The Root of Betrayal
R. Winters
Disclaimer: I don't own people or places from Naruto, but the idea's all mine.
ETB (the sequel to Sphere of Influence) is coming along a little reluctantly, the beginning needs to be hashed out a little more solidly, and I haven't had the time to focus on it and get a lot done in the last... oh, six months. But I am working on it, and I expect to work through those problems and start posting within the next... two months, maybe (unless things get even busier than I think they will). In the meantime, this story has been coming really easily.
I always thought it was ridiculous that a shinobi of Sakumo's caliber would just shrivel up and die because he failed one stupid mission, even if there was tension between him and the villagers because of it. It would take an awful lot for someone who's been through as much as him to just fall. My solution? He was pushed. Hope you enjoy this little trip into the past. Let me know what you think!
Chapter 1 – This Coming War
Sakumo paused just inside the door, dark eyes swiftly sweeping the room. His expression hardened and his shoulders became a little squarer.
"Gatsu." The tanned, thick-set man nodded at him, his face set grimly. His dark hair was buzzed short and the rigid scars running down the left side of his face looked particularly taut.
"Haru." The thin man glanced at him with nervous red eyes. His lithe muscles were tense and his face worried under a shaggy, haphazard haircut. He looked away again quickly.
"Sayuri-san." The woman managed a tight smile in his direction, but like the two men, her face was weathered and worn and her manner was preoccupied as she slid a length of stringy brown hair behind her ear, turning away again.
"Hokage-sama," Sakumo acknowledged last, turning to the older man who had summoned him. "This must be serious if you've brought the four of us together again."
Gatsu grunted and Sakumo wasn't quite sure if it was an agreement or scorn.
"Yes," the Sandaime confirmed grimly, but didn't continue. He looked towards the door pointedly and Sakumo stepped back to lock it firmly, wards rising into place as the lock connected.
The Hokage leaned forward over his desk, frowning soberly around the group and began in a low tone. "Our sources have revealed a mass of Iwagakure forces just inside their borders. Two weeks from today, representatives from Sunagakure and Kusagakure will be joining them."
"The evidence that our spies have managed to glean indicate that they are plotting to strike against us," the Sandaime continued grimly. "Your mission… is to sabotage this meeting. There are to be no witnesses that can trace you back to this village, and the representatives of the three countries must not survive. Iwa-nin casualties are considered acceptable but not necessary for the success of this mission."
He leveled each of the four shinobi with a stern look. "I want all of you to understand how important this mission is. If Iwa, Suna, and Kusa form a pact against us, it could very well be the end of Leaf."
"A war is coming, and it may very well be inevitable at this point. But it is imperative that we ensure it is one we can survive."
Silence pressed heavily around the four shinobi, sitting under the waning light of the silvery moon as it drifted between bare branches.
Sakumo sat with his shoulder blades against a thick tree, watching the motions of Sayuri's brush as the detonation specialist scripted another tag. He glanced up at a shuffling to his left and offered a tight smile to Haru as the lithe man paused at his side.
Taking the expression as an invitation, Haru hunched down beside him.
"What have you come up with?" He asked without preamble, his voice tight and the inflection high with anxiety.
Sakumo sighed, shifting to turn his attention more fully towards his teammate.
"… They're relying too heavily on the cliff as a natural barrier and protection for the camp," he supplied at length. "The other sides are protected by the army, so that will be their weak spot."
Sakumo paused, and a glance up revealed that the other two were listening, as well. He shifted forward slightly and began drawing in the dusty ground with his finger.
"They chose an ideal location to host the meeting. The Itchigawa River runs to the North," he drew a thick, curved line in the ground, "Preventing mass travel through this area. Add to that this forest on the east," he made short, rapid lines in the dirt, "And potential enemies would be unable to bring in the kind of heavy equipment needed to take out the entire camp."
He moved left to the empty patch of dirt and sketched the rough lines of the cliffs. "This will most likely be the location they've chosen for their meeting," he added, drawing in the square tent they had seen nestled in the bodice of the cliffs. "And in addition to the natural barriers of the river, forest, and cliff, they've positioned the barracks to the North, East, and West." He drew in the three long tents and tapped firmly on the cliff.
"Unless we want to mess with a hundred battle ready shinobi, we have to hit the cliff," he supplied, "It's their one weak spot."
Sayuri scowled. "You aren't thinking, Sakumo," she growled. "These are Iwa-nin," she stressed, "They want us to attack the cliff. They're prepared to deal with that—that's why they've so brazenly set their dignitaries at its feet."
Gatsu made a noise of agreement and Haru's head bobbed.
"If we go after the cliff, they'll erect shields before anything can get through," the thin man added, "We've seen it before. We'd be dead meat and the mission would be a spectacular failure."
"I'm not suggesting we blow it up," Sakumo said patiently. He drew X's along the top of the cliff. "We take out their sentries just before dawn, and then we're going down the cliff, into the heart of their camp." He stabbed the square tent at the bottom again.
"Even at night, their guards will be watching," Gatsu grunted.
"They'll pick us off that cliff like flies," Sayuri agreed.
Sakumo snorted and sent a pointed look across at Haru. "That's what we've got him for."
The thin man colored slightly, his neck and ears burning red. "I don't know about that, Sakumo," he said anxiously, "A hundred people… that's too many."
"It's closer to a hundred and fifty," Gatsu corrected roughly.
Haru's face reddened further and sweat beaded on his forehead.
"Haru," Sakumo interceded firmly, "I know you have what we need. It's why the Hokage sent you, after all. Your Genjutsu will hide us during the decent. Besides, it will be early and most of the men will be in their tents. You only need to hide us from the lookouts."
"I… can do that," Haru said faintly, still pink around the face, "Maybe."
"With us down, Haru will remain at the top to cover for the sentries," Sakumo added. "We're going to have to hide ourselves in the camp until the meeting takes place and the targets are together. Sayuri will use her jutsu to plant the bombs. If necessary, Gatsu and I will instigate a distraction here." He pointed to the tent running along the cliffs on the east.
"Things are going to be close," he added, "But we've done things tougher than this."
Gatsu snorted in disbelief.
"The incident in Waterfall," Sakumo reminded him, "Of everyone, I would think you'd remember that, Gatsu." It was, after all, where the larger man had gotten the scars on his face, and a set to match across his shoulders.
Haru let out a breathy, nervous laugh which the thick-set man stifled with a glare.
"Still," Sayuri leaned over Sakumo's rough drawing and smeared her thumb over the square meeting tent. "You've only gotten us in, Sakumo. That place is a death trap."
The silver-haired man sighed and leaned back again. "There won't be any easy way out," he muttered uncomfortably. "Our best chance will be Itchigawa River. If we can make it there, the current will carry us east."
"That's a big IF," Gatsu grumbled.
"It is," Sakumo agreed grudgingly. "We might not all make it. Our best chance will be to pull out through the second and third tents." He pointed. "They'll be expecting us to head east, through the first and second, or even along the cliff, so the guards will be heavier. If we angle back into Rock Country, we'll have an element of surprise."
He looked at the scribbled drawing of the base and then at his teammates gathered around him.
"If it's us… we still have a chance," he muttered.
It was a dark, moonless pre-dawn. The four Konoha-nin had their hitai-ate safely tucked away in their pockets, and their mouths covered to prevent the enemy from seeing the gleam of their teeth.
The Iwa-nin were on guard; walking the cliffs in tense groups of twos and threes.
Sakumo and his team worked swiftly and silently; twisting necks and piercing through the throat or the eye to expedite and eliminate the often noisy throes of death. They were an efficient and deadly group, passing in shadow and blood.
Haru looked slightly green as they flattened themselves against the ground and crawled to the edge of the cliff, peering down at the camp below.
"I don't think I can do this," he worried in a strained whisper.
"You know you can," Sayuri hissed back, shooting the man a glare. "Stop acting like such a coward!"
Color began to bleed into the man's neck and ears. "I just… really don't think I can do this… Sakumo."
Gatsu grunted in irritation and Sayuri growled at Sakumo's side.
The silver haired man sighed softly. "You can do this, Haru," he said with exasperation. "You're among the top Genjutsu experts in the village—on par with the Uchiha, even. You can do this," he repeated when Haru began to protest, "Remember that time in Lightning Country? This will be child's play in comparison."
Haru squeaked out a strangled sort of whimper.
"He's been useless since that incident at Yoru Harbor last spring," Sayuri grumbled beside him. "I don't know why the Hokage insisted we bring him. It should've been an Uchiha—this guy's nothing more than a simpering poltroon."
Haru flushed at the insult. "It's not like that! I just… I don't want to be the one that screws this up. Not only will you three be dead; but the village will be destroyed and it'll be my fault. You don't know what it's like to have that kind of pressure riding on your shoulders!" He sighed and shook his head, shaggy hear flopping in his eyes, "I don't know why the Hokage chose me for this, either."
"Of course I don't know what it's like," the woman scoffed with irritation, "I just set the bombs, is that it?"
"Dawn's coming," Gatsu pointed out gruffly.
Sakumo nodded, "Gatsu's right, you two. We don't have time to argue over this. Haru—the Hokage chose you because us four work well together. We've tackled difficult missions before, and you've always come through for us in the past, just like I know you'll come through for us this time. What happened at Yoru Harbor was a one-time thing. I know you've been training since then, and you're even stronger now. You won't let us down."
Haru was conspicuously silent and Sakumo didn't linger for a reply.
"Gatsu, Sayuri," he ordered, "Let's get over."
Together the two men crawled forward, easing themselves over the edge slowly and carefully.
"And Haru," Sayuri added, taking the time to pin the thin man with a final glare, "If you do screw this up… I'll kill you."
Haru swallowed nervously as the kunoichi followed the others over the edge. He took a long, shuddering breath and peered over the edge again, first at his teammates and then at the watch fires below. Red eyes ringed with worry, his hands moved quickly through familiar strings of seals and sweat beaded on his brow as he began to weave his illusion.
"Left—three." Gatsu's low voice was pitched to carry no further than the ears of his teammates.
Sakumo and Sayuri needed no further direction. They continued down until they reached the position their teammate had vacated before moving across the cliff—left, three meters—and then continued their descent.
"Right—one. Down—one. Right—one half."
It was slow, tedious work, climbing on a cliff face riddles with traps and alarms. But with one of the best ANBU-trained counter-intelligence guiding their trail, they'd yet to run into anything more dangerous than a startled, fist-sized spider, which skittered away from the group rather than instigate conflict.
"Left—two. Down—one. Right—four."
Sakumo wasn't worried. Gatsu was very good at what he did and he trusted the larger man with his life. He trusted each member of his cell, and he'd worked with them all in the past. But as they drew nearer to the camp below, and their path became increasingly complicated, the one he was really concerned about was Haru.
"Right—three quarters. Up—one half. Right—two."
Because Haru hadn't been the same since he'd lost his team at Yoru Harbor, and he wasn't the man Sakumo remembered working with in the past. For all his professed confidence, he couldn't help but worry.
Haru had cracked under the pressure once, and he very well might do so again.
"Right—five. Down—three. Left—one and a half. Up—three quarters. Left—two thirds."
Sakumo resisted the urge to look up. He wouldn't be able to see Haru, anyway, and his teammates didn't need to know about his doubts. He needed to believe Haru was as good as he knew he was. He needed to believe the Hokage hadn't made a mistake in assigning the debunked shinobi to this mission.
"Angle—three right, two down."
Their dark uniforms were spotted with sweat and covered in a layer of dust and dirt when they finally stepped on the ground in the orange-red glow of dawn. They barely dared to breathe as they moved along the foot of the cliff, crouched low with careful steps.
It wouldn't be the sound that would give them away, Sakumo thought wryly, still sandwiched between his two teammates, it would be the smell.
Pressing against the face of the cliff, the Jounin disappeared, swallowed up by their surroundings.
They remained where they were, frozen perfectly still, silent. And they waited, watching as the Iwa camp slowly began to wake.
Haru retreated from the edge of the cliff the moment he was certain his teammates were on the ground. He felt a brief wash of relief, but the tension returned quickly because his job wasn't even near finished.
Sakumo and the others were in the camp, and if they were realized the mission would be over almost before it began. They'd be able to hide themselves well enough as long as they didn't move, but that was only half the problem.
The lithe man grimaced as one of the radios they'd taken off the sentries hissed to life. He reached for it and hastily slipped the earpiece onto his head.
Sweat gathered on his brow again as he performed a new set of hand seals and waited a second longer than necessary to be sure it had taken affect. The voice in his ear demanded he report and he would already be arousing suspicion.
"Tango-Delta-Charlie-Two-One-One," he supplied, the nervousness on his face carefully schooled out of his voice. "Situation normal."
He bluffed his way through the rest of the conversation, and breathed a sigh of relief when he took the headset off a few seconds later.
But it wasn't over and he still had a long ways to go. Looking despairingly at the confiscated radios, Haru glanced at the tags before reluctantly picking up the next set. He set it over his ear just in time—the speaker crackled as he was ordered to report in.
Swiftly, he formed the hand seals again.
Genjutsu: Gamashii On!
"She said if that's how I felt, I could do it myself."
"No way—not Chitsuke-san!"
"And she meant it, too—packed her bags and went to her sister's that same night."
"That's hilarious! What are you—"
Sayuri hid, frozen, her chakra suppressed and a basic Genjutsu disguising her presence as the two guards passed, chatting quietly. She didn't move. She didn't even breathe until they were well past her.
Finally, the third representative appeared from between the third tent and the face of the cliff. He was dressed in grays and greens, with a hitai-ate displaying his allegiance to Kusagakure and long brown hair down around his shoulders.
Three Kusa-nin were with him, and the group moved at a relaxed pace towards the square tent where the representatives from Suna and Iwa were already waiting. The guarded way they watched the Iwa-nin belied the casual front they attempted to produce.
Sayuri's lip twitched very slightly. They were right to be nervous. The Iwa-nin would as soon put a kunai in their back; after all, they were here plotting betrayal and war already.
With the three representatives inside, Iwa-nin seemed to crawl out of every corner; the guard doubled or tripled. They knew how important this meeting was, and they would take every precaution to ensure its success.
It was too bad for them that Konoha was taking every precaution to ensure that it failed.
Moving with slow, measured, soundless steps, Sayuri shifted across to a more accessible position. Very slowly, she pulled one of the tags she'd prepared from her pouch.
The woman closed her eyes briefly, steadying her chakra and ensuring the Genjutsu was still securely in place. If she was caught so quickly, even a distraction wouldn't save her.
Opening them again, the kunoichi's fingers began to form seals, moving fluidly around the paper clutched between her thumbs. She concluded with her thumbs and middle fingers pressed against each other through the paper, angled towards the nearest corner of the tent.
Bakudan Enkin!
With a flare of chakra, the seal that she'd painstakingly scripted vanished from the paper and reappeared on the folds of the tent fifteen meters away.
Sayuri took a quick intake of breath and closed her eyes, focusing inwards; strengthening and doubling the effort she was spending on her Genjutsu. Already the voices of the guards were raised in alarm. She couldn't allow them to find her, but she had to finish quickly.
The swarming Iwa-nin suddenly began running, and a brief glance to the right clearly revealed the reason. Sakumo and Gatsu had revealed themselves. It was time to finish things.
Swiftly, she pulled another tag from her pouch, and began the seals again, this time aiming towards the second corner of the tent.
Gatsu broke out of hiding the instant he felt Sayuri's chakra. He formed seals before the Iwa-nin even noticed him. He slammed his hand into the ground just as the alarm was raised and spikes of rock ripped through the earth.
The jutsu immediately drew the attention of the Iwa-nin as their comrades were knocked brutally through the air—two of their brethren impaled on the sharp stone that was so often their ally.
Gatsu drew a pair of kunai, one in each hand, and was blocking enemy projectiles almost before his jutsu had run its course.
Konoha's White Fang appeared, then, bursting out of nowhere in a whirlwind of white and blood as his chakra blade ripped through the shinobi attacking his teammate. Three were dead before the shouts were taken up.
The Iwa-nin pulled back; scattered in groups of threes and fours around them, nervous anticipation thick in the air. Gatsu moved to stand back-to-back with Sakumo, both shinobi breathing heavily from the sudden burst of action.
"Should you have used that jutsu?" The gruff man asked quietly without looking at his teammate.
"They would've recognized me, anyway," Sakumo excused. There were few who couldn't, after his feats in the Second Secret War.
Gatsu grunted; "Time to act."
Without acknowledging the statement, Sakumo was back in motion, white chakra leaping up his tantō again. Behind him, Gatsu's hands flashed through seals as Sayuri's chakra flashed through the air a second time.
The spikes exploded into rocks ranging from fist to head sizes. They flew through the air in controlled madness, purposely bursting away from the two Konoha shinobi. The Iwa-nin were battered, but while the front ranks took a moment to recover, those behind them were already attacking.
Sakumo sprang to meet them like a loosed dog, the short sword that gave him his name ripping through his enemies with fervor. He took two off guard, blocked on the right, and swung the sword around to cleave the head from his enemy.
Three were already at his back. The Jounin struck one with a mule kick, and managed to bring his blade around in time to block the kunai of the second. He spun out of the way of the third, but felt the sting of a graze on his hip. Ignoring it, he pushed through on the second, cracking the resisting arm and plunging his sword through the man's chest, then tearing it free again as four more shinobi pressed in around him.
They felt the third flare of chakra from Sayuri, but both men were too involved in their struggles to cast a jutsu of their own. The Iwa-nin felt it, too, and there was nothing to be done as a fraction of the forces at the rear broke off in search of their third teammate.
Gatsu was quickly running low on kunai, too pressed by subsequent attacks to reclaim any he used in his own. His thick arm blocked a blow meant for his face, the kunai digging deep and hitting bone while the majority of his attention was focused on the pair of shinobi relentlessly striking from his right.
Pain flared in the man's senses, overtaking him for just an instant, and his head was crushed in from behind—the Konoha-nin's body burst into smoke and the man reappeared a meter and a half to his right, head swimming as blood ran swiftly from his left arm.
He threw the kunai he was holding, hitting one of the Iwa-nin he'd been attacked by a moment before through the neck and another on the side of the chest.
A fourth flare of chakra assured the two Leaf-nin that Sayuri was still safe, for the moment. Sakumo pushed his own chakra into his legs and sliced the chest of a man open as he leaped out of the tight group, landing in time to cut through two of the shinobi harassing Gatsu.
"We need to get out of here," he said, the words escaping him in a breathless burst, spinning to meet the shinobi who'd followed him.
Gatsu grunted a pained response, "Anytime."
Sayuri let out a curse when a flock of kunai flew down at her as she was preparing another explosion tag. Unable to complete the jutsu, she let the tag fall and leaped out of the way, a cry of pain escaping her as five kunai embedded themselves in her legs. She bit clean through her lower lip as she landed, her jaws clenching to keep in a second shout. Her legs buckled underneath her as pain battered her nervous system and she went down, catching herself in a crouch with her hands.
The Iwa-nin approached her slowly, forming a ring around her and Sayuri cursed, spitting out a mouthful of blood and glaring up at them.
If they thought they could take her alive—she'd show them something else.
Her legs cried out in painful protest when she lifted her hands, her weight entirely resting on her injured limbs again. The Iwa-nin rushed in, but she'd already formed her seal, and the dropped explosion tag burst into flames and force, catching almost half the ring of shinobi in its blast and knocking Sayuri on her back.
She grinned with bloodstained lips as the enemy closed in to kill her before she could cause further damage, but their kunai never connected because flaming white steel sliced through flesh, muscle, and bone like it wasn't even there.
Relief washed over her until she saw the dozens of Iwa-nin closing in on them, trailing after her teammates like a pack of starving craven.
It was as good as over, but she could think of worse ways to go. Her eyes flicked across to the tent as Sakumo and Gatsu rushed around her, taking out the remaining Iwa-nin that had had her cornered—admittedly, Sakumo was taking out more than his share, Gatsu's left arm hanging dead by his side.
"Sakumo," she croaked hoarsely as the man threw a handful of shuriken in the direction of the fast-approaching enemies. "I'm going to blow it, but I need time."
Black eyes snapped down at her quickly, narrowed and hard. For a second, he didn't reply, then he shook his head, bending over her as Gatsu unleashed another earth jutsu at the closing Iwa-nin.
"We can still make it out of this," he said gruffly, easing an arm under her shoulders. "I'll carry you; you can blow it now, as we run."
"I don't have enough," Sayuri argued, "I need at least one more detonator; three would be ideal—you can keep them off of me long enough to finish the job."
"This should be plenty," Sakumo reasoned.
"We need more, Sakumo," Sayuri said firmly, reaching for her pouch.
Gatsu grunted in pain as he matched blades with the first of their adversaries to arrive. Sakumo glanced at him briefly and then looked back at his teammate, shaking his head. He scooped under her injured legs with his other arm and hefted her weight as he stood. Sayuri swallowed another cry of pain.
"We're getting out of here," the silver-haired man said sternly. "Four will be enough."
Shifting the woman's body over one shoulder, he used his freed hand to throw several kunai at the closest Iwa-nin. "Gatsu!" He snapped sharply. They had to end this.
"Sakumo!" Sayuri cried in protest, but it fell on deaf ears—Sakumo was already moving.
He was past the tent in a matter of seconds, spinning in midair to meet enemy strikes and pushing them away or twisting around to repay them strike for strike—and his met flesh more often than not. Gatsu took several seconds longer to catch up with them and Sakumo's arm tightened around the woman's torso.
"Sayuri, you have to do it now," he ordered firmly, his hard tone leaving no room for the argument on the tip of the woman's tongue.
Scowling, she awkwardly performed the seals for her final technique, and released the fury of four of her homemade explosive tags on one site.
The force of the explosion was enough to knock even the retreating Konoha-nin from their feet. Sakumo's grip faltered and Sayuri tumbled across the ground, the pain finally pushing her into oblivion. Gatsu was thrown through the air, and he landed among an unfortunate group of Iwa-nin—he could barely see through the pain to defend himself. Sakumo himself managed to stick his landing, rolling to his feet when he hit the ground.
The remains of the tent were smoking at the base of the cliff, and Iwa-nin were rushing towards it in hoards, anxious to protect their leaders. But not all of them had forgotten about the intruders and as many as were rushing towards the tent—more were running towards them.
Cursing under his breath, Sakumo formed a string of hand seals in a second, throwing a burst of white-hot lightning flying towards the approaching men. He sprinted across to Sayuri, took an instant to feel for the woman's thready pulse, and heaved her back onto his shoulder before searching the streets for his second teammate.
"Gatsu!" He shouted as his eyes landed on the man, face down in a pool of blood surrounded by the bodies of Iwa-nin.
The man stirred, arms twitching and shoulders shifting, but he couldn't make it to his feet and the Iwa-nin were closing on them again.
Cursing a second time, Sakumo rushed to his teammate's side. Things could hardly have turned worse; but at least they were still alive. He grabbed the man's arm with his free hand and heaved him upright. Gatsu's legs trembled underneath him and his face was slick with sweat and blood.
Sakumo pushed his arm under the man's shoulders, supporting the majority of the man's weight against his side.
His jaw tightened as he began to run, Sayuri over one shoulder and Gatsu half-dragging at his side.