a/n: Hello everyone. So... I didn't die. And, to tell you the truth, after this past year of classes, that bit of information might be a miracle. I was recently inspired to finish this chapter (which was *mostly* finished for over a year in My Documents). It is a bit long, but I felt like it had to be. I don't know if anyone reads this story anymore. I suppose I will find out. I have many plans for this fanfic that I intend to execute over the course of the summer, so please stay tuned! Oh, and R&R. Suggestions are more than welcome and taken with an open mind.

-blue

Chapter Seven

"ANBU?" She flashed her brilliant smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Konoha already has you wrapped around its finger."

I removed the mask, allowing it to clamor to the surface of the roof, and ignored her statement. "Why?" I couldn't think of a better way to ask. "The entire clan? Joining forces with the Daraku? Devi? You were one of my best friends."

"As you were mine." For a moment, I thought I saw a hint of remorse, but her features hardened before I could confirm it. "I don't want to kill you, Aian. I didn't kill you then, and I don't want to kill you now."

"Then what do you want?"

The two Daraku shinobi leapt onto the roof. The uninjured one supported his comrade as they took their places behind Nemain.

I didn't look at them. Nemain and I were in our own world, bound by a former comradeship. We were standing off on a roof in a village with no name, our kanons aimed at one another. At that moment, the Daraku didn't matter. Nothing mattered.

I wanted answers.

"You were next in line to lead the clan. Everyone knew it." Nemain finally intruded on our silent battle of wills. "And the elders immediately began to train you for it; they wanted to mold you to their ideals, to their truths. You trusted them—we all did.

"But they were a bunch of stubborn fools. They refused to release the past. In these altering times, the Seikatsu clung to the old ways, when survival demanded that we change. Wandering? Why did we wander when all the families of the old Wars had homes? The Daraku? What tradition insisted that we fight them? Was there even a reason? They told us it was fate—it was our path from birth. But what did we gain?

"And what of the seclusion? Why did we have to go down in the books as legends. Why couldn't we be real to the world? It made sense to remain obscure in the Wars, when secrecy was paramount to survival, but the clans changed, the villages grew, yet we remained the orphans of the shinobi world. They told us it was necessary, that we were doing the right thing, but they lied!"

I listened intently, noting the growing accusations in her tone, and remembered my revelations in Konoha when I watched the streets from my window. Fictitious claims. That had been my thought. I'd grown up believing something that wasn't real. My clan was nothing but a cluster of deceit, a fragment of a past life. I understood Nemain's frustration.

"I couldn't let them transform you, Aian. You were too wise, too talented, to have to waste away on their conceptions of reality."

My eyes flashed a dangerous shade of gray, much like that of the blood in my krystak. "Transform me?" Calm down, I told myself. "Nemain look what you have become! A murderer, a traitor. You have become the liar that you loathed!"

Her anger flared to match mine. "We were murderers before, fighting a damn useless war!" She gritted her teeth, "It was a cycle and I chose to end it."

"How noble." I muttered, trying to figure out how she was pushed to betray us. Who gave her the thoughts circulating in her head? "Destroy the innocent to spare them their ignorance and suddenly you're a hero? What about Devi? She healed your wounds; she was your friend, your partner. That was your bullet in her body."

She flinched at Devi's name. "I had no choice."

"Well, unfortunately for you, I promised her I would find the traitor." I leveled my kanon, aiming at her head, "You know I don't break my promises. I'm afraid that I have no choice."

"You will try to kill me even when I tell you that you can have a home?" She held up her hand to stop the Daraku from stepping in, ordering them to wait.

"A home?" What was she talking about?

"Do you remember the man that arrived in the Snow Country a year ago in search of the Seikatsu?"

I thought back. My clan always regarded foreign shinobi with extreme suspicion, especially if they knew our whereabouts. To protect us, the elders sent most of us away, and I hardly caught a glimpse of our visitor. But I vaguely recalled his arrival. At the time, a few consecutive stringent battles had demanded my attention. "I remember."

At my affirmation, she continued. "Though we were not supposed to see or speak to this man, I lingered nearby during his meeting with the leader. He was one of the first shinobi I had ever seen that wasn't a Daraku. And I was curious." She tried to read my expression, but I made sure it didn't reveal my thoughts. "He proposed an allegiance and told the leaders that the Seikatsu could join him when he founded his village. We would have a place to call our own and positions of power within his system. In other words, we would escape the demands of the wandering life."

"And in exchange for what he offered, what did he demand of the Seikatsu?" I didn't like the sound of this story and my mind worked through the flaws of the man's proposition.

"That we serve him and remain loyal. War was on the horizon, he said, and he needed our skills."

"What about the Daraku?"

"He told them he would make the same offer to the Daraku, and we could reach a truce." Nemain scowled in thought, "But of course, their pride blinded them. They refused his offer and sent him away."

I wasn't surprised. The elders didn't like change. And they didn't want our clan to be subservient to anyone. In their position, I would have responded similarly. Strangers could not be trusted, especially strangers that offered power. Apparently, the allure had been too great for Nemain to resist. Damn her curiosity. "He went to the Daraku, I'm guessing?"

"I followed him." She admitted smugly. "They received him well. Unlike the stubborn elders of our clan, theirs were willing to listen and negotiate. I heard the demands of the contract, and at first I was horrified. In exchange for their cooperation, the man had to assist in the eradication of the Seikatsu. I fled, then, determined to warn our leader—and you.

"But he had known I was there all along and he cut me off. Never before had I felt fear as I did when I looked into the eyes of this stranger. However, he told me that he understood my frustration with the Seikatsu. He explained the world of the shinobi and I realized everything I knew was likely falsely misinterpreted. And finally, he asked if I alone would join him." She waited for me to say something, continuing only when she realized I was awaiting the conclusion. "A place to call home, a position in his military force, access to the world from which our leader selfishly barred us. How could I refuse?"

As the story fell together, piece by piece, my lust for revenge began to burn hotter in my conscious. "You plotted against the Seikatsu for your own selfish reasons."

"I wanted you to join me," Nemain stated firmly. "I figured you of all people would understand."

"Some things are beyond understanding Nemain. I could never have done what you did."

"There is no more senseless fighting between our two clans. We aren't sitting in the Snow Country dodging the Jikan no Jutsu. For the first time, you and I have tasted the freedom of the outside world. Can you not deny its intrigue?"

I faltered, slightly. She was right, in some ways. Konoha held a temporary place for me; I could come and go as I pleased. Though they still watched my actions, the Hokage and ANBU forged a path that I could walk if I so chose. Since my arrival in the Leaf, things had certainly changed. In just that short amount of time, I'd learned enough to last a lifetime—about secrets, history, loyalty. And the connection between the ways of old and the light of the emerging clans of new.

But I was still taking orders. I was still fighting. So long as shinobi existed, that sad truth would remain.

"Who is this man? What is his name?" There were still unanswered questions. "And why is Konoha involved? Did you send that missive?"

"I can't tell you his name. Not yet. When you pledge your loyalty to him, then I can tell you more." It sounded more like a joke, but her expression was serious. "And no, I didn't send that message. That was probably his doing. He didn't tell me everything."

I'd heard enough. How dare she deign to insist that I fall so low? How could she presume that I would bow before a man ultimately responsible for the descent of my clan. "You fool!" The anger I'd worked diligently to suppress finally became unbearable. "I will carry the title of the Leaf for the rest of my life before I ever follow in your footsteps."

"If that is the way you feel," Nemain glared, "then there is no reason for you to live."

I remembered us as children, running and laughing—the three of us. I remembered her standing in front of me, my shield. I recalled her words to me the night of the massacre. That she'd never forgive me if I didn't survive. At that time, the Nemain I knew was still there—still alive. But this young woman, confused by a man's lust for power and her own desire for a place in the world, was only a ghost of the Seikatsu shielder of our vashna. This, I decided as I braced myself for what I needed to do, was not Nemain.

Our krynura left our kanons at the same time, signaling the beginning of a new war—a personal war.

No, Itachi, you were wrong. I prepared to shield myself from the impact of Nemain's bullet and thought of Itachi's resonant hope. Your peace is nothing but a desperate desire. This is proof enough.


Itachi was furious, though he refused to let it show in the presence of his team. For the sake of his position, he maintained a cool commanding air, even as his eyes simmered with forcibly concealed rage. Running away like Aian had, half-mad in her anxiety, was a sure way to get killed. For someone accustomed to working with others, she did a pleasant job of forgetting Sandaime's orders to remain hidden and ignoring his own order to move with caution. Were all the Seikatsu this inflexible?

Instead of chasing after her, he decided to regroup with his team. There was no sense falling into a trap. He was sure Aian could likely hold her own until help could arrive. But even that thought didn't dull his anger. The Third is going to have my head.

Within minutes after her departure, he had heard the two shots of the kanon in the distance, and his stomach flipped nervously. Did she go running into the village like a possessed demon? Surely, she had more sense than that…

His comrades had found him immediately and he briefed them on the situation. Their unspoken reactions made Itachi suspect they were no happier about Aian's flighty escapade than he was.

As the buildings of the village came into view, he naturally slowed down. Aian may have rushed in, but he would not make that mistake. He needed to assess the situation first.

"Captain, up there."

Itachi discovered it didn't take him long to 'assess'. As he followed the finger of his team member, the situation made itself very clear. Aian and three enemies stood on the rooftop of a nearby building, and she was angry.

Both kanon's released a resounding cry and Itachi watched helplessly as the former conversation between the two Seikatsu became the fuel that fed the fire.


Neither of our krynura broke the other's shield. Having trained in the highest art of defense, it was no wonder hers was impenetrable. But it worked both ways. Her krynura wasn't strong enough to pierce through my weaker barrier. If we played by those rules, then we were going to be at a deadlock until one of us ran out of chakra.

As the smoke cleared, we locked gazes and I could see she had similar thoughts.

I didn't give her time to voice them, however. Time was always crucial in ninja battles, but it was even more foreboding when my opponent was flanked by two shinobi with the power to control it. One break, one moment to breathe, and it could all crumble beneath me. I had to run, to move; I had to skirt the outer boundaries of the time itself.

I was playing a dangerous game.

The uninjured Daraku formed the seals for his attack on cue; I felt the change in the air, the merciless weight that threatened to devour me. This was the moment where Nemain would have protected me. Her barrier would have encircled us, blocking the effects.

But I was on my own this time. My feet moved of their own accord, dancing around the shadows of the Daraku's jutsu as I ran towards her. I couldn't see it—one can't see Time—but I could see her. And in the depths of my anger, my disappointment, and my shock, I was incapable of seeing anyone else. I heard the crack of her kanon as she attempted to force me into a different direction. I fired in return, aiming for her krynura with my own. When they struck each other, the particles of condensed chakra ignited, forcing us both to shield in order to escape the initial impact of the explosion that followed.

But still I refused to stop. An idea had swept through me like wind through the plains, as if the wind itself had whispered into my ear.

I used the explosion to my advantage, hiding within the shadows of the smoldering chakra. With my free hand, I locked the kanon back into the holster on my hip, hoping briefly that I wouldn't pay for it later, and retrieved the ninjato that Itachi had lent me. The ANBU sword felt heavy in my hands compared to my kanon, and it took a couple of seconds to adapt. Swords were not foreign to me—young Seikatsu were trained to use all weapons—but they were not primary or favored weapons either. I ran my wrist down the blade and bathed it in my silver blood, flinching slightly at the cool steel striking the vein.

Kaze. Kakashi's words were aiding me now, when he had informed me of my chakra affinity to wind. If I couldn't break through Nemain's barrier with my regular chakra, then logically combining it with the elements would strengthen my attack. I needed my blood as a base for the physical energy as I did for all of my jutsu, and in doing so, I could use my spiritual energies to mix the correct amount of chakra based on my wind element affinity.

The sword rang with the vibration and I felt the power humming through the blade. I saw the haunting glow of silver and heard the sharp notes of the wind's song. It wasn't perfect, I knew, because it was not dense enough; it was still wild and untamed in some ways, mirroring my wandering nature, my search. Did that mean, then, that I was doomed to a life of instability? The thought itself was almost enough to make me falter.

The cloud of dust began to settle, and I took two giant leaps, positioning myself low in order to take Nemain by surprise. It all happened within a split second—as that is the way of most shinobi battles—but I saw it all with surprising clarity: the widening of her eyes, the fumbling Daraku, and my own precision as I leapt up from my low charge, using an uppercut slash with the sword. She didn't have time to gauge the strength of my attack and respond with an appropriate barrier; instead, Nemain summoned one of her emergency shields, which I knew from experience was based on the mixture of her blood and the water in her body. It was a dangerous shield, requiring one of the basic nutrients of life, but easily accessible since she could use herself as the medium.

It enveloped her body and acted as an armor, and in all the years that I'd known her, I'd never seen anything penetrate that shield. But this was different. My sword was howling, reflecting my own turmoil—my own inner rage. The wind chakra fed off that strength, swarming around the blade and clinging to it as if it were its last chance at life.

And then the ninjato struck the barrier, leaving a rippling trail as it swept away Nemain's defense. I felt the shattering more than I saw it; I was too busy executing the next plan of my attack. My left hand gripped my kanon, ripping it from the holster, as I pivoted to the right and brought the barrel level to her face until I was no more than a foot away.

There could be no hesitation on my part. Not with everything on the line. Nemain was the fastest shielder in any Vashna. In terms of execution, her speed was probably greater than my own. Those in charge of surviving or ensuring survival often rely on quickness; in dire situations, it was Nemain's duty to act swiftly. If I allowed her to create another shield, it would be stronger than the one I'd just broken, and prepared for my attack.

I had a plethora of questions, but I knew that mercy wouldn't answer them either. My face was a mask, emotionless, determined. My mind was a different story, but I fortified it too, demanding that it focus. The shot rang out, echoing a final song of closure. When it hit, Devi could rest in peace, avenged, and I could rest too, as the avenger.

It was the tolling of the bell: clear, resolute, and with the distinct chime of finality.


Itachi watched the flow of chakra with his Sharingan. He hadn't intended to intervene until he understood his opponents. When it became a battle of three against one, the others prepared to rush to Aian's aid, but he ordered them to stand down. There was something important happening in this battle, a matter of honor and pride for Aian, and though he normally advocated smart teamwork, there was something about this fight that warned him not to interfere just yet. Sometimes inner peace had to come through outer violence. He didn't condone it, but to ignore it would be foolish.

This was a battle between clan members. It was a battle of vengeance, but it was also a battle to protect the world beyond family ties. In this case, Aian clearly valued the lives of the innocent over the life of her friend. This choice intrigued him—this singular desire to protect. The gumption to destroy a clan member did not come easily, even though she had done terrible things, but Aian did not falter in making her choice.

Aian's opponent, Nemain, was superb at manipulating chakra, he noted. She could summon, shape, and bind it almost effortlessly. In doing so, she created shields of varying degree of strength, and switched them within a matter of seconds. In terms of sheer chakra amount, Aian had more, but her opponent was better at reserving and reusing it to avoid overspending. Aian had the raw power, but lacked the precision of compacting the chakra and directing it.

Nemain had phenomenal control—better than he had himself. The Sharingan required a well-honed control of chakra in order to execute genjutsu, but this Seikatsu shielder, whoever she was, was a level beyond.

Aian's idea to use the sword surprised him. She had abandoned her own weapon to catch her opponent off guard, and then utilized elemental chakra to shatter the barrier. The shield hadn't been strong enough to sustain the damage and evaporated, leaving the Shielder unguarded. And then Aian made her final move—the move that could end the battle.

He concentrated, now, on watching Nemain. As soon as Aian aimed her kanon, Nemain rushed her chakra to her face with a speed almost too fast for the Sharigan to capture. By directing all of her chakra there, Itachi knew that the Shielder's defense probably increased ten fold in that area, but the rest of her body remained undefended.

The air in front of her face glowed with pure chakra as it compacted in preparation for the impact of the krynura.

Itachi frowned, realizing that Aian's bullet would not make it in time, and signaled for the members of his team to dispatch. The two shinobi behind Aian's opponent were generating a mass amount of chakra as well, and if she wasn't prepared, the tide of the battle threatened to change rapidly against her.

"Take the two in the gray cloaks out of the battle early," Itachi ordered as they moved out, "and prevent them from making seals. They manipulate time and it hinders movement like genjutsu. The element of surprise is our only ally here."

"And the Seikatsu?" One member was already forming seals.

Itachi closed his eyes, focusing on the power of his doujutsu. "Leave her to me."


Things are always bound to fail the first time around. It was especially true in the case of Nemain. I knew immediately what she intended to do as soon as I pulled the trigger. We fought this battle at a speed invisible to the naked eye, basing most of our actions and reactions on the instincts of knowing the other person. Nemain knew me well; she knew my attack style and my preferred range. She knew my weaknesses too. But my attacks could change, as I had done with the sword, to catch her unprepared. Her shields, on the other hand, though adaptable, were nearly always the same depending on the situation. I knew her reactions almost as well as she did.

I also knew that to avoid my krynura, she was going to have to minimize the protected area with a mass of her chakra, leaving her open in other places. I knew those openings by heart.

This left me with one last attack, one last chance.

I followed the krynura with a thrust of my ninjato, aiming as if I were about to stab her through the eye. This was to divert her attention from my actual goal. Using the shadow of the sword, I angled my kanon, this time training it on the tenketsu linked to the heart. It was a blind shot, almost, because I couldn't target with my eyes. But I'd spent my entire childhood training for moments like these when the blind shot became the only viable option.

My sword struck her chakra shield at the same moment that I released the krynura. The force of her chakra ran up the blade, forcing me to drop it before it burned my hand. It clattered to the roof just as I felt the krynura strike something and explode. I leapt back to a safer distance so that I could observe the outcome.

The chakra imbued within the blood of the krynura reacted, but it was a strange reaction. Instead of sinking into flesh or the rippling feeling of a shield, I felt it break through something hard and resilient. If it had hit her directly, it would have sunk in quietly, not reacted chaotically like a firework.

I held my kanon at eye level now, prepared for failure, but also curious to see the results.

"Who would have thought," I heard her voice from the clearing smoke, "that you would have used kenjutsu?"

It's hard to say what I was expecting to see, but I couldn't mask my surprise at the outcome. My eyes widened as my stare trailed the damage. Her left arm was in shambles; her hand was missing entirely. And then it hit me. She had protected her tenketsu at the last minute with her kanon as a physical barrier. The weapon was destroyed, having exploded when our chakras collided, and took part of her arm with her.

My finger shook against the trigger as I realized I had her right where I wanted her. In a moment, she would be dead. Her sides heaved with each ragged breath, and I could see her eyes glaze from blood loss and shock.

"What's his name?" I asked sternly, hardening my heart to her suffering. "The name of the man who damned you?"

She looked at me then, and I saw a trace of the old Nemain in her eyes. It's a trap, I warned myself. But still I hesitated, plagued my old memories and loyalty. "Give me," I growled, "his name."

The Daraku stepped forward and my hesitation locked me into the Jikan no Jutsu. Sweat trickled down the side of my face as I began to shield myself. I was growing tired and it wouldn't last long, but I couldn't give up yet. Not when the end was within sight.

The wounded Daraku had recovered enough to support Nemain. His own shield now enveloped them, and I knew I had lost my chance for the finishing blow.

"You will forego the bond of the vashna, the bond of our clan, to protect a man who set you up for failure?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

Her gaze was still defiant, "What would you do even if I were to tell you? Hunt him down to avenge Devi and the rest of the clan?"

"Avenge Devi and the clan? By killing him?" I arched an eyebrow, "No, Nemain. I won't hunt him down for that. You killed them, not him."

"Then why?"

My smile was ironic, bitter. "To avenge you."

She faltered, looking away. I couldn't tell what she saw; it was a future that I couldn't reach, an inward searching towards a distance that I couldn't see. Perhaps that was the most frustrating thing—to be within reach of a person, to be capable of touching her flesh and hearing her voice, but to be further than two planets, on two opposite sides of a gulley where a river of our thoughts would flow without ever intersecting or meeting at a common end.

It was this notion that stung the worse. The knowledge that I couldn't save her.

My shield was at its limits; I was not trained to sustain it for so long. Nemain could see the quivering of my chakra and she smiled mockingly, flinching only slightly when she accidentally moved her arm. She glanced at the focusing Daraku. "Go ahead and kill her. She's made her opinion quite clear."

The chakra surrounding me began to withdraw and I grimaced at the incoming Jikan no Jutsu.

"I'm afraid that I can't let you do that."

I glanced behind at the sound of Itachi's voice only to meet his stare. His eyes, shadowed by the ANBU mask, revealed his two Sharingan eyes, glowing red in the hollows.

"Don't get caught in this," I warned him, referring to the Jikan no Jutsu.

He looked at the Daraku shinobi performing the technique and nodded. Suddenly the two other ANBU shinobi from my team were upon him. To avoid their weapons, the Daraku was forced to break his jutsu, freeing me from its binds.

Itachi stepped in front of me; his body was tense and absorbed in concentration. A stone would have given more away.

Because of the ANBU mask, I couldn't see where he was looking, but when Nemain suddenly froze, her face contorting in both surprise and pain, I had a vague idea.

His words were quiet, almost inaudible, and I barely heard them. "Magen: Kasegui."

Genjutsu. A well timed one, at that. Because of her weakness, Nemain would be incapable of countering it.

Nemain's sudden mental collapse caused the injured Daraku to lower the resistance of his shield. To bring her back to reality, he would have to insert a large amount of his own chakra into her to counter that of the genjutsu. But once he did that, the shield would expire and leave them wide open. His partner was busy fending off other two ANBU members and would be incapable of assisting him right away.

It became a matter of timing. Of simply waiting. But my eyes were always moving, roaming from enemy to enemy in search of the one moment when their defenses would fall away.

A flicker of light surrounding the injured Daraku cued me to fire. His shield wasn't completely gone, but my krynura was stronger. As the space surrounding him began to merge with the outer time, my krynura was well on its way. It hit him in the throat and flew straight out on the other side. Blood gurgled from his mouth, but he was already gone. The light in his eyes dissipated like a flame; one moment they had burned vibrantly with light and determination, and then without warning, the light was snuffed out like a smothered cinder.

Nemain was unguarded now, still a prisoner to Itachi's mind technique. The two ANBU had cornered the other Daraku. Two more krynura and this battle would be over. Two more krynura and I could sever my ties with my clan; I could walk away, reborn—the last of my kind.

But could I walk away? Truly? Or would I choose instead to hunt down the shinobi who ultimately destroyed everything I had ever known? Would I continue my hunt and allow thoughts of revenge to consume me?

"Don't do it for yourself." Itachi's words mirrored my thoughts, drawing me from my hesitant musings. I looked at him; he was watching me closely. "Don't kill her for selfish reasons. Is this justice for the crimes against you and your clan? Or justice for the things she might do in the future to others?"

I glanced up at the sky, embittered. "What is justice?" And then lowered my kanon, "It is not my place to enact justice. I will not walk that path."

Itachi might have smiled at my decision; I couldn't tell for sure. But he released Nemain from his genjutsu. She fell to the rooftop, unconscious.

"Magnificent." A resounding raspy voice arose from a swirl of smoke next to Nemain, causing me to jump. "You are truly magnificent!"

Itachi shifted beside me in recognition. "You are…!"

Standing there, in a black cloak ornamented with red clouds, was a man who chilled me to the bone. His smile was confident and amused, spreading over his features like a snake moving in for a kill, and his amber eyes bore into me through slit pupils. I couldn't find my voice; I couldn't decide between anger or fear.

"Orochimaru!"

Orochimaru? A memory returned to me without warning. I remembered this man—that singular determination in his expression, that snake-like stare, and even his hair and clothing. I recalled his arrival to my clan and their suspicion. My Master's voice had demanded his name, and he had imparted it with confidence. His presence awoke the clarity of that memory and I saw it all as if I were living it again.

"I have heard much about you, Aian-san." His voice had a cadence that grated against my mind; it reminded me of rocks scraping against one another. "After watching your fight, I find that you intrigue me."

His twisted compliment woke me from my reverie and I regained some of my sense, "It was you? You did this to her?"

"She followed me willingly." He responded with a shrug. "Her insistence to find you was based on her desire to reunite. If you refused her offer, then her fight with you is none of my concern."

"Then what do you want?" Itachi asked, stepping towards me and grabbing my forearm just as I began to aim my kanon.

"Oh?" He smirked, "Nothing at the moment." Then he turned towards Nemain, "I merely wanted to see the outcome of the battle and now I'm retrieving my subordinate."

I jumped forward, determined to prevent him from taking Nemain, "No! She is not yours!"

Itachi had to act fast. He pulled me towards him, restricting my movements. "Stop it, Aian-san. You can't fight him right now. Even if you weren't already tired, he would be an extremely difficult opponent."

I growled, futilely struggling against Itachi, becoming angrier each moment he withheld me from accomplishing my goal. I had to protect Nemain from this man. Even if she hated me for the rest of my life; even if she was bent on destroying me, I could not allow her to remain within his clutches. "Let me go!"

Orochimaru picked her up over his shoulder and then passed a fleeting glance over the remaining Daraku. His expression hardened, "Do what you will with him. He has no use to me." And then he returned his amber eyes to me, searching me carefully. "I could grant you power beyond your imagination. You could—"

"—go to hell." I interrupted, forcing myself to meet his gaze head on. I wanted to sear him with my hatred, to burn his rotten soul with it. "You can go to hell!"

He laughed, amused. "I do not doubt that we will meet again."

And though my anger broke my hand free from Itachi's grasp so that I could fire my kanon, the krynura pierced nothing but air. Orochimaru had used Shunshin no Jutsu, the ability to mobilize his chakra and carry himself a short distance at an untraceable speed.

He was gone. Nemain, too. And though I probably would meet him again, Nemain would be at his side. His subordinate.

I stood there, trembling with the fury of loss. You can't save her. You failed. Itachi stepped away, returning my freedom of movement, and I sunk to my knees.

"Damn it!" I punched the roof, denting it with my chakra imbued fist. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

"Enough." He said quietly, stopping my fist, and offering his hand. "You did what you could."

I looked up at him, allowing my exhaustion to seep through, and took his hand. He helped me to my feet and I retrieved my ninjato, returning it to its place on my back. "I will not chase her." I finally said with a sigh. "There isn't any point."

"What will you do then?"

I glanced over the village, thoughtful and saddened. I had learned some ugly truths that day, the piercing truths that come with loving and living. "I guess I will wait…" I thought back to the days of my vashna—our unity and friendship. Then I thought of our recent battle and the bridge between us. In the future, we would fight again, I knew. And it would be that final battle, whenever that day came, where I would destroy the bridge and try to rebuild it. Even if it meant killing her. "I will wait for her to find me."