Disclaimer: I own nothing but the obvious, the rest belongs to JK Rowling and Masashi Kishimoto.
Author's Note: I am sorry about the long wait for this chapter – and any other – but seeing as the exams are coming up, my teachers decided to increase the workload to make sure we know everything we're supposed to. It's hell, quite frankly. Either way, enjoy the chapter!
Thanks to my good friend and beta, Paladin Steelbreaker.
Chapter Twenty-OneThe Minister did as he had promised. Bright and early the next morning he strode into the Great Hall with a horde of Ministry personnel following him. Some were carrying various bundles of cloth and bags, some were Aurors, and a couple was even the official Ministry reporters – the ones who were employed by the Ministry to make it look good in the papers. Anyways, the group garnered a lot of attention seeing as it was in the middle of breakfast, and almost every single student was there. Up until the group's arrival, everyone had been staring at the lone ANBU up at the Teachers table, desperately trying to see what exactly happened whenever the man took a bite of his breakfast. It had evolved into something of a hobby, but no one had managed to spot the exact moment it happened, and lots of weird rumours had grown up as a result of this.
Either way, Harry simply looked up when the Minister strode into the Hall and up to the table, then took a last bite of his breakfast, before he focused on the Minister who was by now standing right in front of him. "Good morning, Scrimgeour-dono." He said politely to the other man, and nodded his head slightly.
"Well, Mr. Ookami, are you ready for our grand day out?" Scrimgeour asked.
"Hai," Harry replied and stood up. "After you, Mini-!" his sentence was cut off with a yelp as he was suddenly surrounded by most of the Ministry personnel, all of these carrying various bags and pieces of clothes. "… ano… what is going on?"
"Hmm." One witch said as she critically looked the slightly taller man up and down, then she turned towards the Minister. "You were right, Minister, this man has no sense of fashion at all. It was wise of you to call us in," she shook her head sadly, and then mentioned to the others. Together the group started pushing and guiding Harry towards the door leading into the room connected to the Great Hall where the champions of the Triwizard Tournament had met. "Give us half-an-hour at the most and he'll be presentable. You won't even recognise him," she said and the door banged shut after her.
McGonagall blinked. "Minister Scrimgeour, what was all that about?" she asked of the man that now occupied Harry's vacated chair.
"Nothing to worry about at all." One of the Minister's secretaries replied. "After discussing the matter last night, we reached the decision that Mr. Ookami is not dressed appropriately, and would embarrass the Minister if they were seen together out in public. Therefore we've taken it upon ourselves to rectify the problem before we set out. As I said, there is nothing to worry about, Headmistress McGonagall."
"If someone dies in there, let it be known that I had nothing at all to do with it and that it wasn't the fault of anyone here at Hogwarts. Just so we're clear on the matter!" McGonagall exclaimed.
The secretary chuckled. "Now, now, there's no need for that! Mr. Ookami will surely survive a change of clothes."
"It's not Mr. Ookami I'm worried about!" the elderly headmistress mumbled to Flitwick who sat on her other side. The small Master of Charms sighed and nodded in agreement, then everyone continued to stare at the closed doors, awaiting what would happen next with bated breaths.
Inside the closed room, Harry was desperately trying to keep his wits about him and not go on a killing spree. The witches and wizards that had ushered him in here and had totally ignored his protests, were now circling him. They were also prodding him with their wands, taking measurements, or feeling up his muscles for some strange reason – most of the women did this with great delight, but he was sure there was a wizard or two amongst them. One had even pinched his but under the pretence of testing the material of his pants. All the while they were making comments on his choice of attire, on him, and everything else as if he wasn't there at all, or as if he couldn't understand them.
His eyebrow was starting to tick again. He found it to be an increasingly common occurrence in the wizarding world.
"That sword has got to go." One wizard commented as he poked the katana which was strapped to Harry's back. "Totally useless, and so not cool. Not fashionable at all!"
"What's with those bandages?" a witch wondered. "Did he hurt himself?"
"If he did we will have to work extra hard to cover it, perhaps with makeup?" another replied and looked closely at the bandages in question.
"Excuse me-" Harry tried but was cut off.
"What an atrocious hairstyle, dearie, and that mask!" another wizard exclaimed as he ran his hands through Harry's hair. The wizard tsk-ed and shook his head. "No, won't do at all! Honestly, who wears a mask these days? It's not very popular since the Death Eaters showed up, so you better get rid of it."
"Do you think we could use these long, black fingerless gloves for something?"
"NO! Those have just got to go!"
"People-" the green-eyed man tried again.
"Look at that tattoo! A tribal tattoo perhaps? Gives a more ruggedly look."
The witch who was apparently the leader of the group, spoke up now as she stood directly in front of Harry. "Now, Mr. Ookami, dear. We are going to dress you up properly so that you won't embarrass the Minister out in public. You should follow our advice because we know what's good for you when it comes down to fashion."
"You don't know what's good for yourself." Harry growled and batted away another hand on its way to pinch his posterior, then tried non-successfully to avoid another witch who wanted to felt up his muscles.
"This weird armour can't stay!" the witch exclaimed when she had finally gotten enough of admiring what was underneath said armour. "Can't hide such a wonderful body under such atrocious rags as these!"
A wizard was searching for the clasp which held the katana secured to the wolf-masked ANBU's back. "We'll take good care of these… these… things for you."
"Don't worry, dearie," the head-witch said as she started to unwind the bandages that kept the shuriken and kunai holsters to Harry's thigh, the holsters themselves had already been removed. "You'll get them back as soon as you return. Besides, nothing's going to happen whilst you are with the Minister. There'll be many Aurors all over the place."
"I'm warning you to-" no one listened.
"Red and white really aren't your colours, love." Yet another witch demanded as she gazed at the mask. "Please take this hideous mask off." She reached out with her hands, her fingers running through the longish, black hair which was no longer tied back in a short ponytail thanks to someone, and searched for the binding that kept the ANBU-mask in place. "Ah, here it is!"
It was at this point that Harry snapped completely. One moment the witches and wizards were trying to disrobe the ANBU Squad Commander, and the next the entire room was filled with such oppressive killer intent that several of them fell to their knees. Others froze, their eyes wide in terror, and others yet again tried to get away, but only managed to stumble backwards and trip over something.
Harry, on the other hand, could move perfectly, and he easily stepped closer to the witch who had been leading the others. Taking a solid grip of her fancy robes, and lifted the terrified woman up to eyelevel. "Now you listen to me, woman, and listen good, for this definitely concerns future well-being of yours." He growled to her, sounding remarkably like the animal after which his mask had been modelled. "I am not here to move to your music, McGonagall-san hired me, not the Ministry. I came dressed as I am, I've gone around dressed as I am, and I'm going back in the same clothes I now wear. No thing you and your friends do will change that."
"B-but the Minister-!" the wizard who had tried to take his katana, protested weakly, then squeaked when the ANBU rounded on him.
"I care no thing if the Minister likes my clothes or if he doesn't! I. am. NOT. Changing. Them!" with that, Harry dropped the witch and then stalked towards the exit of the room. He kicked the door open, and it hit the wall with a resounding boom, then he continued to stalk out into the Great Hall which was silent as a tomb.
The Minister's secretary was the first to gather his wits. "Eh, Mr. Ookami, why aren't you dress-" his sentence was cut off when Harry grabbed him around the neck, and kind of pushed/threw the guy away. The man traversed a large distance before he finally fell onto the middle of the Slytherin table. Everyone stared with wide eyes. The killing intent in the air hadn't been felt since the day when the ANBU first arrived at the school.
Harry didn't care about any of this, instead he stalked up to the Minister and swung the man's chair around violently. "Minister Scrimgeour. We need to have a serious speak about what was supposed to happen in that room."
"Is there something wrong, Mr. Ookami?" Scrimgeour asked, holding his ground admiringly under the current pressure.
"I want to make one thing clear, Minister," the ANBU Squad Commander hissed dangerously. "I am wearing standard ANBU uniform, and that I will wear no matter where we go. I do not care for your reputation, or for anything else. Either I go as I please, or we will not be going anywhere – whether it be horizontally or diagonally. If you insist upon this matter, someone will get hurt."
"But you cannot go as you are," Scrimgeour pointed out, a small smirk on his face. "You will attract too much attention the way you are dressed."
"I will put on cloak of mine, and that is all. Do you understand me?"
The Minister simply nodded, then leaned closer to the pissed-off ANBU. "Now I want to make one thing clear."
"And that is?"
"This whole thing wasn't my idea," Scrimgeour said with a sigh. "It's another damn publicity stunt. Look what they stuffed me into! You're lucky enough to have a reason to get out of being dressed up like a doll, but I don't."
Harry's eyes narrowed. Although the Minister was dressed up in a gaudy robe which no self-respecting ninja would be caught dead in – and that's heavy criticism when one knew just how weirdly ninja outfits could turn out to be – Harry wasn't totally sure if he should trust the man. It could simply be a way of saving face, of he could be telling the truth. Considering what he knew of Scrimgeour from before, the green-eyed man was willing to lean slightly more towards the truthfulness of the statement, but he wouldn't bet his life on it.
"Well then, shall we get going?" the Minister asked as he stood up and straightened his robes. "Come along everyone." He ordered as he walked through the silent hall and towards the exit.
Harry sighed and pulled his ANBU Squad Commander cloak from his utility pouch, and put it on. 'This is going to be total hell. Hokage-san better pay me extra for putting up with these fools.'
-x-x-x-x-
It was well into the afternoon when Harry finally managed to get away from the Ministry group. Percy Weasley of all people had met them at the gates of Hogwarts, and then they had taken a portkey to the Leakey Cauldron. From there they had passed into Diagon Alley. The rest of the tour was filled to the brim with boredom as Percy gave a very detailed history of the shopping district itself, and also any and all shops which Harry showed interest in. Even the Minister and the accompanying Aurors and reporters had looked ready to fall asleep where they were walking, and Harry was sure that he had seen a small chessboard floating between two of the Aurors. If that wasn't enough, then people had started to notice what was going on, and word had spread like fire, and now there were more and more people in Diagon Alley, all trying to get a glimpse of the mysterious man from the legendary Shinobi Continent. Either way, Harry had finally managed to get away from the group, and they had all agreed to meet in the Leaky Cauldron in two hours time.
'You'd think they expected me to be small, green, and have six eyes or something.' The green-eyed ANBU growled to himself as people stared, stared and continued to stare. He was currently pretending to look around the shops, occasionally buying something for his friends back on the Shinobi Continent, whilst slowly but surely making his way towards the Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. He couldn't make it seem like he knew where he was going, or that he had a purpose with going there, and what annoyed him was that people refused to get back to their own bloody business.
He was seriously going to hurt someone soon if they didn't stop staring.
In hopes of losing some of the gaping pursuers, Harry entered Flourish and Blotts. The clerk behind the desk looked up, gasped and then continued gaping like an idiot for a whole minute, before he put himself together enough to ask if there was something the ANBU needed help with.
"No, thank you. I am looking simply." Harry replied and then quickly made his way through the shelves towards the Defence section. Right before reaching said section, he froze and stared wide-eyed at a certain little orange book-collection. That's right, Icha Icha Paradise stood there in all its glory, and several young men – and even women – were gathered around, giggling and blushing as they read the back of the covers, or looked at the pictures.
'I see you're busy corrupting the minds of not only shinobi but also wizards, Jiraiya.' He thought to himself in amusement, then turned his attention back to the books he was looking through. He couldn't buy any books now, it would look too suspicious, but he could let one of the Order's agents do it, and then they would send the books to him with the next trading caravan.
After spending as much time as he could spare in Flourish and Blotts, and making his way down the cramped Diagon Alley, Harry finally reached his objective: Weasley Wizard Wheezes. He quickly entered the shop, and walked between the shelves after casting a quick look around. There was a young woman reading some sort of fashion magazine behind the counter, but Harry couldn't approach her. Instead he traversed the shelves, genuinely interested in the products the twins had come up with, whilst he discretely used the communication medallion to call the twins and let them know that he was there.
It didn't take long before both Fred and George appeared from the back of the shop. They blinked in surprise upon spotting the ANBU Squad Commander, then grinned widely as they realised exactly who the person was. There were only a handful of the Order's agents that had managed to become shinobi, and there were only two who could have worn that particular cloak: one was Ron and the other was Harry. And when they spotted the black hair, they knew at once which one it was.
"-ANBU-san!-" Fred exclaimed in accented Japanese. "-How wonderful to see you after all this time!-"
"-Yes, indeed it is!-" George chimed in, before he switched over to English again. "Is there something we can help you with, sir?"
Harry grinned underneath his mask. Kami-sama, how he had missed these two pranksters. "I think there is. I bring a letter from your brother."
"Well then! Come right in here, my good man, and we shall see what we can do." Fred held the curtain that covered the entrance to the back rooms, and mentioned for Harry to step through. "After you, George."
"Why, thank you, my good sir!" George grinned.
The twins led Harry through the house until they ended up in the living room. Everyone sat down, and Harry pulled his hood down, but didn't dare take off his mask. "Weasley-san and Weasley-san, how nice it is to meet you. Your brother has spoken about you often."
"How is he?" Fred asked.
"You said you had a letter for us, Mr. Ookami?"
"Aa, the letter is at Hogwarts in the custody of McGonagall-san." The green-eyed ANBU decided to get down to business. Therefore whilst he was doing small talk with the twins verbally, his fingers were tapping a message on his knee in Morse code. 'I need a communication medallion stop And I need your help stop'
George nodded slightly, then stood up. "I'll get us some cookies, brother of mine. A friend of Ron is a friend of ours, and he will need something to fill his stomach if he is to survive the rest of the afternoon with the Ministry and Percy."
"Good idea, Gred," Fred replied. "The cookies will arrive soon. Perhaps you should take some with you?" he said to the ANBU whilst his own fingers were tapping on the table. 'Easier to hidethe medallionbetween all the cookies stop'
"Excellent. I thank you for your offer, and I accept it."
It didn't take long before George re-entered the room, a plate of cookies in one hand, and a bag full of them in another. "Here you go!" he said with a grin as he put the plate on the table and handed the bag to Harry. "Hope you enjoy them, it's one of our mother's recipes." He declared proudly as he sat down. 'The medallion is disguised as a star-shaped cookie stop It is the hardest one of the bunch stop'
'You mentioned you needed our expertise stop' Fred added. "Well, Mr. Ookami, we are very honoured that you took the time to bring us our brother's letter, and that you took the time to drop by."
Harry nodded. 'I need your skills in creating havoc stop' he tapped out in Morse code, whilst they continued to chat about the twins' shop out loud to keep up appearances.
'When and where stop'
'To distract the Ministry whilst I get away stop I need to pay a long-overdue visit to a certain Dudley Dursley stop'
'You can count us in stop with exclamation mark' Both twins tapped out, and grinned. They had been the ones that accidentally discovered that Dudley hadn't been killed along with Vernon and Petunia that night eighteen years ago. No, at that time Dudley had told his parents he was going to sleep over at a friend's house, but he and his gang had gone to a strip bar amongst other things, and had spent a heck of a lot of money.
'How much time do you need to prepare stop' Harry asked them, a small smirk spreading across his masked face.
'Give us fifteen to twenty minutes at the most stop' Fred replied, then stood up. "I thank you for everything you've done for us, Mr. Ookami. Our mother will be relieved to hear how her youngest son has been getting along so far from home." He said as they all headed towards the front of the shop again.
"Mary, please close the shop." George said to the young girl that watched the counter. "We need to get home, a letter from Ron has arrived."
"Like, that's so cool, like." The teenage girl said, then her eyes landed on the ANBU Squad Commander. "Why, like hello, stranger!" she tried to flash her cleavage, not that there was much.
Harry and the twins totally ignored her tries to flirt, and focused on each other and their upcoming tasks instead.
"Thank you again, Mr. Ookami," Fred said and performed a short bow, though he was careful to make it look slightly awkward. Everyone knew that the twins had gone to the Shinobi Continent with the trading caravan, it was public knowledge! But no one knew exactly how many times the two had actually been there, nor the exact reason as to why. Everyone thought they went in search of new exciting ingredients and ideas for their products, and even though that was part of the reason it wasn't the entire reason.
"Yes, thank you," George added, and copied his brother.
"No reason to thank me, Weasley-san and Weasley-san." Harry replied and performed an equally short bow in return. "Ron-kun is good friend of mine. And I thank you for the crooks… cools… cooks… ano…"
"Cookies."
"Hai, that is the word! I thank you for the cookies you gave to me."
George grinned. "Anytime! You can't come to the United Kingdom and not try some good, old-fashioned cookies." They all exchanged another couple of polite phrases before Harry really needed to get going, and the twins disappeared into the shop again to get ready for the commotion they were about to cause.
Harry sighed and made his way quickly towards the Leaky Cauldron. Before he could apparate unnoticed to Privet Drive – where Dudley still lived – he needed to get into muggle London. And to get into London proper, he needed to pass through the Leaky Cauldron preferably without being noticed. However, that seemed rather impossible – even for someone of his level of skill – because the entire pub was full of reporters. There seemed to be hundreds of them, and some were clearly not British in any way. It seemed like someone had finally notified the various newspapers that a shinobi was in Diagon Alley, and the word had spread faster than Orochimaru's Cursed Seal.
'In short,' Harry thought to himself as he observed the insanity from a shadowy corner. 'Fred and George need to make that diversion a damn good one.'
No sooner than he had started thinking up various ways of getting out of Diagon Alley unnoticed, than there was a large explosion from the direction of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. The explosion shook the earth and rattled the windows of the houses, and thick, black smoke started to rise into the sky. People stood in shock for a moment, before they all jumped into action. Some ran into various shops in fear of it being a Death Eater attack, whilst others ran out of the shops for that very same reason. Others again started to run towards the explosion to find out what the devil had happened, whilst some – having gotten used to the various small explosions coming from the twins' shop at odd hours of the day – ignored it completely and continued with their business as if nothing had happened. These were the really smart ones, and the ones that posed most danger to Harry as he made his way through the chaos and panic. Luckily he made it to the Leaky Cauldron without trouble, the reporters and Ministry officials had run towards the explosion thinking that their foreign guest had gotten into serious trouble. Seeing as the pub was completely abandoned of life it was easy to slip into muggle London where a simple henge helped him to blend in. Then he found a secluded spot and apparated as close to number 4 Privet Drive as he dared to. The rest he could cover on foot.
Time hadn't been kind to the neighbourhood of Privet Drive. Houses stood abandoned, windows were shattered and boarded up, paint peeled off the walls, and gardens weren't tended. Rusty cars stood in the middle of the street, homeless people and drug abusers could be found here and there, and every woman seemed to be a whore. It was a sad sight in general, but Harry ignored it all and quickly made his way towards number 4, his steps purposeful and measured, and no one was stupid enough to try to get in his way. They recognised him as a hunter, and no one wanted to get on his bad side.
Harry raised an eyebrow at the shabby state that number 4 was in, before he rang the doorbell. It didn't take long before he heard a deep, male voice shouting: "Bonnie, get the damn door!"
This was followed by hurried footsteps, and the front door was barely cracked open by a shaking woman. "Y-yes?" she practically whispered, half of her face hidden in the shadows.
Bringing out all his charm and a slight amount of chakra to calm the woman, Harry smiled at her kindly and nodded his head politely. "Excuse me, madam, but is this the residence of the Dursley family?"
She nodded slightly.
"Excellent, I wasn't sure I'd gotten the correct house. Do I have the honour of addressing the one and only lovely Mrs Dursley?"
Before she could reply, the same male voice shouted from inside the house: "What's taking so long, woman? Who's at the door?"
Bonnie Dursley seemed to shrink into herself. "I-it's a… it's a man, Dudley. I… he…"
"Is he from the social services or something?" the voice, which apparently belonged to Dudley, shouted. Then there was a lot of huffing and puffing and finally the man himself showed up in the hallway behind his wife. "Oi, who the hell are you?"
From what the green-eyed man could see, Dudley hadn't changed much. He was still fat and lazy, though he seemed to have developed a beer-belly, and his clothes were dirty and he stank as if he hadn't had a decent bath in weeks. However, he seemed slightly thinner, and his muscles didn't seem to be totally out of use, which meant that Harry needed to be very careful not to piss his cousin off. At least not until he was safely inside the house, and the door was shut and locked. Harry cranked up the charm another notch. "Ah, and this must be the lucky Mr. Dudley Dursley! What a lovely wife you have sir, and a wonderful luck, even if I do say so myself!"
"What's going on? Who are you? Are you here because you want a one-night stand with a clean woman? It'll cost you twenty bucks."
"Why, don't you remember sir!" Harry tried to ignore the last comment, but he noticed the way Bonnie Dursley lowered her head in shame. His smile, which had been slightly forced in the beginning, turned down right fake.
However, Dudley didn't seem to notice. "Remember what? I've paid off my gambling debts, dammit!"
"No, no, sir, you misunderstand me! I'm not here to collect any debts at all! Quite the opposite, actually."
"Huh?"
"Your lottery coupon, sir! You've won the entire jackpot, my good man! Two million pounds!"
There was a long silence. Bonnie Dursley just stood there, her mouth open in surprise, whilst Dudley blinked rapidly as he tried to process what the hell had been said. "But I didn't get no coupon…" the fat man said finally.
The green-eyed man acted shocked. "You didn't! Then why do we have your name…? Oh dear, oh dear, there must've been a very big mistake. I am terribly sorr-" he got no further than that because he was suddenly and rather carelessly dragged through the front door and into the house. The woman was pushed out of the way as if she was a worthless possession, and then promptly ignored whilst Dudley focused on sucking up to Harry.
"No! No! I remember now, of course, how silly of me!" Dudley declared and locked the door as a force of habit. "Two million, you say? Well, I never thought I would win anything when I registered, but one never knows! Bonnie, get a glass of beer to celebrate!"
Harry smirked in triumph. "Nothing for me, Mrs Dursley, I won't be staying here long."
"Yes sir." Bonnie Dursley said. She noticed the small smirk covering the strange man's lips, and she couldn't be sure if it was a good smirk or a bad smirk. Either way, she had a strange feeling that things were about to change drastically. She hurried into the kitchen when her husband glared at her.
Dudley led the way into the living room. The furniture were as shabby as the neighbourhood itself, and all over the place were empty beer bottles and cans, dirty laundry, old pizza boxes with mouldy food, and the place didn't seem to have gotten a good dusting in ages. The windows were grimy, tape and cardboard covering several holes, and one was even completely boarded up. Dudley quickly hurried over to the sofa, pushed everything on it to the floor and then patted the seat beside himself in clear invitation for the other man to sit down. Being an ANBU Squad Commander Harry was smart enough not to sit down directly beside a potentially dangerous man, and instead chose to sit down in a wooden chair which wobbled dangerously.
"I'm afraid I didn't quite catch your name, Mr….?" Dudley opened the conversation, his speech becoming clearer and more sophisticated, more like the Queen's English he had learned during his years at Smeltings.
"That is unfortunate, because my name should be very familiar to you, Dudley." Harry replied as he looked around the room.
"Er, it should?" the fat man wondered, suddenly thrown out of the loop again.
"Definitely, considering we spent nearly seventeen years of our lives together in the same house. This very house, in fact. Granted, you and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't pay much attention to me during those years, but still, we were family despite the fact that I was a freak, as you would say."
The gears in Dudley's head started to work slowly, his face paling slightly as he realised exactly whom it was he had just let into his home. "… impossible… how did… where did…. You!" the last word was filled with anger and accusation and Dudley jumped up.
Harry let the henge, and stood up as well, making an impressive figure in his ANBU uniform. He lifted his wolf-shaped mask to rest on his forehead, clearly revealing the infamous scar, his hard green eyes, and the dangerous smirk playing on his lips. "Hello again, dear cousin. Missed me?"
-x-x-x-x-
There, please tell me what you think.
Hmm, not much to say this time around since most of it's been said in the Author's Note at the top of the chapter. There is one thing though: I never thought I would write a story which went over a hundred thousand words. Now there's a shock for a small-time author.
Thanks to:
Shinobi's Fire, The Insane Imortal Dragon, Kitta Baby, Night Wanderer, FireAngel8723, Kaaera, Knives, NamelessHeretic, Shinigami's-Koibito, simpleinsanity, Sk8er7, oldmagic, Midnight Sorrows, Meemei, BasicallyAnIdiot, peppymint, Z-AKA Andrea-, Tanya Potter, arsenic-graffiti, QueenOfHalf-BakedIdeas, magerm, Billy, silvergrac3, cheerful-pinkstar, Adnexus, kirallie, Tombadgerlock, hittocerebattosai, firmin, Cyberwing, kaeden, Morrolan, AceZ-Shadow, Lady Threarah, Esther KIm, kobisaki, candidus-lupus-full Moon, Hisshou, Curlz-Shadow Kitsune, primaaryet and san-san-chan-nii-sama-kage.