shinobi World Wars. His policies had made Kiri strong, stronger than ever before, but at what cost?
No other shinobi nation was bloodier than the Mist. Iwa had convened death tournaments over the years, yes, but not on the level and scale of Kiri's.
In a purely militaristic viewpoint, the Sandaime Mizukage was perhaps the greatest Kage to have ever come out of the Elemental Nations. Over the past twenty years, Kiri had gained more than several hundred thousand genin, of which more than fifty percent graduated to be chuunin, of which more than thirty percent became jounin. Out of all the hidden villages, with the exception of Kumo, in terms of troops, Kiri was perhaps the most well-prepared for war.
But the cost had also been exponentially high. It was said that the leader of a people reflected the people. And it was true. Yagura could feel it. With the rise of the Sandaime Mizukage, with the birth of the Bloody Mist, with the creation of the Bloody Pagoda, it seemed as if Kirigakure had lost all humanity, as if everywhere he looked, everywhere he turned, all he could see were red-eyed monsters. Rarely any civilian families settled within Kiri these days, having heard that all civilian children born and raised within the village were required to enter the shinobi academy and subsequently fight to the death to graduate as a genin.
He'd been in the room when the Sandaime had first proposed the idea.
Originally, the Sandaime had intended for there to be twenty academy classes per grade level and for each class to fight to the death to earn their mark as genin. But with the political pressure of the various noble clans, he'd caved and split the academy classes between students with shinobi families and civilian families, of which only the civilian-born children were required to fight to the death.
Yagura could still remember the day the new policy had been announced. That very night, hundreds of civilian families had tried to escape through the iron gates of Kiri, only to lose their lives on the supposition of treason.
In his opinion, the one who had betrayed Kiri hadn't been those civilians. The one who had betrayed Kiri had been the Mizukage himself.
Sighing softly, Yagura lifted a hand to massage at his temple. The Third Shinobi World War hadn't ended long ago, less than twenty years, but he could already feel the Fourth stirring. There was a reason why armistice had never truly ended; the war had never truly ended.
Pain steadily rose within him as he truly thought about the consequences. Barely twenty years between the second and third. Now, barely ten years between the third and fourth. Was there any meaning to this bloodshed other than greed?
But the worst of the matter was the five-year-old jinchuuriki in his charge. A five-year-old, who, by all rights, should be at home playing with rubber kunai instead of shouldering broken collarbones. God, Yagura hated the Sandaime. He hated knowing that there'd be one day where, instead of seeing beautiful smiles and childish hopes in those large, ink-black eyes, he'd be seeing nothing but death and destruction, hopelessness in a lifeless gaze. But as much as he wanted to shelter her, he couldn't.
What he wouldn't do to give her a few more years.
But there wasn't any time. Kumo had already started militarizing. As its neighbor, Kiri would have to do the same.
Fire. Smoke. Screams.
Obito gazed at him from above, his body a cavity of what it once was, a large gaping wound in the place of half his body. An empty socket glared down at him, blood swirling rapidly in the place that had once held an eye. "Kaka…shi…" Cracked, dry lips lifted up into half a smile. It was horrific. His head tilted to the side, and a deranged giggle made its way out of half a throat. "It's all your fuckin' fault, ya know?"
He sat there, in the cave, looking at his once-friend, tears streaming in both hope and fear. Which was unlikely because he hadn't been able to cry, not since—
Rin was standing in front of him, holding wilted yellow daffodils, a perversion of life. He could see the corpse. Her skin was unnaturally gray, her flesh rotting, her clothing fluttering about, scraps in the wind, a gaping hole where her heart had once been. Silent lips lifted in a repeated mantra, glazed eyes a veneer over the building, internal scream. "Kaka…shi…"
He couldn't help it. He clutched his head and screamed, screamed at the half-Obito, at the corpse-Rin, at the—
Minato-sensei. Kushina-san. Naruto.
Gai. Kurenai. Raido. Genma. Asuma. Ebisu. Team Ro.
They were all staring at him.
No, no. Not at him. Behind him.
Kakashi whirled, kunai in hand, ready to—
Tou-san…
Sometimes, Kakashi wanted to gouge his eye out, wanted to slice it into tiny pieces, wanted to see it go up in never-ending flames. But then he remembered that the eye was Obito's.
The eye was Obito's. The act was Rin's. They lived on as long as he lived on.
And then Kakashi would curl into himself, no longer capable of sobbing—he hadn't been able to since that night. The red on the tatami mat wouldn't come out and he'd long give up on the stain. On some nights, like this one, he'd forego going back to his apartment and would come here, to be closer to his father. Sometimes he'd sleep next to the rusted red to be closer to him.
But today, Kakashi was curled into himself, eyes gaping wide, suffocating in his mask, rocking back and forth in the corner of the room, staring across at the tatami mat, a symbol of his failure, his stupidity, his worthlessness. Why didn't he fucking understand his tou-san, why did he—
Why was he so lost?
Pakkun cried for him. So he didn't need to.
Pushing himself up from his position on the tatami mat, he froze a little, staring at the marked blood-stain he'd been sleeping next to just a few moments ago. Tou-san.
Suddenly, the fresh smell of Konoha in the morning was replaced with the cloying scent of blood. Bile rose in his throat and his hands trembled, grabbing his ANBU gear before he could think twice, flashing to the door with a hurried "ittekimasu". He needed to get out, somewhere not here, not home.
He froze on the front porch, hands halfway shoved into his pockets, eyes wide at the telltales of his childhood. The memories overcame him in an instant, sending him gasping to the ground, clutching at nothing dirt and gravel. Rin and Obito hiding in the bushes. Fishing. Meniére. Dinner.
Obito greeting him every morning before the Academy. Rin's quiet hero worship.
Obito's eyes, Rin's blood.
And there he crouched, trembling under the weight of the past, hands grasping at nothing but grains of sand, slipping through his fingers before he'd even captured them.
A loud caw interrupted his shaking. Thankful for the interruption, he tilted his head towards the sky, squinting with his one eye. A gaggle of crows were encircling his house. Itachi.
ANBU had called him in yesterday, but his appointment wasn't until noon. What time was it now? Ah. 4 AM. Eight hours too early. What was it this time? Another assassination mission?
Effectively distracted from his nightmares, Kakashi stood on shaking legs, reaching an arm out for one of the summons.
One of them landed on his shoulder and daintily motioned towards its leg. A scroll. Got it. Kakashi sighed and unwrapped the message. 'Hokage tower.'
Well, it looked like he wouldn't be getting his morning walk. Sharply securing his ANBU mask over his head, Kakashi leapt into a shunshin. Itachi, for all his frosty demeanor, wasn't a cool-cut person. For a missive to have been written in such abrupt words meant something important, something that he couldn't afford to be late to. His inner dog growled slightly, instincts unnerved. Something must be going on.
Within moments, Kakashi landed, crouched, in front of the Hokage Tower. Next to him, ANBU Locust and Deer appeared as well, looking to have just rolled out of bed if their state of hair was any sign. The receptionist, a retired ANBU assassination specialist, hurried out and motioned for them. "Mass Hall," she directed.
Deer groaned before stalking in. Kakashi found himself quietly agreeing. The Mass Hall was underground, built below the Tower to fit as a room for mass information gathering, usually used only when the Hokage needed to address issues to all of Konoha's active as well as inactive shinobi: genin corps, genin teams, chuunin, tokujo, jounin, and ANBU. The fact that it was being opened up after seven years of dis-use didn't imply anything relatively benign. Steeling himself, Kakashi followed behind ANBU Locust.
By the time the three ANBU got to the Mass Hall, there were already a couple thousand shinobi gathered, almost the entire amount of shinobi troops in Konoha. He could see the genin, rubbing their eyes tiredly, glancing around with anxious trepidation. Many of them had never been to a war gathering, so they had no idea what was going on, but they were so proud, were they considered important now?
But, even in their excitement, they could read the atmosphere, the chuunin glancing about nervously, the jounin clumped together in moody silence, the ANBU slipping into familiar shadows.
There were probably a hundred thousand shinobi in the room, but even a pindrop could be heard.
Glancing up, Kakashi shunshin'ed to a relatively unoccupied alcove, giving a single nod to ANBU Crow before settling down in the comfort of the shadows. Thanks, he signed. Itachi gave a small nod in reply. His eyes seemed to hold no small amount of worry and accusation, you weren't at your apartment, they said. Kakashi wilted and gave a slight eye-smile. He'd sunk to a new low, then, depending on a thirteen year old boy for mental health checkups.
Half an hour passed, with some stray jounin and ANBU drifting into the Mass Hall before the Jounin and ANBU commander stepped out from the shadows. Another hour passed before, one by one, the village elders and the Sandaime stepped into the room and settled down into their provided chairs, grim looks on their faces.
Silence had frozen over into deathly silence and each shinobi in the room waited on baited breath for the address.
"We have received news from Kirigakure that Kumogakure no Sato has begun militarizing."
Immediately, Kakashi could tell the change in the room's atmosphere. He froze, muscles locking in on each other. What.
"Kirigakure no Sato has announced to us that they plan to begin militarizing within the week, after their next batch of Academy students graduate."
Kakashi felt almost as if his chest had been slammed by the Raikage's fist; he couldn't breathe. This meant—this meant war. Was the last one not enough? The Second and Third Shinobi Wars were barely twenty years apart and they devasted the entire elemental nations. And now, the Fourth one was starting? Barely ten years after the Third?
"We have reason to believe that Kumogakure has begun seeking alliances with other hidden villages."
No shit. So it's serious, then.
"After careful discussion with the Fire Daimyo, we have decided to start militarization. Martial Law will be put in place, effective immediately. A declaration of war will occur within the month."
Beside him, Kakashi could hear Itachi suck in a breath.
"All teams have been called back from the field. Missions from S to D have been cancelled for the foreseeable future. Mission's Desk is closed, effective immediately.
"The Fourth Shinobi War is on the horizon, but Konoha goes in stronger than before. We have allies on our side and the Will of Fire burns bright through our veins…"
Kakashi tuned the rest of the speech out; propaganda wasn't necessarily important; it was more for the genin and chuunin who'd never experienced front-line combat. Will of Fire, huh? He hadn't felt that in years. In fact, he quite literally felt like he abided by the Will of Ash, instead.
Closing his one eye, Kakashi tilted his head up towards the sky, or, what would've been the sky but was rather a concrete ceiling. Obito, Rin. Had they died in vain? For a peace that had never been achieved?
Eri calmly swung her legs as the iryo-nin by her side attempted to piece together the broken fragments of her left arm. Nurse-san had given her a red lollipop with chewy chocolate on the inside. In her opinion, it didn't taste quite as nice as it looked, but she rarely got treats like this, so it was better to be content rather than bitter.
Karatachi-sensei said that chichi-ue had information he wanted her to hear. She couldn't help but wonder what it was about. Would she get to see ani-ue again? Sparring with him was rather interesting, more interesting than with an ANBU, anyways. She'd heard that ani-ue was going to be initiated into the Seven Swordsmen soon. She wondered if she'd have time to congratulate him on his promotion.
Or—or maybe it was more training with Isobu-chama? It was funny. Everyone said that bijuu were monsters of incredible wisdom and power, but Isobu-chama seemed rather infantile and immature. Well, according to chichi-ue, that was just Isobu-chama's nature and it wasn't nice to make fun of someone's inner nature. And, chichi-ue had also said that because Isobu-chama was so youthful at heart, it would be easier for them to be friends! Which was relatively true, anyways. Other than Karatachi-sensei, Isobu-chama was her only friend. But she hoped he'd grow up, soon. It wasn't fun talking only about candy. She wanted to talk about jutsu!
"Alright, Eri. Lay down please." It seemed like Nurse-san was finished with her arm. Flexing it experimentally, she focused on running chakra up and down the bone structure, testing to see if it was just as durable as before it was broken. Satisfied, Eri nodded and lay back onto the sheets of the hospital bed. Nurse-san immediately got to work on her collarbone, conjuring a steady stream of green-blue healing chakra.
Eri liked the feeling of healing chakra; it always felt very warm and comforting and made her wonder what her own chakra felt like.
She knew what Isobu-chama's felt like. The first time they'd met, he'd been scared and lonely so he'd lashed out at her even though she was only trying to be friends. It had burned. Burned more than the fire. After the fact, she'd wondered if the burn was on par with the pain of the legendary Uchiha mangekyou-flames, Amaterasu. Chichi-ue had told her to stop being so silly, that Isobu-chama was a suiton-based bijuu and that it wasn't very logical for him to be using fire-natured ninjutsu attacks. She couldn't help but feel as if it wasn't necessarily a fire-natured ninjutsu attack but a massive, solid-chakra attack, but she'd bit back the remark.
Nurse-san had moved to her ankle by now, testing to see its damage. Noticing Eri's interest, Nurse-san gave her an eye-smile. "It's only a slight sprain, Houzuki-san. Your check-up will be over in a minute." Satisfied, Eri went back to chomping on her lollipop. Karatachi-sensei had told her to come find him after her check-up was done. It was bad form to keep a superior waiting and she didn't want to throw her lollipop away; that would be a rather wasteful usage for a treat, wouldn't it?
Isobu-chama laughed himself silly in her head. Treat, treat!
Eri giggled. Hai, Isobu-chama. A treat.