Hello People!
I assume there is more than one of you ;) though I must give a special thanks to the guest reader from SA for your informative review. I am very grateful and will try to take into account what you say for my future descriptions.
Just to clarify though, I am basing Conrad off of the comedian Trevor Noah. If you want to read a truly amazing autobiography I would highly recommend his book. He does an exceptional job describing life as a "colored" person in pre/post Apartheid South Africa. It is a very sensitive subject, so I know I am taking a gamble by including this as part of the story, but if one is really paying attention, the whole story can be interpreted as pretty politically charged.
Not that I am trying to make any statement with anything I write here. I do have certain principles I stand by, but ultimately I just want to create something here that people can enjoy reading, whether or not they agree with what is being said. As long as it is written well, and makes sense, that is all I can hope for.
In that spirit, may I wish everyone in the States and beyond a happy Independence day. Let's celebrate the day that made us a country where we can write dribble like this, criticize and enjoy life with impunity.
Cheers.
The snow like sugar glass gave way under heavy footfalls.
Crunch.
The human chain of thirteen meandering upwards into overwhelming whiteness.
Crunch.
Wool cloaks in place of fur, matted down with ice blessedly masking their presence in the storm.
Crunch.
Except for those mute steps, which echoed louder in his mind than the howling winds around them.
Footsteps like heartbeats.
They had left the trucks far behind them like cumbersome shells of caterpillars, and once again Naruto found himself in the lead, but not necessarily leading. He was the head, but not the heart of their cause. Cold and lonely in this winter wonderland.
He briefly recalled a drunken soiree many nights ago, back in the barracks in the Mediterranean. A scrawny looking pine tree festooned with garish ornaments so heavy they looked like they would snap the poor thing's branches. A fellow recruit animatedly telling him a crazy story of a jolly old fat guy and an ostracized deer with a glow-in-the-dark nose.
Not much of that drunken night stuck with him, certainly not details. But the gist of the folktale like the key of a musical piece tagged along, and now percolated up in his mind in this wintry scape. It was almost the same time of year, after all. He felt like that misanthropic animal, gifted but unappreciated. And forced to accomplish an impossible task all within the span of a single evening. A single lifetime. Over and over again.
He figured he was missing the intended impression of both the story and the holiday surrounding it, but given his own experience with the winter celebration, one could hardly blame him. This Christmas day was as much a mystery to him as everything else in the outside world seemed to be. They did not seem to put much stock in it, here in Afghanistan.
And it wasn't like they got the day off, either. Belletriste had rousted them from sleep earlier than the sun once again, and they had taken off shortly after that. They each ported their individual loads, plus a hefty amount of supplies that had apparently been pre-loaded into the trucks before departing. There was enough to sustain them for several months away from civilization.
The lead drivers, plus the two in charge of their own vehicle had removed a piece from the steering column of each vehicle, slipping them into their packs. Presumably to disable them from use by unwanted third parties, though Naruto had his doubts as to how effective this might prove in the long run. They had left all of the scrolls containing extra fuel in the back of the trucks, and that in itself was enough of a prize for anyone lucky enough to stumble upon the disguised vehicles. Still, it was not his place to question.
As it was not his place to question when the Commander ordered him to the front of their train. Any sort of tactical formation would have proved near-impossible in the narrow goat-paths they would now follow in pursuit of the dissidents (1). But the one in charge had been very specific in having him at the forefront. It was obvious, of course, why. At least if one thought like a ninja. Even though Karui was probably a better sensor of chakra than he was, she was no Sage. And in this practical wasteland it would be all too easy for him to spot the telltale usage of the geographical distortion seals, as they would appear as a gap in the blanket of life even amongst a backdrop of nothing.
Once again his NCO presented him as an outsider in possession of a more competent understanding of the shinobi world. The most typical reaction to their presence was one of indifference. Awe and fear were contenders for second place, and both relied on the fact that the non-shinobi had no concept of how chakra worked. Strangely enough, despite the scientific community's fascination with them, everyone else wanted no part in the mysteries of their 'race'. Fear was easier to understand than empathy.
Not so, apparently, with this man. In fact, even though they were the only shinobi present, the whole unit seemed to be designed around taking every advantage of their abilities. Whereas the rest of the Legion saw their skills as a bonus, or even unwanted elitism, within this newly (re) formed unit, they and their skills were the locus.
Almost like a science experiment. And the soldiers around them were the control.
The monotonous trudging gave rise to these thoughts. It was not all that hard for him nor his shinobi teammates to walk on top of the freshly laid snow using chakra, but it was by necessity that they had to wait for the rest of the unit. Not least of which because they had no real idea of where they were going, but a more fundamental principal that Naruto could thoroughly get behind.
A legionnaire never left his teammates behind.
So as the first in line, Naruto was forced to crunch his way up through the obscured path, flattening the dry blankets of precipitation for those behind, to make it easier for them and their heavy loads.
It might have been grating to the shinobi to have to trudge along at such a sluggish pace, but for once Naruto didn't mind. He could not speak for the other two, but he found it relaxing in a way. Unhurriedly strolling through this whitewashed diorama. Apart from the bitter cold stinging his eyes, the purity of the landscape surrounding him was a relief from all of the artificial surroundings he had been subject to for the past year and a half. And amongst the labored breaths and whistling wind, there was no one hounding him with inane chatter or impatient orders.
Perhaps he could grow to like this. Maybe he could find contentment after all in this life after shinobi?
Of course even then it was not the end. In this seemingly repetitive journey upwards, they were going somewhere. This purity could not last. It never did. Just as the seasons turned one to the other, winter to spring, peace always gave way to conflict.
His gloved hand tightened around the grip of his slung rifle.
He would slog his way through, be it snow, pain or blood.
"No."
"No?"
The obsidian-haired man did not repeat himself, and continued to daub paint over the canvas in front of him, ignoring the perplexed, yet reserved presence behind his studious station. The old man's eyebrow twitched in a mild show of irritation and intrigue as the younger man blotted his brush lightly, giving depth to the cloud he was currently working on.
Truth be, the nonagenarian was more confused than annoyed by his subordinate's refusal. It spoke of something. A lesser man would find it to be the inefficiency of both the boy's training and his mental fortitude. But years had lent him the wisdom to ask when he was not sure. He suspected, hoped, it was something else. He decided to find out.
"And why not?"
Silence reigned in the small but well-lit workshop as the pale young man continued to paint, as if ignoring the follow-up question. But both knew that this was not the case. A casual brushstroke, and the unburdened sky was finished, and the artist appraised it with a blank look that hinted no pride in its completeness. He posted his brush in a waiting jar of water, turned around to face his superior full on, and planted his hands on the top of his thighs. Offering the older man the same expression he did the canvas.
"I don't think you could understand." It was a simple stated fact, so the man took no offense to it.
"And why not?"
"Because, of who you are, and what you are doing now."
"Oh?" His graying eyebrow poked over his eyepatch. "I thought that supporting Uzumaki and his naïve followers would illustrate my change of heart. Especially to those close to him, since they seem so averse to my previous actions."
The black-haired youth shut his already squinted eyes and nodded.
"I can see why you would think that." He opened his eyes and the beady black pupils shot out, poking through the atrophied defenses of a man too long away from the hardened shinobi lifestyle.
"But supporting Naruto-san, even if the effort is genuine, does not illustrate a change of heart. Nor in fact, does it do honor to his sacrifice." It was hard to imagine, this blank face speaking of such profound emotions, yet his logical certainty held the barest hints of passionate conviction which spoke volumes more than the words themselves.
"And what do you mean by that, Sai?" It was not in deference to his age, that he took a seat in the wire-framed stool across from Sai, but rather so that Danzo could bring himself to speak in a level, albeit newfound stance with his once-subordinate.
Sai gained a pensive look, noticeably vague, as he tried to formulate words to something he experienced only innately, and did not quite understand in himself.
"You are senior council to the Prime Minister, are you not, Danzo-sama?" He asked rhetorically. "Would you not say that this is much the same position you held before the amalgamation of the elemental nations?"
He concurred, not bothering to mention the sever decrease in clout that came along with the supposed promotion. Sai nodded severely again.
"So you see that underneath those western clothes and title, you are essentially the same person."
Danzo huffed, having actually managed to convince himself that he had turned over a new leaf in light of the world's latest paradigm shift. He had always prided himself on being one step ahead, and was hard pressed to admit that he did not see this one coming.
"And? I'm old, it's hard to change me. Is there something inherently wrong with resisting change?" Tradition was tradition because it worked, after all.
Said shook his head.
"No, there is not."
"Well then-"
"For you, there is." He quickly corrected.
The minutely abrupt interruption ushered in a hush throughout the studio, even the birds outside the window stopped chirping so that absolute silence could reign in on this milestone of insubordination. The two sat in silence, glaring one-sided at one another. Finally, Sai raised his hands and looked at his palms, devoid of any paint splatter much like the rest of his workshop, and even his denim apron which draped over his knees.
"You were the one who taught me, Danzo-sama." He spoke his former-master's name in absolute reverence, and even the old man softened hearing the admiration. "You taught these hands to be the perfect tools for taking lives. You taught me to be the quintessential shinobi, an emotionless, blameless and traceless killer."
He continued looking at his own palms in seeming disbelief that such unsullied digits could be capable of such a thing. He set them back down on his lap, and turned to look at a stack of completed work leaning against the bare wood window frame. His work. His legacy. More at least, than the bodies he left behind.
"But… that is not what this world needs right now. It does not need what I once was…" He turned his sight back on his former master. "…and it does not need people like you."
Danzo's hand tightened on the grip of his cane, and he shifted his weight the barest amount, surreptitiously taking stock of the numerous weapons he had stashed over his body. Even with the bright sun shining into the room, and the dark material of the three-piece suit he wore soaking up the rays, the temperature dropped for him when receiving this interpreted threat.
Sai saw all this, but did nothing.
"Is that a threat?" Danzo himself challenged.
Said looked him dead on, and once again donned an air of unreadability.
"No. Merely a fact."
He swiveled back around, ignoring the killing intent he had unwittingly swept into the room, and thus just as easily banishing it. He picked up his brush once again, and tapped it on the rim of the jar so that a few excess drops leapt off onto the sawdust-coated floor. He began to paint again, as if nothing had passed between them.
"So," The old man coughed once into his palm as he struggled to find his voice again. "it sounds like you are abandoning your shinobi training as well. I take it to mean that you are abandoning Uzumaki as well." If Sai had changed so drastically as to become a potential adversary or roadblock, then Danzo knew whom to blame. He would try to use this connection to sway his old pupil to his cause.
"No." Again, Sai did not turn around as he uttered the simple answer. But he did, after a beat, elaborate.
"If I were to again take up arms, even in support of Naruto-san, that would be betraying his faith in me and in the others. His personal sacrifice to bring peace to our nations deserves reciprocity. We must all fight to preserve this peace, and to do so, we must not fight. At least, not the way we have traditionally."
It had been difficult and convoluted to come to this conclusion, but Sai knew it to be inevitable. To go against their baser instincts was perhaps the hardest thing for humans to do, even harder than to become an emotionless killer. It was easy to live without emotions. It was difficult to live with them. It was easy to feel. It was harder to know why.
But, he truly believed, and Naruto had convinced him, that it was worth it. He had tried opening himself up to his comrades and allies, allowing himself a whole slate of new experiences.
Not all had been pleasant.
But now he thought he had found a steady state. One that he could be happy with. And he would do all he could to preserve that. For his sake. For the sake of all those who gave their lives for the peace they now enjoyed.
"Your teachings also gifted me with these skills." His brush glossed over canvas, bringing to life the summer rain falling from his creation. "Some say such skill is natural, but even though it comes easy to me, we both know that it was not without personal sacrifice." He referred to both his own, and the man watching behind him, unsure if he realized it.
"I may not have found my ideal place in this new world, Danzo-sama. But it is something I am good at, and reasonably happy to do. Perhaps I will find something that suits me better. Perhaps not. But one thing I will not do, is to perpetuate the world that made me unable to make that distinction, and the world that made you who you are inclined to be."
The brass bell hanging above the doorway was the only indication that the man was no longer there. It was still a curtesy, though, and Sai was sure that the man had heard every word of what he had to say.
"I will say inclined. I will not say destined. Because, even though you are an old war-dog Danzo-sama, I think that you may yet pick up a few tricks. I hope you find peace yourself before you ruin it for everyone else, though."
Not for the first time, the red-haired kunochi formerly from Kumogakure found herself mulling over the how and why of the situation. They were questions that could have been answered easily, if only she could be honest with herself. But that too was difficult, not knowing the woman she had become.
She could ascribe the transition from her former life to the one now, as a simple matter of necessity. A scarcity of jobs, and a paucity of skills needed to survive in a world undergoing a drastic change.
But now as she was, under the scrutinizing and downright fearful gazes of the denizens of some boondock village somewhere in the unfamiliar mountains of Afghanistan, she wondered if she had made the right choice. As a ninja she would have also experienced such looks, but not from the people she was supposed to protect.
True, anywhere else the shinobi could have gone in the world outside their enclave, they would have been on the receiving end of much the same looks at some point. But at least their kind could count on human apathy to take over after the initial shock of their foreign origins. In their current role and place they had no chance to remain inconspicuous. Their simple presence was enough to send the hackles of these isolated people into disarray, raising the tension between them and their little group, and resulting in a potentially dangerous situation that still required a subtle touch if they were to achieve anything.
Luckily, their leader and mascot did not seem to be deterred in the slightest at the reticent welcome, and though his gentrified traditional greeting was answered with a certain amount of hesitance, no weapons were immediately drawn on them, so she supposed that was a sign of progress.
Whereas in the last village, an unspoken truce or tacit agreement seemed to preexist between the military man and the local chief, with business between the two already arranged, here the exchange of pleasantries was awkward and strained on at least one side. The elder man who had spoken for the two-dozen members of his extended family had regarded them all and their weapons with a healthy measure of scrutiny. He did not invite them in to his home, and instead chose to conduct business on the sunny side of the village outskirts.
Which had been the first worrisome note. She could understand their hesitance to let strangers in so easily, but also recalled that by meeting them outside the village proper, they did not fall under the sacred protection their religion provided to guests. Not that she could trust the word of long dead prophets, anyway.
Karui wondered if this was how they looked, when first they regarded the foreigners who had shown up so abruptly in their midst. Circumstances had been admittedly different back then, as she could clearly remember from her firsthand experience. Active battle had made the mutual interaction between them easier, for sure.
But in the lull after victory, had there been this same amount of silent reticence and distrust between the two separate sub-species of human? Had the soldiers of the intervention regarded them as now she did these plebian mountain dwellers? Did they look as alien as she felt?
It was not hard to imagine. For the shinobi at the time it was a strange sight, these square-faced and oddly-dressed civilians standing toe-to-toe with trained shinobi, with their weapons descended from gods and their vehicles which ported them from the heavens like birds. And them with their bladed weapons as old as their inbred animosities towards the other villages, still stuck with an introverted view of the world, to them as large as their own borders.
Were they any better off, though, being introduced to the world at large, and the technologies which made their livelihoods all but obsolete? Karui certainly had her doubts, even as she scanned the muddy homes ensconced in the cliff-face, devoid of the satellite dishes and spider-web electrical wires strung up between houses which had been the framework for the last village they visited. These people seemed like they would have been perfectly happy to have continued their existence never once encountering them or their strange ways.
They would introduce medicine, education, conveniences which came with the modern world. But in turn, they also promised all the baggage that came with it.
She wished the people could simply forget about them, once they left, and return to their previous lives. She wished she could do the same.
The unique attention she and her female teammate were getting also did not help her to relax. Even though she was certain they were amply bundled up, though she herself was more immune to the frigid temperatures, the dozen or so men and half as many boys which met them at the gates kept shooting suspicious glances their way and their gaze lingered longer on them than even the gargantuan Belgian who stood a good head and a half taller than the second tallest.
Empathetic as always, the one male shinobi silently sidled up to their side, and in an ill-thought out action of encouragement, placed his hand reassuringly on Tenten's shoulder, causing the already high-strung woman to jump slightly. She swore lightly in her native tongue, but evidently not lightly enough. Faces blinked back like a light switch had been flipped, and immediately several things happened.
Naruto quickly removed his hand from her shoulder and placed it above his own chest to intercept the instinctive elbow thrown by the addled woman. The sudden commotion made their fellow soldiers shift defensively, and in response some of the onlooking villagers cradling ancient-looking flintlock rifles jumped a half-step up to the forefront.
The episode which lasted all of a micro-second suddenly brought their tenuous detent up to the brink of conflict, and on all sides action could easily spring from tension with one small misstep. Everyone on all sides of the relatively flat clearing waited on baited breath for the spark.
All except one. As if oblivious to what was happening around him, Belletriste did not tear his attention away from the graying man in front of him, and hardly missed a beat as he continued his subdued discussion in that strangely fluid accent of Pashtun he adopted. As if broken from a dream, the old man in his fear-frozen state blinked and turned back to the discussion already underway and picked up where they had left off, nodding slowly and responding in single syllables as if woken from a deep sleep.
The rising wave died before it could break, and ripples of relief fell back from the ongoing conversation, the man acting as a human storm break.
Tenten shot Naruto a silent apology, which he returned, scratching the back of his covered head, a never-quite banished habit.
But even though they weren't immediately about to attack one another, the damage between their transient group and the villagers had already been done. The stares on the two women became more focused and heated. The single utterance by one of them had betrayed their gender, and now the clock was ticking to get whatever it was that they came here for, and get out before anyone could raise any objection to their presence.
Though not outwardly displaying it, the commander seemed to recognize this sudden shift of urgency and quickly but carefully produced a wrapped package of goods they had unsealed well away from the village. Practical gifts, that they were going to use to barter for information, and hopefully gain the favor of this particular enclave.
The village elder seemed happy enough to receive the brown-paper package of fuel blocks, canned goods and medicines, but was obviously much happier once they were all well out of sight of the tightly grouped blocks of houses and terraced fields. The group could share that sentiment.
"Well, what's next?"
Once a goodly distance away from the small settlement, the swarthy second-in-command asked casually of the ranking officer. Tarek and a select few others seemed comfortable enough to ask these off-handed questions to their superior.
They all sat in a loose huddle among some rocks on the edge of a scraggly copse, thankfully clear of snow for the most part and hidden enough that they did not have to keep too vigilant a guard while they quickly scarfed down some rations and planned their next step.
"Good question." Belletrise responded as he downed a spoonful of congealed noodles and sauce into his mouth. He hardly needed to chew the mashed mess but did so anyway and used that time to adopt a pensive look.
From the side, the new recruits thought he looked particularly constipated.
"Well, after I convinced him we weren't Russians (2), he was more than happy to give me some answers." There was a mild chuckle that rumbled through all those within hearing, but the NCO gained a lopsided grimace. "Unfortunately, he said that they hadn't seen anyone except us for many months. So, looks like we're back to our old intel."
Groans were shared all around, for it would mean many more weeks of aimless searching for their targets who had all the time in the world, baring their resources holding up. Of course, their targets were sure to last longer than their recon patrol who were actively burning up energy, and would be forced to turn back before half of their rations were used up.
"Kuso!"
Tenten swore, much more quietly this time, just to her fellow shinobi who sat in a small group just at the edge of earshot. "It's like we're chasing shadows." The others were tempted to agree with her, for it had already been almost a week of hiking with them getting no closer to any encounters than Karui's mile-long shot. Not everyone agreed with her, though.
"Eh, not so much." Conrad quipped as he carefully folded up the carboard container of his finished lunch and stashed it in an empty pocket. He looked up and gave the three of them a lopsided smile. "If we were chasing shadows, you guys would have found them by now, right? Shadows are your guys' specialty."
It was flattering, if not untrue, and brought a small smile to each of their faces despite the disappointing news.
"No, we are not chasing shadows." It was like the forest itself spoke when the deep voice came from behind them. Manu who leaned against a nearby tree, head bowed and eyes closed in a broken silence. "We are chasing ghosts. The ghosts of human bloodlust."
The large man seldom spoke, but usually when he did, it was worth it to contemplate his statements. The four of them did so now, but would have to chew on them for quite a while before they could make any sense. But before that, Naruto had something else that he was thinking about.
"What makes you believe that old man?" He called out to the commander who was just finishing his own repast. The man shot him a smile in response, and in a voice no more above normal answered back. He knew the shinobi could hear him.
"What makes you think I do?" He too stashed his waste and stood up, turning towards where Naruto was still seated and walking closer, hands lazily in his pockets giving Naruto a sense of familiarity.
"And you?" He asked when he himself was close enough to hear the shinobi's response. "Do you trust him to be telling us the truth? Think that bit about confusing us with the Russians was just a ruse?"
Naruto did not immediately respond, he closed his eyes and brought his legs in so that he could sit cross-legged and perfectly still. Other non-shinobi shot him quizzical looks, but Belletriste stood there patiently as if waiting for the clock to strike noon.
Naruto reached out with his senses, long underused. When they had been next to the village, he had sensed multiple smatterings of trees throughout the hills, felt their natural energy permeating through the air and the ground. And with each ridge they crested in this land with snow-capped mountains like ruffled lace he was exposed to scores more ranging leagues away. But now that he was so close in proximity to one of them, suddenly his second sight became clearer.
It wasn't like stargazing, where the presence of another light would blind you. It was like hearing good music for the first time, and suddenly everything else could be judged to a higher standard, and the imposters could be filtered out. His senses caught a distortion, like a sour note in an orchestra sticking out like a sore thumb, just over the next ridgeline. He opened his eyes.
"No." He was no longer the naïve boy who blindly put his faith in everyone he met. He would always look for the truth in people, pray for it, but was no longer surprised when people lied to him.
"He's lying."
Belletriste smiled, as if pleased with the news, and in a way, he was too. It meant action at last.
"Good. Neither did I."
He nodded at Naruto before turning back to the rest of his squad, who were all paying the two of them rapt attention. He did not need to do much besides nod and everyone moved to comply to his silent order. Gear was stashed and webbing donned, and they were moving to a more defensible location within minutes, all with the barest minimum of noise.
"Finally!" Tenten whispered excitedly to a seemingly equally giddy Karui. "Some action." Some nods, some silent agreements. Naruto frowned.
Maybe.
They reached their nearby destination. A moraine of large boulders just underneath a local peak which faced in the direction of, and overlooked the village they had just left, and had once again ditched their heavier equipment. It was again a battle of wills against boredom. They would have to wait, now, for their adversaries to make the first move.
Naruto almost hoped that they did not. He hoped that he was wrong, and the old man in the village really had no idea where the opposition forces were hiding under both their physical and chakra-enhanced camouflage. He was not eager to go into battle again, which was ridiculous considering he had opted to join one of the corps most likely to be sent to such a hotspot. But perhaps it was the implied presence of fellow shinobi. People he had potentially fought alongside not long ago, now slated to be in his crosshairs.
Maybe he was just beginning to see how futile the struggle for peace really was?
But he banished these thoughts as he lay against the slope of the mountain, under the wool blanket and a mild Genjutsu applied by Karui, which hid him more thoroughly than the native lizards poking their heads out of a crag in the rocks. He could not afford to think like this, he could not afford to hesitate in the upcoming fight. For his own sake, as well as those of his comrades, the number of which he was happy to say had increased recently.
This was the most trying part. He wanted his compassion and protection to encompass as many people as possible. But in doing so, he was inviting only pain for himself, for it was inevitable that he could not protect them all. And there would be conflict even among those with whom he shared a bond. Those that believed in him, but also believed in their own ways. He could not bring himself to refute them, or challenge their beliefs. But in that case, he would be potentially forced to fight them.
He would win. That was inevitable. But just because he was the most resilient, the strongest, did that make his path the correct one? Did that make him the right one?
No. It just made him the one left.
Night had come quickly, and with it the opportunity.
Though his own natural night vision was above par, in this moonless landscape he was grateful for the advent of night vision goggles. Even though when illuminated his vision was accosted by the brilliant green hue which took a moment to get used to. Once he did, he noted it was a good deal clearer than the ones they had trained with back in basic. Once again, the mysteriously impersonal seals plastered all over the outside did not go unnoticed, but like those on the shell casing, he did not have the time to study them now.
"Everybody plugged in?" Belletriste's voice came in crisp and clear in his ear, cordoned by slight static pauses before and after.
"Alpha group, two, three and four?" A series of affirmations, Naruto's own quiet voice amplified by the throat mike came in through the headset.
"Bravo one through four are good." He barely recognized Tarek's gruff accent through the electronics.
"Charlie group checking in, we are good."
"Right then," The four of them, Belletriste within arm's reach behind him on the left, crouched down low in a gulley which cut a path across the mountain side. In that moonscape bathed in the ethereal green glow, Naruto picked out two spindly forms picking their own way across the scree.
"Let's get this show on the road."
The four of them as Alpha group quickly but carefully snaked their way down and out of the gulley unhurriedly, more afraid of being heard than seen, but still being careful to hug rocks and not to cast shadows.
Even as his heart beat loudly in his ear and he felt his mouth water in anticipation, Naruto felt himself slip into a relaxed state. This was shinobi work. This was where he excelled.
He was by far the nimblest among the four of them. Predictable being the only shinobi, but he had to admit that his ranking officer could have made a fine ninja in another life. His small frame bobbed and weaved amongst the cobbles, head low and feet clad in lightweight pataugas (3) barely touching the ground.
They had all changed out their heavier apparel for something high-speed low-drag. Those lightweight almost-boots replaced the heavy leather Rangers, and their loadouts skimmed down to just the bare basics. Their leader himself porting only a captured chest rig that was as much duct tape as canvas, and stuffing the rest of his equipment in the ample pockets provided by his smock.
Naruto did what he could to make his gear more comfortable, but swore that when next he had the opportunity he would try and have something made that didn't make him feel like he was wearing a formal kimono.
They crept down the hill towards the village silently, and waited there in the darkness and the outskirts of the dark buildings for their two targets to reappear from within. They hugged the dusty ground close, and Naruto could feel the cool earth try and rob him of his near-limitless heat to no avail. His blood was running hot.
For once, they did not have to wait long, for almost as soon as they were able to catch a moment's rest, the two presumed targets reappeared from the tight space between buildings, and began to make their way back up and over the ridge from whence they came, having ostensibly verified that the nosy outsiders had come and gone.
They followed carefully after a beat. Barely keeping up even with the night vision lighting their way. The two ahead of them flowed over the rocks like water, finding their way by memory rather than sight, and so had no need to watch for loose rock that might give away their presence. Still, this is what they had all trained for, and so it was natural that they would be able to keep them in their sights.
At least until the two now obviously armed individuals crested the ridge and disappeared from their immediate sight. They followed their trail carefully, peaking their heads over the ridge and not charging in as Naruto once may have done. They didn't want a fight here, they wanted to track these two back to where the rest of them were.
Luck would have it that they managed to see the two dart behind a cliff face not far down the slope on the opposite side, and seeing nothing waiting for them out in the open space between, the four, Naruto, Belletriste, and two others he did not know yet, hopped gracefully over and planted their feet solidly on the slippery face.
"WHOOMP"
He felt, more than heard the concussive shockwave, even as he threw himself to the side out of the blast radius. The headsets doing their job, and saving his eardrums the painful experience. But his vision was clouded for a moment in the wake of a wall of dust, separating himself from his comrades.
He rolled backwards down the loose scree, finally sticking his feet to the more solid ground with chakra once he was well and far enough away from the impact zone.
His senses found the intruders even before his eyes, and his hands found his rifle, trained on two silhouettes emerging from within the dust cloud. His finger wavered over the trigger for only a split second, hesitating because he did not know the location of his other teammates. But only for a second, as his shinobi instincts tensed his muscles for him.
He barely felt the rifle jump, barely heard the cracks muted by both the silencer and his headset as the two shapes crumpled without dignity and rolled down the hill.
Having already taken care of their own tail, Naruto made to dart back into the settling cloud in search of his teammates, when across the narrow divide he heard the incessant clicking, like a caffeinated cricket, of Belletriste emptying the magazine of his MP5SD into another set of targets. He admonished himself for not giving the man more credit, and remembering his priorities, he ran over to the source of the noise and looked to the direction where his commander had been dumping his rounds.
He emptied his own magazine downrange without aiming much. Giving the two of them some breathing room, and as he now saw, time to get their injured comrade out of the way. The man at their feet was luckily enough conscious and hastily applying his own tourniquet to the sucking leg wound.
"Mortar crew, 2 o'clock. See them?" Belletriste said evenly as he exchanged his empty mag for a full one. Naruto looked out into the dark night, and at the furthest extent of his augmented vision he saw the scurrying forms perched upon the mountain top, only partially concealed by fallen rock. "Think you can take them out?"
Naruto cursed to himself. The NCO latched onto the collar of the injured man and began dragging him behind cover. Naruto was sure his rifle was more than capable of reaching that far. But Tenten had been right before. He was a shit shot. Still, he had no option but to succeed.
He reached into one of his webbing's specialty pouches and drew out a small handful of shuriken, these ones plastered all over with his own brand of paper tags. Luckily for him there was only minimal wind, and the flock of projectiles soared true through the night. The matte metal barely registered in his display, causing barely a shimmer in the green light. He saw the crew all ready to drop another round into the barrel of the tubular weapon.
The explosion that encompassed the cliff face lit up the night like a false dawn, and temporarily shut down his electronics as the green glow rapidly reached a nova-white brilliance. He turned away so that the device could reset themselves, but even in that briefest of pauses, in the wake of the monumental shockwave, a fusillade of fire opened back up on him.
He threw himself over to where he saw his two teammates disappear behind cover, feeling the stray shots pelting all around him. There had to be an additional 10 men shooting relentlessly at them. His NCO did not seem to be all that bothered by the change of plans, however, as he deliberately administered first aid to his wounded colleague. It was to be expected, as it was a regular SNAFU. Situation normal, all fucked up.
And luckily for them, just as planned.
He would still rank Shikamaru as the more intelligent of the two, but Belletriste had enough experience it seemed to counter their opponents' treachery.
The sound reminded Naruto of cicadas in summer, back home. And the sight of the rounds whizzing over their heads was like a swarm of fireflies dancing in the night, as the tracer rounds lit up his recovered display. This concentrated volley of fire, though, was going the other way than before. Suddenly the shots that had been pestering them, nibbling at the rock which served as their defense were alleviated, as Bravo group took up the slack.
"About time."
But even as the veteran soldier uttered this disdainful remark, another group of unfriendly people skirted their way around the far cliff face opposite their defensive location. Belletriste wasted no time in shouldering his weapon and preempting their return fire. His shots went true, but the subsonic ammunition did not seem capable of doing much damage at that distance, and did nothing to stop them from scrambling to cover and answering in kind (4).
He clicked his teeth as he threw himself bodily over his injured comrade, still pulling the trigger in the hopes of a lucky headshot or that his fire might discourage them from getting bolder. But it was clear that he needed some help dealing with this latest development.
Stopping himself from instinctively forming his favorite hand seals, Naruto instead forced his fingers into something he hoped would work.
By now, he did not need to shout out the name of the technique, and realized that it was better not to so that the enemy would not know they were facing a shinobi, even though that may have given them the psychological advantage. Nevertheless, they had the advantage of surprise which was fully utilized as the nigh invisible ball of wind shot out into the night, and dislodged a series of boulders perched at the top of the hill just above the newcomers.
Naruto ignored the reverberating screams and turned away from their imminent demise, opting instead to search for their fourth teammate that had been lost in the chaos. He found him lying prone in much the same location they had left him, and Naruto darted out towards him, praying that he was just unconscious and that he could bring him back to the safety of cover.
"Look out baka!"
Although meant to warn him, the familiar insult caused him to pause for a brief moment, and it was just enough time for the previously-subdued group of hostiles to get a bead on him running across the open hillside.
He slid to a stop next to the fallen soldier as the shots impacted all around him. He whipped around and started unloading the remainder of his magazine without stopping to fathom how the group had survived the rockslide he had caused. His shots were too few, and not accurate enough he soon saw as his gun clicked empty and two of the darkly-clad forms reemerged from behind their own cover.
Before he even had time to make the critical decision over whether to change his magazine and hope they were bad shots, or to run back to cover and abandoned the potentially still alive legionnaire, the choice was made for him as two distinctive cracks rang out and the two men toppled over on top of one another like bowling pins.
He didn't think as his hand on the gun's forearm scooted back and found the trigger just in front of the magazine well. The baseball-sized projectile was almost painfully slow in its arc, but as the two remaining enemies emerged from cover to extract vengeance for their friends, Naruto couldn't help but find the expressions on their faces tragically comedic as they saw the grenade headed their way.
Compared to the other explosions that night, this one was anticlimactic, but the silence that followed it was deafening. It was a relief.
The exchange of fire between their Bravo group and the first set of adversaries petered out, and Naruto could vaguely hear Belletriste ordering them to stop firing on the shared com channel. It might have been dangerous to advance so quickly into territory that they had just won over, but they needed to capture one of them alive, and in that respect, time was of the essence.
He was aware of the minimal chatter of Bravo group as they circled around the backside to check for survivors, while Naruto himself looked down at his feet to the man lying still, covered in a thick blanket of dirt. He his hands and eyes brushed over the potential corpse, looking for signs of injury, before his hands found the jugular vein. There was a pulse, and he sighed in relief.
"Is he alright?" His commander's voice appeared behind him.
"I think so." He felt a sigh rack his body, and his found his hands shaking. But it wasn't out of fear.
"Everything good down there?" The disembodied voice came in loud and clear. He swallowed before he answered, tasting the remains of gunpowder in the air.
"Yeah, seems to be."
"Good," Tenten's voice quipped. "You owe me one."
"Um, make that one for the both of us."
Naruto felt himself smile despite the near monumental failure, reveling in the knowledge that his countrymen still had his back. However, it was yet to be determined if their efforts had been worth something. They would have to do a search among the remains to figure that out. Still, that would come later.
He had to force himself to think one step at a time. Thinking too fast lead him to question decisions. Question why he was feeling such a rush of excitement in the midst of such wanton violence.
"Yeah, I suppose I do." He admitted, although he was still perplexed as to how his manmade rockslide had been dodged so easily by people without chakra and the benefit of intensive training.
He was able to exchange his fledgling smile for an answer. He got up and walked over to the site of the four bodies taken out by bullets and bombs rather than crushed by rocks. He looked up the hillside and the view that greeted him was unfortunately not made any more unrealistic by the green tint.
A perfectly symmetrical and concave rock wall had been spawned out of the mountain side, halting the loose boulders in its cup. Its blatant presence sticking so unnaturally from the otherwise smoothly eroded hill stabbed him as deep as any knife blade. It was undeniable proof that they were up against fellow shinobi. He wondered what his other teammates were thinking about it. Given that they took out two of the survivors, they must have seen his technique be blocked from their vantage with Charlie group up upon the hill.
"I take it, this is not a friend of yours."
Naruto glanced apathetically behind himself, seeing Belletriste hunching over one of the corpses, exposing the face permanently etched with an expression of shock by lifting the head up by its long, matted hair. Naruto glared at him for the morbid joke done in poor taste, until he appreciated the face of commander and blanched as he realized he was serious.
He only had to glance at the scrunched-up face of the bearded man to ascertain that he had no idea who he was. Then he had to go around to the other three and was blessed at least with the small favor that their bodies landed face up. He had held his breath until the last body, but in all it had been fairly easy to see that none of these former dark-skinned and scruffy enemies was from the elemental nations. He looked back to his commander and shook his head in a relieved negative.
"Hmm." Belletriste hummed. "Too bad." He let the body slip from his grip with a wet scrunch before standing up and looking around in the purest darkness. "That means that your friend is still out there." His hand automatically rested on the heel of his slung SMG, while his other went to his throat. Naruto made out the quietly issued orders given to the other units scattered in the night.
"Finished mopping up? Well, take your time, be careful. Have the other two check the rest of the targets when you are done. How are the casualties? Hm, I see. Well, could have been worse then, but still, not too great for a trial run."
As soon as his hand left the call button, Naruto accosted him.
"Why do you keep calling them my friends?" He questioned his superior officer. He could, and had, tolerated a lot in the form of verbal abuse. But the way the man had expressed himself left the distasteful impression in Naruto's mind that Belletriste was accusing him of being in cahoots with their enemies. Either that, or he knew something more about their targets than he was letting on.
Were the ninja they were after from Konoha? He had no way to know. And that did not sit well with the young former-shinobi.
The man looked back at him, somehow finding his cold stare despite having the night vision goggles cocked back up on his head.
"The one who did this, are you saying they are not a shinobi?" He gestured to the preternatural outcropping of rock. Naruto faltered, once again caught off-guard by the sincerity of the rhetorical question he was posed.
"Of course they are."
"Well then, they must be your friend, no?"
Naruto felt his fist clench, and without knowing it, took unconscious stock of his remaining kunai.
"No. Not all shinobi are my friends." He ground his teeth as he recalled just how often that seemed to be true.
The sudden look of shock that appeared on the young-seeming face almost caused a mirrored expression on Naruto's.
"Really? I thought it was you who united your people?"
This time Naruto could not hold back that reciprocal look. Belletriste had danced around his knowledge of Naruto's past, but the sudden almost-praise was so uncharacteristic of the obfuscating man he could not help it.
"Well… I guess you could say that." He shook his head sadly in contradiction of his words. "But that doesn't mean that they are all my friends."
A younger him might have come back with a vengeance, assuring him that it was simply not yet so, that he would work night and day to rectify that mistake and bring every last one of them under his uplifting sphere of influence. But more and more he was accepting that some simply did not accept, nor appreciate what he had done for them.
"Then, they are your enemies?"
"Yeah… I guess you could say that."
But even this he knew was a lie. He had known it longer than he had many other truths, ever since he faced Zabuza and his apprentice Haku on that misty bridge so long ago, he knew that that line was severely blurred.
"No… maybe they aren't."
But then he realized that wasn't a good answer either. What would his superior officer think of him? He was hesitating in the face of people out to kill them and destroy their objective. That hesitation was a liability to any sensible military man who wanted to keep the integrity of his unit safe.
But Belletriste somehow seemed to miss this faux pas.
"I see. Then they are simply les dissidents, no?"
Naruto blinked away the fatigue beginning to set in during the fierce mental debate raging inside of him. He was confused. He always thought that the word was one and the same for enemy. He failed to see a distinction, and expressed as much.
Naruto could see his NCO struggle to retain a dignified visage at what was apparently an extremely ignorant question. It was the closest thing he had ever seen to a laugh come out of the man. But that did not bother Naruto so much, he was after all, used to it.
"Les dissidents are simply the ones we do not agree with. This is who the Legion has always fought." He shrugged in his usual uncaring way that reminded Naruto so much of Shikamaru. "They may be the enemies of France. They may be the enemies of the world. But this does not make them the Legion's enemies. They are simply the ones we are fighting now. There is no reason they cannot also be your friends."
He cocked his head, regarding Naruto's befuddled expression at what was to him a truism.
"We don't always agree with our friends, do we?"
But that doesn't mean we have to kill them, Naruto wanted to say. But before he could a voice came in on his, and apparently Belletriste's headset.
"Commander, we have a live one."
In comparison to the swaddling darkness, Belletriste's face lit up like a lightbulb and he all but skipped off into the darkness, hushing a shout back at Naruto stuck in a paralysis of incredulity.
"Come, come. Vite! Vite!"
Out of the darkness came Tarek, and another whom he was fairly certain was Ahmed, half-dragging between them a limp and clearly injured rebel. Though they had been assured he was alive, Naruto had his doubts looking at the blank and bloodied face. His beard was but stubble compared to the other fighters, and most might have already been singed off by the close proximity of an explosion.
"Bon soir, monsieur. Are you alright? Are you able to talk to us?"
Belletriste crouched and stuck his face right next to the near catatonic man, looking somehow both concerned and sardonic at the same time. He frowned when the man only groaned in response, not even able to speak in his native dialect, let alone the darky contorted French he had greeted him in. He stood back up and began to speak to Tarek in his commanding tone.
"Tarek, set the man down and go get the full medical kit from Charlie gr-"
Even before the languid shot cracked the otherwise recovering peaceful night, Naruto had released a kunai he unknowingly had palmed a split-second preceding, sending it flying at the source of the foolish potshot.
The shooter standing on the crest of the hill dropped the ancient Jezail and looked down at his killer with a quizzical look. Naruto's wide eyes met the young man's-rather the boy's- and held it in the handful of seconds before his hands fell to his chest where the knife was imbedded hilt-deep in his sternum. Naruto watched in dispossessed horror as the boy, no doubt from the village they had visited earlier that day, moved his hand out into the scant moonlight to regard the blood that coated it with a morbid fascination. Then he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
Behind him, Naruto's comrades were in muted uproar, slung weapons were suddenly shouldered and most of the men were crouched down or behind some kind of cover, looking for any other potential threat they had overlooked.
Naruto just stared at the scrawny body which had slid down the small hill to where their squad was in disarray. He might have chided them for such unprofessionalism, had he not also nearly missed this potential threat.
But he could no longer think that way, not of them, and not of the young man he had cut down. How could he even reconcile his actions in the pretense of the mission at hand? He was just a kid. To call him an enemy was laughable, and to say that he had some sort of disagreement with Naruto was making light of both of their actions. He could not gather his thoughts, and so just watched the slow cascade of blood flow out from under the face-down body.
Likewise, behind him, the only one who had not immediately dove for cover stood over the other corpse also now lying face down. Or rather, whatever was left of his face after the lead marble had impacted it and exploded out the back. Belletriste too just stared at the now useless body, his face equally unreadable. He kicked a golf ball sized rock out of the deceased's hair petulantly and sighed, looking up at the sprinkling of stars in the unfamiliar night sky.
"Tabarnak."
1. Literally les dissidents means "someone you do not agree with". The Legion has traditionally referred to whomever they are fighting by such means. Legionnaires are not supposed to be from France, so that even though they are being ordered by French officials to fight, they may not have any personal reservations regarding whomever they are fighting. This has always been one of the more 'romantic' aspects of the Legion.
2. Russia invaded Afghanistan and got mired in a war there from 1979-1989. Though this story is supposed to be set in the early 00's, villages there are so remote that it would be hard for them to learn of the war's end. Especially when you consider that there was fighting among tribal groups for the entire period after that. But it is still kind of funny that someone would mistake them for Soviet invaders. Which did actually happed to some soldiers in OIF.
3. Pataugas, as best translated "splashers". Sounds strange? What about "sneakers"? Same concept, just French. These are boots that look like suped-up converse, and have been a staple in the French army since 1947, with very little changes. You can actually still buy modern ones today, and I will personally attest that they are very comfortable and durable.
4. Contrary to what video games may present, while the MP5SD is accurate and very, very quiet, that comes at a tole. To be quiet, the round needs to be sub-sonic, which removes a lot of the lethality from the 9mm bullet. I have known people who have personally attested to emptying whole magazines (30 rounds) into someone and not having them go down. For stealth, it's great. In a firefight, it's pretty useless.