Disclaimer: Naruto, and all characters are the property of Masashi Kishimoto, save my OC's. I own nothing, save for a barely functional laptop and an e-cig that I've only got half a bottle of horribly cheap liquid for. All hail astronomical accommodation fees!
'Rain.': Thoughts.
"Rain.": Speech.
Italics: Flashback no jutsu. Genjutsu, tend to be layered.
Flashing light warning: It's flashback central this chapter. If you suffer from photosensitivity or epilepsy, proceed with caution.
Doc manager won't let me double space, hoping this chapter comes out readable...
Chapter 2:
Konan spared a glance towards her unusually muted partner as he caught up to her outside of the pipeline. In her youth -her current age of nine be damned- stories of sunshine over Amegakure had filled her dreams and picture books. To feel warm light against her skin seemed like a ridiculous notion to a girl raised amongst an abyss of murky half-light and grey rain. These stories and dreams of sunshine had been dismissed as hearsay by her until the day she met him.
The storm seemed only too happy to reign it's horrors upon the her. Drenched, speckled with blood and starving, Konan had collapsed upon an unforgiving slab of concrete set deep in to a doorway. Despite the reprieve from the rain, the wind howled at her frigid skin. She drew a half second of warmth from her quivering eyes before she clamped them shut. The tears chilled the second they formed as her chest began to heave. Her bared skin shivered and convulsed against the tyranny of the biting cold sinking its teeth deeper in her bones. Her lungs punched outward, convulsing with an ecstasy of sharp pain as she attempted to force back a sob.
Shivering, numb fingers reached up into her hair as she tore a tattered silk flower from a ragged headband off. The fabric band gave in easily and snapped in her fingers. The soiled silk would've been considered cute a few days ago sitting atop her head.
She could remember being told to close her eyes as she felt the warmth of nimble fingers that had clasped around hers, before reaching upwards to pull the band over her head. It had tickled and Konan remembered herself laughing as she was told to open her eyes. Her visage appeared in a small mirror with the flower in all it's glory blooming amongst her hair. Eyes widening, a bubble of elation had swelled deep in her chest as a woman had knelt next to her, peeking over her shoulder at the reaction. Dark sapphire hair, so like her own lighter toned bangs had spilled over the woman's shoulder down to her hips as her honey colour eyes, so like her own, gazed into mirror. It was a mental photo Konan had swore to never forget. A warm smile had bloomed across the pale woman's face as she pointed to a larger flower nestled in her own hair. She could hear the husky tone of her mothers voice so clearly back then.
"Ah, it suits you, my dear. It's just like mine, see? Happy birthday, Ko!"
A pitiful moan escaped Konan's throat as she drew the flower into herself and curled around it,
"Mother..."
And with that, the piteous wails of another street urchin partook in the hellish choir of the raging wind. Her lungs eventually gave in to the pain as a hacking cough threatened to tear her already shredded vocal chords into a further mess. She allowed her heavy eyelids to droop, hoping that the darkness provided would carry her back into her parents' warm embrace in the afterlife just like it would in many of her father's shinobi books.
Just as her laboured breathing began to slow to a stop, her skin tickled as she felt something soft brush up against her bare arm. Suddenly, the cold brought from the exposure to the raging wind dissipated. There was no real warmth and yet, whatever object draped over her allowed her body the chance to warm itself up. It was too light to be an embrace but pleasant now that the wind had been barricaded. Konan allowed a small sigh of content to escape her lips as she pondered.
'If this is the afterlife, it's not as nice as I'd have hoped. It's okay though, I guess.'
She stayed as she was for a while, the hope of opening her eyes to her waiting parents increasing by the moment.
"It's not good to sleep outside ya know?"
...What.
With a small sigh, Konan opened her eyes only to snap them shut instantly. 'What in the world was that colour!?'
"Hey! Stop playin' dead! You suck at it, saw your eyes open."
The voice of whatever that colour was seemed... different to most of the voices she heard recently. Indeed, should the voice have had a deeper baritone behind it, she would've almost jumped up instantly into her father's arms.
She had seen his white hair splayed across the floor however, a horrifyingly slow pool of red enveloping his snowy locks.
The game had ended the second she felt a finger jabbing into her side.
"Shit! You haven't actually died, have ya!?" The voice held a certain tone of.. Panic? Yes, She had become quite associated with that tone.
"Uh, wake up! I got you some grub!"
Grub? What in Kami's name?
Opening her eyes cautiously this time, less her retinas be assaulted by whatever THAT colour was, she looked deep into a pair of rich hazel eyes. Well, she assumed they were eyes, whatever graced her vision this time was so close she could only make out a blurred hazel hue with a slight hint of white at the edges.
"Whoa!" Splash! The boy stumbled back into what only could be described as a small lake puddling beneath the doorstep. Slowly she looked at the boy, identified as such by his sheepish grin and one hand rubbing the back of his head lightly.
"Damn, princess! Thought I'd lost you there!" He laughed. That voice. A warmth began to permeate through Konan's chest at the thought and it wasn't a warmth brought forth from the tattered blanket draped over her.
'A blanket?'
She checked herself over to see that she had indeed, been wrapped in a very real and still quite damp blanket. She couldn't care less about the thick scent of damp that pervaded through the musty cloth. Her eyes began to warm again as her hands tightly grasped at the blanket and her flower. She felt him come close to her again and slump next to her. With her eyes closed to stop the tears, she only felt a small weight settle into her lap. Opening them for fear of the unknown, she beheld the glorious sight of a small chunk of bread, as soggy as the blanket around her.
"Might wanna eat that, it gets worse the wetter it is. There's more back where I sleep though, wanna see?"
She looked up to see the most radiating smile she had ever seen since her mother's. The strange heat in her chest bloomed and pumped around her body to the rhythm of her quickened heart rate as she took his offered hand.
From that day on, Konan could imagine what the sun might feel like.
Yahiko right now was not the radiant sunshine she had become accustomed to. The butterflies that merrily flitted inside her chest whenever she was around the boy had been disturbed and flown away in fear. The boy's face had been stern as they'd collected the gifts from the red haired beauty and left their underground base -home- and headed back towards the alleyway.
With a light pat on his arm, the pair slowed. Yahiko's entire body seemed to vibrate with something Konan couldn't recognise, his balled fists shook as his eyes met hers. For a second the warm energy that radiated within his eyes had been gorged out, replaced with two darkened pools of shaking fury. A beat and they cooled. His posture slumped as he let out a heavy sigh that seemed to further pull him down.
"Yahik-"
"It just feels- it just feels like we're running away. We should be taking that ghosty guy and kicking ass right now. We should be jamming a pole right up where that masked bastard craps from and getting back those two back, ya know? Good guy style. Runnin' away, it doesn't feel right."
The smallest smile forced it's way through Konan's lips as the butterflies returned with feverish fervour. She didn't want to question the integrity of a 'good' guy that assassinated others by shoving a pole up their-
"It's all we can do now, Yahiko, the... invisible shinobi said he'd make us strong. We can save them later, once we're good enough."
He smiled and she silently wondered why her cheeks warmed slightly. With a heartfelt chuckle, he took her hand and dragged her onwards towards the looming alleyway.
...She would not tell him that she didn't think they'd see this place or the two from before again for a long time, if ever. There would be a lot of shinobi after them soon.
x
It was only once they got to the crates -Konan idly remembered how the woman nearly tumbled over them during their attempted rescue- that something was off. Shaking her head to clear herself of the stab of guilt that memory brought on, she looked to Yahiko who stared back with an uncharacteristically cool detachment that he displayed when they were tailed on the streets.
"Yah, we're being followed."
The pair spun around, Konan whipped out an explosive tag in a ploy to appear dangerous. They blinked. There was no one but a dark, empty alleyway and an idle paper bag drifting lazily through the air.
"Eh?" Yahiko summed the situation up perfectly, "Konan, I think we're broken, we don't mess this shit u-"
"Down here kids, rrrribbit."
"Aiiiieee!" If anyone ever asked him, Yahiko did not let out a falsetto scream at the sight before him. Before them sat possibly the largest frog they had ever set their eyes on. It's colouration was strange, it's skin held a burgundy hue, marked only by a dark circle that started around it's chin and led upwards to frame it's face. It ended at the two damn horns that sat upon it's head. Oh, it was also large enough to stand eye level to their friggin' waists.
Konan could only stare unintelligibly at this strange tangent her life had just taken before the invisible man's words cut across her mind.
"Oh! When you find my friend, ask him, 'What did you say, frog?' Hehehe..."
Her mouth opened, about to comply to the ninja's advice-
"GAH, FUCK! DID THAT FROG JUST SPEAK!? LIKE WITH WORDS?!"
...Yahiko was a true master at first impressions.
The air grew heavy as the frog before them glared. Konan felt the back of her neck chill with cold dampness that wasn't rain. Yahiko gulped and shuffled slightly behind her.
"Hmph," the frog began, it's gravelly voice did not betray it's darkening mood as the pair conveniently noticed how a shield and a dull, spiked sasumata sat upon it's back, "I may not be graceful but a frog, I am not. I am Gamaken of the Mt. Myōboku Mountain Toads, Combat Sect. and Familiar of Lord Jiraiya, here to assist you two in your escape." He levelled a glare towards Yahiko, "Though it appears that my services are not wished for by one of you, for you have been quite degrading, rrrribiit."
The silence was permeable as Konan thanked her lucky stars that she wasn't the one to incorrectly call out the toad on being a frog. Silently, she pondered if the invisible man had actually wanted them to escape. The sasumata sat upon the fro-toad'sback spoke volumes of the negative.
"Uh, uh! Nah, toad man, we could use the help! But you do speak right? I may have drank that gutter water from two blocks down again..."
"..."
"..."
The water from two blocks down was weird stuff. Konan had been awed to find that a wall could hold an intelligent conversation, gutter rats could dance with a feverish passion and that shinobi in multicoloured top hats and wriggling moustaches were both expressive and hilarious creatures.
The toad raised an eyebrow, do they have eyebrows? Before hopping past them, Yahiko flinched and promptly found himself pressed up against the nearest wall uttering, ''ittalksittalksittalksittalks.''
Gamaken turned to face the pair, his cheeks puffed out into a croak as he shuffled on the spot and adjusted his weapons, "I may not be strong but I will do my best. Follow my lead, rribit."
Humble creatures, these giant talking toads.
x
The trio passed silently through a series of alleyways before the odd shouts could be heard from the local shinobi about locating the spies. Konan bristled with palpable fear, her enraged heart pounding against it's bone cage, as did Yahiko's, yet the fear for their livelihood did not rear its ugly head due to the shinobi hundreds of feet overhead who chased after a lost lead. No, it was their destination. Their eyes widened in dramatic horror as their blood turned to ice at the sight.
Across from them, set away from the large spires and hustle and bustle of the main streets, sat the bane of their young lives.
It looked like nothing more than a wall of patchwork iron. Central to the wall lay the rectangular maw which had swallowed many orphans, a morgue for both the naïve and compliant and for those dragged in kicking and screaming. It positively loomed in front of them. Ready to take them from this world. Printed across the top of the closed entrance read, 'Ame Shinobi Sect: 3rd Platoon, Vanguard.' The perimeter fence, in all of it's unassuming glory, waited as a predator would wait patiently for it's unassuming prey. A scrawling scar marred the face of the metal monster in front of them, carved out at about the height of an orphan, the misspelt chicken scratch read, "Thuh Baraks."
Yahiko spun towards Gamaken, his wild eyes tore into the toad as a cornered rat would whilst his trembling lip betrayed his underlying terror. He backed up a step.
"T-toad man? We.. We can't go there, we won't."
Heat burnt Konan's eyes as she came to a conclusion, it was so simple. Trick the criminals into lowering their guard, allow them to think they have an escape, only to drag them straight towards the prison cell. The invisible man was probably waiting in there laughing, donning his respirator and flak jacket as he began readying himself to begin their shinobi training. It wasn't fair. Like fresh new orphans on the street, they'd been played and delivered to the Barracks. Apart from his apparent link to Konoha and the escape, the man hadn't even lied about his intentions of making them ninja. Thoughts of escape were plotted and crushed as she glanced at the weapons the toad carried. Of course toads would be native to Ame, amphibians thrived in the wet climate.
She'd just began to re-imagine what the sun would feel like outside as a lone tear traced down her cheek.
"Rrribit! To aid your escape, we must pass through here, yes." Gamaken started, as the duo began to back away, "Master Jiraiya is waiting and he told me to be swift, for he does not have much time."
"You don't get it!" Yahiko hissed, "we go in there, we're dead! It's full of bad guys!"
Konan felt the nauseating twist of fear in her gut as she tried to tell Yahiko that the toad wasn't helping them but tricking them to go in. Words died inside her paper dry throat. She attempted to swallow as she tried to catch Yahiko's attention but her trembling left hand wouldn't obey her, her right remained unfeeling, as if it had been amputated.
"Rrribit, the shinobi? They're hunting for you elsewhere, this place will be unguarded. We must be must make haste for I promised my master that I would do my best. Come"
And with that, Yahiko shrugged and followed the toad. Every working nerve in Konan's body fired as she attempted anything to stop him. She could only stare as the pair moved across the street towards the looming Barracks before pausing in a crouch outside the fencing. Yahiko's face turned around in confusion before he ushered her over. It was with bile burning her once papery throat that a tearstruck Konan forced her legs to mechanically stomp forwards. She wouldn't allow him to get caught up in this by himself, should they survive until they become shinobi, maybe they could escape in the war.
"That blonde one, drafted two weeks ago, saw her get deployed yesterday."
"Good riddance, little bitch had a nasty taste for stealing my produce."
"Aye, the fighters might be able to use her as cover."
"It's all she'll be useful for out there at that age. Hmph, I won't miss the parasite."
Konan vaguely remembered the girl, Yumiko? She always spared her some food or cloth after 'work'. The girl had always pressed the importance of the street girls looking out for each other. She'd always shared food and other necessities with a pretty smile, despite her dirt ridden face and unhealthily lean body.
She also remembered seeing that same face, lifeless and pale, being carried in a half casket down the main street two days after overhearing the gossiping stall keepers. She didn't even notice how her habitual lip biting had drawn out the iron tang of blood inside her mouth.
'I will not allow that to happen to Yahiko.' She promised to herself. With that, her mind seemed to regain control of her body, mostly. A fire began to simmer inside her chest as she thought about how they had been so foolishly played. She would face the invisible man with her patented stare and, should any chance arise, kick him in the crotch so damn hard his ancestors would become infertile. Male or not.
Righteous female fury is a raging bitch like that.
It was with no half-measure of terror that she watched the toad pull away a small segment of the fence and gesture for them to wiggle beneath it. The orphan duo's eyes met as they stood together in the rain as free human beings one last time. Desperation, fury, defeat. It was written across their shivering bodies and slumped shoulders. One final time, Konan allowed herself to gaze in to Yahiko's eyes. It was easy to see the nervous tension in his gait, yet as she caught his gaze she could see his tempered confidence harden into a steel stronger than any blade. An excitement she just couldn't bring herself to feel, to believe, flickered over the hazel surfaces that forced the butterflies to take wing and fly.
'One last time, Yahiko. One last time, I'll trust you. I'll trust your stupid plans. If this works out, I'll follow you to the ends of this world.' Konan pressed herself against Yahiko and forced back a sob. She could feel his warmth permeate her skin as the cold howled against their exposed backs. He pressed a hand to her shoulder and pushed her back gently, staring into her soul with an easygoing calm and energy that made her mind race with the thoughts of the sun. His fingers moved from her shoulder to shift a stray lock of drenched hair away from her face to behind her ear as his face moved in closer.
'One last time.'
Konan didn't register the light dusting form across her cheeks as her heart beat a little faster when he closed his eyes and a grin split across his face. She did notice how her trembling stopped, how she straightened slightly within his arms.
"Heheh, ladies first?"
Chivalrous bastard.
Despite his conveniently sudden need to please a lady, Konan dropped down and crawled beneath the fencing. She hissed as it raked across her back, the first warning. Pulling herself over the wet concrete, she pulled herself up, before falling silent.
An empty concrete courtyard stood eerily quiet ahead. Twisted figures of crucified training dummies lolled against their assigned posts, as sacrifice to the elements swirling around them. The rain thundered off the bare concrete floor, the war drums that struck up the anthem of their early demise. Ahead lay a couple of warehouses, their corrugated steel shells added to the dull symphony of death. The toxic stench of soaked concrete mixed in with the wet, iron aroma of blood that ran down a few channels nearby caused the girl to nearly gag. A fading sparring circle drawn in the centre of the courtyard was matted with the old stains of combat, reinforcing the stench with that of the salty tang of sweat. Her stomach knotted for the thousandth time this day as the realisation of how out of her league she was in a place like this. An epiphany that tumbled upon her like a tonne of bricks. She would have to fight shinobi like the ones she saw earlier. Daily. She was under no illusion that the blood running down the drains nearby was the blood from the new recruits in training. She had the misfortune of seeing a few who had been punished. They'd been left to stand outside the barracks in nothing but underwear. The bruises and blood running from a multitude of different wounds upon their bodies nonwithstanding.
Yahiko shuffled under moments later, making no small amount of hisses as the fencing eagerly tore at his back. He was quickly followed by Gamaken, who turned to place the missing section back in place.
"We're here, good. Rrribit. Be cautious, for there may be a few guards further in. My master is waiting, we must hurry."
Yahiko huffed slightly, muttering something about broken records before settling Konan with a reassuring smile. The boy's faith in the stranger and his toad was idiotic but Konan honestly saw no escape from the situation. Resigned, she padded after Yahiko with haste, wincing as the butterflies in her chest waged war with her knotted stomach.
It wasn't long before she found herself standing outside a warehouse door. The giant rusted shutter door was slightly open, fending off the pitter patter drumming of the rain as the trio squeezed themselves inside. Konan's breath hitched as the door let out a low shriek as she squeezed through. A quick glance confirmed that there was no movement from the outside. She let out a sigh before turning around, inching herself forwards towards the leading pair.
The room inside was unnaturally cold. Not in the way one would describe the temperature, the Ame duo were well then more accustomed to that, it was an eerie cold that permeated the still air inside. The silence would've been deafening if not for the reprieve granted by the occasional dripping from the leaking roof. Something made them feel like they should leave, a primal terror that gripped their chests and clamped down on their lungs. The sinewy muscle built up on their frames tensed as they followed the toad hopping deeper in to the darkness. Without windows, the only light cast into the industrial room was supplied by the murky gloom cast from the open door behind them. Their shadows became dancing spectres in front of them, expanding and engulfing them as they walked further into the darkness.
From within the void emerged rows of plain, wooden boxes. Konan wanted to ignore the voice in her head that dully recollected that the boxes were the standardised six foot long boxes that served as wartime coffins. Gamaken led them further down, only for Yahiko to glance to the side and freeze. He instantly lost the battle to control a shout just as Gamaken's hand/flipper/foot tightly closed around his mouth. Konan turned to face the motion and froze as she caught the sight of a purple flak jacket. Slowly looking up, she looked into the glassy eyes of an Ame shinobi.
"Quiet, children. Rrribit. My master has these men under a genjutsu. They will not notice our presence, lest we make a loud noise."
Yahiko squirmed in the toad's grip before being released with a audible squelch. Pouting he hastily swiped the stickiness away from his mouth as he turned an unhealthy shade of green. Konan could feel her heart pounding in her ears as she walked amongst the library of coffins whilst noticing the occasional shinobi standing stock still. Years of flee on sight instincts rabidly screamed at her spasming muscles to turn tail and run but the sheer impossibility of the situation had her pinned with a sense of such morbid curiosity that she couldn't find it within herself to flee. She forced herself to resist the urge to poke the statuesque shinobi.
They continued past the boxes with unsealed lids, 'The ones that will be paraded open,' she noted before they passed the last open one. Yahiko nudged Konan, looking ahead with a scowl.
"Oi, oi, why are these boxes closed?"
"Father, why are those boxes closed?"
Konan had lost sight of Yumiko's coffin in the parade as her attention snapped to an unassuming father and daughter ahead. Carefully slipping the man's coin purse into her sleeve as she passed him, she heard his voice lower to a point that his daughter couldn't hear.
"Sometimes it's better that we can't see the remains."
"We have arrived, my master awaits." The toad rumbled, the pair looked ahead.
x
"Tenketsu points seven to thirteen."
"Acknowledged."
"Sixty-one to eighty six."
The wooden slat flooring barely made an audible noise under the med-nin's feet as the air around them began to cloud with the staleness of chakra saturation.
Yumeka cradled a saucer of tea, willing her hands to stop shaking. She ignored the angry sting of the hot porcelain raging against her frozen fingers, forcefully reminding herself that once they warmed, the saucer would be a pleasant temperature. She drew herself around the heated beverage, in a way the less fortunate still left outside to brave the frigid cold would coddle a naked flame. Her attempt to rid herself the icy, restrictive embrace of her soiled and soaking clothing proved fruitless, leaving an involuntary shudder to travel down her spine as a cold trail of water explored its way down the warming skin of her back. The damp clothing clamped down upon her body heat. Her dress, weighted down with water, pressed down around her shoulders as an unwanted lover would. She shook away the morbid likeness that took her back to a dark place. Her once idle musings of course, were but a vain attempt to ignore the hulking mass before her that was Hanzō. She hadn't touched the tea, preferring to allow her eyes to roam angrily over her son's unconscious form a small distance away from the village's most fearsome leader to date. The man stood facing away from her, his gaze affixed to the skyline of Rain countries metropolis.
Nagato had been laid out on a hastily wheeled in gurney before her vision had blurred back into focus, finding herself in an open room decorated like a traditional dojo, a rarity in Amegakure no sato's utilitarian décor scene. That is to say, there was no 'scene' other than bare corrugated metal walls and rough concrete flooring for the lower class. The large window Hanzō stood before would've cost her a lifetime of savings alone. Her stomach ached from the method -unknown to her- used to carry her back to the room from the village outskirts, yet not as much as her heart's rage bubbled and seethed at her son's condition, ignoring his inevitable future that she could do nothing about. An outburst of anger was restrained by only a protective layer of fear at the shinobi presence in the room.
Two medic-nin decked out in Ame's regulation lab coats -purple- ran their open palms across Nagato's unconscious form. The first had palms alight with the pale blue aura of a diagnostic jutsu and by his quiet mutterings one could only assume he was listing off the damage Nagato's body had undergone. The second ran her hands along the path outlined from the first, albeit much more slowly, her palms alight with the refreshing green aura of the Mystical Palm technique. The kunoichi's slight panting and drooping shoulders indicated just how much the intensive technique tolled upon her reserves after such a short time. This was all dutifully ignoring the steadily brewing stench of sweat, the musky thickness that began to permeate the chakra laden soup that the room's residents had called breathing air not ten minutes earlier.
Yumeka purposefully kept her face closer to the tea in a weak attempt to stave off the heady aroma saturating her space, Matcha, she noted, an expensive strain grown indoors that was a world away from the dry roasted stuff they drank at home, as a very rare indulgence. The sharp aroma stung her nostrils with each intake. The finest top leaves must've been plucked and ground to produce such a blend. She inched closer from her seat towards Nagato, wondering if it would be a waste to throw the scalding brew into a shinobi's face should they do anything untoward towards her son. Off blue eyes searched for the slightest shadow beyond the rice paper walls, searching for the concealed figures that stalked Hanzō as a vulture stalks death.
"Still yourself, Yumeka. My medics are repairing his burnt coils. Nothing more."
Yumeka grimaced at how obvious her attempt at covert manoeuvring must've appeared to the man. She was, like with most ninja arts, only given the most basic of education around them. Her head dipped as her brow knitted together slightly, the clan had no need to teach a child who proved unable to activate the clan's chakra after all. She was familiar only with the technique utilised by the kunoichi, whatever the hell Nagato reflexively did earlier was beyond her knowledge, excluding the shift in his hair colour. She couldn't quite stop the old pangs of shame that she felt through her disconnection with the most vital arts that had allowed her ancestors to rise to prominence. An Uzumaki without access to a strong chakra source, the very idea of it occurring to one from amongst a clan known for their huge reserves and vitality was ridiculous. An old, forgotten mixture of jealousy and shame squirmed in her stomach.
"Drink, I promise, I wouldn't poison such a blend."
She sipped lightly, forcing back a grimace at the bitterness of the thin blend, if anything, it didn't need to be poisoned, it already tasted as such.
Loud, calculated footsteps thundered out from behind the sliding doorway, the room's inmate's caught a few muffled murmurs between the concealed shinobi guarding the outside and the owner of the footfalls before the door slid open.
Rivulets of water tumbled carelessly to the ground from the huge figure that loomed in the doorway as he thundered towards them, stepping into the steamy lightbeams cast through the sweaty air from the window, Yumeka recognised the hulking titan that had got way too touchy earlier on, in front of her son, no less. It was this man's fault that Nagato had exploded like he had, landing them all in this mess of a situation.
It went without saying that the man had a glare that could melt steel on his back as he approached Hanzō. A glare that somehow hadn't escaped his notice due to his suddenly rigid posture. He stiffly dropped into a single kneed crouch, offering both of his palms upwards to his leader, holding a thin scroll as an offering.
"Lord Hanzō, my report."
Hanzō took the paper, noticing the shadows in the room twitching momentarily. For the first in a long time, he took an object without asking for pre checks, his curiosity having thrown his rampant paranoia to the wind. He had come so close to discovering secrets of the legendary Uzumaki clan, a clan that had taken many of the world's finest ninja arts and its practitioners along with them to their collective graves. The huge genjutsu toting jonin crouched before him in deference was one of his most loyal and finest, having followed him onto the battlefield from the very first excursion until the most recent. He would bring himself to trust, just this once, in order to see if he could use the situation before to his village's advantage. He unsealed the scroll, his eyes widening almost comically as he read further and further on.
...Two orphans caused this mess!?
Hanzō felt his eye twitch, he knew of the duo, a pair of Ame born kids who used to live in the farming communities outside the walls. They had lost their parents to different invading forces a good few years apart. A waste of valuable lives in his opinion, the duo had avoided conscription for many years, as a matter of fact, he had personally granted them a year's training in the ninja arts instead of the usual two weeks upon their capture due to just how good they were getting. The boy was impressive simply because he survived at the age he became an orphan. The young girl could've been valuable however, she may have carried Hōzuki genes, her mother had become enamoured with the Kiri missing-nin looking for asylum, many moons ago, before his time as a leader. Still, he couldn't complain, with the reports of Konoha shinobi scouting Ame, it would be unfair to accuse such a loyal jonin for ordering his chunin subordinate, Kirisame, if he was correct, to dispose of two slightly interesting orphans. He paid particular attention the the girl's outlined condition and the strange bandage she appeared to have been wearing, a bandage that seemed all too similar to the medical bandages recovered from Yumeka's bag. His gaze cut across the the subdued woman before him as he ordered his shinobi to withdraw the bandages from outside.
Upon his return, he dropped back into his low crouch and Hanzō's interrogation began.
He took the bandages and ran his hand along the seals, idly noting the quality of the foreign brush strokes that appeared to have been burnt into the cloth, the softness of the bandage contrasted the firm feel of the embossed scripture. His eyes only just managed to pick out battalions of miniaturised kanji grouped together to form spirals that repeated down the bandage, interconnected by illegible squiggles to form a linear seal matrix. Unusual, most seals were circular.
He twisted his arm to get a look at the other side of the bandage, only to gasp as the trailing edge met the lead end hanging on the other side of his arm. An all too familiar tug pulled at his reserves as he threw the bandage across the room. His shinobi flexed and was between him and Yumeka in a flash, his hands outwards over his neck and lower face, a kunai clenched in reverse grip in one fist over his off hand, fingers free to perform a seal.
"Stand down, Kyojin."
The shinobi relaxed, drawing himself back behind Hanzō and dropping back into his crouch. Yumeka noted how the man had eclipsed even Hanzō's large figure. The man in question flexed his hand, only to realise that he had been numbed from the forearm down.
"What happened!?
Yumeka looked upwards, her eyes glazed over as she appeared to be recollecting something she couldn't quite remember.
"When the matrix touches another part of the sequence, it completes the circuit, the bandage is keyed to numb the area it's applied to by um... Something to do with electricity." Her dull tone belied her forgotten knowledge, he could see the frustration crafted from the minute twitches of her jawline, her brow knotted together slightly in an unhidden attempt to portray her irritation at her knowledge.
He understood enough, however. To a shinobi, knowledge and awareness were usually most of the battle and Hanzō was a damn good shinobi. He was almost as familiar with anatomy and bodily processes as a top grade medic, utilising poison as a go-to weapon required one to learn lessons on the subject. He ensured that he retained all the information, lest someday he turn himself in to a frothing corpse.
Nerve endings would fire for a multitude of reasons, shooting electrical impulses at impossible speeds towards the central nervous system to create the feeling of pain. One could train themselves to ignore this temporarily but to actually numb an area to pain by stopping the nerves flaring was an ingenious invention. One would have to be careful with an idea like this however, the young and the aged could probably develop permanent nerve damage from any kind of constant long term electro treatment.
Nerves fire tiny, precisely charged pulses, fluctuations in the chakra fuelling the seal could end up making the nerves misfire, leaving the user in agony or could overload them, damaging the local nerve circuit and permanently damaging the user. He supposed these were meant to be for domestic, short term use, probably to numb training injuries whilst the user dragged his or herself to the nearest medic. Still though, to a shinobi, numbing an enemy was always an effective weapon and a much doted-on effect of poisons.
Still trying to feel the flesh he could barely co-ordinate, Hanzō glared at Yumeka,
"how long?"
"How long, what?"
"How long do the effects last?"
"I don't know, I've never used them before today." She sounded detached, her face wrought with a myriad of emotions that she feebly attempted to suppress, her mind wandering to the veranda outside the local nurse's home, many a year ago.
"Ne, again, Yumeka?"
Yumeka sat atop a sea of knitted pillows, ignoring the scratchiness in favour of the pressure they took off her aching limbs. A large redheaded woman shifted her bulk in front of the girl as she busily ran her palms across the girl's limbs, tittering sweet nothings about reckless kids. Another day, another attempt. Angry red pockmarks blistered across Yumeka's skin, each jeering her as individual marks of failure. She hung her head, staring at her toes as she idly kicked them to and fro, angrily swatting at any of her stupid white hair that mockingly swayed into her vision, much to the medic's chagrin.
"Haha, um, yeah..."
"Training to unlock your true chakra again? It's okay, it'll come soon dear, it always does." Uzuyashi's hearty, warm voice always brought her confidence during her lowest times. It was always the jowly redhead that would brighten her day with a simple smile and a few motherly words as she healed the stingy marks that always, always covered her skin when she trained. She was one of the rare few that wouldn't ignore her if she passed, a smile, a wave, it always made her feel... Wanted? Acknowledged?
"Y-yeah! Tomorrow, Uzuyashi! I'll get it down tomorrow, ya know!" Yumeka's shout was accompanied by the salty tang of the sea breeze playfully swirling her white locks back into her vision, the girl grimaced and set a smouldering glare on the expanse of nothingness from whence breeze was birthed.
"Aha! Well, that's you all fixed up!" Uzuyashi missed the occurrence, too busy focussing on fixing her young charge's blistered coils, "oh, take these to Miwako will you? Yukisho's forever blowing himself up now he's in fuinjutsu training. Boys, huh?" Uzuyashi drew herself up, rubbing her stubby digits together as she admired her latest work.
"Idiots." An agreement, "ooh, what are these?"
"They're not to be messed with, Yumeka." The large woman was incapable of looking cold or scary, yet the lack of complete homely warmth with her tone made the seriousness of the matter clear, "the seals are my secret speciality and dangerous to people without a strong chakra supply."
Yumeka glanced up at the suddenly sorry looking woman, a flash of betrayal crossing over her expressive blue eyes.
"Don't look like that!" Uzuyashi squawked, the indignation ran with a high ecstasy alongside the shrill note, she paused and caught Yumeka's gaze with her heated caramel eyes, a smile training the laugh lines across her round, pudgy face, " I know, come find me tomorrow once you've unlocked your chakra and I'll show you, hm?"
Belief. Betrayal forgotten.
"Deal!"
"There's a good girl, get enough rest tonight, you hear? And plenty of vegetables!"
Click! Click!
The irritating click of fingers snapped her out of her reverie, the fresh, tangy salt air of Uzu became polluted with rancid sweat, stale chakra and over bearing, testosterone fuelled shinobi, Yumeka almost forgot that he was awaiting a response, so cut off from her surroundings by the onslaught of her bittersweet memories as she was.
"I know you shouldn't wear them too long... Um, the longer you wear them, the longer the effect lasts." She answered mechanically, she was suffocating in this room.
"I see... Kyojin, prepare the bandages for study."
As the shinobi retrieved a sealing scroll for the partially used bandage, as he left, Hanzō came close to Yumeka's face, his voice dropped low so only she could hear. Averting her eyes allowed her to escape the pressure suddenly dumped on her chest and allowed her to escape the memory of the similar situation earlier that day,
"You can't utilise chakra though, explain to me why these are of any use to you."
"You're trying Yumeka dear, don't worry. I believe there was a young man a good few years ago who only managed to activate his chakra when he was ten!" Failure. Again. Uzuyashi was running her hands along her pockmarked neckline, dutifully ignoring to mention her swollen eye, which she thankfully had worked on first. Her titterings were going mostly ignored as Yumeka scowled at today's events.
Failure and a reprimand from the Head.
"That boy grew up to be Head!"
A surprise, but the mention of him still turned her thoughts to misery.
She had been at the beach today, the cool breeze and chirping gulls filled her ears with the music of home, backed by the soothing roll of the waves. She playfully squiggled her toes into the sand and laughed as a nearby shell irritably got up on legs and scuttled away. The sky was clear, marred only by a few puffs of white, billowy cotton, leaving her the enjoy the glorious ball of fire that adorned the skyline, its gentle warmth energising her readied muscles beneath her warming skin.
Today was the day.
Closing her eyes, she felt her hands contort reflexively into a perfect ram seal, a seal cauterised onto her muscle memory by years of practice. She felt her breathing slow to almost nothing, leaving only the lazy roll of a nearby wave to sound a gentle crash of encouragement. Her mind turned inwards, blanking out the outside world, leaving her adrift in her own world. Just beyond her hearing she knew she would hear the lazy roll of her hidden chakra matching up to the heartbeat of the waves.
"Uzumaki follow the waves," He once said, "without, we turn to the wind to guide us home."
A breeze kicked up, irritating the girl as her hair brushed across her face, attempting to force her out of her trance. Irritated, she tried to focus her mind to pull at her stomach, at something she had never properly seen, heard or felt before. The impossibility occurred and Yumeka couldn't help but feel the rush of exhilaration as she felt an unrecognisable power pool in the area she pulled at before it exploded outwards.
Her eyes flew open as she screamed, her muscles tensed as the power hammered through them, before pounding into her skin. It felt as if her skin was lined with needles trying to poke their way out from the inside, already she knew that each needle would lead to the red pockmarks once again, all 361 of them.
She dropped to her knees as the caustic burn all over her body eroded. The sun had been obscured by a grey cloud and the waveslost their lustre. She curled up into a ball on the warm sand and lay still as the grains cooled, dulling as the obscured sun fought against it's cloudy captor. She stifled a groan at her injuries as the shell from before slowly returned to it spot, the crab inside settling back down to rest. She lay simply watching the obscure creature do nothing, ignoring the idle strands of hair across her vision that mocked her by simply existing.
"Oi! Rice head!"
Yumeka's eye twitched as she picked her trembling limbs up to face a redheaded boy coming her way.
"I got in a fight today, Uzuyashi."
She hummed in a knowing manner, sadly aware of the events today.
"It was Yukisho, I brought Miwako those bandages like you asked me to last night and he was there," Yumeka growled a little as Uzuyashi's chakra fluttered over her vocal chords, "he said that the bandages weren't that great and that he could make better ones any time." Uzuyashi couldn't help but feel internally pleased about how defensive Yumeka got over her, it was cute if anything, though she could do without the clan acting colder around her now that she was associated with a potential 'unworthy'.
"So I told him he has to learn to stop blowing himself up making storage seals first! You should've seen his face!" Yumeka laughed lightly before she seemed to slump, a sadness pervading her usual bubbly demeanour.
"Anyway, I was training at the beach today, I thought I could do it, ya know! Today was gonna be the day! I followed the sound of the waves like everyone told me too and I pulled and I felt it! It went through me until it got to my skin cuz it burnt me again. I was gonna keep trying but then he showed up, an called me Rice Head again so I punched him. We had a fight but IwastiredandIlost. I didn't know Fa- the Head was watching buthewas and now he gave me a rep-rep-"
"Reprimand?" Uzuyashi offered, glad that she had heard the story earlier by overhearing the smug boy. A frown marred her features as she began to wonder just what the clan was coming to. The girl's speech kept quickening every time she forced back a sob, it was wrong to see a child of the clan learn to hide any potential sign of weakness from her own family. Because of them, her father no less.
"Yeah and then Yukisho said an unworthy like me deserves it and punchedmeintheeye. The Head did nothing! He told me to let it be a lesson and t-to totrainharder!"
Uzuyashi sighed, unsure what had been going on with the Head recently, he had been cold to everyone recently and damn near intolerable to the warriors with his excessive training regimens, it was getting a little silly.
"Well! Time to cheer a little lady I know up!" Yumeka blinked in surprise at her tirade being cut short, "I know I said you'd have to unlock your chakra first but since you've been trying so hard, I think I'll show you something special about my seals."
"Seals?"
"Yup, it's why I told you not to play with them."
With that, Uzuyashi sat down next to her, withdrawing a bandage, tracing her fingers over the central spirals adorning the cloth.
Click! Click!
Yumeka twitched at that damned notion again, before relaying the rest of her memory to the increasingly irritating man, "The seals on the bandages, they draw chakra from anything they surround once the matrix is connected, it's how they stay powered."
"Involuntarily? I suppose the seal molds the chakra?" Hanzō seemed honestly surprised by what would be considered mundane sealing by Uzumaki standards.
"Of course and yes, that is the basic idea behind fuinjutsu." A risky shot at an infinitely more powerful human but does't sarcasm always bring the nicest feeling of satisfaction?
"But what if the user runs out of chakra?" Hanzō asked eagerly, ignoring the shot.
"Have you ever heard of an Uzumaki running out of chakra?"
"..."
"..."
"I thought not."
"What about the girl you applied one to earlier?"
Yumeka looked up, one eyebrow raised. Delicately, she crossed a leg over the other before raising the saucer to her lips. Sipping loudly, her gaze caught his.
"What about her? She's dead"
Cold.
"What?" It wasn't the action that took the man off guard, it was who's lips such a statement came from.
"You expected me to not help the girl? To leave her with her hand as mangled as it was?"
"But the long term effects-"
"She's dead, your shinobi killed her and the boy."
"You wouldn't have known that before it happened."
A sigh, "She was hurt, I made her feel better. She was no use to your shinobi without a working hand, they'd just kill her quickly the next time she got caught doing something, what's a little more damage going to do to someone with a timer on their life?" She paused before looking away from Hanzō, her shoulders drawing together as her voice caught, a more natural sad note commanding her voice, "such a pretty little thing too, better to be killed clean in the street than being thrown into the fighting or getting caught-" she shook her head and shuddered.
Hanzō got the gist of it though, it seemed Yumeka had felt a cold sympathy for the girl, good, he could associate that feeling with what he knew of the woman, cold indifference just didn't seem to fit his profile of her.
The pair sat in silence for a few moments, sparing a passive thought for another life wasted.
Time to move on with this...
"Uzumaki were always famed for their reserves, speaking of which, it appears that Nagato activated his." Hanzō started, hiding his excitement well behind his rough voice.
"I'm aware." She'd been blind to miss it, a mixture a pride and disgust welled within her at the memory. Memories surged forth of cheering redheads as they welcomed another of her friends and family into their unobtainable fold with her always reaching from afar. Her previous jealously bubbled reflexively, a disgusting urge she felt towards her own son for having an active Uzumaki chakra network. No, she was scared for him mostly, a chilled fear gripped at her very bones as she forced her lip to stop trembling. His active chakra would lead him into the life of a shinobi, it was unavoidable now. He would be noticed on sight for the powerful chakra that now resonated within him, one which would stain his eyes and hair as red as the blood which had built her once proud clan, the same blood which had puddled the sandy paths of Uzushiogakure no Sato close to a decade ago. Her jealous streak had been buried as fast as the Amegakure orphans who had been conscripted into fighting. As fast as her family had bled out on the day-
"-I was surprised when he was born, I assumed all Uzumaki inherited the famed red hair of their ancestors."
Yumeka laughed. It was a shrill sounding monstrosity that pierced the room, darkened the air around them and caused the four visible ninja to blanch as a cold sweat prickled their necks, she hadn't been aware that the fearsome leader ahead of her had kept such tabs on her, Nagato had been set up the second she claimed a citizenship, the irony of the situation wasn't lost on her.
"Y-yumeka?"
"We were so proud of that chakra, ya know?" She muffled her giggle at the verbal slip she thought she'd dropped in her youth, her tone, venomous, "there would be a huge celebration right now, fireworks, seal displays, family."
"For... What?"
"Why for my beautiful boy activating the clan's beloved chakra, of course!" Her chirp was unnaturally high, the tone of a jealous child pretending to be happy that another got something they wanted, her tone further perverted by an underlying taste of a hidden madness unknown, "Oh, they would drink and watch the children play. Nagato would've been showered with gifts and affection. They would have the Head find him a teacher and he would finally be classed as an adult. A warrior, a scholar, medic," She seethed the last profession, before regressing to the childish chirp, "whatever he wished!"
"That... Doesn't sound like much of... An issue?" Hanzō's confusion bewitched his mind as the serene woman he had watched for years transformed into something darker, a mask so well crafted it had been unnoticeable began to fracture..
Yumeka's gaze cut tore at him with savage abandon, he actually took at step back as the once warm violet, now off blue eyes, a change which he hadn't noticed, darkened with a skin splitting glare turbo charged by an anger long buried.
She fumed, "Nagato would've been free to leave the island! Free to represent the Uzumaki clan! He wouldn't have been considered anunworthy now that the clan's hiddenweakness was buried beneath his chakra!" She gasped as her eyes widened at the implications of what she had just done. A childhood of indoctrination to keep everything quiet, whispered promises that everything would be okay once she activated her second chakra.
She paused. Her chest heaved with elation, the partial release of a clan secret that went unspoken for so long unshackled it's weight from her upon her overburdened shoulders. She stood as the crazy giddiness bubbled through her system accompanied by a husky chuckle as she seemed to bounce on the spot with childish taps. Hanzō could only gape in shocked awe as she visibly shuddered whilst stifling a laugh. The woman before him had deformed into a child who had done something terribly wrong and gotten away with. A child that was glad to have gotten away with her crime.
For a child of a shinobi clan, a people who knew the value of information and secrecy, thrived on it even, unforgivable shame should have doused their very essence after having betrayed their clan, their home, their family in such a manner, this child was not one of them. In all, this child was dangerous, one that knew too much and shared their knowledge too easily. Death would be the safe resort, yet one cannot extract information from the mind from a corpse, containment it would have to be, Hanzō's eyes steeled. Nagato wasn't the issue here, it seemed.
A mask fractured may still be repaired, it was only a question of the lengths one would have to go to in order to fix it. What the mask's value would be after repairing it however, was another question.
Would it be worth it?
He would be ashamed to admit that he, the Legendary Hanzō of the Salamander, had been cowed for a short time by a civilian level woman. He cringed inwardly, he would never hear the end of this from Mifune and his Iron Country samurai should it ever get out. He stood as he trained his memories of the years of war, how the fine crimson mists dispersed within the rain, of how they bejewelled the symphony of shrills from injured and the hoarse, throaty rattles of the dying. How all of it was enslaved to the bass of his frantic heartbeat that pounded against his ear drums, the iron stench of crimson and the adrenaline that had coursed through his system, that fuelled his greedy blood as he fought. He channelled it all in to a focussed aura as he grasped at the pictures his mind brought forth, fragmented visions of his dying enemies. He morphed their features and expressions trapped in his mind's eye into the the face of the young woman before him. Re-channelling his intent to kill the nameless men and woman in his mind onto his next victim was an art beloved by experienced shinobi when they had to throw their weight around. If nothing else, Hanzō was considered a master at utilising KI, his intent alone was said to stop the hearts of men before him.
The projected KI dropped Yumeka to the ground as fast as it had been focussed, her heart ravaged her ribs in an attempt to pump out the tide of adrenaline that flooded her system, her mind drew a blank as pure fear reared it's claws and dug them deep into her joints, paralysing her quivering extremities and subduing her on the spot. Despite what she had said, Hanzō needed more than the little information already revealed to grasp the situation fully, only then could he play with a deck stacked in his favour. She may have been loosed lipped so far but it was time for her to realise her place in any arrangements that could come forth. Comply or die.
She quickly got the point, judging by the way she looked towards her son before dipping her head in back his direction. Good.
"Uzumaki have two chakras, the red being the second?" Hanzō pondered, missing the darking of Yumeka's glare towards the ground, "tell me then, how does an Uzumaki activate this chakra, do they have to maintain the change?"
Hanzō may have missed her shift in demeanour, Kyojin however, did not. He had loyally followed his leader for years, picking up on his mannerisms as he went. Unknown to everyone but him, Hanzō had a terrible tendency to lose track of his surroundings should something pique his interest. The loyal had silently re entered the room unannounced upon feeling his leader's KI, knowing full well that he would begin to lose himself to his surprisingly curious nature. His right hand had run through seven unique seals within the time the suddenly aggressive redhead stood up and flew at his leader.
"Genjutsu: Rain Binding!"
"five years late..."A quick glance, a frown.
"Unworthy." A glare.
"A failure... she..." A shocked look, then pursed lips.
"mother was a nuisance... Bad blood perhaps?" A shake of the head.
"Oi! Rice head!"
Yumeka saw red, how dare he just assume chakra molding was second nature to the clan! He had become the embodiment of what her clans wishes were. An ignorant outsider, unaware of the struggle behind the scenes, the pressure on generation after generation of children to access a powerful chakra like it was nothing? She had told him, told him, enough to give him a clue that she hadn't, couldn't, use the chakra and how the clan acted towards the unworthy.
She felt her body move before she fully finished processing what was going on. Her rage had empowered her fear ridden frame, she had risen, an open palm flying forwards at Hanzō's face. Then, water. She had but a moment to feel the rain lash around her as a hurricane, she felt each droplet stick, a viscous substance that built up around her, coagulating in her mouth, nostrils, eyes and ears. She felt herself become restrained by the clear liquid, the world muffling and distorting behind the thick translucent gel. A vaguely familiar bubbling warmth burst from the back of her eyes and scalp. The strange substance was gone instantly, much like the storm was lifted away like a veil when that young girl led her into the field. Hanzō seemed to hang ahead of her in slow motion. She could see his expression contort into one of shock as his muscles shifted to move himself to the left, Yumeka simply adjusted her swing to meet him mid motion.
SLAP!
All four of the shinobi in the room stood stock still, mouths agape. The medics had turned to face the action, having temporarily forgotten their charge as Kyojin stood stock still, his hand still left in it's final seal.
Hanzō ignored the assault however, already his hand had caught her retreating wrist, gripping it tight to enough that any increase in pressure would crush the bones. It was her visage however, that left him numb. The crimson of the woman's hair had bled out into a pure white, mottled with the occasional red strand. Her eyes had changed ,changed again, he corrected himself, changing to a very pale blue, the kind of blue that would occur should sun hit the face of mother of pearl, only less vibrant. She couldn't have looked any less Uzumaki now if she wanted to. Red hair, reddish browns, purples, pinks and greys in their eyes had been identified with the thought to be extinct clan but this? It was as if all the Uzumaki in the woman had drained away.
Wait...
He hadn't forgotten Kyojin's concerns over the potential of the now deceased orphans being trained spies. Hanzō knew he was mistaken, however the fact that his shinobi had cast a genjutsu and reported that it had been broken instantly by the blue haired girl leading Yumeka had been intriguing. He now had his answer.
''T-the recruiters t-tested me...'' ... ''th-they said I couldn't m-mould chakra t-too."
"The seals on the bandages, they draw chakra from anything they surround once the matrix is connected, it's how they stay powered."
"Involuntarily? I suppose the seal molds the chakra?"
It wasn't the girl, it was Yumeka who broke the genjutsu. Involuntarily. Kyojin's genjutsu were known to be powerful, the man drew upon more than just chakra to fuel them. He was even infamous among the Hyuuga clan of Konoha for being able to trap them in genjutsu. It seemed that every Uzumaki held the red chakra, chakra powerful enough to dispel even the mightiest of genjutsu. The puzzle here was that the Uzumaki before him couldn't mold it, at least not voluntarily.
...He would find the answer to this puzzle, however.
Yumeka's gaze was no longer on him, focussed instead on the wisps of white hair that fluttered by her eyes. Her paled iris' looked dead to the world, as if the changing hue of the locks had hollowed out her very soul. Mechanically, her free hand reached up as if ordered to by a lousy puppeteer. She twirled a lock around her finger before slowly, as if she was scared to see the result, brought the twisted hair into her vision. She gasped, though there was no real force behind it. Her fingers fell away from her face as her entire posture slumped into Hanzō.
His thought processes crashed to a standstill with the power of the roaring tides. His eyes tracked downwards only to see how she shifted her face against his chest to look at Nagato. Through his jacket, he could feel her flesh tremble through her damp clothing. Her free hand was pressed just above his abdomen, as some form of reflexive support. She simply leaned in like one would expect a long lost lover to do and, embarrassingly enough, she had honestly surprised the man who was known to expect anything. With all the skill of a professional shinobi, he easily ignored the pleasured primal rumblings from within as the softness of the woman's curves pressed against his rigid form, her shuddering breaths pressing her breasts more firmly against him. She was young, easy on the eyes and was relatively well sculpted for a civilian, a body maintained by labour and a healthy diet, though she was a little too lean. He acknowledged and disregarded the physical attraction instantaneously, his heavily disciplined mind returning to the matter at hand.
He still held her wrist, which had moved above her shoulder when she closed the distance. There was no resistance, however. A rebellious part of Hanzō's mind was disappointed to see the fire he had lit within the woman die. Her hand had flopped backwards in his grip, her fingers loosely curled, no strength there. The woman had become little more than a wet rag trembling in the wind. He snapped his fingers in her face to provoke a response but her stare remained, unfazed and unblinking. Good. It would make searching for the answer to his theory easier, at least.
Gently, he pushed her back slightly before he held her chin between his index finger and thumb, gently tilting her head upwards to face him. Her thousand yard stare remained however, seeing everything and nothing all at once, it was getting more eerie by the second. Sliding his thumb upwards, he praised her bottom lip open with his thumb, drawing her mouth open. Opening it the full way, he formed a quick half tiger seal then clicked his fingers. A tiny modified fire jutsu lit a tiny light on the end of his finger, a useful illumination for reading in the dark. Pinching her tongue, he checked underneath, before checking the inside of her cheeks and the roof of her mouth, tilting her head at different angles to ensure he missed nothing. Satisfied that it wasn't there, he grimaced, he really hoped that what he was looking for wasn't somewhere more intimate, he really didn't want to test the Uzumaki's compliance and make more of an enemy out of himself to her than he already was.
He twirled the woman around gently, leading her with his hand still holding her wrist. He ran his fingers through her hair covering her scalp, leering through the strands in an attempt to find a mark on the skin concealed beneath. He failed to find anything behind her ears before managing to stifle a sigh. As he was about to turn to request his medic kunoichi's services, he idly ran his palm up the nape of her neck to move away her hair-
-there.
The same spiral, so similar to the one on the bandages, sat innocently concealed beneath her hair covering the back of her neck. Hanzō recalled that all seals were usually as dark as the ink used to create them, even if constructed purely of chakra. This seal, however, was the palest of greys, almost blending in perfectly with the porcelain of Yumeka's skin. This seal, if her theories were correct earlier on, should be able to utilise the woman's inaccessible chakra. She remained, frustratingly enough, unable to actually mold her chakra even with the seal scribed onto her, yet maybe...
"Yumeka, try to activate your chakra."
She seemed to come back to life as she blinked. Slowly, she ran her tongue across the inside of her mouth to eradicate the foreign dryness brought forth from Hanzō's finger. She seemed to come to an odd conclusion as the dryness vanished, her eyes bulging in what appeared to be fear, before she swallowed, grimacing the whole time. Unknown to Hanzō, she had just undergone the very serious internal debate over whether to spit, risking the shinobi's ire, or swallow and try not to puke.
As a white strand fluttered into her vision, Yumeka seemed to change back into the fiery woman he had awoken again a few minutes before, as she closed her eyes, her jaw locked with fierce determination, a fire written across the knitted muscles drawing together across her brow. Hanzō and Kyojin tensed when her hands flew into a perfect ram seal at a speed expected from an experienced chunin ninjutsu specialist.
Yumeka took herself back to Uzushiogakure, feeling the waves roll against the shore, her breathing slowed to almost nothing before matching the steady rhythm of the ocean. For the first in a long time, she pulled at something she couldn't feel exist, grasping at a mass of nothingness with everything she had.
...Nothing.
'Nothing?' Yumeka's hands fell to her sides as her hair cascaded over her dipped head. Her fists clenched tightly, causing her knuckles to twist into white ivory.
Hanzō twitched, dismissing Kyojin silently, before guiding the woman back into the chair she woke in. He was honestly mystified as to how she had managed to unlock her chakra the first time without the ability to mold it and she'd already made it clear she didn't know. He had hoped that locating a seal similar to the bandages would explain it all but yet here he was with more loose ends to tie up. What did that seal then then? It would have to wait, however, he had a more pressing question, one which had plagued him for years. He was hoping that the somewhat broken woman would be able to handle it.
Yumeka withdrew the forgotten tea and downed the lukewarm mixture with one gulp,
"Failure."
"-no relative of mine!"
"At least I have my chakra, Rice Head!"
A gruff cough, muffled by a gargantuan respirator, "Yumeka?"
Back in the room once more, Yumeka's attention returned to him, a vain attempt at ignoring the ghosts of her past mocking her.
Hanzō shifted slightly before turning to look towards Nagato, she flinched at the action as her fingers quirked to throw the porcelain at the mountain's head. He stopped and looked towards her, his eyes reflecting a deep melancholy that seemed out of place upon his features, his cheek twitched before he set his jaw. To her surprise, the man audibly sighed. She would've laughed in any other situation, the man looked like a lovesick pre-teen.
"I wouldn't normally ask this but the villa- I need to know. The red chakra of the Uzumaki is obviously gained from his lineage but a dojutsu? The only ones I've come across baring those are the clansmen of the Hyuuga and Uchiha."
Yumeka's fists clenched at the mention. A dark loathing burned in the pit of her stomach worse than the bitter concoction that she had taken.
"Yumeka," his pause was louder than a thousand shuriken, she didn't notice her eyes dampen, her teeth grind and her thighs press tightly together at the pre-empted question,
"who was the boy's father?"