Live and Let Die
Chapter One
Leaves danced in his vision. The world seems blurry, disorienting, disconnected.
The air was crisp and cool, bringing with it the nostalgic aroma of winter snows and dying leaves. With each observation, he grew more aware that he is not in the same place as when he was last conscious. The missing chunk of time sits in his throat, constricting it. He is not aware of how long has passed, where he is, or the situation that he has awoken into. And unlike those missing chucks of time upon getting blackout drunk with Madara, this carries with it a distinct aura of dread and tense anticipation that snaps his long practiced shinobi thought process into control. There are many questions, but for now, the one of the most pressing importance is "where?"
A region that gets cold enough to snow in autumn and has deciduous trees? Perhaps Hi no Kuni or Mizu no Kuni.
Realizing the futility of continuing to lay helplessly on the ground, he sat up and let the blood rush out of his head, the world beginning to take a clearer shape. Suspiciously so. His senses had been so dulled for all the time spent in a bland and dank environment. The days and weeks and years had blended into each other. He felt alive again. It's like seeing the world for the first time. All the colors and scents and sounds. The glaring sunlight burning into his retinas as the brilliant golden rays caught his eyes through the rustling leaves. The tall grass waving quietly in the cool breeze, sending shivers of delight and a chill through his spine. The sound of that breeze weaving nimbly through the occasional oak tree and sending beautiful waves through the lightly colored grass.
Peering around, he identifies his brother on the ground next to him, awake but still gaining lucidity. Shallow cracks skitter across the surface of Hashirama's skin, and the tan color is just returning to his complexion. A sense of dread fills him, choking him. Had someone used the Edo Tensei to revive them? There didn't seem to be anyone else in the area, although Tobirama was beginning to feel the tickles in the back of his mind again. They are chakra signatures. Some in large groups, some in smaller groups, and some individual, although there was something strange about the frequencies of the chakra. They are disturbed, chaotic, showing the signs of emotional or mental stress. One of the lonely chakra signatures in particular, seeming to be the closest to their current location.
Turning, Tobirama attempted to shake Hashirama awake, his brother responding by pushing himself up and revealing to Tobirama that they indeed are alive once again, if Edo Tensei counts as life.
He won't understand. How could he ever understand? Just a child, but perhaps no more a child than Itachi himself. They awakened him each night, the nightmares. Horrible twisted screaming as he desperately searched for his brother amid the suffocating ash and debris. Sasuke's cries echoing in a heart wrenching cacophony. Sometimes there were others. Konoha shinobi and civilian alike, all ignoring his sobs and his pain as he searched for something that wasn't there. Sometimes he was alone, forced to crawl hopelessly through the dust, caking his forearms and knees in grease and sweat. He always knew it was a dream, but the sensations were so real, the emotional pain so raw, that although he knew it was a dream, the only way he is able to comfort himself as he thrashes himself awake among his bedsheets is to cross the room and peer down into Sasuke's nest. To pick him up, to stroke his soft black hair and feel his heartbeat. To fully ground himself in reality before stumbling back to bed in hopes of a few hours of barely restful, dreamless sleep.
Daylight comes too soon, and with it, Sasuke's cries, the dead eyes of the survivors, and another day of the weight of the world bearing down. Itachi could tell that it was coming, and the imminence of the threat was clearly not lost on anyone else. Suspicious eyes were cast in the direction of the Uchiha, which were met with equally as hostile stares, challenging someone to approach and ask if it were true, if the Uchiha orchestrated the attack on the village. If it were true, Itachi reasoned, the Uchiha would not be permitted to stroll about the village freely. Even if he had pointed this out to the people on the streets that pointed, whispered, and changed their path to avoid his own, he doubted his words would resonate. Fear controlled everyone, making them believe anything which would cast all the blame onto a single source, but reality is never so simple.
As they approached, Tobirama realized that the distressed chakra signature in question was one that he recognized. They had been soaring through the trees, enjoying the freedom granted by the unlimited chakra of his regrets. As soon as he placed the chakra with a name, he flew to a halt, landing on the nearest tree branch.
"What is it?" Hashirama questioned, "Are we being followed?"
"No," he answered cautiously, "I recognize the chakra signature. And the location."
Hashirama seemed overjoyed. Despite his carefree personality, even his boisterous brother was put on edge by the situation. "Well, that's great! If they're friendly, we can get help!"
Tobirama shook his head. "It's Tsunade, and I don't know how well she'll be able to help. Her chakra is weak and scattered. Something terrible has happened."
"Oh…" The trepidation had returned to Hashirama's gaze. Revival via Edo Tensei and what Tobirama had described as "strange chakra behavior" was enough evidence to constitute a possible crisis, but news that that crisis seemingly had something to do with Konoha… all he could do is pray that they had awakened in time to help. "Let's continue."
The Valley of the End, as it had been named. It was obviously a significant location to Hashirama, who paused and stared down into the gash with a thousand yard stare. Tobirama tapped him, and pointed to a location on the edge of the valley in which a figure was huddled miserably against the onslaught of the waterfall's mist, but unmoving. They leaped down. It was indeed Tsunade, although the last time Hashirama had seen her was when she was still small enough to ride on his shoulders. She was grown now, wearing civilian clothes with the exception of a pouch at her hip which was meant to hold weapons or medical supplies.
Hashirama felt his blood chill as he approached. It was clear why her chakra is so disturbed. She was desperately clinging to another person, with her face buried in its neck. Soft sounds leaked out over the roaring of the waterfall. Tobirama shook his head as Hashirama glanced at him. The woman in Tsunade's arms was dead, limp, but she was cradled against Tsunade in a way that almost made her seem as though she were asleep. Hashirama wondered briefly if the woman was Tsunade's daughter, but it was clear that now was not the time for speculation. Hashirama tentatively settled down next to Tsunade, folding his long legs under his body. He softly laid his hand against Tsunade's shoulder, hoping that she was aware enough to understand that he wasn't there to harm her. She started under his touch, but otherwise didn't move and didn't acknowledge him. He slid his arms around her, attempting to gently separate her from the corpse, which Tobirama quickly checked over. She kept a tight grip on the woman as she laid back against him, and the thought crossed his mind that he may be just as cold as lifeless as the body. Tobirama looked up at him and whispered, "She's not been dead long, perhaps an hour or two."
Hashirama studied Tsunade. Her skin was a bright white, with cold skin slick from the freezing cold water, her muscles were stiff and unyielding, and his attempts to make her more comfortable simply resulted in many pops along her spine as unused joints were brought back to life like machinery which hadn't been well oiled prior to startup. She still gave no indication that she even recognized their presence, even as Hashirama spoke softly, attempting to warm her cold body and thaw her mind to a functioning state. She was in her own world, ignoring all else as she clung to the body.
The dead woman wore a tattered Konoha uniform, beautiful, subtle, embroidery on the collar giving away her clan as Senju. Her hair was many shades darker than Tsunade's, closer to the color of his own long black hair. Her skin was quite pale, although Hashirama couldn't be quite sure what was her natural skin tone and what was caused by the natural process of death taking her body. Horrid third degree burns were visible through torn gaps in her uniform, one on her back even exposing parts of her shoulder blade and spine. She had died in combat, harsh combat by the look of it. The blood stained ground matched one side of her head, where her hair was matted by the blood and it almost seemed as though part of her skull was caved in, which Tobirama confirmed to be the cause of death.
The injuries, the medical gear carried by Tsunade, the Senju woman's time of death, and Tsunade's lack of mobility made the cause of her distress painfully clear. Tsunade had failed to save the life of someone close to her, and recognizing the inevitability of death, had given up, and the woman had died in Tsunade's arms. Her death had not come quickly or painlessly. It would have been hours of a hopeless struggle for life.
They were buried, all of them. Lowered into a pit and covered with dirt. It was hardly a proper burial, but they had no choice. They had to get the bodies out of the city before anything else could be accomplished. He hated it. Mass graves. So horrible, so disrespectful, reminiscent of the Blood Village of the Mist. The comparison hurt, although he was aware that the circumstances were quite different. Thousands had died last night, civilian and shinobi alike. The Kyuubi's wrath had crushed lives and spirits. The administration was busy handling calls, sorting paperwork, and assessing damage, and had tasked ANBU with the handling of the dead. The shinobi were buried without proper ceremony, each ANBU breathing his own prayers under his breath as the layers of bodies six feet under grew. The civilians were requested to be handled by an outside source, so all they could do was to drop off the body bags in a great pile.
He pulled another tag off a fallen shinobi, wiping the blood and grime off on his pants in order to read the name. No one he knew. "Number 265, Matoka Hiruko." He spoke monotonously, calmly. He had been kept from the brunt of the fighting with the rest of his classmates, so seeing the aftermath was shocking. All he could do now to keep from attacking whatever happened to be in his vicinity in his frustration was to keep himself emotionless. If he got emotional, he wouldn't be able to keep it together, he wouldn't be able to finish his duty.
He stopped for a moment to adjust his dog mask. The porcelain was suffocating, the heat of the new day sticking it to his face such that moving it required that he first peel the edges off of his skin before replacing it. It was still early, yet the temperature kept climbing, which was shaping this day up to be long and insufferable. The skin tight uniform and armor were restrictive and hot, but at least the parts of him drenched in sweat were then cooled off by the occasional breeze, which felt like sweet relief of being dunked into Hi no Kuni's northern rivers.
"Number 266, Umino Kohari."
Another load of files were unceremoniously dumped on his desk. Why did such things have to happen? They were nothing more than a troublesome excuse for more bureaucratic nonsense.
"Masa, would you get a message to my wife to let her know I won't be home until late tonight?" He hated to do this. They were out and about in downtown Konoha when the Kyuubi appeared. Shikaku had been forced to flee from the battle in order to secure his family from the tailed beast's onslaught, and he knew that he shouldn't be leaving her alone, but the duty to Konoha had to come first, no matter how much it pained him.
"This is the opportunity we have been waiting for…" Danzo's voice echoed through the underground chamber. He spoke to the entirety of ANBU Root's forces. It was simply a formality. In the absence of companions that shared his enthusiasm for his goals, he had taken to speaking his mind to his subordinates. They wouldn't attempt to overthrow him and he knew he had their support in his opinions. They didn't make for great conversation, but there was no need to have any kind of in depth discussion of the situation in Konoha. However, there was one face that was noticeably absent. Danzo wondered absentmindedly what that snake had gotten himself into the night prior.
This natural disaster's occurrence was due only to the ignorance of the Gokage. The world they have created is broken. Hashirama's paradox was finally coming back to bite them all, as even he was touted as the so called "God of Shinobi" had failed to resolve the hatred consuming the shinobi world. And that was alright. The world is fragile, and hatred is needed to give it strength, give it purpose. Shinobi had fought and died for a pathetic idea of peace that can never be accomplished. They had died in vain. They had died for no reason, all the while lying to others and lying to themselves that their deaths meant something. But that does not mean the world is wholly unsalvageable. Sometimes your potential is merely a measure of how willing you are to be brutally honest about the world and your place in it. The weakness of those in Konoha's light was all too clear to him, so he felt no need to justify his position to the Elders. After all, they had made up their minds and were unwilling to hear him out. "This is it. We must make our move soon. Konoha is weak. We shall build it up from these ashes."
"Execute the plan." He ordered calmly, suppressing the giddiness he felt at the idea of his effort for Konoha's sake finally bearing fruit. At once the Root members were gone, and Danzo was left to his own thoughts as if his army had never been there in the first place.
He looked warm and safe, bundled up in perhaps an excessive amount of blankets, due to his father's paranoia. A slender finger stroked through the child's palm, and was reflexively grasped in a grip that seemed to melt his uncertainty and his fear of the world. But she was gone. It was painful. In the end, there was nothing that could be done by either himself or Ise which could have saved Kushina's life. He didn't know how he felt. One moment, he hoped she would walk through the door so he could profusely thank her and hug her for allowing him to survive the attack so that he would have the chance to see his son grow and survive. He was overjoyed, but merely moments later he could be consumed by rage at the same person. How dare she! Sealing a monster inside of his son, only to disappear into the night moments later.
He knew on some level that his anger is unreasonable, as he too had seen the masked man, had seen his power, and had felt Ise's awareness that that fight would be her last. She knew something, and he hoped that she survived to share that knowledge. And yet, no matter how many reassurances he received, no matter how many people repeated that there was a search team out, he knew that if she were ever found, she would be found dead. It had been nearly 48 hours with the best sensory ninja scanning not just Hi no Kuni, but surrounding nations as well.
Hello readers! I would like to clarify that this is a oneshot that is meant to get some feedback on the ideas and the writing from the community before I proceed in writing more chapters. If you have read this far, I would appreciate a review with some feedback both positive and negative!