"Crash and burn, s.o.s., somebody help me get out of this mess of a dead life…"

It is sadness that came with spring. For spring, with her lavish, short-lived promises of eternal beauty, is ever a symbol of passing human happiness, incomplete and always unfulfilled. Promises made on earth are playthings, after all, for children. Even while one makes them so solemnly, they seem to know that promises are not meant to hold. They are made, as spring is made, with a glory of soft, radiant blossoms that pass away before there could be time for realization. And yet they come again with the return of spring, as unashamed and glorious as if time had utterly forgotten.

She was sitting gently on the bed, so that her outline could be perceived in the light through the window where the branches clambered to come in.

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"You must know that this is not about you and me…This is about something beyond us; beyond feelings. If feelings were indeed the key of my actions, trust me, Tsuna, I would have never awaited your end."

She scoffed and looked away from him, instead, broken and useless sitting in the soft, deep, comfortable bed.

And she loathed his words.

A dull and evil fury rose within her. Where was Kakashi? He would get her out of this misery if anyone could. And where was her dear, wicked friend he could mostly rely on? Who was speaking to her such words through the mouth of her Orochimaru? And, with this last thought, came some faint touch of sorrow so gentle that she was conscious of a sudden resignation of hope.

This affliction and anger ran races for possession of her mind, and she knew not which to follow: both seemed real, and both seemed true. The cruel confusion was an added torture. Two sets of sensations and outcomes seemed to mingle. "I thought I knew you."

"You do, Tsuna. You know me better than anyone else."

She inhaled and swallowed the anger that so easily built up in her, and fixed her eyes steadily at his own. She looked as wild and picturesque as the moment that framed her. Her thick golden hair hung loosely over her back and shoulders as she was sitting against the wall; her clothes consisted of a heavily ornated blue robe which showed her bare legs as it lay rolled up, on her thighs.

Whether the face was beautiful in such a painful hour or not he could not tell; he only knew that her whole character attracted him immensely and with a strength of appeal that he at once felt furiously irresistible.

She remained motionless against the wall, staring fixedly at him till he riveted his eyes from her with a flushed face of a teenage boy. Then she spoke: "You never hurt me. Even when you betrayed Konoha and our sensei, or when you and Kabuto attacked me and Naruto…You always played your cards so meticulously so that you wouldn't raise suspicion yet never really hurt me. So who are you?" she added in a clear, strong voice that yet was soft and even tender. "Where is the old you?"

"The old "me" is making sure that you shall feel no more pain than necessary…" He tried hard to speak naturally and easily, but his voice shook. So deep was the two comrades' love and intimacy that he could not help but be honest. "Since you are going to die with your son, I guess it will not hurt to know the truth."

"What truth?"

Across the darkening landscape, the sound of distant barking had floated to them on the afternoon's wind.

"There are powers far greater than us, Tsuna. Chakra is a gift of another world, another realm with which mortals have been blessed. And there are some special people who were given even more insight into the game of greater gods. Every realm is guarded by entities; let us call them now Keepers. They watch over the land and its dwellers, be it human or animal. The worlds had been created by the sensitive notion of balance, and balance is something of which everyone thinks differently. The Keepers protect their worlds from unknown forces and whichever Keeper stands highest, decides about the kind of balance he wishes to see in its realm. The other Keepers obey the First's commands and do as he wishes. But every once in a while, there is a war, where the future of the world is decided; Keepers may stand higher or perish and a new era may begin."

She tried to interrupt him, but the word went lost before she could pronounce it. Thought fluttered and went out with a wave of pains and she exhaled the air slowly. Then, after a prodigious interval, she regained her strength and focus and ventured to sum up his words.

"You are telling me that you are some sort of an…" She paused to find the right words and observed silently the regularity of contractions. "…⸺immortal?"

"I am not wholly immortal, you see. Keepers do not take forms by themselves. Think of them as minds or souls, able to think, having will and beliefs and morals. But no tangible form. So, in order to work and exist here, on a land as this is, they must be welcomed by hosts."

"And you did that…When?"

This time there was a thrill in his voice that seemed to pierce down straight into her heart. She said nothing at first, however. The unexpectedness of the words he used, together with the note in his voice that moved her so strangely, had a disconcerting effect that kept her silent for a time.

He was her friend after all, well, he definitely used to be. Now he was a demon split into two worlds, finding a home in neither. The false joy he wished to consign to her had struck into her like the shock of sudden steel itself, causing her an indecipherable emotion of both pity and pain. Orochimaru was more miserable than she was in this moment, and yet he had no idea.

"Not long ago. Tsuna, this new soul in me, this power is similar to mine; a Necromancer. The artist of life and of death. It is beautiful what I can do with it, with the Keeper. It is really a gift." He kept on, as if by convincing her he would gain full conviction as well.

"You know you are lying to yourself and to me, Oro." She sighed and rubbed her stomach to ease the pain. "What does this have to do with me or Raito?"

But instead of saying the words he really wished to say aloud, there issued from his lips in an inaudible whisper, as though control of his voice had passed a little from him. He cleared his throat and gathered his conscience and then he said instead; "You see, Tsuna, as I mentioned, they are not immortal…A Keeper is immortal but the body of a man is not; it decays." He spoke soothingly, while his hand stroked her forehead. "So the Keeper seeks a new form, preferably someone similar to its previous host."

Recognition shook her pieces together with angry violence. A degrading nausea almost vanquished her. "No, Oro. This is insane…No…You must be joking." Her heart was racing now. Some fighting blood surged uppermost but it was forcefully channeled into the impatient positioning of the child inside her. She leaned her weight on her arms and pulled herself closer against the wall. "This is insane." She groaned, suffering.

"I have always known you were smarter than the rest." He tried to speak on a lighter tone although both joy and worry tainted his mind. He lost focus for a second and wished to near her, but it was best keeping a little distance.

"Kakashi will lose his powers…" The little blonde Senju muttered.

A touch of sadness entered the voice, the eyes held pity in them as he replied. "Not everything, of course. He is already a quite powerful shinobi, but most certainly, lately, he has been taking quite an advantage of his unearthly skills. But all shall be passed down to your child. Unless I kill him before he is born. He must be between the moment of life and death; when a second separates the body to breathe in life the first time, or die, suffocating, stuck in the flesh of the mother."

"The process of birth, hm…?" She squirmed and bit her lip, finding no movement comfortable anymore.

"Yes. The very last phase."

"This is why you kissed me that night at the office, didn't you? You were always two steps ahead of us." The strange, swift instant of recognition passed and disappeared.

"I was always fifteen steps ahead of you." He smiled as he watched her; eyes gleaming, face white as chalk, perspiring like midsummer. "You succumbed to the feeling of love and had no idea about what was happening around you. It was hard for me to know it will end so abruptly. I have never seen you so genuinely happy."

"I never was…" Only, now, the recognition had somehow strained the prison bars, and the yearning escaped for a moment full-fledged and vehement with passion long denied. The knowledge swept deliciously upon her that they had the right to be together because in another life, tied with a red thread they were always together. She had the right to be with him. Her mind was certainly a mere field of longing, ungoverned images. "I love him with all my heart."

"Not even Dan could make you so sickeningly joyous. I remember that time. He was a good fellow, though, but he is not a Hatake. That clan definitely has its charms."

"I can't follow which side of you is talking now…" She noted with a half smile.

"Believe it or not but when it comes to you, I cannot help but talk a little from the heart as well."

"Ugh…" an agony of pain made both voice and body tremble. The waves of suffering were gradually becoming more and more intense, leaving no possible evasion of Fate.

Oro looked around and emerged from the bed to place the bottles, the kit and sheets to an arm's reach. "Their closeness may help you feel a little better. It will give you the impression that things will be fine."

"They will be fine. I will not let you touch my Raito." And her voice, when she spoke, was firm with a note of steel in it; intense, yet devoid of the wasting anger that passion brings.

His face grew solemn, his voice deeper and more earnest suddenly, the light in his eyes seemed actually to flame with the enthusiasm of a great belief. "Of course, Love, of course…" He smiled and sat back on the bed and took the other's hand in a grip that might have killed a lion and yet was warm with gentle kindliness.

"As much as I know the real you, you know me just the same. You can't hurt my son." Her little face showed suddenly the courage of a lion in its eyes. Her heart was ever braver than his own, a vigorous, fighting soul.

"Tsuna…Look at yourself." The Serpent replied. It seemed suddenly that his heart was filled with fire. "There is nothing to be done anymore. I will stay with you and help you until the time comes and we part. And I will mourn you, I know I will."

She pulled her hand away and upon this she made an effort to get up, in order to put her threat into execution; but before she could have turned away an inch, throes halted her in motion. "Ugh, dammit…" At length there broke in upon her a cry of pain and she could only add with much dignity, although somewhat puzzled. "For the sake of the past, Oro…You can't be like this." Either through pain or vexation, there came a few tears into her eyes.

"For the sake of the past?"

"You can act like it means nothing to the godly part of you. I know that it means nothing. But it means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me." The bleak attack of agony was again upon her with its throbbing rush of acuteness and she moaned miserably, her eyes looking towards the window as if wishing to be carried away by the cold primaveral wind.

"Don't say such things, Tsuna. You know that words have no impact on me." He said, apparently much softened at her distress.

"Look into my eyes then." She looked back at him as she said it and resumed with quickening breaths. "I have always cared about you. Not like you did for me, I admit. But I did my best to be there for you. So be there for me now. For the past. Please."

"The past…In the past, it was always you and me." He broke off abruptly, conscious that he was speaking out of some unfamiliar place where he floundered, helpless among strange conditions. He was feeling things he hardly understood himself. The words echoed in his ears while a flood of memories broke up through film upon film and layer upon layer that had long covered them.

And indeed, while inevitable disillusion had dulled his youthful dreams of love or any sort of honest affection, but its glory was never quite destroyed. It still glowed within, especially when she was around. At those times, indeed, it ran into flame, and knew something of its original splendour. Tsunade in particular had helped to keep it alive, fanning its embers bravely, whilst many other women, he found, who'd dream his own dream, dreamed it far less sweetly.

Also, what he genuinely loved in her, was the fact that Tsunade's heart and mind were closer to essential realities than his were. While he bothered with fuss and fury about power, scrolls, the underworld, and marvellous engines for destroying whoever crossed his path, the Senju, keeping close to the sources of life, knew more of its sweet, mysterious secrets—the things of value no one yet has ever put completely into words.

"I used to imagine you and me, together. But it was always rather a wicked joke than a sweet fantasy. We have always been too different." he smiled quietly to himself, coming back to the first reflection whence his thoughts had travelled so far—the reflection, namely, that now, at last, he possessed the freedom to speak.

And then he paused and looked at her, confronted with a difficulty; she smiled too.

For, seeing it, he knew not at first what to make of it. This dawned upon him suddenly when the sunlight splashed their bodies on the bed with its gold. He rose from the covers and stepped at the high window. The movement to the open it was really instinctive beginning of a search, as though in the free, wonderful spaces out of doors he would find the thing he was supposed to do. Now, settled back in front of her, he realized that he had not found it. The memories of childhood had flashed into him instead as their eyes met once again.

"Do you still remember when we were children?" He proposed and it was all she said;

"Every little detail."

And this revival of the childhood mood was curious, he felt, in fact significant, for it was symbolical of so much that he had deliberately, yet with difficulty, suppressed it and put it aside. During these years of concentrated toil for immortality, his strong will had neglected of set purpose the call of honest emotions. He had stifled friendship just as he had stifled that little light of goodness she always found in him. Yet really, that emotion of love he was always so ashamed of feeling, had merely gone into other channels—scientific inventions. It was a higher form, married at least with action that produced love in death and experiments instead of being experienced in her arms.

The acquirement of evil knowledge demanded his entire strength, and all lighter considerations he had consistently refused to recognize until he thought them dead. This sudden flaming mood rushed up and showed him otherwise. He reflected on it, but clumsily, as with a mind too long trained in the rigid values of immortality that knew not mercy. This softer subject led him to no conclusion, leaving him stranded among misty woods and fields of flowers that had no outlet. He realized, however, clearly that this side of him was not atrophied as he thought. Its unused powers had merely been accumulating—underground.

He got no further than that just now. He looked away deliberately but the sound of her deep soft voice made him keep remembering.

"I remember how often we would spend the afternoon at the riverside, talking about big dreams and childish prophecies about the three of us. Jiraiya would always be late and by that time we would be already settled near the campfire, roasting fish."

He saw in his mind the haystacks just beyond the stables of the last home in Konoha, and the fields where the rabbits sometimes fell asleep as they sat after enormous meals too stuffed to move. He saw the old unpaved path in the meadow that led to their secret place at the riverside.

The whiff of perfume from the oaks in the forest as they would pass through came back, the scent of grass, and the bees humming in the flowers. The rooks were cawing. He heard Jiraiya in his deep, angry voice calling in vain for the two of them. He remembered the three of them throwing little pebbles in the water, competing against one another.

The whacking that happened that afternoon when he stole the Bunsen burner from the laboratory, and how Jiraiya emerged suddenly from behind the curtain with, "It was me, Hiruzen-sensei!" That spontaneous offer of sacrifice, of willingness to suffer for another, had remained in his mind for a long time as a fiery, incomprehensible picture.

Then, with a violent jump, his thoughts flew to other things, and he considered one by one the various selfish schemes he had cherished against the day when he could realize them. That day had come. But the schemes seemed one and all wild now, already accomplished and none of them fulfilling that hungry desire that burnt with it; being at the moment of completion was boring, pitiable even.

Dreams, long cherished, seemed to collapse one by one before him just when he, at last, came up with them. He looked at the woman whose sacrifice would finalize all dreams and wishes, still relentless and strong when there was really no way out alive. She was admirable. But he had to put the thought back firmly in its place.

"You must understand how hard this is for me, Tsuna."

"I understand."

"You…do?"

She was staring rather calmly and intently in his eyes as at length she said it; "I always considered you the most powerful shinobi in this world. But just like all of us, Oro, you have one weakness too, and that is…"

"You?"

"No." She shook her head then, after a second's pause, to add to the complete amazement of his she replied; "It is cowardice."

"Nonsense," said Orochimaru hastily, as though he felt ashamed of himself or was acknowledging the fault in himself.

"You don't want to live forever because your life is so busy; you are rushing through your days like a madman, wanting to stay alive, wanting to overcome the whole damned world. To feel the world, it scares you. To become one with it; to become vulnerable. It scares you dearly. That is why you never told me how you felt about me. And that is why you always thought we could never be together. You were so damn afraid of being hurt. So you hurt everyone first as if hoping that way you can always remain protected." She eyed him again with uncommon keenness, though a smile ran from the eyes and mouth even up to the wet forehead and golden, tousled hair.

The Serpent interrupted her quickly. "You are talking as if you have always known what was in my deep dark soul."

"Of course I have." He heard the woman going on; "And I appreciated that you behaved naturally, never forcing me to acknowledge your affection." —her voice lowered and she glanced towards the window where the trees stood like little figures, cloaked and bonneted with beauty beneath the darkening sky. She took a second's pause again and inhaled a long deep breath to keep the waves of pain under control. Tsunade lifted her gaze back at him, her trembling fingers comforting both herself and the child; an hour or so and all shall be over.

"Is it getting worse?" Worry flushed in his eyes for a moment but he pushed it fast away.

She nodded, taking deep breaths and tightened her grip in the covers.

"Allow me to help you…" The Serpent's voice softened and he leaned towards her with a careful motion.

She made no audible remark nor did she contest. He kneeled beside her thighs and his fingers reached for the buttons of her robe.

Without request, the raven-crowned demon closed his eyes and undressed the woman in front of him. He relied on the sense of touching; and the long, bony fingers undid the buttons on the shoulder, and then lowered the garment on one arm. He hurried his hand softly over the neck, the collarbone and pulled the blue silk down on the other side as well.

Tsunade folded one arm over her bosom and lifted her hips upwards a little so that he could draw the robe off her body. She took it then and placed it over her chest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He smiled a faint smile and opened his eyes and fixed the pillow behind her back.

The day waned and, as its light faded away, the throes of childbirth had begun.

A new set of pain rushed through her like an unleashed star and she screamed in torment and in sorrow. "Please, let me see him. Please." She groaned, fighting to recover her breath and forces.

"You know I cannot do that, Tsuna. He needs to die with you." He sighed as he looked at the woman in labour.

"Damn you, Oro." The blonde Senju cried; the answer now was immediate, but even less audible than before. "Just once, please. Do this favour. Please." Both of her little hands curled into fists and she bit upon her lip to muffle her screams. These pains were different; she really had no time anymore, Raito was coming.

"Don't make this harder for me. I told you, I am not the one who decides." Orochimaru sighed; evening arrived and with its shadows a heavy discomfort. Gently then, he pulled her legs apart, as if knowing her attempts in delaying the inevitable.

Tsunade whimpered and groaned, agony seizing her.

"You need to push."

"No." Tsunade shook her head as she mumbled to herself. She was fighting against her own body's needs, shuddering in perspiration. "You'll kill him." Warm tears ran down her cheeks as she added.

Orochimaru looked away; he couldn't handle seeing her tears. His hands rested upon her ankles and he repeated again. "You need to push, my Love."

"Promise me you won't kill him. You need to promise me." As she stammered to utter those words, the forces of nature overcame the power of will; a spasm of blinding pain shot through her. With a long scream, she arched her back, pulled the covers in her fists and pushed. She opened her eyes. Her whole body was a single devouring pain. She felt as if burning, torn, fading. "Please. Don't be a coward. Oro, please!"

There was war in the Serpent, a kind of war he had never felt or experienced before; he summoned a dagger in his hand as he took it away, yet the motions of his fingers were unsure. "I am sharing my body with an immortal's soul. He needs this power, Tsuna."

A spasm of violent pain burned through her body like a fire, and she shut her eyes. She groaned in suffering and pushed once more; he must hurry.

"Love me a little more than you love power. Please, Oro. You are my best friend." She pleaded relentless, knowing it was her only chance. She was too close to see Raito; she would have given anything to save him, her life at this moment mattered not.

It was the expression on the soft, weathered face that sent the blood in a sudden gulping rush towards his heart. He had seen men frightened, seen men afraid before they were actually frightened; he had also seen men stiff with terror in the face both of natural and so-called supernatural things; but never in his life before had he seen the look of unearthly dread that now turned her beautiful face as white as chalk and yet put the glow of fire in two haunted burning eyes. Her strength was always admirable.

"I'll…try…" Upon uttering those words, no matter how quiet they sounded, it seemed the god in him heard it too; the grip over the hilt of the dagger suddenly tightened and, as if by the sheer volition of the Keeper, it aimed to dart right into the woman's womb. It was a swift, but hurried motion; perhaps a second but no more passed. They looked into each other's eyes but merely saw a thing from the streams of tears that rushed down their cheeks.

The room fell quiet for a brief moment when a loud cry of a new life resounded in the atmosphere like little bells of Heaven. The Serpent missed the aim. The deep tie of friendship accounted for it. He wished most earnestly to always protect her. Meanwhile, in spite of himself, or perhaps because of himself, he watched his only friend as a wild animal watches its young. The little Senju was the only tie he had on earth. He loved her with a twisted, honest love, and Tsunade, similarly, he knew she loved him. This moment, thus was difficult, no, it was unwholesome even for him. Love alone could guide him against the will of the greater god.

Some minutes elapsed and a reply was made; and during the interval, the dying woman seemed to be collecting her energies to speak. Tsunade smiled and the white set of teeth glistened in the warm crimson that was blood. "Thank you."

"One day…thank me properly." There was the deep earnestness of love in his voice, of love that cannot end or die.

He pulled the dagger out of her body and dropped it beside her thigh.

The woman, on that bed under the opened window, sat evidently dying. Her breath came in gasps, her chest heaved convulsively, and each attempt at recovery was slower and more painful than the one before. She was unconscious. Sometimes her breathing seemed to stop. It grew weaker, as the pulse grew fainter. And the raven-crowned friend, the Serpent, transfixed as with paralysis, sat watching, waiting, an intolerable yearning in his heart to help.

With a long, heavy sigh, Orochimaru picked up the newborn in his arms and cleaned him carefully with the bottles of water and warm sheets that were placed so carefully on the bed. He put the little one on his mother's breast and folded the woman's arms over her son.

"You are terrible in timing, Hokage." Orochimaru shook his head but a secret relief passed over his lips. At first, he did not pursue the sight of the other; his presence was so forcefully palpable like the heavy smokes of wildfire that smother the atmosphere.

"No…" A shiver ran through the silver-crowned shinobi, making him tremble with an unaccountable touch of cold that communicated itself to the Serpent as well.

Orochimaru rose on his feet and turned to face the other. "You are too slow, Kakashi. Is this how you plan on keeping your son alive?" There was some reason behind his words that rang with excessive disdain yet seemed to be born from kindliness rather than hatred.

The swift answer of a Chidori filled him with content. "Aim at her. Not at me." He said and with the last word he pronounced, the Serpent was gone.

Kakashi glanced at the blue lightning sphere in his palm and shifted his eyes at the dying woman, and the meaning behind the Serpent's words were quick to rush to him; "Shit!" He felt the blood run hot and almost savage in his veins as he ran towards the bed. He was aware of how amazingly precious she was to him, how deeply, absolutely necessary to his life and happiness.

"Please don't die, please, Tsuna." He gasped and took the newborn carefully away so that the blue orb could shoot its bolts around her dying heart. His heart was racing now. Some fighting blood surged uppermost. He felt that he could kill everyone and everything, and the joy of violence and slaughter rose in him, soothing his insanity.

There was a long pause before she moved. Dead with fatigue, bleeding from numerous wounds, yet at this awful moment, the woman, lifting her hand to his wrist, turned her eyes slowly up to his, so that he could meet the flame of her ancient and undying love shining like stars upon him out of the night of time. "I'm sorry," she said in a low voice that trembled.

The lightning sphere died suddenly out and he took her in his arms and smothered her words with kisses, holding her softly to him but fiercely too, as though he would never let her go. "Gods, I thought I lost you…" He answered with an air of intense relief and drew in another deep breath, and again exhaled with joy. No details troubled him, he asked himself no questions. A profound sense of happy peace numbed every nerve and stilled his beating heart. He felt no fear, no anxiety and now no hint of alarm or uneasiness vexed his soul. He realized one thing only—that she lay in his arms, he held her fast, her breath mingled with his own. They had found each other and she was alive, and their child was alive too. What else mattered?

But sometimes, when things seem to come together, they are only just beginning to fall apart.

End of Part 1.

To be continued.