-2-

They went back to the stranger's camp during the daytime, hoping that the morning light would unveil some of the mystery. They'd followed the flickering orange light of fire in the dark, eyes keen and yellow as those of wolves, gait steady and silent. They had picked over leaves and branches and soil without difficulty, leaving barely a trace of their passing.

And when they arrived, they'd found nothing. Yuka had turned his glowing eyes on her and shrugged. Oh, to be certain, there were traces of heat -- the embers of the dying fire flared white to Juri's perception, and here and there footprints were fading quickly to a dull brown against the cold black ground. But there was no living thing nearby save for the birds and snakes and insects.

This morning was no different. The fires had died completely -- two fires? Juri shook her head in confusion. Had it merely been a tactic to throw them off? She turned to Outa; the bald man was sitting on his haunches, studying the ground.

"These are the tracks we saw last night," he said with his usual calm. "but none of them are human."

Juri resisted the urge to yell something obscene and instead reached roughly back to tighten the thong on her fire-coloured pony-tail, now greasy and dirty from a day and night in the forest. "I don't see how that makes sense," she said patiently.

Outa shrugged bare, muscled shoulders. "Neither do I. These canine tracks are everywhere, though. Big wolf or huge dog -- it's possible he used a summoning technique."

Juri nodded, willing to accept that at least. "Unless he was riding the thing, you'd think he would have left footprints, though…"

Just then, Yuka's voice rang out, harsh and clear in the morning air. "Found a deer carcass over here!" The man's shaggy head was poking up over a patch of foliage, and his tanned arm was waving. Juri went over to him, looked down over her nose. She grimaced at the mangled animal, half-skinned, it's entrails neatly arranged on the grass beside it. Yuka was handling it roughly with his hands, oblivious to how totally disgusting it was. Maggots migrated from the corpse to his arms, and he brushed them off absently.

"How is that going to help us?" Juri demanded, a hand over her mouth and nose. Yuka looked up in surprise.

"Well, y'know," he said dimly, "never know if you're gonna find something useful. Besides, we might need some meat for the road later on -- "

"Ew!" Juri stomped a foot. "It's been lying out all night, and it's got maggots all over it! I am not eating that!"

Outa arrived soundlessly. Their older brother shook his sparse head glumly. "Grow up, Juri." She stared at him. A blonde mould seemed to be growing on his scalp; she stared in wonderment -- how long had it been since Outa had gone a day without shaving?

He continued. "Unfortunately, Yuka, she is right. It does not take long for deadly bacteria to grow, especially in these conditions."

Yuka looked resignedly down at his hands, bloody to the wrists. "It's just, y'know," he said in mild embarrassment, "eating instant noodles gets boring all the time."

Outa ignored the comment, already drinking in the forest again with his dark grey eyes. Outa missed nothing, Juri knew. Ever since they were children together, Outa had been the serious one, the one who embodied what a true Idaten should be. He was the prodigy of their father, the pride of the clan. One day, Outa would be the patriarch of Clan Idaten, Juri knew somewhere in the back of her mind, and he must have known it too: he already acted the part.

Outa's gaze suddenly snapped back to the fire pit, and he crouched again beside it, slowly. Everything he did was measured in even doses. Juri watched her big brother extend one strong finger to poke at the ground. A smile tugged gently at the corners of his normally wooden mouth. Juri held her breath -- this was Outa at his most elated, amused, or otherwise emotional.

"Hah," he said, calmly. Outa never laughed, instead voicing his mirth in monosyllabic statements. "This is interesting."

When Outa said things like that, Juri and Yuka listened. Juri came to stand behind him, squinting over his shoulder at where his finger stabbed into the dirt. Yuka leapt over a bush and jogged up, wiping his bloody hands on his pants. Juri grimaced.

"They," said Outa, "are not canine tracks after all. They are in fact the footprints of our friend from the inn."

Juri looked closer. She couldn't really tell, not really, but she knew what he was getting at. "He's wearing ashiaro," she posited carefully, gauging Outa's reaction. To her relief, the man nodded his head sombrely. Inwardly, Juri winced -- he'd been able to tell just by looking. To her, the tracks still appeared genuine. But she didn't want to give up her small victory.

Outa read her, though. His grey eyes smiled sardonically at her even if his mouth was a flat line. "That's right. I haven't seen that tactic in years." Outa straightened his legs and stroked the fuzz forming on his chin. "He is an interesting man; do you realize he was watching us in the restaurant? And he held the bow in an unorthodox fashion as well, bracing his arrow against the sword, his grasp on the nocks reversed."

Outa was acting out his words, his knotted bare arms up, holding an imaginary bow and arrow. Yuka was staring blankly at him, probably wondering yet again why their brother was such a conundrum. Juri knew she hadn't been looking at the stranger's shooting stance, and if she had she probably wouldn't remember it in such detail.

Which was all doubtless part of the reason Outa was the prodigy and not either of them.

"We search the area," said Outa. "We will not find him or any conclusive evidence of him, but any clue may point us in the right direction."

"Remind me again," said Yuka, scratching fiercely up under his mound of hair. "Are we sure he's going in the right direction? I mean, what if the guy's just giving up, heading back to Konoha. Wouldn't that be a waste of our time."

Outa shook his head once, eyes half closed with a trace of contempt. "He knows what he's doing, and I think I know it too. Our friend has taken our mutual failure in Shikuba as a sign of Uchiha Itachi's tactical sense, I believe. There isn't much to go on, but I perceive now that Itachi, instead of fleeing away from Konoha as is expected of him, will instead move closer to the hidden village. Perhaps he intends to surprise his pursuers, or perhaps he merely intends to hide in plain sight while the search spreads farther and farther outwards from Konoha. That is what our friend believes. I think he is right."

Juri nodded. She was beginning to understand. In truth, following the stranger had initially seemed to be folly, but now it made a bit more sense. She cringed inwardly, knowing she shouldn't have doubted Outa even for a second. She said, "and we know that Itachi was recently in Shikuba, if only as a diversion. So he may actually be nearby. But what if that man catches up to the Uchiha kid before us?"

"That is why," said Outa, nodding, "we have to catch up to our friend as soon as possible. Yet he is a difficult quarry himself. Once we have acquired his trail again, we need to be prepared to attack at a moment's notice."

"Attack?" Juri was suddenly uneasy. "He wasn't hostile in the inn, though, really…"

"There is no choice," Outa said firmly. "There is no room for another party. He will demand at least half the bounty, and if he doesn't get it he will attack us anyway." And then Outa's eyes were smiling again and he extended a hand to tousle Juri's hair. She felt like a child again, always felt like a child around him. "Do not worry, little sister. I will allow him the chance to surrender honourably, but if he refuses, well," her brother's iron-coloured eyes narrowed. His hand was warm and heavy on her head.

"He shall not harm you."

After that, Outa went back over to the fire pit and stooped, hands clasped behind his back. He stared at the ground and slowly made his way off into the forest. They followed their older brother as he rustled past leaves and shouldered his way around thin branches. Juri grimaced as tiny wooden fingers scraped her cheek.

Outa came to a halt staring expectantly at the black bark of a massive tree, easily as wide in its trunk as Juri was tall. Outa planted a boot on one of its gargantuan roots and stared at the ground; then he looked up, and then up again, his gaze tracking all the way to the canopy of greenery above.

He said, "Hah."

Outa turned to look at each of his siblings in turn, grey eyes wide and clear, then back at the tree. He craned his neck and turned in a slow circle, mouth slightly agape. Then, with no warning at all, he gave a quick nod and broke into a run. An Outa run, fast as a jungle cat and almost as nimble. His sandal-bound feet flew over mud, fallen logs, matted leaves without faltering.

It was all they could do to keep up with them, and Juri was almost embarrassed as he slowed his stride so they could pace him. As she winced and hunched her shoulders to protect against twigs and leaves, dodging a sapling that hurled itself in her way, she heard Outa say something over the drumbeat of his perfect run. "He moves by treetop."

Juri thought about that, a resigned kind of dread slumping her shoulders. "He's a ninja?" she called back, incredulous.

"I believe so."

They ran on through the forest, but Juri had to wonder if even the pace they set could catch up with a ninja who moved by treetop. They were said to be able to jump great distances, hold themselves to the tree with chakra -- upside-down if they wished to, and move from one spot to another in the blink of an eye. Chasing Itachi, she had reasoned during the first days of their hunt, would be easy for the three of them, seasoned Idaten trackers. But this strange ninja with the beige cloak had cast doubt in her mind; if Itachi was even better than he, they were in for a rough time.

She had faith in Outa, though. He was as confident as always.

They ran on for hours. By the time Outa called a halt and they skidded to a stop amid tangled foliage, the stars stretched across the sky, and the moon was huge and white. Juri could hear the crickets now, startlingly loud. The forest seemed a very alive and dangerous place. She kept imagining that she could see shapes shifting in the blackness, but whenever she stopped to stare, there was nothing.

The moonlight illuminated Outa's face -- a single drop of sweat rolled down his forehead, and his mouth was a hard line. Juri slouched, breathing hard, her hair greasy with sweat, and Yuka had already plunked himself into the dirt, yawning. "Let's get a fire on -- "he began.

"No fire," Outa still stood erect, his back to them. Pale light limned his fuzzy scalp. "I will take first watch. We rest for three hours, then continue on. We must catch up."

Juri groaned and heaved her pack off of her shoulders. She laid out the thick sleeping-bag on the ground and crawled inside; every muscle buzzed with dull pain from their day of running. She was trained for this; this was no problem. But… three hours? That meant only two hours of sleep, because Outa would want them to split the watch three ways. She ate two hunks of dry brown bread from her pack, and took a long pull of her water canteen. Then she closed her eyes and felt her consciousness begin to recede like the tide.

Outa was shaking her gently. She moaned and cracked her eyes open. Her head hurt. "Just let me sleep, Outa," she complained.

"It is your turn for the watch," he said, watching her. He would watch her until he was certain she was alert and watching the forest for activity, she knew, not like Yuka who would give her a shove and then crawl off to bed.

Juri sat up and massaged her head. The moon was still bright as anything, black leaves and branches silhouetted against it. Still in the sleeping bag, she shuffled over the ground to a tree and propped her back against it, pulling her knife-belt up from inside.

"No," said Outa sternly. "Out of the blankets. You'll doze off."

She grunted. "Head hurts."

"Drink more water. Out of the sleeping bag, sister."

With a final recalcitrant stare at him, she slipped out of the sleeping bag and shivered, fastening the knife-belt back around her waist. Outa finally seemed satisfied. He pulled his own blanket about himself and lay down with his head resting on his pack.

Juri shivered, left alone with the night, and the moon and the stars. The night seemed to move now more than ever, and twigs snapped, and every rustling leaf sounded like Uchiha Itachi slipping through the darkness with a knife. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. She was glad at least that she had her brothers with her -- even Yuka, the oaf. She was glad not to be the stranger in the beige cloak, alone, travelling through darkness.

Time passed slowly, but Juri was determined not to fall asleep. Outa would be coldly furious. He would not yell, or hit her, but he would be angry and she hated his silent anger more than Yuka's loud version. She checked her watch. Only ten minutes had passed. Rolling her eyes, she leaned her head against the tree, scratching an itch on her scalp against the rough bark.

When at last an hour had passed, uneventfully but for the wraiths she imagined in the blackness, she woke Yuka -- gently, and made sure he would stay awake. Then she went back to sleep, lulled by Outa's soft snores, beside her. She had heard those snores ever since she was a child, and they always made her feel at ease. They were a sign that her brother was there, a calm presence, placid as water yet inwardly as fierce as fire.

The gentle breath of a dragon, harmless in sleep.


They found the bodies as the sun rose, a stink like no other rising from where they lay waxy and swollen in the dirt. Two of them, both men, limbs contorted where they had fallen. One was frozen in the act of clawing at the roots of a tree, the other spread-eagled in the grass, face-up, an arc of dried blood browning the foliage around him.

Outa knelt first beside the spread-eagled man, the fingers of his hands clasped peacefully. "A sword," he said simply. "Gutted him across the abdomen." Juri leaned in for a closer look and then jerked back. The man's entrails coiled, glistening, out of the split in his belly, already roiling with a layer of maggots.

She backed away, and Outa went to the second man where he lay with his face in the mud. "Puncture wounds," said Outa, one finger hovering over the bloody fabric on the man's back. "Most likely kunai or daggers; possibly arrows, though the wounds seem too shallow for that -- wait," Outa stooped closer, nodded, "as I thought. These wounds on his back could not have killed him, but his throat is slit."

Juri nodded. "Huh." Her stomach gave a sudden lurch, and her hand shot to her mouth, but she quelled the nausea with an effort. When she looked up, Outa's steel eyes regarded her, unblinking. He was annoyed, maybe. She could never tell.

"That guy?" said Yuka, frowning. "The guy from the inn?"

Outa shrugged slowly. "Perhaps. I did not see if he had knives, though it would not surprise me. Though he did not attack us, I have no doubt that if provoked he could do this."

"Who are they?" Juri asked, her composure regained. "Other bounty hunters like us?"

"Most likely." Outa stood and began pacing about the area, his neck bent downwards, eyes tracking. "Do not move," he said, and then was silent for many minutes. He covered most of the ground around the dead men as Juri and Yuka stood uneasily, crouching here and there, never saying anything, never pausing for more than a moment. Finally he shook his head solemnly and wrapping his strong arms around a nearby tree, shimmying up gracefully. He vanished into the smothering blanket of green. He did not come down for almost half an hour. Juri and Yuka kept looking at each other warily, but still they said nothing and did not move.

When Outa finally climbed back down, it was down a tree thirty feet away from the one he'd climbed up. Their brother hung from a branch and then dropped the last bit, landing in a crouch. He stood and dusted off his hands. "Our friend was here," he said. "If not on the ground. The tracks are muddled down here. There was a fight -- these two and possibly others have stomped all over the underbrush. I cannot tell how many. And our friend from the inn passed through here, above," Outa pointed a stubby finger straight up.

Juri did not ask how he could track a man through the treetops, because she guessed that she was supposed to know that, and Outa would just be annoyed. She saw Yuka nod his shaggy head sagely, but knew there was no way the fool knew anything about treetop tracking.

Suddenly, a cry rang out in the forest ahead of them, a scream of terror. Goosebumps instantly rippled up her arms as she turned to see a dark shape moving. Outa had tensed, staring ahead, and then he was running off in the direction of the shout, in the blink of an eye. Juri followed, and she could hear Yuka behind her. Who was it who had screamed? Was it the man from the inn?

Was it Uchiha Itachi? Leading them off?

She could see him now, whoever it was, barrelling through the forest at a dead run. She heard him let loose another bloodcurdling shriek. Outa was zealous in is need to catch the man; his pace increased beyond that which Juri could duplicate, his stout legs blurring with speed as he streaked past trees and bushes.

Ahead, she heard a single sharp shout of horror, and then it was over. She rushed out from behind a fern and saw Outa cornering the man against a tree.

"We mean you no harm," her brother was saying calmly as the man shrunk back against the enormous tree. He was sobbing, she saw, and bleeding from his temple. He wore black clothing, had black hair, his hands were shaking as he poised them between himself and Outa.

"D-d-don't," he moaned, eyes wide, bloodshot, rolling and insane. "Please, not again… I'll do anything. Stop… just don't do it again." He trailed off into a sob, agonized and throaty.

Outa was implacable, his palms open. "We mean you no harm, friend. Tell us what happened. Were you travelling with the dead men behind us?"

"Yessssss," hissed the man, now clawing at the tree behind him. "You know. You know. What you did. You'll never take me back there. Kill me first, before you take me back."

"We shall not," declared Outa, as Juri's unease mounted, a slithering sickness in the pit of her stomach. "You'll never have to go there again."

"LIAR!" the man roared with sudden ferocity. "You will. You took me there, and you cradled me. You cradled me in hell, you demon. You cradled me in your…" he moaned, reached for his face, smearing the blood there. Two fingers caressed his right eyelid. "In your…"

The fingers jerked violently. Blood spurted. Juri screamed, and the man said: "EYE."

There was one single moment as Outa stood dumbfounded, and then the man let loose a shriek like one being burned alive. He moved with a sudden and inhuman speed, knocking Outa aside. Even as Outa was recovering, standing up, the wild man with his bleeding face shrieked again and ran at Juri and Yuka. Outa was behind him now. She and Yuka were alone.

The man's blood-coated hand dropped to his belt and came up in a flash. From it spun a black shadow, a hazy shape that lanced through the air and struck Yuka. Juri started and turned to see her younger brother, open mouthed, staring at a throwing star that had embedded itself in his chest. His mouth worked once, and then he stumbled.

And then in one horrible instant, the eyes of the wild man looked onto hers -- no, eye. His other eye was a glistening red socket.

EYE, the man had said, EYE.

He was running for her, screaming, heedless, and Yuka was slowly crumpling to the ground, a red stain spreading on his brown tunic, and Outa was yelling, chasing the man with all his speed, but he was too far away. Outa was yelling, thought Juri with wonderment. And then the wild man was too close. She could see the torn flesh dangling from his eye-socket, the bloody fingerprints on his neck and cheeks, smell his reek of death and decay.

In the corner of her field of vision, she thought she saw a tree come alive, its bark sloughing off, arms sprouting from its trunk, but it must have been her imagination just like the shapes in the night.

The wild man faltered.

And his arm fell off at the shoulder.

He briefly glanced down at the stump where his arm had hung, blood now surging from the wound, down his side, soaking his pants, his boots. He toppled backwards to the ground without another word. Outa was beside her then, saying something, but she couldn't hear him. He crouched over Yuka, feeling his pulse, speaking in that monotone voice of his. He must have been talking about how Yuka had died, she thought dimly, describing the wound and the weapon, coldly, with detachment. He would stand again and sniff at the breezes, and then they would leave Yuka and go off wherever Outa led them.

She shook her head. Outa's words came to her through the veil, then:

"He will live," said her brother. "But he needs medical attention. I thank you for your help, friend. I fear my sister can be slow to react on occasion. You have done us a great service."

Who was Outa talking to? Then she saw. It was the tree she'd seen come alive -- no, a man. He had not moved from where he had appeared from inside the tree, his beige cloak encasing him. He wore a straw hat on his head, wide, shadowing his face. From inside his cloak protruded one hand, which clasped a katana just below the hilt; his thumb had pressed against the guard, pushing the sword up until an inch of steel blade was visible.

The man's other hand emerged, snapped the katana fully back into the sheath, and then sword and hands both vanished into the folds of that beige cloak.

The man said, "No big deal."

Finally Juri found both her voice and a measure of understanding. "Chameleon cloak?" she asked hesitantly, her voice raw. She supposed she'd been screaming.

The man's straw hat dipped in a single nod. It was then that Juri thought to wonder: what did he do? She hadn't seen him do anything, yet the man's arm had fallen off, and that tiny little bit of the stranger's sword had been showing when she'd finally looked over. He was a ninja, she knew then. He had to be. He'd used some special ninjutsu technique on the wild man that had cut his arm off.

And why did she suddenly feel so helpless?

The stranger had walked forwards, gliding over to stand next to Juri. She saw the longbow from before, looped over one shoulder. The man reached one finger to tip up the brim of his hat, revealing dark hair and eyes.

"At least now we know we're close, eh?" said the stranger jauntily. He was speaking to Outa, who was carefully removing the shuriken from Yuka's chest. Blood flowed, but Outa quickly jammed his palm down, pressing hard. A bit of green fire shimmered around his hand; Outa had always had a gift for healing with chakra, even without ninja training. "Yes," he said as he worked, not looking up. "I suppose the reason the madman said 'eye' was because of -- "

"Yeah," said the stranger before Outa had finished, nodding absently. Juri flinched; no one had ever interrupted Outa and come off well in the end, but her brother seemed not to notice the slight. "The Sharingan eyes, most definitely. I believe I've heard of the technique he used -- a kind of advanced illusionary jutsu."

Outa nodded even as he was grabbing Yuka under the armpits, hauling the younger, bigger man upwards. Yuka's eyes were closed, but his chest moved with breath. Outa propped him upright and turned to the stranger.

"I am Outa, of clan Idaten. My sister Juri -- " he gestured, "and my brother Yuka."

"Sadao," said the man.

Juri frowned at them each in turn. "Wait a minute. You were talking about eyes. Sharingan… I've heard that word before…"

Outa grimaced in annoyance, and she resisted the urge to look away in shame. "As well you should have, little sister. It is a bloodline trait, a genetic advantage that affects the eyes. It gives the user enhanced powers of detection, anticipation. Among other things."

The stranger named Sadao continued as though his mind and Outa's were one and the same, his dark eyes searching her. Now she really did look away. "The Sharingan eyes are the most uncommon bloodline trait in the world right now. There are only two people left alive of the hundreds that once possessed the Sharingan, and only one who is powerful enough to use them. His name is -- "

"Uchiha," interrupted Outa, his voice a harsh whisper, "Itachi."


She watched Yuka's flaccid limbs bouncing off Outa's shoulders and thighs as Outa ran. The forest was hot under a midday sun, and sweat poured off her forehead into her eyes. Juri had never liked running, especially on days as hot as this one. The stranger, Sadao, was behind her -- she knew this abstractly, but she could not hear him, and she didn't want to look back for fear of tripping or running into a tree. So she fixed her eyes on Outa and Yuka.

They headed for a town Sadao said was nearby. Juri remembered the brief conversation before they began running through the forest.

"So," she had frowned, "Itachi killed those men?"

Sadao had nodded, his shoulder propped lazily against a tree. "He is definitely close. If we intend to catch him we'd better go quickly."

"What do you mean, 'we'?" Outa had demanded, very rudely in Juri's opinion, but she did not say anything.

Sadao smiled. "I'd like some backup. Judging by what I've seen, he is a real pain in the ass."

Outa's face was hard and his expression inscrutable as he processed the word backup. "…I suppose. My brother is badly injured, however -- "

"There's a town less than ten minutes run from here. Dunno the name, but its got hotels, clinics. Take him there, then we'll head out again."

So that's what they had decided. Drop Yuka off, and then Outa and Sadao would somehow reacquire Itachi's trail. Juri was not optimistic about the situation, truthfully. Every time she thought about Itachi, about the sheer horror on the face of the madman who'd gouged his own eye out, she wanted to go home and forget she'd ever come to hunt this Uchiha kid.

There was something spooky about him, she could tell that much just by the way people talked about him. The way Outa and this guy Sadao seemed to stare off into the distance every time they uttered his name. It was way over-dramatic in her opinion, she just wanted them to tell her what the big deal was. The mystery was mostly what scared her anyway. She was sure, if they just told her all about him, she could handle it.

Before long, they emerged from the forest into a sunlit expanse of grass, green and waist high, that scratched at Juri's forearms as she ran. For the first time in days, the sun beat down without a canopy of leaves to filter it; she felt the hot kiss on the back of her neck, the burn of standing too close to a fire. The town was right in front of them, as Sadao had said, little squat buildings all of old white concrete and red brick, sand-filled streets, a general rustic demeanour hovering about the place.

They slowed as they entered the town, an old squinty-eyed peasant watching them curiously as he led his donkey through the street. The place was dreary, to Juri's eyes. It wasn't long before Outa had found a small clinic and they'd dragged themselves in beneath the shade, a big fan slowly beating the air above them. Juri wiped sweat from her face with her forearm, jealously watching Sadao and Outa. For some reason, they seemed not to be winded in the slightest.

Sadao eased himself silently into a wooden chair in the front foyer of the clinic, his hands -- everything, really -- hidden beneath his cloak. Outa, still carrying Yuka, followed the nurse deeper into the clinic, but Juri decided to sit down in the chair next to Sadao's. He didn't respond as she stared at him, his chin drooping, hat low over his eyes. He could have been sleeping.

But then he spoke, "So why are you guys after the reward?"

"Oh," Juri thought for a minute, then leaned back in the chair, looking up at the fan. "For our clan. Idaten, you know. We're the ruling clan in a town way east of here -- Otoma town, you ever heard of it?"

He shook his head once.

"Way bigger than this -- well -- a fair bit bigger than this place. But anyway, the clan's kinda failing, the land is drying up in this year's drought. We get a drought up there every year, but this year it's worse for some reason. Dunno why, but my Grandma says it's the fire demons that live in the mountain. We have a mountain near there, y'see -- "

She turned to look closely at him, checking to see if he was paying attention, but she really couldn't tell at this angle. She could only see a silhouette of his nose and upper lip in between the hat and the collar.

"You listening?" she asked.

"Uh-huh."

"So, this mountain apparently has fire demons living in it, or so the old story goes. So she says we haven't been giving them enough prayers recently, so they're blowing all the rain clouds away with their hot breath. My dad, the clan chief, says that's nonsense, though, we're just having bad luck -- "

"Juri." It was Outa. He was back already, tall, staring down at her with his hard eyes, his angry eyes. She probably shouldn't have been telling village stories to a stranger. But Outa ignored that, again surprising her. Her big brother turned to Sadao; "My brother is being taken care of. We should leave now before Itachi gets too far away."

The brim of Sadao's straw hat inclined in a subtle nod. He stood up, turned his back to Juri. She gave herself a sharp nod. She could do this. Itachi did not scare her; she was ready to follow her brother and finally do something. Outa would always speak of his nights alone ranging, chasing down bandits who had harassed the village, or dangerous animals. She had grown up with that, and now she would live it.

Sadao turned to catch Outa's eye. Then he twitched his shoulder minimally in her direction, gave a little shake of his head. Juri felt her heart sink as Outa nodded in reply.

"Juri," said Outa. "You will stay here and look after Yuka."

"Brother -- "

"I'm counting on you, little sister. Do not let any harm come to him. We will be back before too long."

"But -- "

This time it was Sadao who interrupted her. "Don't be a fool," he said, his voice flat. And that was all he said. She turned to him, but he was already walking away. Outa gave her a searching look, then nodded and turned to follow Sadao out of the clinic. The sun blazed white on his sweaty scalp as he crossed from the shadow of the building into sunlight.

He wasn't counting on her, though. He'd just said that to make her feel better, the most she could ever expect out of him. The nicest thing he'd ever really said to her, and he said it falsely, to protect her, to keep her out of harm's way. Don't be a fool, Sadao had said. He was right, and she hated herself for it. Even against the wild man, even against the man Itachi had driven insane with whatever power it was he possessed, even he had frozen her solid, locked her knees with terror. She could never face a monster like Uchiha Itachi.

She hoped Outa and Sadao could.