Those Accused

by Silent Stalemate

They were mercilessly accused of something they didn't do. Itachi accepted his punishment while Shiori was sentenced life in prison. Once she escapes to kill Itachi, she's helplessly drawn into the Akatsuki's void of false promises and hopes.

7. Chapter 7

'I wear this crown of thorns/Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts/I cannot repair

Beneath the stains of time/The feelings disappear

You are someone else

I am still right here'

"Hurt" sung by Johnny Cash

Chapter Seven

Rokkuhōmu was the capital of Earth Country.

It was a twenty-four hour walk from Iwagakure no Sato – for a normal person, at least - and more picturesque than surrounding towns. It served as a popular tourist spot in the Land of Earth. It was unique due to the fact that so many temples and shrines crowded the village, many of them now converted into inns or trendy market stalls where souvenirs and other eye-catching trinkets were sold. Years of misuse had left the shingles upon the grandiose sloped roofs askew, the opulent red paint covering intricate historical architecture made to peel since it was no longer cared for like it was when people solely relied on the gods for protection. If the temples were not converted into modern day buildings, the only visitors they received were those of small children wanting to toss a penny into an outside pond and wish for luck, fame, or fortune.

The only temple that still clung to its former glory stood in the middle of town, stretching high into the sky as its dark roof seemed to touch the glaring mid-afternoon sun. Even from outside the town people could be seen clamoring up the endless tower of stone steps in order to see Rokkuhōmu's main attraction: an enormous solid gold bell the size of a house.

"You're going to steal that?" Kisame glanced at her from behind the cloth strands of his kasa, uncertainty written all over his face as they approached the town.

"I'd appreciate it if you kept your voice down," Shiori hissed as several tourists walked past them. They didn't particularly pay attention to Shiori, but Kisame's tall figure drew several curious glances before they became frightened and looked in the opposite direction.

"Something like that is no big deal," Shiori stated, a bored expression on her face. "A few jutsu used simultaneously are plenty enough to make something like that manageable. The hardest part will be walking up all those damn steps."

He was still uncertain, especially as he glanced at the hollows beneath her eyes and saw how her main arteries still looked almost gray against her pale skin due to the drug she'd received. She looked exhausted, although she would never admit it, and though she talked like using multiple jutsu at the same time was no big deal, Kisame knew all too well exactly how difficult it was to pull off such a stunt.

Kisame grunted, "Just don't take things too far. The doctor said that you should rest at least another day before doing something like this, but you only rested about an hour after you woke up."

"You haven't fully recovered yet," Nobuo was stern as he stood before Shiori, glaring at her as she sat on the edge of the bed rummaging through a backpack he leant her. Kunai knives, bottles of water, and money- she arranged it all neatly as he chastised her, "The medicine hasn't even completely left your system yet. You're still physically and mentally exhausted, and you need to rest. How on earth are you going to steal the Golden Bell if you're not prepared? Your chakra network has just been restored-"

"Doc," Shiori rolled her eyes. "I know what I'm doing. Besides, I haven't been on a mission in over five years, so don't be a buzzkill."

His eyes narrowed that much further, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. There was a subtle glow to her skin and her green eyes sparkled with anticipation, making it obvious that she was excited about the challenge at hand.

"Well, if you're going to be staying in Rokkuhōmu overnight, you should at least try to polish up a bit."

Shiori's hand froze as she was sliding a map into the backpack, and it was her turn to glare at Nobuo who coughed into the back of his hand,

"For someone who used to maintain her appearance so well, I'm surprised you haven't remedied the situation yet. You need to set aside about thirty minutes and have someone take a chainsaw to that forest on your legs."

Kisame, who had been standing by the door, began to laugh, causing Shiori to flush crimson with embarrassment. She slammed the map into the bag and pulled the drawstring, and as she slung it onto her shoulder she said,

"Fine. While I'm getting my pedicure, you can be stirring up the Underground by spreading rumors about the Kagekaitou's return."

Nobuo sighed, knowing it was pointless to try and reason with her. Looking at Kisame, he said, "Make sure she doesn't get herself into too much trouble."

The shark-nin gave him a sarcastic salute, "I'll try, but I make no guarantees."

"And besides," Kisame continued, "Itachi and I have our own mission to attend to, so we won't be able to babysit you."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously, but before she could speak they entered Rokkuhōmu through one of its main gates. They were immediately swallowed up by the swarm of people within, momentarily taking both of them off guard until the multi-colored paper lanterns and elaborate kimonos made it obvious that-

"It's a festival," Shiori murmured, her eyes wide with such child-like wonder that it caused Kisame to secretly smile underneath his kasa.

Dusk was finally beginning to set, causing the lanterns to glow like fireflies in the steadily approaching darkness. The laughter of adults and children alike still filled the streets, accompanied by vendors singing praise about their merchandise or calling out special 'last minute' clearance items. The scents of fried food, chocolate-covered anything, and luxurious spices filled the air and made her mouth water since Shiori hadn't eaten in over a day. Stalls carried brightly colored fabrics and garments that Shiori had never seen before, and she made a mental note to stop by a vendor who sold weapons before calling it a night.

"I've got to find Itachi-san and see what he's come up with," Kisame drew her attention back to him. "We're staying at an inn in the south part of town. It's the only building with a green roof. Room 13."

With that, the crowd of tourists swept them in opposite directions- Kisame to go find Itachi, and Shiori to the nearest salon.

-xXx-

While one hand held onto a stick of dango, Shiori's other dug through a bin of scrolls at a booth that sold weapons and other supplies. Night had already fallen, but the lanterns strung across the street from one vendor to the next cast a warm glow upon the crowds of late night patrons. With the time nearing midnight, all the children had been rushed home to bed only to be replaced by drunkards who stumbled across the dirt paths or lurked in dark alleys cat-calling any woman who walked past.

"How much is this?" Shiori asked, holding up a scroll with dark blue edges so that the clerk could see.

"Twenty," he said. "Buy two and I'll cut you a deal at twenty-five."

The clerk returned his attention to another customer, leaving Shiori to frown as she contemplated whether or not to purchase the scroll. Its unique markings labeled it as a blank scroll, meaning that the owner could write their own incantation on it in order to use it to summon any non-perishable, non-living item. Shinobi on long missions used them to hold large amounts of shuriken, kunai, or other weapons that would normally weigh them down or take up too much space, but they could be used for other items as well.

Shiori turned to look through the bin once more, but then she froze. Gazing over top of the wooden booth, she was able to see through an alleyway onto the street beyond. Black cloaks with crimson clouds flickered before her eyes and vanished. Tossing her dango aside and pocketing the scroll, Shiori leapt across the structure so quickly that neither the clerk nor any bystanders noticed the theft.

Obscured by the darkness of the alley, activating her Kekkei Genkai came second-nature to Shiori even though she hadn't used it in over five years.

The emerald green coloration of her irises rapidly began to change, transforming into a steely gray color that glowed like twin moons within the darkness. The change altered her sight, allowing her to see as clearly through the pitch blackness as though it were daylight. Her body suddenly felt as though it had been submerged in arctic cold water, and in the recess of her mind she heard a soft 'click.'

Emerging from the opposite end of the alley, Shiori was completely invisible as she glanced both left then right. She caught a glimpse of red and black fabric disappearing around the corner of a tavern further down the street, and she hastily pursued them, weaving in and out of crowds without stirring up so much as a single speck of dust as she ran across the trodden dirt paths.

It was curiosity that made her follow after them. She had no clue what kind of mission they were on, and she was curious as to what kind of tasks Akatsuki members were assigned. After being with Akatsuki for a week, Kisame had told her that one of the goals of Akatsuki was to offer their services for much cheaper than surrounding villages, drawing revenue away from the hidden villages and financially weakening them.

Shiori rounded the corner and froze, seeing that there was no sign of them even though she knew that they had walked down the street. Her eyes roved over the crowd, searching for any sign of their kasa or matching cloaks but coming up empty handed. She looked at the buildings bordering the street until she spotted a tavern, the sound of drunken laughter and music growing louder the closer she approached.

She peered in through one of the windows and spotted them.

They sat at the very back of the tavern in a secluded booth, their kasa and the collars of their cloaks obscuring any facial features from view. They sat on the same side, and the absence of food or drinks before them indicated that they were there for business, not pleasure.

A man suddenly took the seat in front of them, but from where Shiori stood all she could see was his back. Yet the odd lilac color of his suit and the way his black hair formed a long ponytail down his back seemed familiar, causing apprehension to pool in her gut.

She needed a closer look.

A drunk suddenly slammed the tavern door open as he stumbled out into the cool night air. Shiori seized the opportunity to slide past him and through the door before it closed, entering the tavern undetected and making her way over to where the three men sat.

She came to a standstill at the edge of the table, nonchalantly putting her hands in her pockets. If she wanted to, she could have easily reached out and touched either one of them, but her 'ultimate invisibility' made them ignorant of her presence even though she was so close.

But her frown was deep and eyes narrowed as she regarded the stranger. He wasn't too extraordinary for a man in his early thirties. His most prominent features were a long curved nose and harsh, hawk-like eyes, and yet it was these that helped Shiori immediately identify him.

Hagewashi.

He was the right-hand man of one of the most powerful business syndicates in Earth Country. He handled all the dirty work- kidnappings, rapes, murders – to eliminate any and all competition so that the business would become number one. He was infamous for hiring shinobi to carry out assassinations, only to have those same shinobi assassinated by another group- all for the sake of secrecy and keeping the business's hands clean.

But Shiori knew that neither Itachi nor Kisame had any way of knowing that information. The only reason why she knew was due to a mission she carried out for Konoha many years ago. She was sent to investigate the disappearances of several elite business leaders and a handful of rogue-nin, and when she discovered what Hagewashi was doing and related the information back to Konoha, she was ordered not to take any action. "If those filthy dogs are so willing to kill each other," she had been told, "then let them. It'll be less trash for us to clean up."

Over five years down the road, it was still none of her concern.

"Your targets are meeting at an abandoned temple in the southern part of town," Shiori heard him begin as she walked away.

-xXx-

Her brush flowed elegantly across the scroll, black ink standing at stark contrast against the snowy white paper. Shiori's shoulders were hunched, her teeth worrying her bottom lip as she focused on the jutsu she inscribed across its surface. The words were lengthy and complicated, and to make matters worse she had to recall long, paragraph-like passages from sheer memory alone. In the back of her mind, she made a mental note to borrow a book containing similar sealing techniques from Nobuo once she was finished.

Her senses suddenly piqued, alerting her to a presence that now stood outside the hotel room door.

Shiori ignored it, choosing instead to focus on the final touches of her scrollwork even as she heard a key being inserted into the lock. The knob turned, causing the door to open into the room as both Kisame and Itachi entered.

"Hey, hey, hey," Kisame smirked as he closed the door behind them. "What have we got here?"

Shiori rolled her eyes, well aware of what invoked such a reaction. The shark-nin stepped closer to appraise her, noting both her new wardrobe and appearance. Black pants clung to her like a second skin, tucked neatly into the tops of black boots that weren't typical shinobi attire. She wore a short-sleeved mesh shirt underneath a fitted grey flak jacket, making the only thing loose on her a black tool belt that hung from her hips. She had even cut her hair so that it just barely fell to the midpoint of her back in tousled waves, and its revitalized shine perfectly accompanied the caramel highlights she had put in her hair.

Her eyes glared daggers into Itachi's back, but he ignored her as he removed his cloak and kasa and hung them by the door. As he disappeared into one of the bedrooms, Kisame leaned across the back of the sofa where she sat and casually glanced at the inscriptions until his eyebrows shot up in surprise,

"That's some heavy duty sealing. Will you have enough chakra to pull this stunt off?"

Shiori scoffed as she set her brush aside, giving the ink time to dry as she said, "This isn't the first time I've had to use a jutsu like this. I used this same one to rob well over half the Kumogakure treasury."

The shark-nin still looked doubtful, "Either way, we're operating with a strict timeframe. Itachi and I will have our mission complete in a few hours, so you need to have that bell under wraps by then, too."

She rolled up the scroll and bound it with a string, sliding it into a pouch on her tool belt as she rose to her feet, "Relax, Kisame."

Itachi walked back in to the room at that time, prompting Shiori to rise to her feet in order to avoid his presence. As she began walking toward the bedroom she had claimed as her own, she cast a glance back at Kisame, "The Golden Bell will be in my possession by first light. Just be sure you can clean up your own mess by then, hmm?"

Her cryptic words caused Kisame's eyebrow to quirk, but before he could say anything she closed the bedroom door behind her. Unbuckling her tool belt, she wrapped it around the bedpost and then fell backward onto the bed with a huff.

Lying in the darkness of the room, she couldn't help but hear them beginning to strategize through the thin walls. It was a clean plan- infiltrate the abandoned temple, assassinate the three targets, and then leave. However, there was no mention of possible disruptions. It was obvious they had no idea how Hagewashi operated, but it was none of her concern. Not only that, but she had no doubt in her mind that – no matter what obstacle appeared – Kisame and Itachi would come out of it unscathed like usual.

It only took them a few minutes to finalize their plan, and they left the room not long afterward. Shiori restlessly rolled onto her side, her green eyes gazing sightlessly at the wall as she considered whether she should actually warn them about the trap awaiting them at the temple once they assassinated their targets.

But wouldn't it be far more interesting to eradicate the henchmen, then rub it in their faces? To swoop in unexpectedly and say something along the lines of 'good thing I was here, huh?' or 'you guys should choose your clients more carefully.'

Suddenly realizing the pathetic turn her thoughts had taken, Shiori sighed and rolled over onto her back once more. She resigned herself to staring through the darkness at the ceiling, counting each individual second that slowly passed by in an attempt to distract herself.

Try as she might, she couldn't force the situation out of her mind.

"Dammit," she growled angrily as she sat up, angrily tossing the pillow across the room and then grabbing her tool belt from the bedpost.

-xXx-

The abandoned temple was located on the outskirts of Rokkuhōmu. The stone pathway leading to it had been eroded by the elements many years ago, and the thick overgrowth of trees and hedges were plenty enough reason to keep curious tourists at bay. Although it had stood ten stories tall with sloped red roofs and robust columns in its prime, the structure was now dilapidated after decades of abuse and neglect. Ivy clung to the stained walls, leeching the life from the plaster and compromising its structural integrity. Several of the columns had crumbled throughout the years, and the highest floor in the temple had collapsed onto the one below at some point.

No one in their right mind would step foot inside such a place, making it the perfect location for an assassination.

Shiori lurked in the tree canopy near the entrance. Her eyes glowed an eerie silver as she perched on a branch, watching silently as Hagewashi's henchmen finally arrived. They scurried through the underbrush like ants, forming five-man groups before disappearing into the bottom floor of the temple. It was obvious that the twisted businessman had some inkling of who he was double-crossing, because Shiori counted over thirty men by the time they had all entered the temple. But he could have sent a hundred of his henchmen and it still wouldn't have made a difference. His thugs were untrained as shinobi, and even if they were they would still be no match for Itachi, not to mention Kisame.

Or her.

She activated her Kekkei Genkai as she dropped from the treetops, rendering her invisible as she landed on the balls of her feet. The full moon hovered directly behind her, but it was unable to cast Shiori's shadow as she leisurely strolled up the crumbling stone staircase that led to the first floor. The door-less entryway was framed on the left and right by enormous wooden columns with peeling red paint. An armed thug stood in front of each, their gazes alert as they peered out at the brush and small glimpses of Rokkuhōmu before them.

They were so focused, but it was all for naught as Shiori stood in-between them, shuriken encircling all ten of her fingers like macabre rings. She flung her arms out by her sides, letting a single shuriken soar in each direction until the needle-like points found their mark. The deadly stars sunk into the center of each man's forehead, and they collapsed instantly, soundlessly. Dead.

Her pace didn't falter, nor did her pulse quicken or eyes dilate, like a normal individual confronting death. Extinguishing life was second nature to Shiori. She was literally born to kill, and her particular skill set enabled her to become the perfect instrument of death. Konoha recruited her talent and utilized her Kekkei Genkai in their favor. Although many years had passed since she was secretly assigned the title of 'Kagekaitou,' she still remembered the Third Hokage's speech when he swore her in to her new role.

"Your job is not to be as a shadow-

Like the Anbu."

Many of the men were scattered throughout the first floor. They hid behind the large pillars that supported the floor above, their eyes trained on a grandiose carved staircase at the front of the room. They readied their swords, ignorant of the imminent danger that already lurked in their midst.

A sadistic smile played on Shiori's lips as she spun the shuriken around her ring finger.

"For although a shadow disappears amongst darkness

It can be seen prominently in the light."

There was no stalking involved as Shiori simply walked right up behind the man closest to her. She stood so close to him that she could feel his body heat through his clothes and see the blood pulsing within his jugular. Readying the shuriken on her right index finger, she plunged it into the left side of his throat, dragging it across the flesh of his neck until he was slit from ear to ear, the deep wound forming a nightmarish crimson smile as he silently fell to the floor with the shuriken still embedded in his flesh.

"But your unique abilities allow you to transcend this limitation,

Making you not a shadow, but a phantom."

She crossed the temple floor like death itself. Invisible to all, her fingers stroked across their jugulars tenderly, lovingly, as she wordlessly claimed their lives. One by one they fell until over a dozen men lay upon the wooden floor behind her. Their blood stained the dull planks a vivid red before seeping into the cracks between them, spreading the pools of blood throughout the entire square footage of the first floor as she slowly began to ascend the staircase.

"No longer can our enemies seek solitude in the approaching dawn."

Her fingertips traced across a carving of Sae no kami, smearing the few droplets of blood that were on her fingers across the face of the god who was supposed to protect others from misfortune.

"Unbeknownst to them, they will readily offer their sins and secrets to you."

The remainder of the men awaited on the second floor, hiding behind the pillars just like those before them. They were ignorant of the silent slaughter that had occurred directly underneath their feet, making Shiori smile as she effortlessly buried a shuriken into the skull of the man closest to her.

"Only as the blood froths from their jugular and bathes them in crimson

Will they realize that you, the Phantom of Konoha, have claimed their soul."

Blood spurted through the air like a fountain as she ripped open their throats and pierced their skulls. They fell quickly at her feet, almost in reverence as many buckled onto their knees. The body count rose above thirty as Shiori sauntered across the floor, causing puddles of blood to ripple as she approached the last man standing at the foot of the staircase. His gaze was trained on the stairs – unaware of how closely death stalked him - as he waited for Itachi and Kisame to descend from the third floor.

Shiori withdrew a talon-like kunai from her belt, casually twirling it around her index finger as she walked right up behind him. Her left hand lashed out, fisting his dark hair and yanking his head back so quickly he didn't have time to react. Footsteps suddenly began to descend the stairs, but she didn't hesitate as she put her foot in the center of his back, causing his body to bow forward as she plunged the blade into his neck. She sliced through muscle and vertebrae as though it were butter, completely decapitating the man as his body slumped forward onto the floor.

"Because of you, nightmares now lurk in the light."

Kisame and Itachi finally appeared on the stairway. Itachi held the gruesome scene in cool regard as they stopped at the foot of the stairs, but Kisame's face contorted in sadistic amusement as his beady eyes roved from one slaughtered body to the next.

"What the hell happened here?" his gruff voice asked no one in particular, but he held firmly onto Samehada's handle as he scrutinized the scene for signs of the assailant.

Shiori halted her Kekkei Genkai and instantly became visible as she stood before them, her eyes still glowing silver in the darkness. Kisame's eyebrows knit together slightly as he surveyed her, seeing that not a single hair was out of place nor a drop of blood on her. Although a dozen bodies were lifelessly strewn across the floor, he hadn't heard a single indication of an altercation taking place while they carried out their mission just one floor above her. Even a Jounin would have found it difficult to carry out the large scale assassination she just performed, and in the back of the shark-nin's mind a quiet voice warned him, 'Dangerous.'

"You ought to be more careful who you take on as clients," Shiori warned as she tossed the decapitated head to the side. She ignored Itachi's presence and chose to focus on Kisame instead, "The man you made a deal with is known as Hagewashi. He hires rouge shinobi to assassinate targets, then has his own henchmen assassinate the shinobi in order to keep things perfectly under wraps."

Kisame looked puzzled, "How did you know who our client-"

"She was at the tavern," Itachi spoke as indifferently as usual, yet his sharingan eyes were narrowed just enough for Shiori to catch a glimpse of the displeasure he felt. A smile played on her lips since she knew he was irritated that, after all the years that had passed, his sharingan still couldn't see through her ultimate invisibility.

"Either way," Kisame spoke, trying to clear the tension, "we were well aware that we were being followed. We were simply waiting until afterward to take care of the pests. You just happened to beat us to it."

"You're welcome," she spoke sarcastically, causing Kisame to smirk.

"Your mission must be complete since you took the time to interfere with our own."

Itachi's words caused Shiori to wince. Her plan to irritate the two Akatsuki members had horribly backfired, bringing to light the fact that she hadn't even attempted her mission except for writing several incantations she would need in order to steal the Golden Bell.

"I just have a few loose ends to tie up," she horribly lied, causing Kisame to chuckle.

"What you mean to say is, 'I haven't even begun.' Correct?"

Her cheeks flushed with indignation, and she cast them one last glare as she turned her back to them and stormed out of the temple.

-xXx-

The Golden Bell was crafted by monks at the onset of the Third Shinobi World War. During a time of such immense sadness and sorrow, it was meant to be a symbol of inner peace. The bell used to be rung at dusk, its clamoring gong capable of echoing throughout the majority of Earth Country. It signaled a moment of repentance in which one could reflect accordingly on their actions that day. That way, if they did not live through the night, they would be at peace with themselves when they died.

The same monks who created it had also stood guard at the foot of the temple during the war. It was not a tourist attraction back then; instead, only high ranking officials – politicians, the daimyo and kage, anyone with influence over the war - were allowed to ascend the temple's stairs and gaze freely upon the Golden Bell. It was rumored that as soon as an individual laid eyes on the pure gold, everything that ailed their heart and prevented them from reaching inner peace was revealed. Unresolved conflict amongst siblings, the end of a long term relationship, a failing business, disabling illness, a loved one long lost- all of it was capable of being displayed with just one glance.

"What a load of crap," Shiori murmured as she stood before the Golden Bell.

Paper talismans hung from a rope barrier meant to prevent tourists from putting their grubby hands all over it. Unlike the other temples this one remained well kept: the wooden floors were thoroughly waxed and the red columns supporting the sloped roof had been painted recently. Without any windows, the first glimmer of dawn was able to spill uninhibited into the expansive room as soft oranges and pale pinks finally began to illuminate the dark sky. It was still far too early for tourists to be rolling out of bed in order to visit Rokkuhōmu's most popular attraction, and that gave Shiori plenty of time to work her magic.

She peered closely at the bell's reflective surface as she stood in-between it and the barrier.

But Shiori saw nothing except her own reflection.

If the bell truly reflected sources of inner turmoil, there were over a hundred different things that should have displayed themselves across the polished gold: her birth country and its ruler, Konoha and her false imprisonment, all the failed promises she made to Shisui-

The thought of his name was like a physical blow as it knocked the oxygen from her lungs. She clenched the material above her heart, her face contorting in insurmountable anguish as her entire body trembled. Over five years had passed since his death, and she still hadn't come to terms with it. 'He's dead. He's dead. He's dead!' echoed throughout every fiber of her being, setting her already shattered heart ablaze.

She would never grow used to the pain.

"Exquisite."

Shiori abruptly returned to her senses, glancing over her shoulder to see someone seated a few yards away on the floor. A sketchpad rested on his lap as he glided a charcoal pencil across its surface, his hand moving so quickly that it appeared to be dancing. It was impossible for Shiori to see what he was drawing since he was hunched over the notebook, and his long blonde bangs shielded it from view that much further. He was dressed in a plain dark yukata, but she tensed when she saw the Iwagakure headband upon his forehead.

"So was it a parent? Sibling? Boyfriend?" He asked without looking up at her.

Shiori was taken off guard, "Excuse me?"

"The person you lost, hmm," he simply said.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but there was no ill will to his words. He was simply curious as he continued to draw, and Shiori felt oddly comfortable in - even more odd - his presence. It was somewhat of a relief to finally have a neutral party to converse with- not Nobuo who personally knew too much of her past, nor Kisame who viewed the past based on snippets of information he learned here or there. This stranger knew absolutely nothing about her, so maybe that was why she spoke – albeit hesitantly – to him:

"I've lost many people. People that were very dear to me. People that died way too soon."

His pencil froze in mid-sketch, and then he slowly rose his gaze to meet hers. His eyes were an intriguing pale blue color that complimented his golden hair, but the look in them was even more interesting. There was a spark of charisma, of passion, in his eyes that grew until he spoke enthusiastically,

"But isn't that the best part?"

Shiori's first instinct was to kill him, but instead she balled her hands into fists at her side while she listened to him. He spoke reverently, gesticulating wildly with his hands as he explained,

"They were able to depart before their time, hmm. They were able to surpass the normal, expected, accepted course of life. In one brief second they managed to paint an otherwise colorless, lackluster world with the brilliant colors of their untimely deaths. One split second" – he snapped his fingers – "was all it took for them to alter, not just themselves, but the entire universe around them."

He suddenly closed his notebook and set both it and the pencil down on the floor. He walked until he stood beside Shiori, brandishing his arms out wide as he gazed at the bell with a fevered look in his eyes,

"Take the Golden Bell for example. Although it is supposed to be a symbol of peace, it will achieve nothing so long as it resides in this temple as it has for decades. However, if something unanticipated and traumatic were to happen to it, then its existence would transform into something so much more than just a tourist attraction. That's why I'm going to use my art to help it transcend its limits, hmm."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "Your art?"

With a wild look in his eyes, he unexpectedly brought his palms together in front of him. He began to summon a large amount of chakra, causing Shiori to panic as she realized that whatever he was trying to do involved the bell.

He formed a seal as he began to speak loudly, "Art is…an explos- UGHǃ"

Shiori punched him in the back of the head. Hard. He swayed unsteadily on his feet for a moment, and she patiently watched as his eyes finally rolled into the back of his head. Unconscious, his body crumpled down onto the wooden floor in a limp pile.

"I'm so over this mission," she muttered, returning to the task at hand.

Finally free of distractions, Shiori was able to give the Golden Bell her undivided attention. She knelt before the bell as she withdrew a scroll from the pouch on her belt and set it on the floor. She opened the scroll, unfurling its paper until the passages she had inscribed on it beforehand were exposed. They were divided into two halves by a large round circle, upon which Shiori placed her left hand while her right formed a seal.

Closing her eyes, she tried to focus the majority of her chakra into the hand pressed against the scroll. But it was difficult. In a twenty-four hour period, she had gone from being able to use only fourteen tenketsu to the entire sixty-four. Nobuo had suggested threading chakra through all her tenketsu at least twice a day in order to better rehabilitate them, but she realized now that it would be easier said than done. Each of her chakra points felt as though they were clogged, and it took much more time than usual for Shiori to gently force her chakra through each point until she gathered a sufficient amount of chakra – at least 90% of her current supply – in her hand.

She tried to focus once more, but doubt slowly began to take root in her mind. Using her Kekkei Genkai - something so natural to her that she didn't even have to think about it - was much more different than utilizing normal jutsu. And here she was about to use two different high-ranking jutsu simultaneously, something that even well-seasoned Jōnin would find difficult. Weighing in at three tons and standing as large as a house, the Golden Bell was immense and would require an equally astounding amount of chakra to seal it within the scroll for transportation. Shiori couldn't just steal the bell without leaving a substitute, either. The populace would instantly know that it had been stolen and close the village gates until the perpetrator (aka her) was found.

To prevent this, she would have to use powerful genjutsu while also employing a sealing technique at the same moment. Performing missions that required simultaneous jutsu were never a problem when she was a shinobi for Konoha, mainly because she always had a proficient genjutsu user with her, like Ita-

Shiori instantly severed the thought, refusing to reminiscence about the past.

She focused once more, feeling her chakra gradually seep from every part of her body in order to gather in her left hand. Her fingers began to subtly glow, and the longer she concentrated the more pronounced the glow became until her chakra manifested. Dark purple in color, it twisted and writhed like flames until completely consuming her arm in its ethereal glow. Once she knew for certain she had gathered enough chakra, Shiori's eyes snapped open.

"Shīru no āto!" Shiori commanded, and the black ink upon the scroll instantly began to absorb the purple chakra coiling around her arm. The ink rapidly began to transform from black to silver, and then Shiori removed her hand in order to form hand signs,

"Magen: Chōki no Shinkirō!"

The wind picked up suddenly. Violently. It tousled her clothes, nearly knocking her off balance as she knelt before the bell. Brown tendrils of her hair scratched against her cheeks as Shiori grabbed the scroll in order to keep it from blowing away. It gusted through the temple with a vengeance, howling with the intensity of a wolf as it blew through one windowless side to the other.

And then there was silence.

As quickly as it had appeared, the wind vanished. The letters upon the scroll no longer glowed and had returned to their black coloration. The circle that had been empty beforehand now had an odd X-shaped symbol in its center, indicative that Shiori was successful at sealing the Golden Bell. But an exact replica of the bell now stood in the same place, its golden mass glinting in the morning sun. Tentatively, she reached out to touch the bell and slid her fingertips across its flawless surface.

Shiori smiled despite herself, proud that her first Jōnin-level genjutsu in over five years was a complete success. In all honesty her worst skill as a shinobi was her genjutsu ability, but to have pulled off such a perfect illusion made her happy, especially since it would buy her enough time to make it past Rokkuhōmu's gates and back to Nobuo's home.

Shiori pocketed the scroll as she rose to her feet. Turning around, she realized she had forgotten the Iwagakure shinobi when she saw him still lying unconscious on the floor. He was none of her concern, but as Shiori walked past him she picked up his sketchbook from the floor and tucked it under her arm. She couldn't risk the possibility that he may have been drawing her with the bell, especially since that small piece of evidence – if leaked to the wrong people – could reveal the identity of the Kagekaitou.

With that thought in the back of her mind, Shiori began her search for her 'companions' in order to return to the post town.

-xXx-

The sun was at its apex, shining brilliantly when all three Akatsuki members returned to the post town. The amount of people traversing the dusty streets had increased tenfold, and they varied in appearance from esteemed-looking political figures to battle-weary rogue-nin who hadn't bathed in weeks. They formed odd cliques here and there amongst the some thirty odd wooden shanties that made up the town, and there was a sense of urgency, tension, and even dissent about them as they spoke in hushed whispers.

Innumerable pairs of eyes were upon them as Shiori, Kisame, and Itachi walked through the town, and she was glad they wore their kasa because the sight of Itachi's sharingan or Kisame's shark-nin facial features would only give the crowds that much more fuel with which to gossip. Kisame's broadsword was already drawing enough attention, rapidly sending curious or panicked murmurs throughout the throngs of people.

"Why the sudden population explosion, kid?" Kisame asked as they maneuvered toward Nobuo's home.

There was an irritated look on Shiori's face as she muttered, "They're here for the Underground. Nobuo must have spread word about the Kagekaitou much faster and further than I'd thought possible."

"So they're here to see the famous Kagekaitou?"

His mocking tone caused Shiori to shoot him a glare, but that only made him laugh that much more.

Finally reaching Nobuo's home, Shiori lightly knocked on the door with the back of her knuckles. She heard what sounded like a book being closed and set on a table, and then there were footsteps across the wooden floor. The door opened, and as soon as Nobuo saw Shiori a warm, gentle smile spread across his face.

"You're back safely," he sighed in relief. He held the door open so that they could enter, "I just made a fresh pot of tea and some sticky rice balls if you all are hungry."

"You're not supposed to feed the enemy," Shiori spoke accusingly as she walked past.

The table was already set as Kisame and Itachi walked into the kitchen, but Shiori broke away from them in order to walk upstairs.

The antique trunk made a horrible groaning sound as Shiori pulled it out from underneath Nobuo's bed. It was small by wardrobe trunk standards, but it was unique because of the golden swirls inlaid in the dark woodgrain. The rusty hinges squeaked and offered resistance as she opened it, revealing that it had been undisturbed for quite some time.

She let the lid fall backward, exposing its few contents: a bundled up cloak, a set of black clothes, and a pair of gloves and boots. There was also a wooden mask inside that had been carved to resemble a chameleon, for the Kagekaitou shared its ability to disappear into any environment. As she stared into its empty eye slits, Shiori noticed for the first time how truly demonic the mask appeared and cautiously set it on the floor beside the trunk.

She began the complicated process of dressing as the Kagekaitou. Stripping out of her clothes, she neatly folded them and set them – along with her tool belt and the stolen sketchpad – on the foot of the bed. She used cloth bandages to bind her chest and tied her hair into a low ponytail so that it wouldn't be blatantly obvious she was a woman. The black shirt had long sleeves and a high collar to hide the delicate column of her throat. The boots had a hidden heel built inside them that added several inches to her height, making Shiori nearly six feet tall as she tucked her black pants into the shoes. She pulled on the black leather gloves, and as she clenched her fists they hid all traces of the daintiness of her hands.

Although she was no longer a Konohagakure shinobi, her androgynous appearance was necessary. From drug lords to daimyos, Shiori had assassinated plenty and stolen from most. She had prevented war in some countries and nearly incited it in others. If anyone was ever able to connect the identity of the Kagekaitou to her, the ensuing witch hunt wouldn't just be nationwide, it would be worldwide. Not only that, but every country would turn against Konoha because she had been a shinobi under its command.

Not that she cared.

Shiori grabbed the bundled cloak and shook it to remove any wrinkles, but then a few pieces of paper fluttered from the pockets and onto the floor. She tossed the garment onto the bed as she knelt to pick up the paper. As soon as she flipped over the first piece she paled.

It was a photograph.

Shiori's first day at the Academy was frozen in time. Her six-year-old-self looked too happy, too naïve, as she uncontrollably grinned for the camera. Her wide green eyes were bright as emeralds, but with her simple pants and sleeveless shirt it was difficult to tell that she was a girl. With her left hand on her hip, her right arm was slung around the shoulders of a boy, holding him close by her side and accidentally wrinkling the high collar of his dark shirt. His raven colored hair just barely fell below his chin, and the bangs that he was trying to grow out hung in his eyes. On his six-year-old face the tear-troughs weren't even visible as he glanced sideways at her, his expression soft even though he regarded Shiori with an awkward but kind smile.

"Now, Shiori, hold stillǃ"

Shiori smiled despite herself as she remembered Itachi's mother, Mikoto, fussing at them as she tried to take the photo.

"Don't you two go getting your clothes all wrinkled before you even get to classǃ It's your very first dayǃ"

Although her voice had been filled with the beginnings of impatience, Shiori could perfectly recall the happy smile that had been on her face as she saw them off to the Academy. Her love for Itachi had been so strong that it just radiated from her in the purest of warmth, touching anyone nearby and letting them see – although Itachi was never as blatant with his emotions as his mother – just how much they truly loved each other as a family.

Shiori reached out to pick up another photo, and her heart sunk that much more.

It was wintertime that very same year. Fugaku, Itachi's father, had already set up the Christmas tree in the living room. Mikoto and Itachi had spent several days decorating it with so many glittering ornaments, twinkling lights, and strands of popcorn that not a single speck of its green boughs could be seen underneath its adornments. Brightly colored presents were already piled high underneath the tree, and to the side and slightly cut off in the photo was the white bassinet in which barely-a-year-old Sasuke slept.

The only decoration that remained to be added was the star at the very top. It was typically Itachi's role to put it on, but he let Shiori do it since she had never previously celebrated Christmas. Instead of using a ladder for help, Shiori had the bright idea to show off her chakra control and walk up the wall and across the ceiling in order to add the star.

"You're going to get hurt," Itachi warned as he watched her walk upside down across the ceiling, causing her to laugh.

"No, I'm not. Apart from you, I have the best chakra control out of everyone at the Academy, even the teachersǃ"

At that time Mikoto walked in carrying a tray of tea and desserts, instantly paling when she saw Shiori hanging from the ceiling above the tree.

"Shiori Setunaiǃ" she gasped. "Get down this instantǃ You're going to break your neck or the house, both of which I'll scalp you forǃ"

"Relax, Mikoto-san," Shiori blew her off as she began to position the star on the very top of the tree, and Mikoto huffed as she set the tray down on a coffee table. She gave Itachi a pointed look, but there was a bemused smile on his face while he shrugged as if to say, 'I can't do anything with her, either.'

"Fineǃ" Free of the tray, Mikoto was now able to put both hands on her hips as she said, "Just remember that if you fall on the presents you'll be squashing all of yours, tooǃ"

Shiori looked at Mikoto in shock, "You…You got me presents?"

"Well, of courseǃ" Mikoto gave Shiori an affronted stare, "You didn't think we'd let you have a Christmas without any presents, did you?"

Shiori couldn't remember who had been present to take the picture, but they had perfectly captured a candid moment. Because as soon as Shiori heard those words, she lost her concentration and her feet unattached from the ceiling with an ominous popǃ that resounded throughout the entire house. The photograph showed Shiori falling headfirst from the ceiling, Mikoto's horrified expression as her hands covered her nearly-screaming mouth, and Itachi's perplexed face as he stood directly underneath Shiori, arms wide and ready to catch her.

Shiori quickly gathered the remaining photos from the floor and began to shuffle through them. So many of them depicted memories that she had tried – and sometimes succeeded – to forget. So many of them were able to create a spark of warmth, of happiness, within her, only to be quickly extinguished once she realized that things were not, and never could be, what they once were.

There was a photograph of her and Itachi wading through a pond, their pant legs and sleeves rolled up as they searched for the headband Shiori had accidentally dropped into the water just minutes after receiving it during their graduation from the Academy.

A picture had been taken of their very first mission, in which Shiori sat on top of a huge bulldog, pointing onward as Itachi pulled at its leash to no avail.

Another photo showed them standing beside a fireworks stand at a festival, colored smoke coiling around them as Shiori played with a red sparkler while holding a green one out to Itachi.

There was also a photo that had been taken during the Chūnin Selection Exams. They had only been ten years old at the time, but they had managed to pass the written exam and escape the Forest of Death with such finesse that it baffled their proctors. When it came time for the battle tournament at the end, though, Shiori and Itachi inevitably ended up in a vicious fight against each other.

The picture was a bird's eye view of the aftermath of the battle, as the photographer looked down at the arena from above. In the center of the shattered earth and burning trees, Itachi and Shiori laid side-by-side on their backs as medics hurried to lay stretchers down on the ground beside him. With all that remained of their strength, they were able to outstretch a single arm to one another- Shiori wiped away the blood from a cut on Itachi's face as he wiped away the bittersweet tears from her eye. Despite the broken bones, bloody gashes, and filthy charcoal soot that covered her from head to toe, there was a glowing smile on her face as she laughed because Itachi had just said what she least expected:

"Mom's going to be so pissed that I hurt you."

Shiori's heart throbbed painfully as she stared at the picture. Her gloved fingertips traced across his still-too-short ponytail and overtop the tear-troughs that was just beginning to form on his face. Through the heavy layer of soot and scratches, there was a hopeless smile on his face as his tender eyes held hers, his relaxed expression conveying his thoughts perfectly: 'What am I ever going to do with you?'

For a split second – an ultimate moment of weakness – a thought came unbidden to Shiori, whispering quietly in her ear, 'He didn't do it, you know.' The thought was so unexpected, so unwelcome, that Shiori gasped in shock. As she stared at every single one of his gentle smiles, the photographs suddenly felt as though they were on fire in her hands. She scrambled to toss them in the trunk, slamming the lid close as she continued to stare at the wooden box in shock, nearly on the verge of hyperventilating.

"What the hell was that, Shiori?" she muttered to herself before shaking her head in disbelief.

She grabbed the cloak from the bed and pulled it on, securely fastening all the silver buckles from the high-rise collar down to her hips. She fished through her tool belt until she found her wallet and the scroll containing the Golden Bell and slid them into her cloak pocket. As she moved, she realized just how much she had grown because the cloak had once been floor length but now fell just below her knees. The sleeves were shorter, too, but the gloves hid her skin from sight as she grabbed the chameleon mask and returned downstairs.

As soon as Kisame saw her he barked out a laugh, accidentally spraying pieces of rice across the table toward Itachi who glared at him. The shark-nin paid him no mind as he looked Shiori over from head to toe,

"What are you wearing?"

The mocking tone of his voice caused her to glare at him, also, "I have no choice. People can't find out who I really am or every nation in this land will be after my head."

"I suppose, but…" Kisame glanced at the boots she wore and began to laugh again, "Aren't the boots a bit much? Look, she's even taller than you, Itachi-san."

He didn't bother to look, nor did Shiori acknowledge him. A deep frown formed on Nobuo's face as he watched them, but he distracted himself by beginning to clear the table.

"Do you have to follow me to the Underground or not?" Shiori asked, impatient.

Kisame knocked back the last dreg of tea and noisily set the cup on the table. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said, "No, but I'm kind of curious what this Underground is like. I've only ever heard stories about it."

Shiori rolled her eyes, "You're not missing anything, believe me."

She tied on the mask as both Akatsuki men rose from the table. Pulling the hood of the cloak up over her head, not a single centimeter of skin was visible as she began to walk toward the door.

"Shiori," Nobuo suddenly laid a hand on her shoulder, causing her to glance back and see his conflicted expression. He finally sighed as a bitter smile spread across his face, "Just be careful, okay?"

Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but then she smiled behind the mask and nodded. The same tell-tale click sounded in the back of her mind as her Kekkei Genkai made her invisible, and she waited for Kisame to open the front door so that no onlookers would see what appeared to be a heavy wooden door opening on its own.

"You're going to follow this path until it forks, then take the right," Shiori quietly instructed.

Kisame and Itachi walked side by side down the dirt road, and Shiori followed closely on their heels so that no one belonging to one of the many crowds could randomly bump into her. Kisame continuously glanced over top his shoulder toward where her voice had come from, and it was obvious that he was still disconcerted by the flawlessness of her bloodline limit.

"Could you at least try to make it less noticeable that I'm following you?" she hissed right in his ear.

He visibly stiffened, but Shiori couldn't blame him. It was unnatural for a well-trained shinobi to not be able to discern at least one clue as to whether or not they were being followed. Whether it was the inability to conceal the sound and moisture of their breathing or they were unable to mask their killing intent, shinobi always had one single flaw to their stealth that could potentially make them stand out like a sore thumb to others. Yet Shiori had absolutely no flaws in her invisibility, and it made Kisame nervous to hear her disembodied voice and be completely unable to sense her presence.

"What's the point in playing dress up if you're just going to turn invisible?" he asked, but to onlookers it appeared as though he was talking to Itachi.

"I don't want anyone to see me leaving Nobuo's home," she said matter-of-factly. "I've pissed off a lot of people, Kisame. If anyone were to learn of the Kagekaitou's personal ties, they wouldn't hesitate to manipulate them. They would kill Nobuo just for knowing me."

"That'd be inconvenient," Kisame agreed. "Especially since he's the only one who can administer your treatment and keep you alive."

In the corner of her eye, she saw a single one of Itachi's fingers twitch. She stared in confusion at the creamy skin of his hand, and then she rose her gaze to see that he obstinately stared ahead as they walked past the crowds of people. And then she realized that she had never once told Itachi about her genetic shortcomings, even when they had been teammates in Konoha. Although Itachi had met Nobuo several times before, he had no idea that the purpose of their meetings was so that she could receive medical treatment.

Even so, what was with the twitching finger?

She eyed him speculatively for a moment, but then she saw a ramshackle tavern up ahead and spoke,

"The entrance to the Underground is inside that tavern. Ask them to escort you to a private room in the back, and then I'll handle the rest."

"Inside the tavern?" Kisame repeated in disbelief. "I don't see how an entire illegal operation can fit inside that small bar."

She smiled to herself, "You really have never been to the Underground, then."

The tavern was pathetic. Its wooden walls had been assembled so poorly that inch-wide gaps had been left in-between the planks of wood. Several of the square windows had been broken many years ago, and the few remaining panes had yellowed to the point that no one could look through them. The interior was even more downtrodden, filled with a dusty rectangular bar along the backside of the small room and a few tables with mismatched numbers of chairs because others had been broken by staggering drunks.

There were only a handful of patrons inside, and the bartender spared them a curious glance before resuming his polishing of beer steins. A man stood in front of a single black door beside the bar. There was an impassive look on his battle scarred face as he stared at Itachi and Kisame, and the muscles in his forearm bulged as they lay crossed over his chest.

"We're needing a private room in the back," Kisame repeated her earlier instructions, and the man inclined his head just a few inches before stepping aside and opening the door.

As soon as they walked inside, the door was closed behind them. A circular table was all the stood in the center of the 6x6 room, and a single wrought iron candelabrum burned upon it. The twisting flames of the candles cast a dull glow throughout the room, barely illuminating the dusty floor-to-ceiling mirrors that covered every wall except the one which held the door.

"What is this?" Kisame asked as he glared at his own reflection.

Invisible, Shiori stepped around the table and came to stand before the mirrored wall directly across from the door. With her gloved fingers, she drew two parallel lines through the thick layer of dust on the reflective glass, and Itachi and Kisame watched as a perfect rectangle was drawn on the mirror.

There was the sound of a lock tumbling, and then a section of the glass suddenly swung inward as two men walked out to face Kisame and Itachi. They had shaved heads that revealed the swirling black tattoos covering most of their skin, and they were as equally brawny as the man who guarded the other door. However, upon seeing them, Shiori smiled- they were the same guards from five years ago.

"Who sent you?" one of them asked, his voice menacing as his hand hovered over the sheath of a sword tied at his waist.

Kisame's own hand grabbed Samehada's handle in anticipation. His broad smile revealed his pointed, shark-like teeth as he nearly salivated at the thought of ripping his sword through their flesh.

Shiori suddenly revealed herself, causing both guards to jump back in shock since she had been standing between them. Their bodies were crouched low to the floor as they drew their weapons and prepared to attack, but as their eyes slowly rose from her boots to the cloak, from her gloved hands to the silver buckles, and from the drawn hood to the chameleon mask, their eyes simultaneously widened as their jaws dropped.

"Kagekaitou-sama?" they whispered in unison.

Shiori gave a single nod, and then they dropped their weapons and knelt on one knee before her with their heads bowed.

"Our greatest apologies, Kagekaitou-sama," the one who had spoken to Kisame and Itachi addressed her. "Although we had heard of your imminent return, it has been so long...We apologize for any disrespect toward your guests. Please, Kagekaitou-sama" – both guards gestured toward the opening in the wall from which they had entered – "the Underground eagerly awaits your return."

Shiori stepped past them without a single word, her cloak swirling around her knees as she entered the darkness just past the hidden doorway. Kisame and Itachi followed close behind, and they saw that a narrow staircase led deep into the earth, illuminated every ten feet by burning torches attached to the steep rock corridor.

"So the Underground is literally underground?" Kisame mused as they began to descend the stairs, and Shiori quietly chuckled.

"Who would've thought it, huh?" Shiori teased.

As they travelled further along the passageway, hundreds of voices – laughing, jeering, and cursing – began to reach them. They could feel vibrations in the stone as they drew closer to the slightly brighter end of the stairs, and Shiori tightened her mask even further as they reached the exit.

The stone corridor opened up into an enormous cavern roughly an acre in size. Hundreds of ramshackle wooden bazaar stalls filled the space, tended to by even shoddier clerks who sold anything and everything illegal. Human body parts, exotic pets, horns and furs of endangered animals, forbidden jutsu, and military secrets- those were just the beginning of what could be purchased from the Underground. There were other booths that offered their services to interested parties, and although most of them were assassins for hire, several curtains had been set up in order to provide a barely private place to perform plastic surgery and other questionable procedures.

Hundreds of people swarmed like an angry hoard of ants throughout the cave. From well-dressed politicians to the skeleton-like, meth addicted prostitutes who were part of human trafficking rings, there were so many people packed back-to-back amongst the stalls that they literally had to shove their way past in order to reach their desired location.

Flaming barrels placed along the walkways provided the only source of light. In the very center of the restless throng of people, several flaming barrels formed a circular perimeter around a raised stone stage approximately thirty feet wide. A thick crowd had gathered around it, looking up at a masquerade-masked auctioneer who rapidly fired off prices for even more illegal merchandise that his similarly masked assistants carried onto the stage. The items were of a slightly higher caliber than those being sold from bazaars, ranging from priceless works of art to a virgin's hand in marriage.

"I won't be long," Shiori spoke so only they could hear as they still stood on the steps to avoid joining the crowd. "The auctioneer handles the sale, and a second party deals with the money exchange. Maybe twenty minutes, tops. We can regroup at Nobuo's home afterward."

"Alright," Kisame's eyes were focused on particular bazaars. "I'm going to walk around a bit and see what this place has to offer. Coming, Itachi-san?"

He simply inclined his head toward Shiori, "She has an uncontrollable penchant for disappearing."

Her eyes narrowed, but before she could say anything Kisame chuckled, "I see your point. Good luck babysitting."

The shark-nin gave a mocking wave before stepping from the safety of the stone corridor and into the crowd. Despite his remarkable height and ominous Samehada, he was still swallowed up by the throngs of ruffians who couldn't care less that he was an S-class shinobi.

She glanced sideways at Itachi who stood silently beside her and then said, "Let's get this over with."

As soon as they stepped from the obscurity of the rock passageway, the effect was instantaneous.

Heads turned, eyes widened, jaws dropped- the presence of the Kagekaitou stunned everyone. Despite the rumors Nobuo had spread, it was obvious that no one anticipated the return of the Shadow Thief. After the Kagekaitou's sudden disappearance over five years ago, many believed that the infamous thief and assassin had finally been captured and killed. That much was reflected in the pale, mouth-agape expressions of many onlookers who instantly recognized the demonic mask.

Shiori carried herself with the unwavering confidence that was typical of the Kagekaitou, exuding such an imposing aura that the crowd hastily parted to allow their passing.

"It's the Kagekaitou," Shiori heard their whispered reverence. "Kagekaitou-sama has finally returned."

Some even bowed as she walked past, "Welcome back to the Underground, Kagekaitou-hakase."

There were others that were too nervous to approach the ominous figure of the Kagekaitou, but they softly spoke to her from the sidelines. They offered her payment for assassinations, thefts, and espionage, all of which did not interest Shiori. Many extended business cards, their hands trembling so badly that they lost their grip on the cardstock and it fluttered to the stone floor by her boots as she walked past them toward the raised stone platform.

"Kagekaitou-sama," the masked auctioneer greeted with a smile as he knelt at the edge of the makeshift stage. "I trust that you brought something good to make up for lost time."

The transaction proceeded just as it had five years ago. Without a word she handed the scroll to the man. He spared a glance at the three pieces of information she always listed at the top: the name of the item, the starting bid, and in what form she would accept payment. After reading the information, his smile broadened as he gave her a confirming nod.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he loudly announced overtop the crowd, gaining everyone's attention as he walked toward the center of the stone stage. "What we have here today is a rare opportunity for profit. The item which is being put forth for auction is literally worth its weight in gold."

Shiori formed the hand seal to prepare to release the sealing jutsu as he gently set the scroll in the center of the stage. He began to hastily retreat, brandishing his arms wide as he said,

"May I present to you" – he paused for dramatic effect – "the Golden Bell of Earth Countryǃ"

Shiori released the seal, causing a deafening bomb-like sound to echo throughout the Underground with such immense force that it shook the entire cavern. Hundreds of people took a collective inhale as enormous stalactites trembled above them, threatening to rain down upon them at any moment as smoke spiraled above the stage. The hazy mist gradually began to disperse, revealing teasing snippets of brilliant gold that glowed in the light of the flames.

There were collective gasps and other sounds of awe as the smoke finally cleared, revealing the Golden Bell that dwarfed the stage.

"We'll begin the bidding at half a million."

The bidding war began as potential buyers tried to shout out their prices above the booming competitive voices of the others. With everyone's attention now focused on the bell, Shiori began to walk away only to be closely followed by Itachi.

"Will you stop following me?" she hissed under her breath as they passed a rickety booth exhibiting human organs floating in jars of yellow-green formaldehyde.

Shiori stopped at a nearby stall that specialized in poisons and elixirs. Thousands of miniature glass vials covered every square inch of the poorly assembled wooden structure, and as she browsed through the wide – and illegal – variety of toxic substances, Itachi came to stand beside her once more.

"Can't you take a hint?" she growled.

"For perfect synchrony of a team, all strengths and weaknesses must be made mutual knowledge," he stated, keeping his voice low so that the conversation would be private between them.

"Shinobi Rule 17?" Shiori scoffed. "You've got to be kidding me. Where is this even coming from?"

He ignored her abrasive tone, "Your illness could jeopardize the functionality of the team and become an inconvenience for Akatsuki as a whole."

"My illness?" she repeated in disbelief. Her tone instantly transformed into heavy sarcasm, "Oh, I'm sorry. I was under the horrible misconception that my problems were none of your concern, especially taking into consideration the whole genocide and utter betrayal thing. But before I confess my genetic flaws to you, how about you let me in on your failing eyesight, hmm?"

Itachi's Sharingan eyes narrowed, verifying that Shiori's suspicious were correct:

Her eyes roved across each of his perfectly manicured nails and, since he had removed his cloak, up the creamy columns of his forearms. There wasn't a single scar on him, a true testament to how skilled he truly was as a shinobi. His ponytail was a cascade of black silk running down his back, his thick bangs framing the delicate panes of his face and the beautiful set of his dark blue eyes.

Her breath caught when she realized that she was looking at his natural eyes for the first time in over five years, but then her eyes suddenly narrowed.

There was an extremely thin, almost colorless membrane covering both of his pupils.

"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" she asked, unconsciously moving closer to him in order to better examine his eyes. Their intense crimson color nearly made the thin film indistinguishable, but with her extensive medical knowledge Shiori was able to detect the tell-tale signs of vision impairment.

"How long?" she asked. "It began as soon as the Mangekyō activated, didn't it?"

Having once worked alongside the strongest Uchiha in history, there was no way that Shiori would not know of the deleterious effects of fully awakened Sharingan. Power never came without sacrifice, and the cursed Uchiha clan was no exception.

"Have you tried any medication?"

"The repercussions of the Mangekyō can not be reversed. Attempts can only be made to nullify them," he finally spoke.

Shiori rolled her eyes and returned her attention to the booth. Her gloved hands sifted through the thousands of glass vials, lifting first one and then another before returning them. She finally found what she was looking for- a slightly larger vial filled to the cork with coarse greenish brown powder. She tossed it to Itachi who easily caught it, and when his eyes glanced from it to her she explained,

"It's powdered amla. It can only be found in herbal shops, but even then it's nearly impossible because of the extremely high import tax. The Underground has the only reliable stock for the best price. It's the most effective natural remedy for both maintaining and enhancing eyesight."

The owner of the booth who had been dealing with a customer on the opposite side finally noticed their interest in the vial. Her wizened eyes widened when she saw that the Kagekaitou stood before her, and she hastily hobbled over with her cane in order to give them a nervous smile.

"For the Kagekaitou," her quiet voice wavered, "I will cut the price to 7500 ryo."

Shiori commonly dealt with herbs, elixirs, and poisons, so she instantly knew that – although still costly – the woman was offering them a good deal. Purchasing amla powder from an emporium typically cost at least five times as much after the addition of hefty taxes. So when Itachi began to set the tiny glass bottle back on the table, Shiori snatched it from his grasp and earned a pointed stare from him.

"You're such a cheapskate," she muttered such that only he could hear.

Holding the amla in one hand, she searched through the assortment of vials once again until finding another that contained a white crystalline powder. Shiori held them out toward the elderly woman who pursed her lips for a moment before saying,

"That's the purest strychnine you'll find. I usually sell it for 27,000 ryo, but I'll let you take both for 30,500 ryo."

Shiori nodded, setting the vials back on the table in order to retrieve her wallet from her pocket and pay the woman. She thanked them for their business as Shiori cautiously set the vial of poison in her pocket while impatiently thrusting the other out toward Itachi. When he hesitated to take it Shiori scowled at him, but as her line of sight trailed overtop his shoulder to the crowd behind him, her heart stopped.

Four masked shinobi were hastily navigating through the crowd, and their black midriff jackets were all she needed to see to know they belonged to Root. Their heads swiveled from side to side in jerky movements, making it obvious that they were searching for something or someone.

"Shitǃ" Shiori cursed.

Pure instinct drove her to reach out and take hold of Itachi's hand as she activated her Kekkei Genkai. The sensation of being submerged in arctic cold water was not new to him, and he reacted automatically as he grabbed Shiori and pulled her into the narrow space in between two booths through which the crowd did not flow. Invisible to all, they both watched with abated breath as the Root shinobi continued walking past unawares.

Shiori sighed once they disappeared into the throng of people, but she grew tense once more when she realized their cramped predicament. She still held his hand in a vise-like grip as their bodies pressed together, held in place by the arm he had encircled around her waist. Shiori's other hand was wedged between them against his chest, and she could feel his heart beating strongly against her palm.

And it burned.

She quickly shoved against him, forcefully separating them by several feet as she deactivated her Kekkei Genkai. For once she was thankful for the uncomfortable wooden mask that concealed her shocked eyes and the bulky cloak that hid how her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing. She clenched her hands, straining the leather gloves across her knuckles as she felt the lingering heat from where she had touched him.

"I'm going to pick up the money," she murmured quickly in order to distract herself. "I'll be waiting at Nobuo's once you find Kisame."

She hastily turned from him, unable to see how his scarlet eyes focused on the hem of her cloak as it swirled around her knees while she walked away. His hand ghosted over the pocket of his cloak, feeling the small bottle of powdered amla that she had slid into it without his notice. Reaching inside he brushed his fingertips across the glass, realizing that faint traces of her warmth still clung to the cold vial.

-xXx-

She stood there for the longest time, simply staring at the wooden trunk with a frown.

Her Kagekaitou outfit lay neatly folded at the foot of Nobuo's bed. Two leather satchels bulged at their seams, one full to the brim with 500,000 ryo while the other held slightly less. The Golden Bell had sold for 950,000 ryo, but Shiori had been sure to give the auctioneer his ample ten percent cut for services rendered.

All that remained was for her to return to outfit to the trunk. Her green eyes traced the golden spirals inlaid in the dark wood, but as the seconds turned into minutes she realized that she couldn't bring herself to open it.

The pictures would be inside.

She didn't like the way they made her feel. They reminded her of everything she once had- the happiness, the warmth, the friendship. On the opposite side of the coin, however, they also reminded her of everything she had lost- her friends, her home, people who had been family. It wasn't fair or even logical that such a simple printed piece of paper could tear someone's emotions in so many different directions, trapping them in some indistinguishable void between heaven and hell.

Shiori finally forced herself to kneel in front of the chest. Her hands shook as she grabbed hold of the lid, and she took a deep, steadying breath before opening the wooden box. The hinges creaked in protest, and when a single shaft of light ghosted across a photograph she froze.

It was the last family photo that had been taken of Fugaku, Mikoto, Sasuke, and Itachi. Fugaku's stern expression and folded arms made the atmosphere in the picture stiff and heavy. Only Mikoto smiled brightly as she stood close to her husband while her hands tenderly squeezed a young Sasuke's shoulders, and even he seemed content in the picture.

But Itachi stood to the side, obviously distancing himself from his family. He gazed dispassionately at the camera, but there was a storm hidden deep in his eyes that overshadowed all else. The tear troughs on his face and the frown that had become permanent during those days were more pronounced in that picture than any other, possibly because it was the last picture taken of him before that night.

She slowly picked up the picture with one hand, using the other to trace her fingertips across his dark expression. Her brow furrowed as she stared at the picture, and she set it down on the floor before reaching inside and grabbing the rest of the photos from the bottom of the trunk. She carefully set them on the wooden floor one at a time, side by side and organized by the date they were taken, forming a makeshift timeline of over fifteen images.

Her eyes gradually narrowed as she looked from the first photo to the last. With each picture the tear troughs became deeper and more expansive across his face. His dark blue eyes lost their luster, becoming ever increasingly dull with reserved quietness. Some images only had a few months of difference between them, but he easily looked as though he had aged years from one to the next. It was in the images taken during the year leading up the massacre that he looked least like himself- his eyes empty and surrounded by dark circles, his shoulders slumped and posture defeated.

"How?" Shiori whispered to herself, her voice raw with emotion that even she didn't understand.

She repeatedly looked from the first picture to the last, and she had to have repeated this at least a dozen times before her hands clenched into fists. Gazing at Itachi's stern countenance in the last picture, no one would guess that he was ever capable of the gentle, compassionate smile in the first image. What bothered Shiori most was the fact that she had thought the change in his demeanor was abrupt, especially during the year leading up to the Uchiha massacre. But as she looked at the photographs, it was obvious that something had begun changing him from an even earlier point- that something had stuck to him like a leech, progressively sucking all the kindness, happiness, and gentleness from him until all that remained was the hollow shinobi who currently sat in the living room beneath her.

The bedroom door quietly creaked open, but Shiori couldn't tear her gaze from the photographs. As Nobuo stood in the doorway, a sad frown overcame him as he saw the pictures spread across the floor in front of her. His arms tightened around the books he held, but then he finally stepped into the room, closing the door behind him as he quietly walked over and sat beside her. Seconds transformed into minutes as the silence stretched between them, until Nobuo could no longer bear the distressed look on her face as she gazed from one picture to the next.

He reached out and gently grabbed one of her clenched fists. Her line of sight was finally pulled from the images as she stared at the wrinkled skin stretched across his knuckles. His hand was large and radiated warmth as it completely covered Shiori's own, distracting her from the cold emptiness that she felt and replacing it with patience and understanding. He held her hand for the longest time, until her gaze returned to the photographs once more and her emerald green eyes darkened with sorrow.

"I just…" she struggled to find the correct words. "I don't…understand."

She bit her lip as she resumed glancing from the first photo to the last, but Nobuo simply sat in silence and waited for her to continue.

"I don't understand…what happened. I don't understand how someone who loved his family and village so much could just go and do what he did. It just doesn't make sense to me, no matter how hard I try to wrap my mind around it. Sometimes I think that maybe it was all a trick- the kindness, the compassion, the selfless love he had for them all. But, something like that….No one on this earth could fake something like that."

Her fingertips brushed across one of the many tender smiles in the photos before she continued, "So what does that mean? If all of that wasn't an act, why did he kill them? Why did he betray his village? The one thing that I find most impossible is….Why? Why did he…"

-kill Shisui.

The sorrow of confronting that fact was as fresh as the first time she heard it. The misery seized her heart, wrenching it in a deathly grip that made each breath more painful than the last. It physically crippled her, causing her to fist the material of the flak jacket covering her heart as her eyes dilated and she began to hyperventilate.

"Breathe," Nobuo ordered softly as he rubbed her back. His silver eyebrows knit together as he felt her tremble, and watching how she fought so hard to hold herself together made his heart ache unlike ever before.

"Shiori," was his mournful whisper as he grabbed the fragile kunoichi and held her tight in his arms. She felt cold and vacant against him, almost like an ice sculpture as she was trapped in a world of sorrow which she would never escape. "It's alright," he murmured as he brushed his hands through her hair, gently rocking her back and forth as her hands fisted in his light blue yukata. "It's alright to show this weakness. It's alright to cry."

"But I can't," she cried aloud, pulling back in order to look at him with eyes ringed with red. "I've cried so much, Nobuo. I have cried until I have choked on the tears. I have cried until I thought I would drown in the flow. I have cried until there's just nothing. left. to cry. All that's left is just- just this. This unquenchable agony that continues to grow and fester inside of me, no matter what I do. And I don't" – she choked on her words as a single sob escaped – "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

He pulled her to him again, burying her face in the crook of his neck as he quietly shushed her.

"It hurts so much."

"I know," he solemnly whispered as he rocked her back and forth.

"I just don't understand."

"I know."

His hands rubbed circles across her back, slowly soothing the trembling that shook her entire body. At that very moment, Nobuo's warmth was the only proof Shiori had that she was still alive- that she had not been cast into the depths of hell to suffer for all eternity. He served as her anchor, tethering her to all that remained of herself as she attempted to rein in her emotions. She finally calmed herself down enough to sit beside him with a somber expression on her face, but she refused to release Nobuo's hand as she clung to it like a lifeline.

They sat like that for a long time, the silence stretching comfortably between them until Nobuo was the first to speak,

"Shiori, I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to give me the first response that comes to mind."

She looked at him quizzically but nodded.

"Do you think Itachi murdered his clan?"

Her expression instantly became angered, but Nobuo held up his free hand to stop her and reminded her, "First response. Don't even give yourself time to think about it."

She dropped her gaze to the pictures that were spread out before them, and as she saw the gentle smile that she had cherished so much, she knew exactly what the answer was before it even left her lips,

"No. But-"

He held up his hand to silence her once more and continued,

"Do you think that he was capable of betraying his village?"

"No, but-"

"Was Itachi capable of hurting Shisui in any way?"

"Never."

Of anything she had ever known, of that she was absolute.

"So," Nobuo continued, "there is a gap between what your heart is telling you and what you have been told by others. Tell me, Shiori, at what point did you forget one of the most important rules of the shinobi?"

His condescending tone made her eyes narrow, but she knew of exactly which rule he spoke, "A shinobi must see through deception."

He gave a sage-like nod of his head before looking down at the pictures, also, "Of all my years, I have seen and learned many things. Not all of them were necessarily good. On the contrary, most of them I would rather readily forget. However, from all that I have experienced, there is one thing I have found to constantly hold true."

His blue eyes stared deep into Shiori's as he spoke, "The heart holds answers that the brain refuses to see."

Shiori diverted her gaze to the photographs, a troubled expression on her face as she struggled to find her voice, "I was sentenced to prison in order to serve as nothing more than a scapegoat. I have spent five years hating Itachi Uchiha. But…earlier today…I saw Root shinobi in the Underground. Instead of leaving him to fend for himself, I hid him, Nobuo. And even before that, I went as far as to eliminate a group of lackeys that were going to interfere with his mission. And earlier today, as I held his hand in order to share my invisibility with him…"

Her voice trailed off as she looked at the hand that had held his not too long ago. Although all traces of warmth had disappeared, she could still feel the pressure from where his fingers had threaded through hers and fit perfectly in-between her knuckles.

"You mentioned something a few days ago that puzzled me," Nobuo said. "You said that you were on a mission when you were summoned back to Konohagakure no Sato and apprehended, correct?"

She nodded.

"Shiori, there was no such mission."

Her eyes narrowed, "What are you talking about? Of course there was."

"Do you remember what the mission was about?"

Shiori opened her mouth to speak, but then paused.

She didn't remember.

"So much happened afterward that I must have forgotten," she reasoned.

Nobuo picked up the leather journals that he had set beside him earlier and laid them in front of Shiori, saying, "When I heard the news I couldn't believe it. I did some digging and discovered a few things that might interest you, especially the fact that you were documented as being on standby in Konoha during the night of the genocide."

She picked up the first journal and hastily flipped through the pages with her thumb, seeing that there were hundreds of handwritten pages and several documents throughout the weathered book. She looked up at Nobuo in confusion, "If Konoha had me on standby, then why do I remember that I was on a mission?"

The wise old man didn't say a single word. He didn't have to. Because Shiori already knew the answer, but before she could even comprehend it in her mind she uttered a shocked whisper,

"The Sharingan. But who…?"

"I think it best that you don't dwell on this too much at a time," Nobuo interrupted her train of thought, causing her to frown. He reached out in order to set the book that was on the bottom on top and patted its cover,

"I've been working on this for over a decade now, and I figured it was time to pass it on to you. It's basically a diary outlining all the characteristics of the clans that are part of your genetic makeup. We know that you inherited most of your Kekkei Genkai capabilities, such as invisibility, from the Setunai clan, but you inherited a large chakra supply from the Kaitou. I think it's possible that with practice you can master the other traits from these clans as well, such as the kabe o aruku no geijutsu."

"I've tried to master the art of walking through walls," Shiori muttered as she nonchalantly flipped through the pages of the book. "The most I can do with it is just press my palms against a thin surface in order to see through it."

"You simply lack the concentration to do so," Nobuo stated matter-of-fact, earning a scowl from her. His expression became more serious as he watched her focus on a particular page that caught her interest, and he said, "You know that she'll be looking for you, now, right?"

She stopped reading in mid-sentence, her entire body growing rigid as she glanced up at him through thick eyelashes and murmured a single name, "Takako Kaitou."

It had been eleven years since she and Nobuo fled Kaitou no Kuni. Shiori had been the closest the psychotic leader had ever come to creating the 'ultimate assassin,' and a decade was barely enough time for Takako to create another experiment capable of even beginning to rival her abilities. That was why she had relentlessly pursued Shiori, careful to avoid the watchful eye of Konoha as she sent first one team then another in order to retrieve Shiori and return her to her birth country. Since she escaped prison, she knew that it would only be a matter of time before Takako sent more shinobi after her.

"I received a letter from a reliable source in Kaitou no Kuni earlier this morning," he informed. "It seems as though Takako mobilized forces and sent them to the mainland as soon as word reached her that you had escaped prison."

"Can't that old bird just leave me alone," Shiori complained. "We could just casually inform her that I'm a genetic dead end, then maybe she'd finally let me rest in peace."

Nobuo paled, "If Takako learned of that, she would kill you instead of try to bring you back, Shiori. She must never learn the truth."

She couldn't help rolling her eyes, but then Kisame's voice bellowed up through the floor toward her,

"Hey, kidǃ"

She gathered the photos from the floor and slid them inside a pocket on the Kagekaitou cloak before returning the entire outfit to the trunk. She closed the lid and slid it back underneath the bed, and then she grabbed the smaller leather satchel from atop the duvet and handed it to Nobuo who looked at it quizzically.

"It's my share from selling the Golden Bell," she explained. "I'm keeping a little bit on me, but I want you to hold the rest and invest it however you see fit."

"Just like before?" Nobuo smiled.

He picked up a small backpack and held it open for her as she began to pile items inside: the other satchel, the books he had given her, the sketchbook she had taken from the shinobi at the temple. She kept the load light, only packing what was absolutely necessary before she and Nobuo made their way downstairs.

Both Akatsuki men stood at the dining table, and as Shiori walked toward them she couldn't see what they stared at upon its polished wooden surface.

"You summoned me?" she drawled sarcastically as she came to stand beside Kisame, but then she froze.

They had been looking at a scroll spread out across the table. Pertinent biographical information was scribbled across the paper, detailing an individual who stood at approximately five foot four inches, weighed one hundred eleven pounds, and was an S-class missing-nin from Iwagakure no Sato. A colored picture of him was attached to the center of the scroll, and one look at his long blonde hair and pale blue eyes made Shiori's jaw drop.

"No way," she whispered, causing all three sets of eyes to focus on her. She inspected the photo more closely in order to make sure she wasn't mistaken, and then she said, "I met him atop the Golden Bell's temple earlier this morning."

Itachi and Kisame exchanged a glance, and as Itachi rolled up the scroll Kisame grabbed his cloak from the back of a kitchen chair and pulled it onto his shoulders.

"He's to be recruited," was all Itachi said as he and his partner began to walk toward the door, leaving Shiori staring at his back in shock as Kisame disappeared outside. The Uchiha froze with his hand on the knob, turning his head in order to focus his deep crimson gaze on Shiori as he softly ordered,

"Fan out."

To hear him give the first direct command in over five years caused a knee-jerk reaction in Shiori unlike any other. Although her mind screamed at her to resist, her body instinctively surged forward in order to chase after him as he stepped into the glaring sun outside the house. Shiori made it to the door before Nobuo suddenly grabbed her hand, spinning her around in order to wrap his arms around her in a crushing hug.

"Just come back safe and soon, alright?" he murmured in her ear as he tried to hide the sadness in his voice.

Shiori smiled and hugged him back, "You won't be getting rid of me anytime soon."

He finally let go, holding onto her hand until her fingertips slid from his grasp as she ran out the door. He folded his arms across his chest as he watched her feet carry her swiftly across the cracked wasteland, weaving in and out of the crowd as she followed a billowing black cloak emblazoned with scarlet clouds. He saw the cocky smirk Shiori shot toward Itachi as she passed him, and Nobuo couldn't help but smile despite himself.

-xXx-

A/N:

I am possibly the worst ever when it comes to prompt updates. No apologies can make up for how horrible I am when it comes to managing my writing, but I'm going to apologize anyway. I would just like to say 'Thank youǃ' to those who have stuck with me thus far, but I would also like to thank those who have recently followed/favorited my story: LizziePixie-Aiko, bnoell14, Lucky Girl 81, Drostste7, etc. You guys are the reason why I was able to force my fingers back to the keyboard when I seriously thought about putting the story on hiatus.

I suppose I should also apologize for how long this chapter is, but I just couldn't find an adequate stopping point that set well with me. After 45 pages, I also got a little lazy at the end….Sorry. But feel free to review, because that is the ultimate motivation whether it be praise or criticism, and I'll see if I can't squeeze out the next chapter sooner than this one. Once again guys, I am so, so sorryǃ