CHAPTER FOUR
Kiba Inuzuka juggled the bulky grocery bags in his arms, prompting an indignant yip from a bulge in his jacket. The bulge squirmed, climbing from a point near his midriff up to his chest, and then the white nin-dog Akamaru poked his head up out of the collar of the coat to bark up at the boy's chin.
"Sorry, buddy; didn't mean to crush you," grunted Kiba. "These econo-size bags of dog kibble aren't exactly the easiest things to manage, though." He struggled with the unwieldy bags for a few more seconds before bags number one and two tumbled to the ground and bag number three fell on top of his foot.
With a yip that was remarkably similar to the one that had just come from his canine companion, he hopped up and down, shaking the injured appendage wildly. When the pain subsided, he stooped to gather up the scattered bags and groaned, "Owww!" Akamaru took the opportunity to slither out of Kiba's jacket and settle on top of the boy's head to avoid being crushed again.
Man has this been a sucky day so far, Kiba thought once he started on his way again. I wake up late, run over to our training grounds, wait there for a freaking hour before anybody bothers to tell me that training is canceled today, get stuck doing the grocery shopping, and now I go and practically break my toe under a giant bag of dog food. I wonder what'll happen next. Aloud, he said, "Hey, Akamaru, after we drop this stuff off at home, do you want to swing by Shino's place and bug him for a while?"
His companion barked back an affirmative response and Kiba grinned. "Cool. Hey, remember the time we took his sunglasses and hid them for a whole week back when we were still in the Academy? All the girls were flipping out because they thought we had some new mystery guy. Man, that was funny!"
Akamaru whimpered, but Kiba kept laughing. "Who cares if he sicked a bunch of fleas on us? It was totally worth it!"
His spirits raised, he started around the bend that would bring his house into view—and stopped with a jerk as an sickening odor wafted to his nose. It was a smell that he had always hated, even though it was unavoidable in his line of work. A whiff of copper. A dash of something fleshy like raw meat. An edge of mild organic rot. The stench of spilled blood.
It would have been an insult to Akamaru's abilities to ask the nin-dog whether he smelled it as well. Instead, Kiba let the grocery bags fall to the ground with a collective thud, snaked his hand into his ever-present weapons holster and withdrew two black soldier pills. He tossed one up to the pup on top of his head before popping the other into his own mouth. The resulting surge of chakra was so heady it was almost dizzying, but he wasted no time to allow it to level out. Together, they ran forward and Kiba performed a series of rapid hand seals.
"All Fours jutsu!"he shouted, and even as his fingernails were hardening into curved claws, he ran through another string of seals. "Man Beast Clone!" By the time they were within sight of their home, boy and dog had finished their transformations to become identical beast clones, powering forward on all fours and a sharp wave of new smells assaulted their sensitive noses. Sweat. Adrenaline. Fear? Kiba had to smell again, unable to believe that last one; not wanting to consider what it might mean. His nose hadn't lied. The reek of fear was faint, but undeniably present.
Everything was perfectly still, and that cocktail of unsettling smells seemed all the more ominous for it. The Inuzuka house was never quiet—people were always bustling in and out, dogs were always barking or wrestling in the front yard, smoke was always curling out of the rickety old chimney…. Even when the two of them burst through the front door, the house was unnaturally quiet. No greeting barks, not even any scolding for taking three hours to pick up the groceries. There was only silence and the overpowering stink of blood.
He found his mother first. Even though some part of him had known what he was going to see there was a moment of numb shock when he saw her lifeless body lying on the floor. There were deep slashes in both arms, a handful of shuriken embedded in her throat, a gaping hole in the place where her stomach belonged…she hadn't just been killed; she'd been brutalized. Her two nin-dogs had received the same treatment—they were curled in two heaps of blood and fur at their mistress' feet.
Something stirred in the corner of the room; a stranger with splatters of blood on his clothes and hands. Kiba didn't hesitate, didn't think or analyze or try to invent any clever strategy. Instead, he lunged into his attack with Akamaru mirroring his movements as he began to rotate in midair. He was so furious he didn't bother to call out the jutsu until the two of them were almost on top of the man: "Fang Over Fang!"
He felt the solid impact as the hit connected with the man's abdomen and sensed Akamaru pulling back to stop his momentum but Kiba kept driving forward. Kiba was well aware of the fact that the man was dead, but he let the attack carry the two of them through the air until they ran up against the wall and he heard a the man's ribs snap.
Vaguely, he heard Akamaru questioning whether such force had been necessary, whether the man had even seen them coming. Even through his rapidly waning sense of rationality, Kiba knew that his friend was right. The man hadn't noticed them, and even if he had Kiba suspected that he had been unarmed. A gentle, glancing blow would have sufficed, but he had poured so much chakra into the attack that he could feel his reserves straining to maintain his transformation jutsu even with the aid of the soldier pill he'd swallowed. But—
Another whiff of blood hit his nose like a physical force. These bastards don't deserve a fair fight, he thought as he barreled out of the room after the trail. In spite of his resolve, Kiba was relieved when Akamaru stopped his questioning and followed him without another word. He was in no mood to deal with the nin-dog's questions and comments.
They ran down the hall, past two dead nin-dogs—Hana's, Kiba thought and proceeded to mutter every swear word he could think of under his breath—past his (ransacked) bedroom, and into the kitchen, where a man dressed in black was standing with his back to the door. As soon as Kiba entered the room the man's posture stiffened and he turned around to face him. He stood staring at the wild-looking boy and his cloned nin-dog for several seconds before his face split into a smile.
"So here's the pup," he drawled, turning his attention to something that was lying on the ground. Kiba bristled at the sound of the man's voice. Something about that cool, confident tone was much more infuriating than any form of mock or sneer. He followed the man's eyes to the floor where his sister's body lay. She was in no better condition than his mother and all their nin-dogs had been and Kiba could barely hold back a snarl as the man nudged the girl's cheek with the toe of his boot. The man continued on in that maddeningly even tone: "Is this your sister?"
Kiba offered no reply save for a low growl deep in the back of his throat. The smile on the man's face took on a sordid quality as he said, "She was a good screw. Before I slit her throat, that is."
A chill curled through Kiba's body at the man's words. It started in the space between his chest and his belly and he felt it stretching through his legs, into his fingers, up to his mouth. It reached his eyes and he was blind, and then his head and he was reeling so badly he could barely hear the man saying, "Of course, you wouldn't know about that. Or maybe you would. A family that lives like dogs…I wouldn't put it past any one of you to—"
Kiba leapt forward and sank his teeth into something warm and soft. The coppery taste of blood flooded into his mouth and he tore a mouthful of flesh away with a twist of his neck. He didn't know whether it was from the man's arm or his leg or face, and it didn't matter because the chill had penetrated into the deepest recesses of his mind, freezing the last of his waning rationality in place. Jutsu and chakra were forgotten; all that mattered was killing the man and making him hurt as much as possible as he died.
The man gave a strangled, choking gasp and half-raised a shaking hand to the hole that Kiba had torn in his throat. Kiba stomped on the hand, pinning it to the floor, and then he plopped down to the ground, driving the knee of his free leg into the man's chest. Then he was driving his fist into the man's mouth, his nose, his eyes over and over and over….
And Akamaru was there, trying to pull Kiba off the unmoving body and repeating, "Kiba, it's over; he's dead!" His knuckles were bleeding and his transformation jutsu had faded, but Kiba couldn't stop, even if he'd wanted to because the cold chill was still in his brain and in his hands and guts and heart. His rage was so absolute he could see nothing besides that man's twisted smirk—which was why he never saw the shuriken until they were buried in his shoulder.
He howled with pain and jumped away from the man's body. Akamaru was whimpering, and Kiba had just enough time to register that the nin-dog's whines were coming from somewhere behind him before an arm snaked around his body to slash at his abdomen with a kunai. His legs wobbled and gave out and he felt something warm and sticky dribbling through his jacket and down his legs. A set of arms caught him under the armpits, forcing him to stand like a puppet on a string, and then a voice said, "Sedation successful. What are your orders?"
A low, raspy voice replied, "He's of no use to us. Finish him off."
Kiba tried to force his body to move—where the hell was Akamaru?—but his limbs were numb. He felt something drive into his back and tear and he opened his mouth to scream—how could he have missed sensing these two; sniffing them out?—but nothing would come out. There was a buzzing in his ears that swelled until it was all he could hear and then the world was blotting out of existence.
As his body hit the ground, his muddled ears caught the first man's statement, "Inuzuka extermination complete." And all was dark.
Shizune clutched the crinkling bag of potato chips in her hand and wavered between laughing and sobbing. On the one hand, she knew that she cut a ridiculous figure racing through the Konoha hospital ICU carrying the red bag of junk food. Doctor, get these patients a helping of salt and lard, stat! On the other hand, the food had been intended as a gift for a boy whose grim death only hours earlier had marked the beginning of a crisis that was shaking Konoha to its core. She finally settled on a choked noise that came out as a barking cough.
The sound caught the attention of a flock of orderlies who were pushing a wheeled stretcher down the hall ahead of her. They came to an abrupt halt, blocking the way, and turned around to see who had dared to make such a noise in the ward intended for the critically ill and injured. Shizune felt a wave of discomfort wash over her at the sight of them. With their bodies swaddled in the white hospital scrubs and their faces hidden behind cloth masks, they looked like phantoms with empty eyes. Through the press of bodies, Shizune was able to catch a glimpse of the person that lay on the stretcher. Long dark hair, streaked with gray near the temples—enough for her to guess that it was one of the elder Hyuugas.
So now it's gotten to the clan leaders, she thought and felt a hysterical urge to laugh again. Instead, she summoned up as much authority as she could muster to ask, "Have any of you seen Tsunade?"
The ghostly figures looked at one another as though confirming their collective answer before responding with a subdued chorus of "no."
Shizune didn't bother with a thank you as she pushed past the knot of people in the narrow hall and continued on, pausing to check every room she came to for any sign of the Hokage. Every room was the same: an occupied hospital bed, the whir of a respirator and the hum of monitors, but no Tsunade. This is…it's out of control, she thought. There's no end in sight—it just keeps spreading! And the poor Nara boy…I wonder if he'll ever be the same after all of this is over. She felt a hot tear crawl down her cheek. I wonder if any of us will ever be the same.
By the time she reached the last room in the ward, Shizune had given up hope of seeing anybody else up and about on the deadly silent ward besides the white-cloaked orderlies. She was barely able to swallow back a yelp of surprise when the door swung open, but when she noticed who had stepped out of the room the her yelp came out unhindered.
"K-Kakashi?" she stammered through her shock. "But—but you were sick…I was there…I—I hooked you up to the ventilator myself!"
The white-haired jounin raised an eyebrow and croaked, "So you're the one I have to thank for this hellishly sore throat then."
"But…but…."
He made a rasping noise that might have been an attempt at a laugh. "Kidding. Just kidding."
"How…?"
"I don't know. Ask Tsunade." He winced and brought a hand up to his throat. Shizune realized then that the 'hellishly sore throat' comment couldn't have been much of an exaggeration. He's so hoarse I'm surprised he can speak at all, she thought.
"Is Tsunade in there?" she queried. Kakashi opened his mouth to reply and to spare him the trouble, she added, "Just nod if she is." He nodded in response and Shizune said a quick thank you before bursting through the door and into the room.
The Hokage was standing in the middle of the room, her face a mix of many emotions. Shizune knew the other woman well enough to guess that the gleam she saw in those eyes was one of triumph, but she could think of no reason that could explain why her lips were puckered in a tight frown. More worrisome, although Tsunade was looking in the direction of the door, she made no move to acknowledge Shizune's presence.
"Tsunade?"
Tsunade came back to herself with a jump. "Shizune…."
"Tsunade, you did it!" Shizune grinned. "I was so worried…I was afraid that things were getting out of control, but now everything's going to be OK, right?"
"R-right. Everything is going to be fine now." The ghost of a genuine smile appeared on her face. "Do you have news about the status of our other patients?"
Shizune felt her flying spirits crash back down to the soles of her feet. The excitement of Tsunade's breakthrough didn't change the gravity of the information that Shizune had brought with her. "Almost all of the elder Hyuugas have been transferred to intensive care, and—" her voice hitched and she had to force the next words past a tight lump in her throat: "—and Hanabi Hyuuga and Shikaku and Yoshino Nara are all dead."
Tsunade was quiet for a long time with her lips pursed and her jaw clenched. When she finally spoke, it came out in an exhausted sigh. "Has anybody informed Neji, Hinata, and Shikamaru of this?"
"Yes; I did. I just came here from the children's quarantine."
"How are they holding up?"
Shizune blinked back a wave of prickling tears, determined to maintain some form of composure. "Hinata should be all right as long as Neji stays healthy. The Nara boy…." She trailed off, waiting until she was sure she could trust her voice.
The silence stretched until Tsunade prompted, "What is it? Do you think he might try to harm himself?"
"N-no! Nothing like that at all! He was upset—understandably so—but not destructive. He was…very quiet. And he gave me this." With a crinkle of cellophane, she held out the red bag of potato chips. Gingerly, as though it was an activated exploding note, the Hokage took the bag from her assistant. She stared at it with her brow furrowed, saying nothing.
Shizune shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and, unable to stand the silence any longer, babbled, "Shikamaru…he asked me to take that to the Akimichi boy's room for when he got better. I didn't have the heart to tell him that Chouji was already dead and I didn't know what else to do with it so I just—"
"So that's how…."
"What?" Shizune knew that her chatter wasn't always the most exciting thing in the world, but she couldn't fathom how Tsunade could find a bag of junk food more interesting than her own friend and assistant. The other woman hadn't taken her eyes off the red bag from the moment Shizune had called her attention to it. Now she was staring at it like it was a source of enlightenment. "Tsunade, what is it?"
Tsunade shook her head and was suddenly all business. "Shizune, take this—" she pulled a vial filled with a murky white substance and pressed it into Shizune's hands "—and administer three milligrams to all of our patients immediately. Don't allow any nurses or aides to help; I want you to do it personally. Then I want you to check our store of glucagons and meet me in my office at the Hokage tower in thirty minutes."
Shizune glanced down at the vial in her hand. A jumble of questions raced through her head, begging to be asked. She forced them to the back of her mind, executed a sharp bow, and hurried from the room. She had known the older woman long enough to recognize when there was no time for questions; when it was absolutely imperative that orders be followed to the letter. Now, if ever, was one of those times.
Author's Notes: I'd like to thank nakuzzle, LittleMana, and Af for your kind reviews. Nice comments make me grin like an idiot all day long and constructive criticism makes me feel important. More to come soon!
