Masters existed in degrees, Bolt came to understand. Some, like his academy professor, Shino Aburame, were instructors. They stood in front of a class and shared their knowledge with the younger generations. Some, like Sarada's father, Sasuke, were more like mentors. They gave hints here and there, prodding their students in the right direction. Then there were masters, like the Uzukage. Strict. Powerful. Knowledgeable.

Hikari was a master. She tore apart his style of fighting like a rabid dog tearing into a raw, bloody haunch of meat. Every little flaw. Every little imperfection. Nothing escaped her watchful eyes behind the Hidden Mist hunter mask. They started with his form. He was too rigid, too "formal," according to Hikari. This wasn't the classroom; it was the battlefield. He needed to be loose. Fluid. Flexible. Unpredictable.

Then came her assault upon his proficiency in jutsu. By the time Hikari had broken Bolt of his almost instinctual need to shout the name of his jutsu before unleashing it, he sported a number of black, yellow, and purple welts all over his body.

That was another thing. Professor Aburame would have lectured him on his mistakes. Not Hikari. Hikari said that the body was better at remembering than the mind. After three days of having medical ninjutsu enhanced punches and kicks batter him, Bolt agreed. Like a child remembering that the burners of an oven were hot after touching them once, Bolt eventually quelled the need to verbalize his intent that the academy had driven into him. His techniques were weaker, but they were sudden and swift; no sign to warn his enemies.

"It is a crutch," Hikari had told him. "A tool with which to ease those inexperienced in the control of their chakra. The hand seals and verbalization give them something to do; something to focus on. Something to expect results from. A skilled ninja can reduce both; a master, do away with them entirely. For example, Water Release: Water Dragon. It requires forty-four hand seals by default. Too many to be used in combat. But, masters of the technique can cut that number down by more than half. The Mizukage are infamous for this."

In a way, Bolt had always known that. The Rasengan required no hand seals or verbalization. Merely intent. Rotation. Power. Containment. It was simply a matter of learning and applying it to other aspects.

Easier said than done.

Then came the tests. From the basics—transformation to body replacement—to the more intricate; water walking, wall climbing, clones, and shurikenjutsu. To Bolt's immense pride, she had little to find in the way of flaws in those areas. Taijutsu—the one place where he was her better. Even in the Land of Water, the Gentle Fist reigned supreme. He withheld from manifesting his Byakugan, but the fighting style of the Hyūga came to him naturally. A gentle prod here. A caress there. An open-palmed strike. That was all it took for her to admit defeat. She coaxed from him his nature affinities; Water, Lightning, and Wind. Demonstrations of each, adhering to her expectations with hand seals and verbalization, earned him a reprieve from training.

One day to rest. Two days before they left to steal a shipment of chakra metal from the Hidden Mist.


The ship's timbers groaned in protest as another rogue wave crashed upon it. The first time, it had alarmed Bolt. Now, it was just pleasant static. Something to listen to at night while he fell asleep. Something to focus the mind on, instead of his troubles in life.

He sat, legs crossed, on his bed, reading late into the afternoon. Bolt didn't often have the opportunity to read from the Uzukage's scroll, but he relished every chance he got. The first "lesson" of the scroll was to begin practicing the moulding of Yang chakra.

Bolt simply couldn't figure it out, and it frustrated him to no end. The other elements came easy to him; the soft caress of the wind, the soothing touch of water, and the scorching bite of lightning. It was easy to picture what he wanted his chakra to transform into when it came to the elements. But Yang chakra was different. It was life; the sun beating down upon his back, the strength of trees as they grew, the ache in his muscles after a long sparring session. How was one supposed to transform their chakra into that?

He didn't even know any Yang, or Yin, techniques. Bolt knew that Chōchō and the Akimichi clan used Yang release for their Multi-Size techniques, but it was a secret they guarded closely. Now, he wished he had paid more attention to his classmates. Even knowing more about Shikadai's shadow techniques, which were based on Yin release, would have helped him greatly.

There was a light knock at his door.

Bolt learned he didn't have any rights, especially the right to privacy. He moved faster than he thought his body capable, hiding the scroll away in the seal on his arm. He had successfully fooled any who asked that the seal was for weapons. Bolt hoped the day never came when he had to fish a shuriken out of it.

Hikari entered, her eyes glinting with a hard light behind her mask. "We're mooring at an island to wait out the storm," she informed him with the familiar military efficiency he had come to associate with her. "Stretch your legs. We won't be stopping again until the mainland."

Bolt favored her with a small smile and nodded his head. He figured, if he was going to be working with her—and the Crimson Tide—he might as well try to make friends. His time with the mercenary company would be much more bearable that way.

She bowed to him, ever so slightly, and left him to his thoughts. She was strange, Bolt thought. Hikari seemed out of place among the riffraff that formed the ranks of the Crimson Tide. There were rogue ninja, men and women who had been either banished from their villages for their crimes, or chose to leave willingly before their punishment could be exacted. There were ninja who still swore allegiance to their homes, but who, for some reason, worked abroad for a mercenary company of all things. Much more common, and numerous, were common thugs and bandits. Actual ninja were rare. Bolt estimated them to number under twenty. And they were all brutes, who held little honor or class. They cared only for themselves, and would do any task provided with the proper motivation. Mainly coin.

Hikari wasn't any of that. Which begged the question, why was she there?

Bolt felt the ship come to a stop as their anchor caught on the seafloor. He scampered across his cabin to the door and made his way above deck. They moored just off a small atoll. It was beautiful, really. Everything was, this far south. The waters were crystal clear and so very blue. He could see white sand sparkling beneath its surface, and coral reefs of every color of the rainbow. Exotic fish and aquatic animals he had never seen before swam just an arm's length beneath the waves.

Jumping overboard, Bolt jogged at a comfortable pace for the beach. The atoll was a paradise. All white sand and dancing palm trees. The lagoon was a maze of rock that had been hollowed out by the tide. In the basin, there were deep tide pools with scurrying crabs and small fish; mussels, starfish, and sea anemones coated the rocks. Bolt saw a turtle every once in awhile.

It was the perfect place to go exploring. He could get lost there, and knew the ship wouldn't leave without him.

And so, he explored.


Sarada was lost in her thoughts as she ran. Their group had descended into silence during their long sprints across the vast expanse of water between islands. It hadn't always been that way. They had been away from their home for weeks, living off sparse meals and sleeping in the elements. It wore them down.

But still, they continued on. It was their duty. Their mission to the village. The Hokage had ordered them to find Bolt; it was an official mission. A-class. But, more than that, Bolt was their friend. He was the prisoner of some group of brigands, possibly being sold to the highest bidder. He was an Uzumaki and a Hyūga, son of the Hokage. Sarada shivered at the thought of some monster buying him. Like Orochimaru.

They had to find him.

Overhead, the clouds changed. From snowy white to angry gray. In the distance, she could make out a light sprinkle of rain. Her eyes bled from black to red; her Sharingan whirling in both eyes. Far ahead, she could see the waves grow tumultuous. "The waves ahead look dangerous," she informed Yamato, who led them at the front. As an Anbu, he seemed to have an almost unnatural understanding of direction and the lay of the land. He was never lost.

"We'll stop at the island, up ahead," he informed them. Next to her, Konohamaru sighed in relief. Mitsuki, silent as ever, brought up the rear of the group. Sarada turned her head to take in her teammate's condition. He looked bored, but not tired. Mitsuki gave her a reassuring nod that made Sarada smile. It had begun to feel like she was the only one out here to save Bolt, for Bolt. Konohamaru and Yamato had slowly descended into serious discipline. This had become a mission for them; nothing more, nothing less.

Sarada knew their master cared for Bolt, just like he cared for each of them. She had to wonder why he had become so detached. Maybe that was his way of coping, she thought. Maybe it made the idea of never finding him more bearable. It certainly kept her awake at night. Ever since the old woman had told her that the Crimson Tide had dragged Bolt through the town, unconscious, a new fire had been lit within her. Sarada would find him and bring him home, safe. She swore it.

"I'll scout the island," Yamato told them, as they trudged up the beach. Everyone nodded, too tired to speak.

Sarada slid down the trunk of a palm tree, basking in the comfortable warmth of the sand. "Here," Mitsuki said. He handed her a coconut. She smiled, taking out a kunai and poking holes in the small indentations of the shell. Sarada drank, savoring the slightly sweet, nutty taste of the water. She watched as Mitsuki extended his arm, dislocating his joints and lengthening it with chakra, and snatched another coconut from the tree she sat against. He did the same as she had, drinking from his coconut.

The both of them watched as Konohamaru climbed a tree to fetch his own coconut. They laughed as he gathered several in his arms, before dropping them all. In his haste to not fall himself, he knocked loose a coconut that hit him on the head. Konohamaru dropped to the ground, swaying comically, putting on a show for his students. Sarada and Mitsuki laughed.

Yamato burst through the foliage, startling them. "We're not alone. Single ship, docked on the far side of the island. Numerous men and women on the beach, dressed in combat fatigues. Mostly thugs—handful of ninja," he briefed them, quick and to the point. They got the message. Prepare for a fight. "Red headbands on the ninja suggest possible Crimson Tide mercenaries, based on intel from the Hidden Mist."

Sarada's breath caught in her chest. This was it. She shared a quick glance with Mitsuki. He gave her a single, purposeful nod. They followed Yamato, hiding in the bushes and behind copses of palm trees. Their pace was quick and full of purpose as they came to kneel behind a rocky outcropping just inside the treeline.

Sarada's eyes bled from black to red again. She could clearly see the faces of the men and women lingering on the beach. Four, in particular, caught her attention. One was a middle-aged man, with dark skin and pale blonde hair. He was bulky, but not hulking. From the way the others gathered around them, he appeared to be their leader. Definitely from the Land of Lightning. The other was a girl, dressed in baggy fatigues that wore a Hidden Mist hunter mask. The other two were complete opposites; one short and musclebound, the other tall and thin. All four had headbands, denoting them as ninja. Two—the leader and the musclebound man—had scratched their emblems. Rogues.

They seemed to be having a conversation. Sarada focused, willing her eyes to read their lips. Her mouth parroted theirs, words spilling quietly to her group. "... Where is he? Should have been... back an hour ago," she whispered. "Big man," she added, so her team would know who was talking. They listened with rapt attention.

"He's... probably just exploring... island is beautiful... lagoon is nice," she repeated. "Thin man," she indicated.

"Leader laughs," Sarada parroted. "... Let him, we've got... time in the world. Don't have to be... at the drop point... for another... days."

Sarada watched as the large man growled. "Relax..." she said. "Thin man calming big man," Sarada clarified. "We... won't fail the job... our reputation is... solid. Crimson Tide—"

"It's them!" Sarada hissed.

That was all the information they needed. "Let's go," Yamato commanded. The four of them leapt from their hiding places, crossing the beach in an instant. The few unlucky souls who found themselves between their team and the four "leaders" of the Crimson Tide paid for their sins with great pain.

As fast as they had been, the four had been faster. The big man and the thin man were back to back, covering each other's weaknesses. The middle-aged man from the Land of Lightning stood at the front, hands on his hips and an arrogant smirk on his face. The girl with the mask stood behind him, throwing needles held deftly between her fingers.

They were ready for a fight.

Yamato stepped forward. "You are members of the mercenary company dubbed 'The Crimson Tide', are you not?" he questioned.

"Yes'sir," the boss, as Sarada had dubbed him, said. "That's me—us," he answered proudly.

"By order of the Mizukage, you are wanted men. However, this is not the territory of the Land of Water," he said, surprising Sarada. "We have it on good authority that you have captured a comrade of ours. Return him to us, and we will let you walk free."

Sarada smiled. Yamato did care. The boss' arrogance only seemed to increase at the challenge. "Ya' see, I don't really feel like handin' over our biggest pay day," he boasted. Sarada grit her teeth. He talked about Bolt like he was a walking suitcase of ryō. "I'm of the mind to keep 'im. What you guys think?" he asked, looking at his comrades.

"I still owe the little bastard a thrashing," the large man growled.

From the corner of her eye, Sarada's Sharingan picked up the distinct narrowing of Konohamaru's eyes.

That was all the warning she got before the fighting broke out. Yamato weaved a few quick seals, slamming his hand to the ground. Great roots of wood erupted, seeking to ensnare their opponents. "Holy shit!" Sarada heard the thin man yelp.

"Takeo! Hiroki! You take care of the jōnin," Sarada heard the boss issue commands to the big and thin man. "Hikari, deal with the brats. The Wood user is mine."

Sarada's eyes snapped to the girl, who, she noticed, did not meet her gaze. Smart. "Mitsuki! Let's go!" Sarada called. He was right behind her. The girl—Hikari—launched a barrage of throwing needles at the two of them. Sarada dodged with ease. Her Sharingan tracked each projectile in slow motion, showing her the path they would take. It was child's play. Mitsuki followed his teammate, knowing she wouldn't be touched. And therefore, neither would he.

They closed the gap in an instant. Sarada was distantly aware of Yamato and the boss fighting. Konohamaru fought the two men on the far side of the beach, giving Yamato plenty of room for his wood techniques.

Sarada grit her teeth, channeling chakra into her fist. Just like her mother had taught her. She swung hard and fast. Hikari dipped backwards, evading her punch by a hair. The wind whooshed by her, shaking her mask. Sarada contorted her body as the girl retaliated. Her hand was coated in the distinctive green glow of medical ninjutsu. She wielded her hand like a knife, cutting at her.

Sarada winced in discomfort as the fingertip of Hikari's middle finger grazed her shirt, cutting it and drawing a thin line of blood. Mitsuki was right behind her, flinging both arms forward. From the folds of his robe came six sinuous, white snakes. They hissed and slithered forward faster than the eye could follow, seeking to bind and ensnare their master's enemy.

The snakes found their prey even as Sarada jumped back, weaving hand seals and bringing a fist to her mouth. She breathed fire as fierce as any dragon. Flames spewed forth, turning the sand a cherry red color; incinerating both Mitsuki's snakes and the girl they bound. As the heat and light died, Sarada could see the charred remains of the snakes wrapped around a small boulder. She heard the soft patter of feet running upon sand.

Sarada turned. Hikari came at her swinging, her hands coated in a green chakra that made the air hiss in their wake. Mitsuki was fighting a copy of the girl—a lightning clone, her Sharingan told her. "Mitsuki, don't touch the clone! It's made of lightning!"

Mitsuki stopped weaving seals for the earth jutsu he was about to use. Instead, he reached for a handful of shuriken and peppered the clone. The clone expertly dodged each one with ease that bespoke experience. She took a step forward and burst into electricity as a snake erupted from the sand and sank its fangs into her ankle. The snake was reduced to ash, but allowed its master to rejoin the fight against the original Hikari.

Sarada was on the defensive again, trying everything to put some distance between her and the hunter ninja. Unfortunately for Hikari, Sarada was well experienced in fighting against taijutsu that she couldn't afford to be hit by. Bolt's Gentle Fist was much stronger, and more dangerous, than her medical ninjutsu. Her Sharingan made it even less fair. But all the same, Hikari stuck with her.

Mitsuki placed his palms on the sand and channeled chakra into the stone far beneath the surface. A great earthen wall erupted behind Hikari the same moment three large spikes of rock shot towards her from beneath Sarada's feet. She had no choice but to leap backwards; trapped in the makeshift cage.

A massive wooden root burst through their small battlefield, saplings growing from it even as it rumbled forward. The earthen wall Mitsuki had raised was reduced to rubble. Sarada saw Hikari barely evade the wooden projectile through the dust and sand.

As the debris cleared, Sarada detected a large mass of chakra held by the root with her Sharingan. The man from the Land of Lightning—the one she thought was the leader—held the massive, growing root off with one arm. A thin sheen of chakra and lightning covered him, making his hair stand on end. Electricity arced between him, the ground, and the Wood technique. With a sudden burst of strength, he destroyed the end of the root binding him, making it explode into splinters.

"That's..." Sarada whispered.

"The Third and Fourth Raikage's Lightning Armor, or a derivation of it," Mitsuki supplied for her, in the same calm and calculating manner he always did.

The leader disappeared in a flash. Sarada's eyes could barely follow him. "But not as powerful as the Raikage themselves. Perhaps self-taught from imitation," Mitsuki continued his evaluation, noting the man's clearly slower speed and the diminished intensity of the armor. The Raikage were renowned for the technique; their speed, strength, and reflexes matched only by the Yellow Flash. The Crimson Tide's leader's technique was a pale imitation compared to legend.

Sarada pulled Mitsuki back as throwing needles rained down on them. The tips hissed as they sunk into the sand, causing black clumps of sand to bubble around the tips.

Poison.

Sarada weaved seals and unleashed a great ball of fire that cleared the clouds of sand obscuring her vision. "Fire Release: Fireball Jutsu!"

Hikari came charging at them through the smoke of the fire, green chakra coating her hands. As she ran, it faded. Sarada smirked. She ran forward, seeking to meet her in hand-to-hand combat. Bolt was usually their melee fighter, relying on his Gentle Fist. But, in a pinch, her chakra-enhanced strength she learned from her mother made her a formidable, and unsuspecting, opponent.

Hikari swung her fist. Sarada swung hers. They met in a collision that caused a blast of wind to explode outwards, levelling the sand of the beach and kicking up a cloud of debris.

Sarada retreated, back to the safety of where she last saw Mitsuki. She cradled her right fist with her left hand. The knuckles were mangled, bloody mess; the bones out of place. Her wrist felt like it was broken in several places, and she couldn't feel her fingers. Sarada berated herself. She should have known. Chakra-enhanced strength was derived from medical ninjutsu. Her opponent made no effort in hiding her skills.

She nearly collided with Mitsuki as he materialized out of the dust. He took one look at her hands and pulled her away from the battlefield. "You need to heal yourself," he instructed her. She couldn't even weave seals with her hands like that.

Sarada shook her head. "No, you can't beat her on your own. I can't beat her on my own," she said, shaking him off.

Mitsuki surveyed the beach. Their Anbu escort, Yamato, was engaged in a fierce battle the the man cloaked in lightning armor, whilst their captain was fighting the one remaining man of the duo that had attacked him. Judging from Konohamaru's ragged breathing and tattered clothes, he was approaching his limit. "Retreat is the best option, for now. We know what they look like, and their mode of transportation, as well as range of activity. Hunting them down will be easier, next time," he informed her. Sarada shook her head determinedly.

"You must be his teammates," a disembodied voice spoke through the dust. "A pity."

"A pity?" Mitsuki asked, his ears straining to detect the direction from which their opponent spoke.

"A pity," Hikari said, from behind them. "That you followed him here."

Mitsuki lashed out at the girl as he felt a prick in his back. A white snake flew from the sleeve of his robe, hissing and snapping in the dust as she disappeared, like a ghost. He dropped to his knees as he lost feeling in his limbs.

"Mitsuki! Are you alright!" Sarada yelled, rushing to his side.

"Poison," he informed her, as calm as ever. "Paralysis; not harmful. Be careful." His jaw went slack, though his eyes remained focused on her, trying to communicate some unspoken message.

The dust cleared. Sarada's eyes snapped to her opponent in an instant. The knuckles of her right fist were bruised, an ugly purple-yellow, but she was otherwise unharmed from their previous clash.

Sarada's eyes bled read, whirling. The two of them stared each other down. Sarada could see the disdain the hunter ninja held for them in her eyes; cold and hard behind her mask. As if they dared to come rescue their friend.

Her Sharingan slowed, returning to normal—but they were not the same. Where once there had been one tomoe in each eye, now there were two. Sarada's vision blurred as her visual acuity increased twofold. The world seemed clearer. Slower.

Sarada held her lame right arm to her waist as she dropped her left to her side. She channeled chakra into it, a mass of blue-white energy that flickered in the wind like a flame. Then, she willed it to transform. From energy, to lightning. It was quiet at first, a high pitched squeaking that the ear had to strain to hear. Then, it was louder. Electricity arced between her and the sand. Everywhere it touched, the sand turned to molten glass; glowing a bright orange. The intensity of the sound increased, until it was deafening. As if standing in a storm of birds, all crying out at once.

Sarada sprinted forward with a speed she didn't know she had, ignoring Mitsuki's feeble shaking of his head. She thrust her hand forward like a knife, coated in arcing, screaming lightning. "Chidori!" Sarada screamed, as she thrust her hand at the girl's chest, right where her heart was. It was a technique that her father taught to her, partly in apology for not being present during her childhood.

Sarada watched in grim fascination as the hunter ninja stumbled back, preparing to receive her attack. Her own hand came up, coated in chakra. Her fascination turned to disbelief, then horror, as the girl caught her hand by the wrist, her forearm covered in lightning from her fingers to her elbow, effectively making her immune to Sarada's own lightning.

She watched—in painfully slow motion, thanks to her Sharingan—as Hikari brought up her free hand, fist clenched in what was surely a crippling chakra-enhanced punch.

A flash of black steel and white parchment cut between them, drawing their eyes. A kunai was embedded in the sand, a small tag of paper tied to the end by a string. The paper was covered in writing that glowed a fiery orange color. An explosive tag.

Hikari leapt backwards, leaving Sarada to be blown to smithereens, rolling away from the inferno that she was sure would come.

It never did.

"Stop!" a distinctly young, male voice echoed over the beach.

Bolt appeared, standing atop the remains of one of Yamato's Wood techniques. "Enough!" Bolt yelled. "No more fighting!"

Sarada's breath caught in her chest. Bolt was taller than she remembered. Thinner, too. The result of a life on the run, living off rations. He held several kunai in his hands, each with an explosive tag on them. Her Sharingan pulled her eyes up, to his hairline. He wore his headband in the same style, but that was not what had caught her eye. It was the symbol. It was different. Instead of a leaf, it was the whirling emblem emblazoned on the back of the Hidden Leaf's chūnin and jōnin jackets.

Sarada flinched as she felt a gentle hand pull her to her feet. Konohamaru had Mitsuki hanging over his shoulder. He used his free arm to pull her to her feet and push her behind him. Sarada saw Yamato nearby, both hands gripped in the Snake seal. The two men Konohamaru had been fighting were sporting bruises, broken noses, and split lips. Sarada could tell their faces were going to swell up painfully in the next hour. The leader of the mercenaries had fared better. He appeared untouched, and lightning still crackled over his bronze skin. Yamato's jacket was scorched and torn in several places, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Bolt leapt from the woody root he was standing on, the sand kicking up at his feet met the beach. He jogged over to them, but was intercepted by the leader. Sarada took a step forward, but was halted by Konohamaru's hand resting on her shoulder. The two of them shared a few words, but at the angle she was standing Sarada couldn't read their lips.

The leader stepped aside in short order, a pleased smile on his lips. Bolt continued on his way, running up to them. His eyes flickered between the four of them. "You have to leave," he said.

Sarada opened her mouth. "—Absolutely not," Yamato said, beating her to the punch. "The Hokage has ordered us to rescue you from your captors and return you to the village."

Bolt's expression turned thunderous. "Well, you can tell the Hokage if he wants me back, he should come get me himself! And they aren't my captors, I joined the Crimson Tide willingly!"

Yamato tried to reason with him, but Bolt cut him off. "I've managed to convince our leader to let you guys go as a favor. Go, before he changes his mind," Bolt said, inclining his head to the treeline. Sarada could see the shadowy forms of moving bodies within the underbrush. Her Sharingan pulled her eyes to the ship anchored offshore. She knew that the reinforcements had arrived. The Crimson Tide were no slouches, and now they had the numerical advantage of superior forces.

It was unlikely they would emerge victorious in a battle, even with Yamato and Konohamaru.

"Here," Bolt said, catching her eyes. He held out his hand to Sarada and dropped a small length of wire with a screw attached to it into her hand. "Now, go."

Sarada looked up, and saw that Bolt no longer wore his trademark necklace.

"We can't let you stay, Bolt," Konohamaru said firmly.

"It's only for three years. Think of it as an extended mission outside the village. For training purposes," Bolt said cheerfully.

Konohamaru was about to protest, but Yamato stopped him. "We need to retreat now, while we can," Yamato whispered, nodding at the treeline of the atoll. The Crimson Tide mercenaries were now clearly visible, standing in bushes or trees.

"Right," Konohamaru said. "Let's go, Sarada," he whispered, pulling Mitsuki's paralyzed body into a more comfortable position.

"But—" Sarada protested. Bolt silenced her by flashing her a boyish smile. Then she knew.

He was staying so they could retreat.


Bolt watched as his friends sprinted out to sea. He was filled with a strange melancholy; one one hand, they had offered him the perfect chance to escape the Crimson Tide and go back home. One the other, he didn't really want to go home. Not yet, anyway. Even if he had to spend the next three years working for the Crimson Tide.

Eiji walked up behind him, patting him on the back. "You made the right choice to stay, kid!" he boomed.

"It'll cost you," Bolt said with a smirk.

"Oh?" Eiji said with a grin.

"Yeah. I want you to teach me," Bolt said with a grin. "We can start with the Hidden Mist Jutsu! No one in the Hidden Leaf knew it, or no one who would teach me. It's a Hidden Mist technique, right?"

Eiji barked in laughter. "Alright, alright. I'll show you a few moves, kid."

The Crimson Tide boarded their ship and continued on their way. The night's watch was doubled, just in case any more Hidden Leaf ninja decided to pay them a visit.


A/N:

Sorry for the wait, I actually have had this chapter done for like... 4 days? Or so, and I just haven't published it.

Yin and Yang Release, to me, were the most interesting of the nature transformations and they weren't expanded upon, like, at all, in the entire series. All we know is that Yin and Yang are used for techniques which do not broadly fall under any nature transformation, like the Nara's shadow techniques (Yin) and the Akimichi's Multi-Size techniques (Yang). I'll be expanding upon both Yin and Yang during the story which I hope you guys will find interesting.

Was anyone else disappointed in how little we saw Yamato during the last... what? 300 chapters? Like damn, he was the new captain and then he is just gone for the entire war. Huge waste of a character, in my opinion. I hope no one thought Yamato was weak this chapter for not being able to decimate the Crimson Tide. His Wood Release is weaker than Hashirama's, and to me, the biggest weakness of any of the Wood techniques is that they are slow. If you're fast enough, you can just not get caught and there is very little they can do about it. Add on top of that, that both Water and Earth—which make up Wood—are "weak" to Lightning, and you can see why Eiji wasn't beaten easily.

I still haven't decided on the two original characters I still need for my cast. Sigh. It's just so troublesome thinking up good characters. Anyway, I have a question for you guys. What do you think Orochimaru is up to post-gaiden? I've been toying with the idea of him coming back as a villain later in the story, but I'm just not quite sure. Do you guys think he really changed after the war? Right now, he seems to have a "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours," relationship with the Hidden Leaf. He's not their enemy, but at the same time, he's not their ally either. What do you think? If anyone else would like to submit ideas or suggestions for original characters, which may or may not end up as antagonists, please leave a review or send me a direct message!

As always, thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. If you could leave a review I'd appreciate it. Thanks!

- Musica