Before we get to the latest oneshot, I've just got a question: does anyone know what Nagato's actual hair colour is? I always pictured it as black, and I've seen it that way in some pictures, but in others it's been shown to be a sort of dark-reddish shade, almost burgundy. I'm not sure if Kishimoto's given us any definitive evidence to either side, but if he has and anyone out there knows it, it'd really help me out too. I actually like the black-and-white tradition of manga, and much prefer it to the often garish (at least in my opinion) colouring of non-Japanese comics, but it can admittedly be frustrating for fanfiction writers seeking information. :P
Also, the dialogue between Yahiko and the Sannin is mostly taken from Chapter 446 of the manga - with some tweakage and additions on my part - in case you found it familiar. And if you don't remember, Tiny is the name of the little dog who was Nagato's faithful companion.
Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
3: Yahiko. If hope was his burden alone, then he would bear it to the end, and carry his friends along with it if he had to.
He licked his thumb and rubbed it hard over his cheek, clearing away the grime and biting his tongue as the saliva stung a recently acquired scratch. His damp finger lost its moisture almost immediately - it was strange, almost uncomfortable, to be so dry. It hadn't rained since the day Tiny had died, a rare break, and although the wetness was hardly pleasant, Yahiko felt cracked and crusty without it.
He didn't mention it - whining about something like that was too wimpy for words - but glancing at his companions, he thought that they must be experiencing the same thing. Nagato's dark hair was so dirt-covered it was nearly brown, hanging limply, and Konan's was practically exploding with static. Yahiko looked down at his hands and flexed his knuckles - the dry skin there was crisscrossed with flaky lines. Then he looked away, disgusted by himself.
Just look at the state you're in! he thought bitterly, glaring with slitted eyes up at the scorching sun. At the state we're all in. We're so weak we're falling apart at the seams. We'll never survive at this rate. Once again, the urgency of the statement he'd made, "I need strength, not just words!", hit him with gut-wrenching force. He could say that they had to become ninja, but how were they supposed to do that? How did they start? How did anything start in this wartorn hellhole, how did anything grow to be more than just stupid, hopeful words coming out of a child's mouth?
Suddenly Konan perked up, stepping closer to him. "Look!" she exclaimed in a whisper, peering around the pillar that they were standing behind. "It's them - those ninja who fought Hanzo!"
Nagato barely stirred, but Yahiko spun immediately, feeling a blossom of excitement and expectation flower in his empty stomach as he saw them too, the three Konoha ninja, two of them seated, the other upright beside them. Yahiko appraised them keenly - they were battered, their armour dented and filthy, but they were all whole, their victory evident despite their serious, tired atmosphere. He felt the hope rise within him once again - they were strong. They were the answer to his prayers and his curses.
"We've got to talk to them," he said without hesitation. "They can show us how to be ninja. They're good enough to do it, I know they are."
Nagato did look up at this, the premature shadows under his eyes standing out against his pale, mournful face. Panic flitted across his expression. "We...we can't!" he protested, his voice feeble but his fear and objection real.
Yahiko snorted impatiently. This was no time for Nagato to be such a baby. "We have to! This might be our only chance. How long do you think we can live like this? Tiny's already gone, we'll be next if we don't do something about it. We have to protect ourselves!"
Nagato quivered and curled in on himself at the mention of his beloved dog's death. He hugged his knees to his chest with one arm and scrabbled at the dusty ground with the other, as if seeking the comfort of the soft fur that he would never stroke again. The sight tore at Yahiko more than he could say, filled him with guilt - he hadn't been able to save Tiny, had hardly been able to save anyone or anything - but it only reinforced his desperation. "Being scared and grieving all the time aren't going to get you anywhere!" he lashed out ruthlessly at Nagato. "We need to take action. And if you're too much of a coward to do that, then I will!"
"Yahiko! Stop it!" Konan cried, grabbing his elbow and shaking him. "We're all scared and we're all grieving, and you know it! So don't blame it on him!" He tore himself out of her grip but subsided, and she approached Nagato, crouching down to his level. "He didn't mean it, Nagato," she said softly. "But we do need to protect ourselves somehow."
"Don't apologize for me, Konan," Yahiko cut her off harshly, slightly sorry for saying something like that to Nagato, who already had more than enough self-doubt without him chipping in, but nonetheless stubborn and resentful. "Maybe you're right, but I'm right too. And I'll go to them alone if I have to."
"You're not going alone," Konan said firmly, straightening. "Don't even try." She put her hands on her hips bravely, but he saw the trepidation in the anxious set of her mouth. Still, her unhesitating support fortified him as it always did, and he squared his shoulders and announced before he could lose his nerve, "Well, come then, because I'm going now."
He stepped away from the pillar and marched determinedly toward the ninja, hearing Konan's slower, lighter footfalls behind him, and without pausing he called back, "You come too, Nagato." Nagato was most persistent in his defiance when he was frightened, but he had never yet ignored a direct command from Yahiko.
At close proximity the three Konoha nin looked more beat-up than they had from the earlier distance, but also somehow tougher, when he could make out the lines etched on their faces and the muscles sticking out through the rips in their clothes. Their collective attention was riveted on him at once as they noticed him, a bit more pressure than he would have liked, but the one with the bushy mane of white hair spoke first. "What do you kids want?" he demanded, voice rough and muffled as he talked through a mouthful of some sort of rations.
"We want to survive," Yahiko replied clearly, his demand loud and unrestrained. "We want to learn the way of the ninja. We want - we need you to teach us." He heard Konan shift, and thought there was another scuffing as well - he hoped it was Nagato after all, but refused to break eye contact with the ninja to look back and check.
At that moment, without warning, rain began to pour down, drenching them soundlessly, and while there was a brief second of shock, Yahiko felt himself grow under its influence, its familiarity lending him courage. He stuck his chin out a little further and gazed at them fearlessly.
The two who were sitting, the white-haired one and the blond woman, both stood rapidly, looking surprised at the sudden request, but the third, a grey-faced, oily-looking man with a long curtain of black hair, seemed unconcerned. He sized up the youngsters impassively, his lip curling momentarily before he asked, deadpan, "Should we kill them?"
Yahiko stiffened instantly. "Wha - ?!" he exclaimed aggressively, falling into a ready crouch as a horrible wave of terror seized him. They didn't stand a chance against real ninja - but they wouldn't, they couldn't really intend to - !
"I am merely speaking from the point of view of someone who has seen his share of war orphans," the oily one continued smoothly, "and it's a cruel life. They would be better off if we were to simply kill them now."
Yahiko's heart was pounding painfully by now, but fortunately the other two ninja seemed to share his aversion to the proposal. "Stop it, Orochimaru!" the white-haired man commanded powerfully, and the woman's lovely brown eyes flashed fiercely.
Orochimaru looked away dispassionately, as if the discussion already bored him. White Hair gazed at him for a few moments, the hardness of his eyes contrasting bizarrely against his other features, which seemed better designed for merriment, then said suddenly, "You and Tsunade head home. I'm gonna stay with these kids for a while."
The woman, presumably Tsunade, appeared stunned. "Huh?! Jiraiya, what - ?"
Jiraiya went on with conviction, "Just until they can take better care of themselves." He paused and glanced down briefly, and Yahiko thought he saw pain pass over his marked face, a pain that he himself knew well. "It's the least I can do," Jiraiya said finally.
There was nothing that Yahiko liked in the looks of the ninja - Orochimaru was disdainful, Tsunade was pitying but uncomprehending, and Jiraiya was willing and dutiful but heavy-hearted underneath it all, as if he didn't really believe that anything he could do for them would save them. But Yahiko and his team were used to facing fears, jeers and impossible odds, and his resolve solidified to steel on the spot.
"So do it," he spoke out boldly, challengingly. It didn't matter what these three believed - he could be just as strong as them.
A hint of a lopsided smile showed up on Jiraiya's lips, and Konan, encouraged by this, stepped forward and said formally but earnestly, "Thank you."
At last Tsunade smiled too, and she nodded as she turned her back on them, clapping Jiraiya on the shoulder. "Good luck," were her parting words, and Yahiko couldn't tell if they were aimed at Jiraiya or at him and his two friends. Either way, they were another drop of vigour to empower him.
No matter how many times he had to take the plunge, they would survive.
