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DESTRUCTION
/ diˈstrəkSHən/
the action or process of causing so much damage to something that it no longer exists or cannot be repaired
THREE DAYS BEFORE
Since a fire, after a long while, wasn't the most interesting thing to stare at, it was only reasonable that Suigetsu found himself slipping in and out of sleep. If he had been allowed a choice, he would've found many things more interesting to do—ten of which involved shoving bamboo shoots down interesting places on his body, and at least twenty involved new ways of murdering people in the bloodiest of ways with a sewing needle—but alas, as he found himself bound and stilled, the last thing he could do was follow through on any of them. So he slept, on and off, for how long he didn't know. It could've been minutes. Could've been even seconds. But it also could've been hours, and it could've been days.
Why, you ask?
Because the fucking fire still hadn't gone the fuck out.
Now, while he may lack basic mathematic skills, Suigetsu was not a person that could really be considered a moron, because he truthfully wasn't one. He knew as well as the next that a fire, untouched, will inevitably go out, no matter how much oxygen it had, because it needed something to sustain it—a medium to use. Even if you got all the trees in the woods to burn, the fire wouldn't last for more than a day because it would inevitably burn through its mediums.
Someone was either feeding the fire or he was stuck in a genjutsu, and considering he was beginning to be able to move, he doubted it was a genjutsu.
The pain had been the sole thing that had really stopped him from moving, he discovered, and once it had subsided to this more manageable level—in which it still hurt like a bitch, but not enough for him to be unable to move. He took it slowly—the way he hated taking things—as he pushed himself into a sitting position, gritting his teeth against the pain as he slowly brought himself into an upright position. Just moving like that made him want to keel over and curl up into a fetal position, but since he had gotten all of the bitch kicked out of him as a child, it simply didn't become a reality. He merely kept moving, kept attempting to sit up, and once he achieved that, he couldn't help but grin to himself as he stared at his toes, which he wiggled as if he was five. He couldn't help it. He'd sat up. It'd been painful and he'd done it despite it.
Accomplishment aside for the moment, his grin slipped off his face as he looked around himself, squinting his eyes as he tried to focus in on the darkness that surrounded him. It took a moment for his pupils to adjust to the lack of light and pull in as much as it could from the light emanating from the fire, but once he did, he found himself unsurprised to find himself in a cave. He'd figured it was the moment he'd found himself in front of a fire, lying on a ground that even with the bedroll, was about as comfortable as laying on a cold slate of steel. He rolled his shoulders, wincing just slightly at all the cracks and pops he heard, as well as the amount of pain.
"Fuuuuuuuuuck," he muttered, letting out a loud and long yawn, "What the hell did I do to myself?"
"You did try to get yourself blown up."
(At this point, out of pure surprise, Suigetsu let out a little squeal, which he immediately tried to cover up with a grunt. A snort resounded throughout the cave, much to his embarrassment, followed with the question of, "did you seriously just make that sound?" which he immediately replied with a curt, "you snuck up on me, asshole, I was kind of freaked out, and while we're talking, who the fuck are you?")
His head whirled around, snow white bangs clearing off of his forehead for a moment before settling back into place over purple-hued eyes, taking in the sight of the short figure before him, who, with the oversized cloak hood obscuring their face, remained practically anonymous. They moved close to him, their feet making absolutely no sound on the ground as they neared him, a fact he found curious considering that, in his state, he wasn't all that dangerous. He couldn't run very far very fast, and truth be told, with the way his body ached, he didn't really want to without drinking a shit ton of water and maybe thirty soldier pills. And that was simply to start!
They crouched down next to him, their cloak hiding everything about them even up close. He couldn't even feel their breath upon his skin, which he should've been close enough to hear at this point. All he could really tell about them was their feminism, and considering he was going off of voice alone, it wasn't a large indicator. Men could have really girly voices, too—memories of Haku, a servant to Zabuza, came to mind.
"Who're you?" he said, "What do you want?"
"Nothing you can give me," they replied curtly, reaching up and touching Suigetsu's forehead before he had a chance to look at their hand—at least that would indicate better if they were a girl or a boy. "You should've been more careful. Kabuto's men are constantly on the look for people in his versions of the BINGO, and they look everywhere. You should've waited around for a caravan like you were suggested to."
He frowned. "You were in the bar? I didn't see you."
"I was following you all night. How do you think I got to you so fast?" they asked, pulling their hand away and tucking it into the depths of the sleeve before Suigetsu could get a good look. "They were merely suicide bombers, meant to knock you out while others came and took you. They almost succeeded, but I got there before the others could. They tried to tail us, but I managed to get away regardless. We're on the edge of the Land of Fire, just along one of the coasts of the Land of Rivers."
"That's… a lot of ways in the wrong direction," Suigetsu said, frowning just a little deeper now, "That's further from Konoha than when I started."
"I know. But I couldn't continue going in that direction at that moment; it was just what they wanted," they said, turning away from him. "You've got a few fractured ribs and ten stitches in the back of your head from where you hit that tree too hard. How do you feel?"
"Like I should be euthanized," he said sarcastically.
"That's just the soreness of your muscles from not having enough water and using your water-based ninjutsu. Alcohol dries you out, and being near an explosion doesn't help things." They turned only slightly, placing a bottle, glistening on the side with water, next to him with a heavy thunk, indicating its heft. He only barely noticed the femininity of their hand before grabbing the bottle, ripping off the cap with his sharp, shark-like teeth before taking in almost all of its contents, a low moan escaping his lips. "Sorry for leaving the fire going when you were in such a state, but it is only about forty degrees here. I didn't want you to freeze to death."
Suigetsu only moaned once more in response, too concentrated on sucking back as much water as humanly possible. It felt so good. The best water he'd ever had, in fact, and the benefits of it all were so plentiful that he really could cry. He could feel his cells singing in relief, and his muscles almost automatically began to lessen in their pain. By the time he'd gone through the bottle, the pain which had been racking his body had subsided almost completely, enough so that standing wasn't something he had to take slowly—he could jump to his feet.
And, therefore, he could jump on that girl—which, he did, hands outstretched for the shadows of the darkness of the cloak's hood, which concealed her throat.
PRESENT DAY
"Goddammit," Kankurō sighed to himself, allowing himself to flop onto his ass as he crossed his artificial leg over his actual, bringing the kunai embedded into the chakra-laced wood of his 'calf' to eye level. With one good yank, the kunai was out of the leg, but he still made a 'tsk' of disappointment when the deep gash caused by the weapon remained behind for him to behold. Despite the craft's popularity—or maybe because of—good, durable wood in Sunagakure was not only expensive but in fact very hard to come by. Pulling off his cat-like hood, he ripped it into strips with his teeth, wrapping it tightly around the gash. Last thing he wanted was something to invade his limb and make a home—it'd make everything all the worse.
Genma looked up the unconscious body he was sat atop of, his senbon still swishing lazily side-to-side in his mouth, arching one eyebrow at the puppeteer. "You okay?" he asked in a careless voice.
"Motherfucker cut into my leg."
"Artificial or actual?"
"Considering I'm not frantically grasping at my bleeding limb and calmly conversing with you, I'm going to assume artificial."
"Calm your nips; I'm simply covering the bases. Did you kill him for it, or did you do right and leave him alive?"
"Alive. I'm not insane. Legs are replaceable, lives aren't. I just don't have my replacement with me and I'm kind of pissed about that; I usually do."
Genma stared at him for a moment before cracking a smirk, letting out a dry chuckle. "You know, I think I had to remind myself times in two seconds that you're a puppeteer and, therefore, carrying around replacement limbs is therefore normal for you. I'm still not used to that idea, especially not in average conversation."
"Then apparently you haven't been around very many puppeteers," replied Kankurō, stretching out his leg carefully, testing to hear cracks or snaps in the limb. "Almost all of us have to replace something by the time we hit our twenties. We either chose it or it simply happened. We have to keep around spare parts in order to ascertain that we constantly work at top shape, especially those as skilled as I am." Satisfied for now with the lack of sounds emanating from the limb, he lowered it and cracked his neck slowly, letting out the lightest of groans. "It's not horrid, so I should be fine. But I'm going to have to replace sometime within the next week, or I run the risk of becoming home to some very nasty creatures and the leak of my chakra."
"You say it so casually," Genma responded, standing up finally, walking carefully over the unconscious, bloody and battered bodies of the ANBU he and the puppeteer had taken out within moments, the only real sign that the ANBU had put up some sort of offense being the kunai Kankurō had gotten hit with from behind. He didn't let the victory get to his head, however—he and Kankurō had grabbed special-Jōnin level ANBU, not the more skilled ones like… well, Kakashi and Itachi, who were thankfully at the party. "Like it's natural."
"In my life, it is. In Suna, one in every tenth shinobi is a puppeteer. With the mountains and the dunes, it's only natural we take to hiding and sending something inanimate to fight, and every once in a while on missions to foreign lands we fuck up, can't find the best hiding spot, and lose a limb. We're all taught the precautions as a part of training, and none of us are as so delusional as to believe it won't happen to one of us." He shrugged. "My sensei Baki made for damned certain I get it through my skull that I ran a higher chance of losing limbs than anyone else."
"But of course. Puppeteers are inherently harder to defend against. Sometimes those puppets look so real that we're fooled into believing we've got the right target, and your type really uses the surrounding area to your advantages," Genma said, flicking a glance at the broken-up rock gatherings, caused by Kankurō through only the slightest tampering. "Of course we target to try and stop it all, through any means necessary. I bet you're one of those shinobi who can even extend chakra strands from their toes."
Kankurō cracked a smirk, finally standing up and cracking his fingers. "Not a lot of concentration really goes into that, to be honest. But it doesn't matter where the stands are sent from; what matters is the intent and the thought behind them. You can operate an entire mechanism with one string if you want to, but I don't because to focus all that chakra from one finger to one being requires even more thought, and I need that thought to be able to stay active and alert about the surrounding environment."
"It is curious ninjutsu," said Genma with a smirk of his own, stretching his arms. It'd been longer than he'd thought, the last time he'd gotten into a real brawl. He used to frequent bars in order to get into full-out bloodied fights, but it'd been a while since he allowed himself the privilege. This was a nice thing, this allowance. Made him recognize that he hadn't lost any capability—despite his increasing 'old age', as Kakashi kept referring it to. Mid-thirties honestly wasn't that old. He felt fine—great even!
Kankurō looked up at the ceiling, giving the camera a lingering look for a moment before letting out a sigh, pulling the scroll out from his back straps and laying it out, quickly forming the ram seal and reactivating the seal upon the cloth of the scroll, immediately drawing the few puppets he'd felt the need to call upon back into its depths, placing the scroll back into place in practically no time at all. Giving the camera another look, he felt slight worry touching the edges of his already frayed nerves. To the best of his knowledge, they were already disabled—but one could not be completely sure, not when these people were the proclaimed 'best' of Konohagakure.
"I don't know about you," he said, calling upon Genma's attentions once more, "But I think we need to keep it moving. I'm sure we didn't trip any alarms, but…"
"Can't make any assumptions. I understand you," Genma said with a nod, his hands finding their places back in his pockets, not even noticing the blood smeared like a war paint upon his right cheek. "We don't have very much time to just lag about. Have you got Daichi on comms? Let's find his position."
"A needless venture, gentlemen," smoothly interrupted the overly calm voice of the ANBU in question, who slipped out from literally amongst the rock wall, pale eyes filled with the lightest amusement. A small genjutsu, as far as Kankurō could tell, which made him question exactly how long the ANBU had been among the two of them, but after a moment's contemplation, he decided it wasn't truly worth his full concern, mainly considering he wasn't going to be killing either of them. They were bodyguards to Kages for valid reasons, after all; they were the select few of the village actually better than the ANBU, and together they could easily take down the younger shinobi.
"You're not wearing your mask," Kankurō instead chose to mention, "And I didn't think you were capable of wearing nearly normal clothes."
Pale pink lips quirked up into a smirk as he looked down at himself, beholding the plain armor mesh and sweatpants he'd chosen to wear; not quite used to wearing clothes to go on an ANBU-esque 'mission' such as this. "Genma-san isn't wearing his hitai-ate. You're not wearing a mark of Suna, Kankurō-san. I think that the idea of not showing allegiances in this sort of instance was an idea that the three of us somehow shared tonight."
Genma couldn't help himself from smirking as well, though the statement was made without humor. He hadn't even worn his Jōnin jacket, which after more than a decade of wearing; he couldn't help but feel naked without. He breathed out a laugh, flicking a glance up at the cameras. "This is definitely gonna piss Tsunade off."
Kankurō shrugged, "Gaara might have a good laugh about this, actually."
Genma chuckled at that. "I can't picture that brat laughing about anything, but I'll take your word for it. For now, let's not focus on the fact that we're branding ourselves as traitors or, in your case Kankurō, insurgents. We have another focus, and we're losing precious time here."
Kankurō nodded. "Agreed. Are we summoning him now or later?"
"Now. I don't want to stop at some other point just to bring him out here. We need the entire grouping completely laid out now in order for our best chance." Genma pulled out a scroll from his weapons pouch, the slim red roll of parchment wrapped up as tightly possible, bound with chakra-infused slim black shoe lace (which had all been a matter of convenience at the time for them, as a winter boot had been close by and they'd been in need for some sort of binding) that was quickly unraveled just by a spark of Kankurō's chakra-lit fingertip before his hands flew quickly into seals, hardly giving Genma a moment to drop it before he brought forth what which had been ensnared within the grasps of his fuinjutsu. A smoke exploded from the quickly-unfurling parchment as he deactivated his far more simple seal, the item of which they'd been bringing forth already in the physical world before the scroll completely hit the rocky earth of the ANBU headquarters' maze-like hallway floor, the rest of it unrolling just slightly, ignored completely as the three shinobi kept their eyes on the figure they'd summoned forth hidden within the smoke.
Whom, obviously, did not do well with being held in a seal for extremely long amounts of time, considering the fact that the first thing he thought to do was lurch away from the three of them, falling to his knees as he let up the contents of his stomach.
Genma groaned. "I didn't need to see your sick, Naruto."
Naruto groaned as well, though for more of a reasonable reason than just Genma's disgust with seeing other people violently vomiting the contents of their stomachs. He allowed himself to roll over, glaring up at the long-haired Jōnin. "I didn't know I needed your fucking permission puke, you asshat!" he growled, obviously irritated with him.
"At least we know we got Naruto," Kankurō sighed, beholding the orange-clad 'adult'. "Now I need to know if we got 'Naruto' or… Naruto."
Naruto looked up at him, confused. "Eh?"
Kankurō sighed. "We got Naruto. The clones are smarter, after all…" he lead on.
"Oi! Boss is plenty intelligent!"
"And apparently his clones really aren't smarter," Genma teased, "It's not nice to lie to the lad, you know he'll just protect Naruto with all he's got, even if he gets insulted." The clone glared up at the two of them, pushing out his bottom lip and crossing his arms, obviously mad and now wallowing in his anger, which was really too easy for either of them to do, but neither could stop themselves from being amused by it nonetheless.
"Come on, 'Naruto'," sighed Daichi, running a hand through his dark hair, rolling his eyes, "We've got no time to stand still and make fun of you. We've got other things to do."
Genma nodded in response. "Can we get to it, then? Can you get up and stop acting three so we can get done what we need to get done and possibly get hung by our balls for it?"
Immediately, 'Naruto's' anger with them faded as he, in fact, became immediately more serious, determination settling into the large ocean-colored orbs as he stood up, clenching his fist at his side as he nodded in agreement, setting the mood for the rest of the group, who up until this point were trying to be as light as possible towards the reality of the situation, which was in fact treason, which was in fact traitorous; and very would earn them torture—if not execution.
"We have three more levels to get through. He's being held in ANBU subbasements, inside which is the entrance to ROOT. Getting there should be the easier part; but going in and actually getting him will be the most difficult. The traps are set so well that I won't be able to find some of them with my Byakugan. We can't let clone Naruto get hit by any of the traps, so we're going to have to be moving on guard. They're set to kill anyone not recognized by their chakra signatures, which does not include me because I'm not part of the guarding down there," Daichi said clearly, eyes showing no hint of trepidation. "We'll be walking in blind, and even then we'll have to expect some ANBU to still be roaming about. We only got the weaker ones out of the mix."
"We'll go in single-file then. I'll lead up the forwards. I've got fewer limbs to lose than the rest of you and more means of defense than you all," Kankurō said, voice turning authoritarian. "Daichi will follow after me. Even without the capability to see traps, he still knows his way about better than I will, am I right?" The ANBU nodded, and Kankurō did his best to withhold his sigh of relief—they didn't need to know that he was actually worried. "The next is Naruto. It's unusual for him not to be in the immediate back, and that does put him in the edges of the blind spot for the Byakugan, but as he's what we're protecting, it makes sense. Also, he can pick up the slack from Genma when he gets overwhelmed. Genma is the major form of offense, so he's in our back. Everyone clear?"
"Crystal," Genma responded with a quick nod, "Defense, offense, protected but offensive, and more offense. Sounds about right. Now let's get going. I don't want my little brother to spend a moment longer in that cell, and if we have to take him out of the country to free him of it, then so be it." He rolled up his sleeves before dipping into his back pouch, pulling out his usual senbon, pushing it between his lips. "Naruto-clone, you're clear on your part of this initiative, right?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "To get my student outta solitary confinement. None of us are best-fit, but this shit's happening tonight. There's no regrouping or anything. He needs to get out." He turned his gaze to Daichi. "You're not ratting, right, 'ttebayo?"
"No. He needs to get out. I recognize that fully," Daichi responded, nodding, "Even if they're my comrades, my sense of what is right versus what is wrong comes before them. What we're doing is right, without a doubt." He turned the attentions back to Kankurō with a smooth, "Now that we've done that… let's get going. Cameras may be deactivated, but that does not mean they can't see we're here. Even with sympathies leaning towards us, orders are orders and they may very well lead the offensive against us."
"Understood," nodded Kankurō, seriousness lining all planes of his face, "Let's go become criminals, shall we?"
With that brief little joke, he turned on his heel, taking off down the hall without so much as one notification towards the other three, none of whom actually needed it. They were not incompetent (at least, not in shinobi prowess they were not incompetent), and were very well aware of what they needed to do which was
1) Get to ROOT sublevels
2) Get to ROOT alive
3) Not die in ROOT
And finally, most importantly
4) Get Shizuka out.
There are very few people in this world that earned the right to be called Nara Obito's 'family'. Having been abused and then alone for a major portion of his life, he found it understandably difficult to allow people in, when past experience dictated that the persons closest to him would be the ones that hurt him the most, which for the most part was the truth. Only the people who loved you could hurt you so deeply on the emotional and mental scale. His hesitation to allow that pain into his life once again was complete self-defense, and beyond that, it was completely understandable self-defense.
That being said, there were just some people he had found himself completely unable to keep out, no matter how hard he had tried to—the people he called family.
The definition of 'family' basically puts the meaning of the word as a group of people living together of the same ancestral line, usually with two parents. At first, Obito believed that this was the exact definition—that this was the singular meaning to this word, and by this meaning, his 'family' had been killed with his father's 'death'. According to that definition, he'd never be able to have a family again. According to that definition, he was alone, and that was something he'd lived by for practically the entirety of his life.
But it wasn't true, was it? No, it couldn't be. How could that be the definition if he was surrounded by people who loved him as if he'd been their brother, their son, their uncle? If that were the definition, then he wouldn't have these people—this nuclear family.
He remembered the day when he'd been yelling at Shikamaru for trying to give him a hug—the same day he'd entered the Academy and had been treated like the evil of this earth by people whom he was one day going to be forced to call comrades. He'd screamed at Shikamaru for trying to act as if he meant something to him, because he didn't, and he never would, because he wasn't a brother, and he was barely even a cousin (since he had barely known him, he really hadn't considered him as much at the time), and he would never be family. Shikamaru, stunned for the moment, merely smiled softly at that, usually laze-filled eyes filled with gentleness as he neared Obito, then Shikaru; pushing the kid into a corner, pushing him to activate his Sharingan with mirth easily showing in the red orbs.
He'd believed Shikamaru was going to attack. He found himself stunned that, when the boy reached out, he didn't try to choke him—he, instead, put his hand on top of his head, smiling at him as if he hadn't been yelling with a fury of a thousand suns. "A family is not just parents and brothers and sisters. It's not as simple and cold as that; it something much warmer… closer… it's just much more than what you've been lead to believe. A family is a group of people whom return the love you give to them… people you would readily put yourself on the line to protect."
Shikamaru's words stuck him for long a time, though he'd done his best not to act upon it for fear of having it all blow up in his face. He'd done little to let anyone in, though for some reason he allowed Shikamaru, Yoshino and Shikaku as close as they wanted to because he wasn't entirely sure how to force them away considering that none of his best tactics had worked in the least. He would admit now that it'd all been cowardice on his part; a fear to be hurt ever again by anyone whom he would give an arm and a leg to protect, and it was one of the things he probably regretted the most: not allowing people to become a part of whom he was.
It'd been Naruto punching him that had saved him from his own self-destruction. It'd been Naruto's fist nearly breaking his jaw and loosing him of two molars in the back that had been the wake-up call he'd desperately needed. It'd been Naruto's telling him off that had finally stopped him from fighting for himself, stopped him from fearing the allowance of other people, and allowed him to actually gain friends.
To gain family.
And oh, what a family he'd gained. He'd gained Naruto, Hanabi, Shizuka, Jiraiya, Sasuke, Temari, Soyokaze, even Itachi… the list wasn't very long, he knew it, but it didn't need to be. Its' length did not matter. What mattered was that he had people whom he cared about. What mattered was that he had people he wanted to protect, and would give his life for just to see survive and be happy until the very end of their days. It was a feeling unrivaled by any other, and could simply not be explained—he just knew it was something he didn't want to let go of, despite the pain it caused him when one of these precious people were endangered. In fact, it was probably because of this pain that he wouldn't let go—it reminded him that he had something worth fighting for in this world. Something that meant something.
"Come on! Get your head outta your ass, Obi!"
He finally looked up from the crack in his drinking cup, looking at Hanabi, who grinned at him, hands on her hips as she visibly teased him. As much as he wanted to smile right back at her, he couldn't. Worry was stopping him from being able to. He'd been wondering about Shikamaru's status when the cup suddenly cracked; something he knew full well was considered an omen.
"Give me a minute. I'm kinda tired," Obito muttered absent-mindedly, turning away from her with his eyes glued upon the crack.
"Obito?" she asked, sounding confused enough for him to realize he was going to worry her if he didn't console her quickly. He turned to her, eyes glued upon the bedfuddled expression upon her face. "Are you… okay?"
"I'm fine. I just realized I left Naruto-sensei's gift at home. I've gotta go get it before he notices that I'm the only person who didn't get him anything," he quickly lied. He had gotten Naruto something; five hundred ryō because the man ran through money due to his ramen obsession, as well as a card and a new ninjutsu scroll for his perusal. But, thankfully, Hanabi hadn't been paying attention when he'd handed it off to his teacher, having been talking to her sister, so he could pass it off as a valid lie, no matter how horrible it really was.
She frowned. "I can go with you…" she said.
"Nah, that's alright," he said, shaking his head quickly. "I can do it by myself. I just really don't want Naruto-sensei to be disappointed at the lack of a gift." Her frown deepened, but she slowly nodded, seemingly accepting the information. Narrowly stopping himself from breathing a sigh of relief, he took two quick steps to her, wrapping his arms around her waist, his lips pressing against her warm forehead. "I love you, 'Nabi."
"You'd be ridiculous not to," she teased, noticeably half-heartedly, "I love you, too, moron." She wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself tightly against him. "And if you're not back in thirty minutes, I am coming after you with the fury of a thousand suns."
"I don't doubt it," he chuckled, stepping away from her. At least she didn't beat around the bush. She told him in one simplistic statement that in no way did his lie truly fly, but she recognized moments when he felt he had something he needed to do and would allow him to do it until she felt the need to get involved—which, in this case, was thirty minutes. Not nearly enough time, in Obito's opinion, but it was the time he was being allotted and therefore the time he would have to utilize wisely. He rubbed her cheek with his thumb, giving her a last sweet smile before darting away, managing to leave without the ever-scary Ino noticing it—because the last thing he wanted to do tonight was be subjected to one of her rants.
There was an indescribable loneliness invading the very depths of Shizuka's being, a loneliness which had been existent from the very instant that his brother had been stolen from him. He had suffered far more pain in his short existence than any child rightfully should and due to the sheer kindness that flowed out of the same pain-wracked soul of his, he did his best not to show it as often as he definitely should have. No, instead he'd bottled it all up and bore the burden like a jinchūriki did a bijū, the difference in this case being only that this painful, solitary life of his was not actually a demon of immeasurable powers.
He brought his knees into his chest, hardly noticing the heavy scarring which so marked the skin that stretched over the joints. Hard to believe he'd gone through only one month's worth of torture at the hands of the village's so-called "best protectors". What a crock of complete and utter bullshit. Would a protector beat and starve a fellow of their village for not apparent reasoning except to have something to laugh about? He didn't believe so. He hoped not, anyways. It went completely against the meaning of a protector; went completely against the ideal he'd been struggling to become for a while now, the ideal that completely made these men and women's behaviors complete and utter bullshit.
Anyone's idea of a true protector would, to be honest, but it was Shizuka's idea of such an individual that was truly worthy of mentioning. Now, Shizuka had always been slightly different from the average person simply in the way his mind operated. Most people's idea of a protector was someone strong and intelligent and quite impossible in physicality—just the perfect person. Shizuka, being a bit of a realist, had a different belief. The ideal did not lie in who was the strongest, or the smartest, nor in the most physically perfect. To him, the person that could protect the most was the person who most desperately needed to be protected themselves. To him, a protector was someone who'd suffered the pains of life and knew what it meant to be in danger, to be alone, to be sad, and to be in the abyss of darkness. The people who were the most vulnerable almost always ended up being the people who would put themselves on the line to save the most.
To him, people like Gaara were key examples of such a being, and it was for that reason that he felt more alone now than he'd known himself capable of being beforehand. It was people like Gaara, people whom had suffered through pains he both knew and found foreign, that he needed, that he depended on, and now that he was here, he was shut out from all of them. It'd been weeks seeing these people, since seeing these people whom he so needed and it was having effects on him that he couldn't even quantify.
It was like…
It was like he was a child again.
It was like he was a kid, watching Hayate's back as he left for that final time. It was like he was a kid, watching Genma's back as he turned away from him at the funeral. It was like he was a kid, coming home to find the flat completely empty save for his own things. It was like he was a kid, curling up in the corner of Hayate's now vacant bedroom as he finally grasped the idea that he was completely and totally alone in this world. It was like he was a kid, waiting for tears that never came to spring from his already dried-up eyes. It was like he was a kid again, except that it'd been everyone who he'd so struggled with letting in and allowing himself to feel something for that'd left him alone in the world.
They'd left him all alone. Naturally.
Even though he so wanted them to come, the tears still refused to come from his eyes, something he had no surprises about. Crying was one of the harder things to do in this world, and it was never truly about his misfortune. As much as he wanted to wallow in self-pity, his body never seemed to want to allow it, and there was nothing he could do about it. There was never anything he could do about it.
He closed his eyes, letting out a slow and ragged sigh, chewing on a chapped and ragged bottom lip as he prepared himself for another night of dreamless sleep. "Gaara," he whispered to himself, "Genma. Hanabi. Obito. Naruto. Gaara. Genma. Hanabi. Obito. Naruto. Gaara. Genma. Hanabi. Obito. Naruto."
"I guess, if one wants to push back loneliness, reciting the names of those you care about the most would be the way to go. Though, I'm quite shocked that your dear niisan's name is not amongst those you've just recited. I imagine he's feeling quite left out, Shizuka-chan."
If Shizuka had been drifting off to sleep, he was wide awake now. He sat bolt upright, moving to yank his hands back but finding himself stopped by the blasted chains. The ANBU sitting outside his cell for a nightly watch looked at him with something he couldn't quantify as a funny look due to the fact that he was wearing a mask, but didn't move to deal with him—which spoke loads, considering that he could see none other than Yakushi Kabuto standing by the door of his cell, a sadistic smirk on his face as he looked at him.
The ANBU raised a gloved finger to his mask-covered face, drawing his attention just enough for him to make a teasing 'shh' sound. "Be quiet, boy," he said in a soft and obviously malicious voice, "You wouldn't want to raise any alarms, now would you?"
Shizuka's eyes widened in shock at the ANBU's—no, not ANBU. This couldn't be an ANBU, not of Konoha, not when he was working with an S-Class criminal. This was… one of his subordinates? How had he gotten in—and how had he not gotten caught at all? "Are you here?" Shizuka whispered.
Kabuto's smirk widened. "Why, of course I'm here. How else do you suppose I speak with you, Gekkō Shizuka? Telepathy?"
"My name is not Gekkō Shizuka. I never took the name," he growled, wishing he wasn't chained to the ground, wishing his chakra wasn't being blocked off—he would try to kill Kabuto right then and there. So many problems could be solved, right then and there. No one would have to live awaiting his imminent arrival. No one had to worry about losing loved ones. Sucking in a breath, he began screaming at the top of his lungs, trying to alert the true ANBU. The fake ANBU just outside his cell turned in his seat, running a kunai against the cell bars and creating a loud enough of a sound that Shizuka was grabbing his ears to stop the pounding.
Kabuto looked unimpressed. "Stop it, Hiro," he said to the ANBU, who immediately adhered before he concluded, "You're irritating me with that sound." Kabuto looked back at Shizuka, crossing his arms over his chest. "As you see, screaming will get you nowhere. Hiro here is one of my spies. The reason you're still here, in fact, is because of me." Shizuka growled wordlessly now, and Kabuto chuckled. "How sad; all you can do is growl at me. Chakra really does rule the life of a ninja, doesn't it? It makes us how fearsome we are. We are nothing without our chakra, and we are less than nothing when we do. Pawns will be pawns, I suppose."
"I am no pawn," hissed Shizuka.
"Indeed you are, as am I. Shinobi are mere pieces in the game of war, with daimyos; easy to kill and easy to replace. There lies not a shinobi in this universe who is thought of as more than a pawn. Even samurai, beings who have no chakra yet highly exceptional taijutsu and kenjutsu skills, are more valued pieces than you and I," Kabuto said, making his way over to Shizuka and crouching down in front of him, his eyes roaming over Shizuka's body, making the teen shiver in distaste. "Only a ninja will ever understand the worth of a ninja, just like only an ant will understand the worth of a fellow ant. Shinobi have the potential to rise above everything that is this world. We should be daimyos and emperors—not these old, ignorant weaklings that hold those offices."
"Things are the way they are for a reason."
"And that reason is to continuously supply the daimyos of countries with men to fight. Children; I should say."
"Things would be no different, even in the reverse situation."
"I think that all depends on who it is at the reigns, doesn't it?" Kabuto smirked and moved further into the depths of the cell, eyes keeping on Shizuka.
Shizuka followed him with steel-like eyes. "And just who would that be? Someone like you?"
Kabuto chuckled. "I wish. But that doesn't matter to me. What does is that the world we live in is long overdue for a change, and I wish to make that change happen. Our world is corrupt, Shizuka. The current system must be obliterated. A new breed of shinobi has to arise."
"Ever heard of the term, 'crazy with power'?" Shizuka seethed, "According to your thesis, we are the most powerful beings this planet has to offer, and if we rule it, not all will be fair. The jobs we take are shit, and there's always a chance we will die, but there are worse lives to live. At least we are not involved in perpetual wars all the time. At least we're not being bred for the job. We choose the lives we live."
"Not all of us get a choice. Some of us are forced to this the day we are born in order to ensure our own survival," Kabuto retorted, "You know this full well. Your friends Obito and Hanabi are those types of people."
"And they've come to terms with it." Shizuka stood up, his shoulders slumped as he reminded himself not to try and stretch the limits of the chain keeping him bound to the cell. He'd learned his lesson about that early on.
"They shouldn't have to. We shouldn't be trapped by what they are; by what we are. We're better than anything else in this world. We just need to destroy the current system, and then we'll all be freed."
"Destroying the current system would entail destroying the council, and the Kages, and the clan heads currently at the helms," Shizuka said, rolling his shoulders, "Destroy the infrastructure and rebuild it from the ground up. Do you understand how many shinobi you'd have to kill to achieve half of that destruction? Ninja aren't just going to let that simply happen—especially since I have a feeling that it'd be only Konoha you're planning on targeting."
"How do you figure that?" asked Kabuto, smirk widening.
Shizuka shrugged. "The shinobi world is so far spread that it'd be impossible for one man to take it over by himself, regardless of the number of pawns you could possibly have at your disposal. For the past few weeks, your focus has been on shinobi of Konoha. All attacks took place in Konoha. Konoha is the first shinobi village of its type; all others were founded based upon its modeling. Attacking Konohagakure is the best way to change the world, regardless of our current status. Konoha is too well respected, and other villages will do the same thing should Konoha do it first."
Kabuto chuckled. "Very good. I didn't think you'd catch on."
"When you lay out all the pieces, it's obvious. What isn't is why you need someone like me," Shizuka replied, bringing his hands together and tugging slightly at the chains on his wrist. Kabuto noticed this, and within a second, before Shizuka really realized it, his hands were released. He felt a little bit of chakra flow back into his system, but not enough due to the seals still in activation on his body. Regardless, Shizuka fell into a taijutsu stance, prepared to fight if necessary.
"Someone like you is detrimental to this plan's success," Kabuto responded, watching the boy like a scientist watches a lab rat. He reached into his robes, pulling out none other than Shizuka's own katana. Eyes wide, the teenager watched Kabuto with rabid interest, watching the adult as he placed the weapon down at his feet. "You've been so hurt by this world, so hurt by this system of losing people, of being forced into a solitude simply because of the gifts you possess—that's what chakra is, Shizuka; it is a gift, a gift that some treat as a disease because they're too weak to understand it. Shinobi are abused for this gift. They lose their lives for it, in the name of it. Children are left all alone for it, to suffer with something beyond the understanding they're capable of. They're left in the dark to fulfill the duty required of them, and then disposed."
"I haven't been left in the dark about anything," grumbled Shizuka.
Kabuto raised one eyebrow. "No?" he asked, smirk slipping. "What did happen to your older brother, Shizuka? Hayate, I believe his name is?"
Just the mention of his brother's name from that bastard's lips had his heart nearly seizing painfully in his chest, not liking at all what Kabuto was starting on. He could just tell he didn't want to hear this, but at the same time, he couldn't not hear this.
"My brother died on a mission," Shizuka growled, "Keep his name out of your godforsaken mouth."
"Still so feisty," Kabuto chuckled again. "True I guess, if we're being general about this all, but not the whole of it. Truth is, Shizuka… your brother was murdered after he heard sensitive information concerning the coup behind the Chūnin exams, by a shinobi from the Sand by the name of Baki."
Shizuka could swear his heart imploded in his chest.
No.
And, in that moment, Kabuto knew he won.
Such simple words, but such an effect.
TWENTY MINUTES BEFORE
"We have word!"
The army hidden in the dew-covered leaves buzzed with excitement, their eyes glittering as they beheld the unsuspecting Hidden Leaf before them. The words ran through their numbers like a wildfire, each man in their ranks fully knowing what was going on in a matter of moments, each man more prepared than the next to shed the blood of an enemy that they had been bred to hate, bred to kill. They knew their destiny. They knew what they were meant to do. Most were meant to die here. They were meant to lose their lives in the most glorious of names. Kabuto's. They were meant to fight and die for their living god, whom in due time would gain what he wanted: power. All they wanted was for their lord to gain all the power he wanted, and they would die and kill for that dream to shift its ways into reality. They all hated Konoha for being the thing standing in the way of that dream, in the way of what their lord wanted, and their entire mission tonight was to rectify that situation.
In the words of their great leader, they'd make Konoha burn.
However, and this was something that neither them nor their so-called glorious leader seemed incapable of realizing, Konohagakure and its Will of Fire didn't, and could not, go down without a fight. The prides of its shinobi wouldn't allow such a travesty to occur without any argument. The fight within them would have them swinging long after their chakras burned out and their muscles fell victim to fatigue. The strength of them would have them fighting to protect the people they cared about the most until their dying breaths. It was something Kabuto was just incapable of understanding, as the Will of Fire had never touched him, and it wasn't something that made itself clear. It was an ambiguity in this world, but it was such a power that it hit everyone indiscriminately.
It was what was fueling even Suigetsu, who didn't even realize the Will had touched him from the moment he'd unwittingly accepted people like Shikamaru into his life all those years ago. It was what kept Suigetsu from permanently returning back to his village of origin, to the life he had once lived; the force that kept him in Konohagakure. It was a strong force, and it was a controlling force.
Suigetsu crouched just above the hidden army, having been able to clearly tell where each and every single one was, even without the advantage of a Byakugan or any ocular kekkei genkai. He didn't need one when, after allowing some parts of him to become the very dew that covered the entirety of the tree line (something that had taken him hours to do), he could pretty much feel every single one of them. He estimated that a good number of them, he could wipe out in an instant. He'd go down swinging, but he'd take a load of them to hell with them.
Unfortunately, that wasn't part of the plan tonight.
What was part of the plan entailed him crouching low, waiting for the assault wing to fly off towards wherever, which had been estimated already. It was the ANBU headquarters—not the party first; definitely not. There needed to be a distraction formulated first, a distraction with the most chance for casualty without bringing harm to Kabuto's goal. The next wing would then attack T&I, aiming to get back their prize in the form of the murderous little brat Shikamaru had been complaining about before he left the village. Afterwards, another wing would attack the village proper and rile up a fuss; forcing the Hokage to divide her attentions as she directed her forces sufficiently towards the hit places. It was then and only then, that the last piece of Kabuto's army was going to attack the party.
He would be attacking the last wing.
No doubt that last wing would contain Kabuto's best shinobi, and as such would be the most troubling. Suigetsu would deal with their dispatch, and then after that would go to make sure the people Kabuto wanted were taken out of the fray and into a safe zone.
His eyes flickered towards the movements of the first wing previously mentioned, easily sizing up their capabilities. They were probably Genin-level shinobi, probably from the age groups of thirteen to nineteen years old; ripe, young, and completely inexperienced. He nearly felt pity for the lot of them, but they weren't to be his concern. There were others that could handle the lot of them; others that were already invading ANBU and were unwittingly acting as part of the plan that had been drafted.
Damn, that Tsunade was a little bit more evil than some people really realized. But, then again, it wasn't all her idea alone. His tentative 'comrade' had conjured given each and every detail about the invading force. He would have more respect for her and the good she was bringing if—and this was a large if—she wasn't who she was. If she wasn't responsible for as much shit as she had been, and even though it was all fine and good she was trying to fix it all, he knew fully well it was still her fault, and so did she. She was tentative because he knew better than to trust her, but he had to because she had a better idea and plot than he could ever conjure up.
He put his index finger to the comms collar Tsunade had fitted him with, something she'd put on a little too tightly but he didn't complain. "Foxtrot-Delta to Ops. First Wing has taken flight," he whispered into the comms, the recited words coming out a hell of a lot more confident than they had when he'd been forced to quickly learn the coding.
The earpiece crackled a bit as his partner's voice rang in softly as she confirmed that she was listening. "Ops to Foxtrot-Delta. Sending in Measures One and Two," Ops said clearly, as if she hadn't just been taught the coding a few hours earlier, just like him. He'd always heard of her intelligence, though, so it was hardly surprising. "Foxtrot-Delta, do you copy?"
Suigetsu's purple eyes drifted downwards to the army, which grew with excitement. "Foxtrot-Delta copies. Second Wing departure to be determined. Their feathers are ruffled. Be advised."
A new voice crackled into Suigetsu's ear piece, though he quickly recognized the deep male voice. "Measure Two to Ops. Measures are in position. Awaiting comms from Foxtrot-Delta per departure."
"Expect ten minute difference, Measures One and Two," Ops rang in, "And also expect calamity when your presence is made known."
"Measures One and Two copy," said the male voice smoothly, "Over and out."
"Copy, Foxtrot-Delta?" Ops asked him.
Suigetsu grunted. "This code shit is stupid."
"I agree," she allowed herself to say with a small smile heard in her voice, "But do you copy, Suigetsu?"
He sighed. "I copy." He shifted on the branch slightly. "You do know that when people find out who is helping to protect their home, they're going to ostracize you, right?"
"The hatred of a few civvies doesn't scare me," she said.
"You know exactly who I mean," Suigetsu said almost automatically.
She sighed, a long tired sigh. "Yeah. I know."
"And it'll be worse when they see who else you brought along."
"I know, I know. I had to do what was necessary. Do you regret it?"
"Not one fuckin' bit. I get to cut people up and get away with it; how can I regret something like that?" Suigetsu smirked. "Foxtrot-Delta out."
OMG
PLOT
IT'S COMING FORTH
SECRETIVE SHIT
IT'S COMING FORTH TOO
Lol. Sorry for the wait, my loves. Got a lot sidetracked again. Had to make a lot of edits to the chapter before it reached 100% on my satisfaction-o-meter, but now it is here, and I have started on the next chapter. I hope no confusion occurred with the sudden step back in time, but I think the story works a lot better when I have flashes back, so it doesn't seem like everything's happening all at once. Learned that lesson when writing Of Strength.
Thank you's time?
Thank you's time.
Sora Keyblader: are you talking about my little SasuKiba? If so, I'm glad you're liking it. I find Kiba to be just plain adorable... and Sasuke's just so much fun to write... 'cuz he's such a little drama queen. Together they're just too much fun, I can't even begin to go into words to describe how much I adore them together (though it'll never happen *sobs*).
lightorange: Naruto does deserve love, as much as he can get. It's just hard to write him with Wolf/Fuki, because while Fuki is an actual character from Naruto's past, she's just that. A character from Naruto's past. She's never brought into the story as a full-on character, and really lacks any sort of definition, which gives me room to play with admittedly but she feels too much like an OC (which I think my story has way too many of). But I shall try. I shall try to make them work. Sorry she hasn't popped up much as of late; it's just that their love is the hardest for me to write when I'm, in reality, a HUGE shipper of ItaNaru (which somehow doesn't stop me from adding a few elements of HanaIta to the story, IDK why).
artforlife: thank you for being as so kind as to take some of that pressure off of me! Hopefully the update isn't too far away from the last, but I'm glad that you still like this little fic of mine. It shouldn't reach chapter 80 though! (However, if you do the math by adding Of Strength's chapter count of 44 to this, also with the 2 counts of When I Was Young and Have Faith in Me, which are sidefics to these stories, I guess it already did almost reach 80 anyways, huh?)
Well, that's it for now! I love you all! See you next time!
