Hi again, and welcome back. Hope you like!
-Jonohex
Hate…
long wearing thin
.
Negative…
All you've been
.
Time to trade in never befores
Selling out for the score
.
Seems you prophesized
all of this would end
Were you burned away when the sun
rose again?
.
When the Sun Rose Again - Alice in Chains
Lord Hirai
Lord Kissohamaru Hirai, the august Grand Patriarch of the Hirai Clan and Councilor of Kirigakure, rose in the early quiet well before dawn as he always did. The complex rituals and ablutions, the exercises required to perform, the spells to cast, herbs and infusions to imbibe that preserved his life and kept him vital, that held back the true ablative effects of the ages like a dam before a wide and swollen river all required enormous devotion and diligence, and could only be denied at great peril.
When he was through at last, the ninja-lord inspected himself in the looking-glass, combed and pomaded his coif of straight, silver hair into place then adjusted the collar and cuffs of his embroidered coat. Even at well past ninety, this despite a lifetime spent in a profession that tended to take a dreadful toll on its members, he was still handsome – his features regal, teeth white and posture straight, his eyes an unclouded window to a mind potent, full of secrets and the elusive mysteries of both ninjutsu and Dao magic.
As Lord Hirai dressed, the hermetic silence of the old shinobi' s sanctum was disturbed by the rising sound of a soft, high-pitched ring at which he turned curiously with one gray eyebrow raised. One of the guardian bells that hung in the corners of his chamber had started to chime.
The Patriarch's colorless lips slanted into a grimace. "Danger comes and at this hour," he muttered to himself then took a wearied breath. Odd, thought the old man as the ringing became more insistent. I wasn't expecting them until much later – well past dawn at least. Those two especially never stuck me as early-risers. Well, concluded he, there's nothing for it. I had better go and treat with them.
Pacing from the comforts of his chambers, the Councilor's more-or-less constant preoccupations with the future of Mist Village were driven off by the clamor of bells rising not just from his rooms but throughout the tower, ringing from outside, ringing from everywhere edging louder, louder and louder still!
Transported with alarm, the old man quickened his long-legged gait to a set of thick doors bound with iron, flung them open and rushed out into the open air, onto the battlements that circled Castle Hirai's citadel. Along the walls and from every soaring pagoda, the old shinobi's bells, all crafted with the carefully-engraved characters from his lexicon of Dao magic, chimed, rang or gonged in a cacophonous crescendo that echoed and throbbed off the walls and drew the guards swarming from their barracks.
The old man reeled amidst the escalating din, his mind struggling to fathom what sort of force could menace the entire castle, who would dare attack the most powerful ninja clan in Water Country? Hirai's steely eyes swept past the stout, stone walls of his castle to the sea, lit now in the first orange rays of sunrise. There, emerging like ghosts from the mist-feathered waters – a fleet of low-slung ships, their long, wide decks bristling with weapons no man on earth should possess; weapons the very existence of which were a crime throughout the Elemental Nations.
Slapping footsteps, clumsy and loud in their thoughtless hurry, approached and Lord Hirai looked down into the determined faces of his own house guard – cousins so distant he could barely remember exactly how they were related, let alone their names.
"Lord Hirai!" their leader, barely more than a child in his late twenties or early thirties, yet with a competent-enough look about him announced, "We have to move you to safety."
The others circled around the ninja-lord and firmly but politely took hold of him steeled against any objection, no matter that he was their grand-patriarch. The guardians pushed and pulled the Councilor from where he stood, rushing the old man along as they headed for the stairway down to the vaults. Over their shoulders and the tops of their heads, their master's gaze swiveled back toward the sea, his face pale in disbelief.
Impossible! thought the Councilor as the Fire-Tongue Fleet's vast arsenal of rocket-launchers vomited forth, stitching the sky with trails of smoky, vaporous white that slashed toward and over the walls of his castle; Hirai cringed at the sight and then the deafening booms that thundered through his aged frame as the towers that marched along the eastern palisade burst, vanishing in percussive geysers of white flame, eruptions of stone streaking skyward like blazing comets.
"Protect Lord Hirai!" the guard-leader screamed over the tumult then settled into a stance for a jutsu heedless of the debris raining down – shattered pan-tiles and splinters of flaming timber. "Water-style: Water Fortress," he cried as a great bubble, feet thick, rose up to shield them from the onslaught just as a missile struck it full on and detonated. The shinobi's jutsu, strong enough to hold an avalanche in check, held for a moment, only a moment, cradling the explosion like a tiny, flickering star until the power of the Fire-Tongue's warhead tore through with a bubbling boil.
Twisting his head to look back, the ninja-lord beheld briefly a flash of blinding light as implacable and all-consuming as the sun rising to fill his vision, rising to swallow everything whole as his body and those of his defenders surrendered to the explosion's fiery embrace.
Orimi
The Lady Magistrate of Wave Country, Commander of the Mist Village garrison, sat at her expansive desk, her face cross as she tried doggedly to muscle through an appallingly-large stack of paperwork while all its many cousins waited at her left and right.
Under Gato's reign, essentially, there'd been no law. What law there'd been before that, which Orimi had restored by fiat, had been pretty scant and was proving to be wholly inadequate to deal with the much larger, faster-paced and more complicated place the island was evolving into. As the final authority, any issue that remained ambiguous or fell through the cracks ended up for her to decide personally, and it was rarely easy.
Why can't these fuckers just play nice! the chunin grumbled but she already knew it was useless to ask. If humanity were not such a contentious lot by nature it wouldn't need laws at all, let alone ninja.
An insistent knock issued from her door.
"Come!" Orimi barked then looked up as junior constable Daigo entered, a bit more stiffly than usual.
"Lady Magistrate," the boy began with a tremor in his usually militant voice, "there's a Commander Asai here to see you. He said it can't wait."
The round-faced woman's lips froze in a scowl. Her heart sank as the catalog of every prosecutable offence she'd ever committed in her life swept through her mind, most seriously of which was her aiding and abetting of the notorious fugitive, The Demon's Apprentice, Haku. "Send him in," the magistrate, not being one who put things off, offered glumly yet with resolve.
The man himself entered almost at once – a long-limbed ninja in standard mist-shinobi fatigues and armored jacked, his silver hitai-ate with the seal of Kirigakure engraved upon it sitting low over his eyes. "Lady Orimi," he greeted then bowed low but quickly, popping upright before Orimi could even begin her bow in return.
"Commander," the woman managed with a polite, half-hearted smile, "welcome to Wave Country, I -."
"Excuse me, Ma'am," Asai interrupted, holding up an impatient palm. "I'm sorry but I have a lot to impart to you and time is critical."
"Of course," replied she with an uneasy frown.
The commander produced a scroll case and quickly handed it to her. "Magistrate Hirai," he began with a touch of perfunctory ceremony as she accepted it, "you have been field-promoted to jonin."
The kunoichi's eyes widened. "Jonin?" she repeated incredulously then looked again at the messenger just to make sure he was serious. "I…I can't believe it. I can't even remember the last time anybody was given a rank that high without taking the tests, maybe back during the civil wars or something." Slightly stunned, Orimi fumbled with the case and made an effort to pry open and review the document within. "Lord Oku really approved this?"
"Lord Oku is dead," Asai informed her bluntly.
"What!?"
"Lady Chinami Inoue is now the provisional Mizukage."
It was like being slapped twice. For a moment the Magistrate stared as if in a trance, blood rushing to her head. "Wait, wait, wait -," she demanded, shaking her head with each word as she recovered, but her visitor pressed on anyway.
"Lord Oku was one of the many killed by a plague inflicted upon Kirigakure no Sato by remnants of the Tsujita Clan and their blood-gifted allies two days ago. The Mist Village stands now under quarantine."
"Heaven and Earth," gasped Orimi, not knowing what else to say until finally: "But what about my great, great -." She stopped herself and cleared her throat. "What about Lord Hirai? Why isn't he in charge? HE'S the senior counselor."
Asai spared her a tight, charitable grin. "Ma'am, that decision was made far above my pay grade."
"Of course," the woman was forced to concede, feeling a bit foolish, really, for having asked.
"Lady Orimi," the commander began again, "I have also come to inform you that the provisional Mizukage has appointed you Governor of Wave Province and Commander of the Mist Village's Northeastern Security Regiments."
Orimi barely suppressed a chuckle. There was only so much surrealism the kunoichi could stand at any one time and she'd already crossed her limit. "Has she now?" she quipped dubiously, thinking of her little garrison of freshly-minted juveniles and old reprobates.
The man gestured. Orimi looked back and forth between him and the office's bay window then slowly went to it.
Past the glass and down below, standing in ranks at parade-rest – hundreds of blue-clad mist-shinobi, enough to fill the street nearly end-to-end.
Again Orimi gasped, quite in violation of what passed for her sense of decorum. So here it is, the ninja realized after a moment, we really ARE just gonna take over the place. All those assurances we made about Wave Country remaining a protectorate of Water was just smoke. She blew out a breath. A lot of people aren't going to be very happy about this.
"Your orders, Ma'am?"
The woman looked back at Commander Asai. "Well…I guess we'd better find them someplace to stay, huh?" she heard herself say as the more logical part of her brain kicked in. The kunoichi watched her reflection's mouth move almost on its own as she continued. "Ok, we've got quite a few new hotels and guesthouses recently constructed, some near the Great Naruto Bridge and others further out. We'll just…just borrow them for a while, I suppose, eminent domain or whatever, until I can figure out something else or work out a more long-term arrangement.
"There are also some improvised training grounds a gang of rogue ninja built last year and a ruined factory these guys can use for practice areas. And they can't ALL go into the city at once," the new governor pointed out. "Grant them leave in shifts, no more than twenty at a time and you'd better make it clear that they'd better not cause any trouble! I've worked too hard to create a semblance of order in Wave Country and I won't tolerate any ninja with poor impulse control messing it up. All law-enforcement functions will remain the jurisdiction of the constabulary."
Asai grunted affirmatively during Orimi's deliberate pause to assure her he understood.
"Also, I will have maps and surveys of the island delivered to you," continued the Governor, now catching her groove. "By the end of the day tomorrow I shall expect a rough idea of where troops should be stationed, locations of watchtowers, patrol patterns and schedules and recommendations for what security infrastructure is needed to fortify the island against potential invasion. This outline will be refined and developed as time goes on, let's say on a weekly basis for now."
Once Asai had been dismissed along with his legion, or rather HER legion, Orimi sat back at her desk and allowed herself to feel a measure of normalcy again.
The Mizukage's dead, she pondered gravely. Killed. Although the knowledge mustered little enough sympathy for the bastard who'd ordered the perversely unjust execution of her sensei there was no denying the sheer magnitude of the event. Her village was under attack, maybe even at war – why else station so many ninja here in Wave Country unless to act as a bulwark against the Leaf and Cloud Villages that might take advantage?
Something else occurred to her and, with it, another alternative: MY, but it's convenient that we have all these nice, brand new facilities in town that can accommodate the arrival of so many troops. The woman shook her head in a room that now seemed dreadfully, dreadfully quiet. Could that have been the plan all along – annex Wave Country; use the funds speculators invested from all over the Elemental Nations to pay for it? She shrugged the thought away. Whether true or not, a mind awash in conspiracy theories was not a mind fit for command. Lord Oku himself was a prime example of that.
And what happened to my grand patriarch Kissohomaru? He HATES Inoue, or so I'd always heard. How the HELL could she be named Mizukage over great-great-grandfather!? Orimi couldn't help but muse, along with whether or not the grand old man would have seen fit to lavish such favors upon her as his rival Inoue had just done. The kunoichi hardly thought so, blatant nepotism having never been either his virtue or his vice. On the other hand, Inoue's grace seemed a bit hard to justify.
I couldn't have made THAT much of an impression on her when she was here, pondered Orimi with well-honed suspicion.
"Daigo!" she shouted then, when the genin poked his head in, directed: "Two things: one, tell everyone who comes in all freaked out that I'm still in charge and everything is under control – same as it was before, got it? Spread the word. Two, get copies of every map and survey we have of the island and put them into Commander Asai's hands by the end of the day. Tazuna should have most of them. Enlist whoever and however many people you need to to get that done."
The young ninja nodded crisply then left.
An attack by blood-gifted clans, considered Orimi, dwelling now on another thing that bothered her. Who'd have thought there were any still around. Her frown deepened; her dark eyes closed.
Haku's still around…and his being on-leave right now's an awful coincidence.
The idea impaled her that the best and brightest of her constables, the scion and beneficiary of maybe the most reckless decision she'd ever made in her whole life might have been in on it, that maybe he'd been planning to destroy the Mist Village all along.
No, the woman told herself, Haku's smart but not, what's the word…cunning, treacherous.
The jonin thought about it again, nursing a doubt. The kid was, after all, The DEMON'S Apprentice and that was a moniker he'd quite often lived up to despite his disarmingly delicate appearance and effeminate manner. Even Toru had allowed as how Haku might be just like his sensei, Zabuza Momochi, instead of some poor orphan kid who'd gotten swallowed up by his master's ambitions.
No, she decided at last, not because of her confidence in her own judgment but in her sensei's. Pack-Leader Toru "The Akita" Yamashite had spent thirty years hunting down renegade ninja for the ANBU. That man knew what evil looked like when he saw it and, in the end, had spared the teenager's life when he could easily have taken it.
Orimi sighed.
"Sure hope you were right, Toru."
Haku
The teenager walked the disturbingly empty and silent streets of Kirigakure no Sato with his head swirling with memories, hopes, dreams and nightmares only a few of which were his own. Being host to more than one mind was no easy thing, let alone dozens. Everywhere he looked, every sound he heard or scent he detected evoked some memory or other from at least one of his inhabitants. Most of them had grown up here, lived here, had family here; many of the experiences that defined who they were in this life as well as the next were experienced here. Within all those minds, tempted now by their return to the material world, old feelings began to stir: love, loss, ambitions great and small, and all the earthly rivalries. On their own, this crew would probably be at each other's throats. The one thing, really the ONLY thing, that gave them unity was that (with the conspicuous exception of Haku himself) they were all mist-ninja – they'd all sworn oaths to protect Kirigakure and that remained the 'tie that binds' even in death.
Haku harkened curiously. Far-away echoes of the battle to come fluttered in his ears and it was more than a vague clairvoyance or some illusion brewed by anticipation. Some of the fearsome energies he and the 108 Demons were about to exchange dissipated, moving forward or backwards in time and his newfound senses were keen to them. Already the teenager could mark the pace of a furious battle to come and it made him pause and wonder for a moment about cause and effect. How could he hear the sounds of a fight he was in yet had not yet entered? The idea that he was enslaved to some predetermined path made him uneasy.
The Demon's Apprentice stopped, not due to this puzzling philosophical paradox about the nature of the universe but because he just realized he was wearing his old clothes, the very ones he worn into battle against Konoha's team seven what seemed like a lifetime ago - a knee-length, short-sleeved robe of muted jade green trimmed in tan worn over a brown, turtle-necked shirt and baggy hakima-style pants. Traditional wooden sandals rested under his feet, clicking against the cobblestones as he started forward again; against his chest he could feel the reassuring weight of senbon in their concealed quivers.
It was not an illusion or re-creation of some sort. This was the young ninja's original ensemble; his newfound powers had conjured them.
Underneath the white ANBU mask that covered his face, Haku smirked. I suppose this is a little more appropriate than a floral kimono, he had to concede, not to mention more practical. Let's just hope they bring me better luck this time.
Looking up into Kirigakure's perpetually leaden sky, he had a thought and frowned. No that won't do. Whatever powers I have now, wind and water are allies by blood. Most likely, I will need all the help I can get. With a slight exercise of his chakra, the clouds began to darken and swirl until a raindrop dashed across the lacquered cheek of Haku's zodiac mask.
A tremor just then on the outskirts of his awareness let him know of the attack well before it materialized. It was not Krishenay Rahaman but a team of five, all very well versed in ninjutsu. They moved without sound, barely even disturbing the air, keeping the intensity of their intent subdued as only true experts would although there was one who seemed to be slipping.
Haku maintained his unhurried pace, betrayed nothing, and when the attack came it was beautiful to behold. The three swordsmen appeared out of nowhere in flashes of harmonious movement, the arcs of each one's cut carefully positioned to limit the angles of his escape to a virtual impossibility. After they'd passed, the other two were there in a display of truly magnificent teamwork to imprison him a double-strong Water Prison Jutsu. Had he not been so empowered by Lord Hirai, Haku was all but certain that the six pieces his body would have been sliced into would now be floating like so much bloody chum within this watery sphere. As it was though, the first three stumbled to a stop, nursing their wrists, their swords having wrenched from their grasp. With as much chakra as The Demon's Apprentice now possessed there'd been no need to counter or dodge. The energy within him, even at its most passive, was more than enough to keep mere steel from harming him.
Though the watery veil Haku could see the two white-masked faces and read the mist-ninjas' trepidation that their foe remained unharmed. That trepidation turned to shock as the teenager stepped from their impregnable bubble without so much as a flicker of effort. Nevertheless, professionals that they were, all five maintained the presence of mind to regroup and surround him - cutting off retreat if that were his plan as the Water Prison burst apart and collapsed to the pavement with a splash.
"Something I said?" Haku offered blithely in answer to their silence while the voices inside him roared angrily at being so mistreated by their fellow shinobi.
"Be as flip as you like, Demon's Apprentice," a mask growled, this one an abstracted boar, and one of Haku's ghosts piped happily in recognition. "You must've lost your damn mind thinking you could come back here again. Shit! Look at you; you're still wearing the same fucking outfit you did two years ago!"
Beneath his own mask, Haku grimaced awkwardly. "Ah, right," he admitted. "Sorry about that. With so much to think about, I sort of forgot I was still a fugitive." His inhabitants groaned at their vessel's thoughtlessness although, in the teenager's defense, this fact had slipped their minds as well.
The kunoichi in the snake mask shifted her stance slightly. "How," she began in a hesitating tone, how come you're alive? The bingo book said Toru the Akita killed you."
Haku knew he knew that voice but couldn't quite recall from where and then a name came to him. Momone, he realized.
A number of the voices within him grumbled as they, privy to Haku's thoughts, knew as well as he did that this kunoichi had been part of Zabuza's Fifth Column. Somehow, even with the former Mizukage, Lord Oku, spooked, jumping at shadows and executing anyone who fell under even a trace of suspicion, she had managed to survive.
"Who cares," the woman's boar-masked companion snarled direly. "Maybe he put out for that fat fuck like he did Zabuza. It doesn't matter; this ladyboy's got to die!"
"Sir," offered the deer-mask hesitantly, "we should take him to Terumi. You know she'll want to talk to him; we need all the intel we can get."
Their apparent leader shook his head. "Fuck that!" he raged then pointed a kunai accusingly toward Haku. "THIS fag, this fag right here's an enemy of Kirigakure," the ninja declared. "He was at Zabuza's side when he tried to kill Lord Oku, HAS killed Heaven and Earth knows how many of US! And now…now he's in with the blood-gifted clans to bring more misery and death to the Mist Village. So no, Momone, no, Daichi," the ANBU concluded, "we're not going to capture him, have a nice chat with him or take him to see Terumi; we're going KILL him now. Every second this freak lives is a disgrace."
The teenager frowned. This wasn't going well. Since fighting or fleeing seemed equally inapt, Haku was puzzling together what, if anything, he should do next that might be the least bit helpful when he decided instead to give in to a mental nudge and let one of the others chime in.
"Yoshio!" roared the Demon's Apprentice suddenly in a startling voice barely recognizable as his own. "You're still the same little dumb-shit I knew when I was alive." The teenager gave a mocking snicker. "That's why you're still just a chunin, huh?"
The ANBU straightened, aghast, then pulled up his mask revealing a face as belligerent as his words had been. "What kind of sick kind of trick is this?"
The teenager opened his arms and gave a rasping laugh. "It takes more to being a true shinobi then jumping around and swordplay. You got to be smart, stepson. You got to be able to see through deception and tell real from fake."
"B-bullshit," answered Yoshio, clearly rattled. "This is some bullshit trick, ladyboy, and I'm not falling for it."
Haku blew out an exasperated breath. "Kid, this time the trick is: there's no trick. Just ask our clan Matriarch, Lady Seyama, she'll tell you. This is Hirai Clan Jutsu."
The young ninja seemed to lose focus for a moment.
"Look: It's really me, Nariaki, your stepfather," offered Haku. "I know I died when you were only eleven but now I'm back, in here, well…I should say I'm 'renting space' inside Haku for the time being and I'm not alone. Midori Hirai, Chishu Ryu, Takashi Miki and a whole bunch more are in here with me like it's a damn reunion. Speaking just for me," he conceded, "I'd just as soon it wasn't Haku but Lord Hirai kind of stuck us with him. We're teaming up to fight Krishenay Rahaman who's got plenty of company too – he's the 108 fucking Demons, and they've been waiting decades for the chance to destroy Kirigakure which is exactly what they're gonna do if we don't kill 'em all now, today. As for the blood-gifted clans, ah, that would take a while to explain but, put short, you got it mostly wrong. They didn't deserve what they got, and Tsujita was just the plot within the plot."
A hush fell over the street, Haku and the shinobi encircling him.
"What kind of insane story IS this!?" growled Yoshio at last. "Do you…do you actually expect me to BUY this crap your selling just 'cause you figured out how to use my stepfather's voice?"
The Demon's Apprentice shifted impatiently then dropped his chin to his chest as he chuckled grimly. "Son," he offered with a sly snicker, "we're doing you a favor by talking to you. With our combined powers we could pretty much crush you and your whole team like a wormy apple and it'd be a hundred times easier than trying to explain. 'Reason I'm telling you all this is because the sooner you idiots figure out what's really going on the better off the whole village will be 'cause it's gonna need your help." The masked boy looked off, high up into the storm-cloud mantled sky where a bird in flight suddenly plunged earthward despite its frantic efforts to remain aloft.
Haku turned back to his adversaries. "Sorry guys; we got to go," said the ninja. "Yoshio, it's been nice seeing you again. I'd like to say that the next time it'll be under better circumstances but mos' likely it won't."
The Demon's Apprentice quivered a bit, shaking with a spasm then snapped toward Momone. "YOU!" he screeched in an entirely different tone, fists balled with rage as another of the young ninja's selves took over, this time without permission. "How COULD you?! How could you side with that monster! The D-!"
The slender ninja cut himself off abruptly before the kunoichi's cousin Mia could finish the accusation, shook again with a spasm then straightened awkwardly. Without another word, Haku composed himself, took a step and vanished.
As for his earlier conundrum, it was already resolved. Simply put: choice at this point was irrelevant. He could stop, he knew (they all knew) even without thinking it explicitly. He just wasn't going to. Neither were the 108 Demons and so that was that.
Hideo
Through the water in the dark place where Hideo hid, tremors shivered from muffled detonations above.
That's it! he realized then commanded his body to flow through the holes lining the walls of the seepage pit, through the pipes and porous ground and up the walls of the high pagoda where the prisoner was kept. All around, white fires raged and explosions thundered while missiles shrieked through the sky over Hirai Castle. Though he had no cause to fear for his own life, a flicker of anxiety broke the revenant's concentration and clarity of purpose for a moment as he saw that one of the translucent stone panels that lined the top-most chamber stood broken open with flames and smoke belching forth.
Streaming around the opening then into the room, Hideo transformed from his aqueous state and faced the angry white flames that threatened to devour the wood sarcophagus within which Lord Haku's friend lay even as the remainder of the chamber's enchanted bells clattered and rang, seeking to drive off the flames as well as the intruder with their peculiar magic.
Gathering his undead chakra, Hideo lashed out his arm, smashing the bells from their mounts with a cascade of water that followed. Though he'd assumed his water-style powers would drown the flames as well, he was profoundly mistaken. Bowed only somewhat by the torrent, the fire roared back, rolling over the water and consuming it, burning it as well, then leaped for Hideo. Not being especially nimble even when he was alive, the would-be rescuer flew back from the preternatural flames but found himself partially ablaze. Although no longer prone to the types of panic that assailed the living, the gravity of the situation did not elude him. Staring at the fire that rose up the hem and sleeve of his clothes in a white curtain, Hideo could sense the life inside it, a pulse of a living chakra that sustained it, motivated it and drove it on. This fire wasn't just LIKE a living thing in the metaphoric sense, it WAS a living thing!
Once past the realization, the revenant switched tactics and resorted to another technique – draining chakra energy to add to his own reserves. The flames weakened as Hideo concentrated, fading to normal oranges and reds, and were easily doused with jets of conjured water.
Outside meanwhile, the assault continued. The castle's defenders, ninja all, retaliated with jutsu, or tried to, as the rockets rained down, the whole world lost under a roil of hellish explosions, gusting pyres of white fire the furnace-heat of which rippled the air.
Hideo spun from where he stood over to the sarcophagus and threw his powers against its wooden lid; his master's jutsu having granted him the strength of a hundred. Shock then when it didn't budge.
The revenant drew back, puzzled; his hands limp at his sides. As he stood there for a moment with the roar of fire, screams and explosions raging from below, Hideo turned his attention to the curious grid-work of red lines that crisscrossed the casket's oblong surface.
"A sealing spell," he told himself, smudged out one of the lines with his thumb then flung the lid aside one-handed.
Within lay a disturbingly pale Naruto Uzumaki, by all appearances as lifeless as Hideo. The revenant tugged the paper talisman from the blond boy's whisker-marked face and watched as he came around, looking first in blue-eyed wonder at Hideo then cringing reflexively at the cacophony of warfare raging all around.
"What," Naruto croaked, continuing to stir, choking on smoke, dizzy and disoriented, "what's going ON?! WHERE'S Lord Hirai?"
"We have to go," Hideo told him.
A rocket glanced against what remained of the outside wall then detonated, shaking the pagoda and filling the gaping opening with a coruscation of fire that poured into the room.
Seizing Naruto with his supernatural strength, Hideo leaped to the door, tore it open then fled the collapsing chamber with a river of white fire pouring down after him. Only after he'd gone quite a ways did he notice the boy in his custody thrashing like a hooked fish, sweating as he strained, face reddened with effort, curses flowing as he pushed and pulled against the revenant's grip.
"What is it?" Hideo asked over the squall of the genin's cries and protests.
The young leaf-ninja, still recovering from Lord Hirai's spell, muted his struggle. "I can't go!" he insisted in a shrill, gravelly voice; eyes like sapphire flames, "not yet!"
I'm on the Death Ship, I sail the sea alone
Death Ship, I can call no port home
Lost, lost souls cry to Hell in the wind
Let us in, let us in…
.
Death Ship – Hoodoo Gurus
Lord Nikai
The blood-gifted ninja lord sat in a deck-chair, arms crossed with his feet propped up on a crate as he relaxed in the sea air and caught a few rays. After years in relative isolation on his remote island enclave, he found a nice voyage like this to be quite soothing.
His zombie lieutenant, one of the many unfortunate mist-shinobi mariners brought back to a twilight life by the outré powers of his Revelations 20:13 jutsu, approached and saluted.
"I'm sorry, Sir, but we have a problem. There's a line of Water Country ships dead ahead, blocking passage to Kirigakure."
Tohma gave a derisive snort. "That's hardly a problem for us." Blowing out a breath, the shinobi's hands flew through a series of seals. "Water style: Sea Illusions," he intoned as a soft mist began to enshroud the ships of his recently acquired Fire-Tongue Fleet, dissolving its profile and colors from all outward appearances into those of the wind and waves. "They'll never see us. Just the same, have one of the batteries stand by ready to fire. If anyone tries to stop us, I'm sure a few of these rockets will give them something else to think about."
"Yes, Sir!" The Lieutenant snapped a salute, spun around and was off.
Fire, Fear, Death and Pestilence, thought Lord Nikai, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. I suppose if the Mist Village couldn't be destroyed by disease then it may as well be by fire. Ah, I should've known not to send poor, soft-hearted Noriyasu in my place. Some things you just have to do yourself if you want to make sure they're done right.
With that, the shaggy-haired ninja-lord filled his lungs with the scent of the sea and looked back at the two other mist-veiled ships chugging along behind him, each with their horrifying arrays of forbidden weapons.
"Yup," the ninja said to himself, having seen with his own eyes exactly WHY they'd been forbidden. High above him, seabirds circled, issuing their sadly selfish cries. "It won't be long now."
Yashako
"It's almost here."
The swordswoman, who'd been sitting on the polished wood floor of the elegant and inescapable confines of the Coral Pavilion with her head hung in defiant silence, looked up sullenly. Dispirited and gloomy, she no longer had much energy for venom. "The end of the world, right?"
Her crippled teacher nodded from where he squatted, blind and legless upon a thick prayer rug, fat and untroubled as some disfigured Buddha.
"You're actually looking forward to this, aren't you?"
"There was a time when I would have said yes," the older jonin reported with a philosophical air. "I gave everything to my village - my legs, my sight, I lived my entire life for Kirigakure no Sato and felt quite betrayed when she turned her back on me. Now, I'm only resigned."
Yashako spat then again hung her head. "A coward's revenge," she hissed through her teeth with palpable disgust.
'The Manatee' gave her a kind grin. "I used to be like you, as you may remember," the ninja offered thoughtfully. "There was a time when I would have thrown myself on the fire for this village as surely as you would now. High on honor, I wouldn't even have felt it. Despise me as much as you like but I'm only saving you from yourself."
The dark-skinned woman rolled her eyes, not caring that her former sensei wouldn't see it. "Aw, bull-shit."
"You would go forth and die," The Manatee informed her with the same gravity as if he'd quoted a holy book, "just as surely as The Demon's little Apprentice is about to."
Yashako's eyes narrowed with a renewed raptorial fierceness. "What did you say?"
The older ninja turned his head, having obviously realized his mistake.
"Wait," she straightened alertly. "You're telling me HAKU'S out there fighting FOR Kirigakure while you got ME stuck here? Haku - the same little shit who helped Zabuza try to chop Lord Oku's head off? The same little shit fucktard who helped Tsujita let loose a plague; whose pet jinchuuriki blew up a chunk of the city!"
The quieter Manatee answered quietly but tersely, "I told you, he was trying to stop Lord Tsujita."
"Man, whatEVER." Yashako's eyes widened with indignation. "He's not even a real mist-ninja for shit's sake, just a criminal and a fugitive! I'M a member of the Seven Fucking Shinobi Swordsmen! The only reason we exist in the first place is to protect the Mist Village!"
Silence fell as the jonin stared a hole into her unresponsive captor.
"He's dead nonetheless," the Manatee muttered at last. "A wide, wide river of probability carries him and our village to extinction while only a tiny trickle offers to diverge toward other paths."
Yashako stared again, this time in disbelief. "You know what," the woman demanded finally, "don't even talk to me anymore."
Mei
The jonin stood with head held high, arms akimbo - an angel in luminous blue as she awaited whatever one-hundred and eight demons were capable of unleashing upon the Mist Village's solitary defender.
Before her stretched Piazza Hirai, a broad square bounded by time-stained buildings and occupied by monuments to glories past. At her back, the dark waters of the Kiri Canal framed a boundary to the stretch of city beyond with Kirigakure's main hospital presiding; it's precincts packed with people and patients being evacuated per Mei's last orders.
A surprisingly stiff, cold breeze coming off the slow-moving waters rustled through her mane of auburn hair and she supposed she must be striking quite the heroic figure, as all alone as a bull entering the bullring and maybe just as doomed…or maybe not. Frowning, her emerald eyes lifted toward the distant matador who approached at a maddeningly slow pace.
Mei's jaw tensed as she cursed to herself. They're sure taking their sweet time, the ninja seethed, deliberately taunting us. The 108 Demons WANT a fight.
Even from clear across the Piazza, the kunoichi could make out the terrible shape of her foe who clung still to the imposing guise of Lord Oku's emissary and executioner, Krishenay Rahaman: taller by a half than most men, shoulders as wide and thick as an ox's, black mustache heavy over a not-quite-right grin, and worst of all the eyes – windows not into the soul of a man, however cursed or flawed, but a gateway into desolation.
Distracted momentarily as she sensed a familiar presence, Mei canted her head slightly and muttered: "Didn't I tell you to stay out of this?"
"Not exactly," answered Captain Ao who drew a step closer, his grim expression making him seem more piratical than usual given his eye-patch, dangling talisman earrings and blue hair cut at a crisp slant. "You only implied it."
A slight smile crossed her face, whether it was mirthful or piqued, at this moment even she was unsure. "Someone has to lead the Mist Village if I fall, you know."
The one-eyed jonin nodded. "If you fall, there won't be a Village to lead. With all due respect, Ms. Terumi, I'd just as soon make my stand here."
Technically, this was the height of insubordination yet Mei couldn't help but feel the man had a right to have a say about his own fate. As she looked again at the jonin, she saw over his shoulders the streets and rooftops beyond filling up with Kirigakure's ninja, not just the rank and file but scarred and crippled veterans too alongside baby-faced Martial School cadets.
"As you can see," said Ao with the semblance of a grin, "I'm not the only one moved by the power of your example. Technically, Inoue is our Mizukage but she's not here so, for the time being…you are."
Mei swallowed hard. On the one hand she felt immensely honored; on the other, she had hoped for a somewhat less public venue to unveil the true nature of her powers. Then again she hardly had cause to concern herself over such trivialities anymore. A victory would surely bring validation to her heritage just as defeat would mean certain death and the very probable annihilation of all who might bear witness.
"What do you see?" she asked at last, noting how dark the Mist Village skies had suddenly become. It wasn't helping her outlook.
The Captain focused on the slowly oncoming figure of Krishenay Rahaman. "Byakugan," he intoned as the veins around his black eye-patch pulsed to life, carrying blood and chakra to the Hyuuga eye beneath it which he'd taken as a prize in battle years ago. The mist-ninja scowled as he said: "One-hundred and eight hungry demons, just like before."
"Splendid," riposted the woman flatly, "anything we didn't know?"
Ao gave her a stoic look. "Their combined chakra is not to be believed."
"Huh," she scoffed and crossed her arms, "well, we'll see how much good it does them."
Tense moments followed as Lord Oku's former executioner paced ponderously forward.
"That's about the right range, isn't it?" commented Ao.
"I was thinking the same thing," Mei replied then concentrated on a series of hand seals, her fingers flying through the exacting motions. Drawing a deep breath, bellowing her chest, the kunoichi brought up the elemental powers of her kekkei-genkai. From the woman's full, roseate lips erupted a torrent of lava that arced heavily through the scorched air to strike the vessel for the 108 Demons squarely in the chest. Smoke blasted as the red-hot liquid rock bubbled and burned, melting Piazza Hirai's paving stones and nearby statuary into a boiling, volcanic cauldron.
Through the crowds behind her, a collective gasp went up – not just in awe of the power she commanded but the nature of it. That the well-regarded jonin had the blood-gift was a secret no longer.
Mei dabbed at her mouth delicately with the back of a slender wrist then smiled with grim satisfaction but it was short-lived.
"He's still up!" Ao warned her a moment before the looming form of Krishenay Rahaman came forth through the curtains of blaze and curling smoke, having been not so much as inconvenienced by the conflagration.
"Shit!" the kunoichi spat then tried again, this time with a blast of corrosive mist that ate away the stonework like so much cotton candy in a rainstorm.
Ao stiffened. He didn't have to say a word. The look on his face, the shocked murmurs rippling through the army of shinobi behind her in the streets and on the rooftops was more than enough.
"How can it be?" muttered Mei as a sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. "How can anything withstand both my Lava AND Boil Release jutsus?" The woman looked up at the approaching monster as it shrugged off a well-aimed barrage of arrows and then a pair of Water Dragon jutsus offered by the audience with equal indifference.
The kunoichi felt faint, an attack of hopelessness like she'd never experienced before. For a moment it was as if she could see with Ao's stolen Byakugan; see all 108 Demons all grafted together, their minds and organs interconnected to form a single, perverse organism crammed up under the paper-shell disguise of Krishenay Rahaman's borrowed skin, gnashing and hungry. The vision faded before the hideously lifeless expression on the giant's face: dead but ravenous, glassy eyes that repudiated life.
"Steady, Mei," Captain Ao advised, gently buoying her.
The woman shut her eyes and tried to steel herself against the supernatural dread. Although Mei'd had some idea of what she was up against, she hadn't really believed that this would be her last stand; not really. Deep down, she'd been all but sure that the powers of her blood-gift would prevail as they almost always had before. Life was full of disappointments. Still, if this was the time to die, she might as well go out making a statement. Sometimes how you left life was even more important than how you lived it. "Sure," she answered coyly. "I was just warming up anyway."
The kunoichi gathered herself for a new plan of attack when suddenly she felt sick and leaden. Her vision flickered with specs and it felt hard to breathe. Every muscle tensed; every joint creaked under unseen pressure. Mei looked right, fearing that again she was succumbing to panic, but saw that Ao too was similarly stricken. The ninja looked again toward Rahaman to find the monsters in the shape of a man still plodding forward, coming on, a force unstoppable.
Something smacked close to her feet - a bird pulled from the sky, struggling, for whatever reason, unable to fly or even move. The ninja stared harder, mystified, as the hapless creature flattened out on the stone, pressing ever more heavily until its insides suddenly and explosively gushed out.
Mei gasped, startled, and the world whirled as she slammed into the pavement; the shockwave of impact rattling through her body. The jonin willed herself to stand but she couldn't. Even the act of raising a single finger took an agony of effort as the mist-ninja found it, along with the whole rest of her body, a prisoner of its own terrible weight crushing down. Her skin sagged, spreading away from her eyes and mouth. If not for her shinobi's chakra she'd have been dead already.
Pressure built in her chest, too heavy for her to draw breath, her ribs creaked as the blood pounded in her head. In a moment the structure of her body would give way and she'd be nothing more than a pool of gore, squashed flesh and broken bones just like that poor bird. Through the ringing in her ears she heard the distant suffering of her fellow shinobi, the crack of masonry giving way and knew she'd lost – not only her own life but those foolish enough to stand by her, all of Kirigakure.
Sparkles filled her dimming vision, her blood was too heavy for her failing heart to pump. The pavement around and under her started to crack and then - the weight lifted as if it'd been all in her mind! A breath of blessed air filled her lungs as her chest flexed back. Weak and trembling, Mei gulped and pushed herself up, leaning on her arm, then startled again. Standing there just a few paces away - a slender figure in a jade robe, an ANBU's zodiac mask concealing his face.
Midway across the square, The 108 Demon's had ceased their advance.
Mei stared hard at her apparent savior, mouth open in shock. "You," she stuttered, "y-you're Haku."
The teenager's masked visage turned towards her. "Probably not who you were expecting, I know." His voice was as lilting, low and girlish as the jonin half-remembered remembered from his time as Zabuza's Apprentice but it was different too, burdened, older, thoughtful.
"What are you doing here?" she seethed, her question thick with acrimony. "Have you come to finish what your Tsujita allies started?"
"The plague is not theirs. Lord Tsujita came to avenge the slaughter of his clan but, in the end, had a change of heart. His humanity stayed his hand where the Mist Village's failed to stay its. We were on our way out when your ANBU attacked."
Mei's expression soured. "What a lie. People are dying all over the city."
"Whatever they're dying from, it didn't come from the blood-gifted clans though you were meant to think so. I doubt it's plague at all but a poison tailored to mimic the toxic effects of a disease."
The jonin blinked at the unexpected, oddly speculative and contrived-sounding reply. "Ok, I'll bite." The woman advanced, playing along. "What exactly would be the point?"
"To provide a rationale for the reestablishment of the Mist Village in Wave Country under a new regime."
Mei blinked. A chuckle escaped her. "You expect me to believe a story like that? That - that's beyond crazy."
Haku didn't seem at all phased by her incredulity and shrugged. "It depends on what you want; 'crazy' is a matter of perspective. But it doesn't matter if you believe me. You'll find out for yourself soon enough, assuming any of us survive. To answer your question though, I've…we've come to stop the 108 Demons. Lord Hirai has empowered me with his clan's jutsu. Just about every extraordinary Mist Ninja there's ever been since even before the First Mizukage is within me but still we don't know if it will be enough." Haku turned to look at her, eyes undetectable through the black slits of his zodiac mask. "You'd better use this time to get out of here; get everyone clear of the city."
The woman's eyes narrowed as the strange feeling seeped through her that maybe this notorious young ninja was in earnest; that what he was saying could really be the full truth that had been eluding her since she'd been granted nominal command. "Well that's a fine idea but we can't do it," explained Mei, still wary, as she made her way to her feet. "Water Country's sent their armies to enforce a quarantine. We can't leave."
Haku's shoulders sagged as he looked off. "I see," he allowed in barely-contained dismay. "I suppose we'd better win then."
"You're serious, aren't you?" said Mei, looking at him anew. "You're really going to fight them."
The boy opened his arms in a resigned gesture. "It'd all be a bit anticlimactic if we didn't."
Mei gulped, struck by the determined fatalism in his voice. It was hard to believe it could be the same person from two years ago – a vacant-minded tool who served the whims of a monstrous, egomaniacal caveman like Zabuza Momochi. Could anyone really change that much?
Before the two, standing there with inhuman patience, Krishenay Rahaman awaited – a creature wrought by all the dark forces of the supernatural, brought forward by one man's fears. Behind them, Kirigakure's ninja, veterans, reserves and irregulars pulled themselves and each other from the half-crushed city.
"Haku," declared Mei at last on impulse, firmly and finally, "kick their ass."
The teenager nodded in faint appreciation, turned back to the 108 Demons then again toward Mei, his mask-hidden eyes looking the statuesque woman up and down.
"What?" she asked, puzzled, suddenly and uncharacteristically self-conscious.
"I just wanted to tell you," Haku began in a confiding tone with just a trace of good humor, "that dress is amazing."
Lord Hirai
"Hey, old man?" a shrill, raspy voice rattled in his deafened ears though the words themselves didn't quite connect. He felt fingers pry open his eyelid and the senior Councilor of Kirigakure found himself looking up suddenly into a giant, blue eyeball.
Stirring restlessly, Lord Hirai swatted the offending hand from his face. How…how did you get loose! he thought to ask but didn't as the thunder of an explosion and blinding white furnace-blast of heat reunited him with memories he'd thought he'd gotten past but could never truly forget – the horrors of war, fears he'd vowed once that he and his clan would never have to face again.
"Come ON, Hirai!" the yellow-haired jinchurriki boy, himself singed, his whisker-marked cheeks smudged with soot, shouted with concern as he huddled closely over him, offering his back against a rain of embers and black char. "We gotta get out of here!"
The old man looked up past the side of the blonde's head to find a curling billow of flame crashing toward them until another figure intervened. Hideo, that crass creation of Lord Nikai's water-style necromancy, waved his arm. The gesture sapped the white fire's strength at which the revenant at once waved his other arm, dousing what was left of the blaze with a crashing wave of summoned water.
"We - we're under attack," Hirai found himself babbling.
Naruto stared at him then blinked a moment before he waved an arm, shouting: "Have you lost it, Grampa?! Of course we're under attack, we're getting wiped out!"
A flicker of movement behind the boy, and Kisshomaru thought he really had lost it as a squad of Narutos rushed by, carrying with them wounded or unconscious bodies.
Though bewildered, Hirai grimaced and pushed himself to his feet, finding in the process that his neck and back, parts of his upper arms and lower legs were badly burned. The old man's unsteady feet caught against fragments of broken stone. Hirai lurched and fell against the parapet, his slowly-focusing eyes coming to rest at once to the grey ships gathered down below and the shinobi sailors on their wide decks clambering to reload for another barrage while in Castle Hirai, in those besieged islands spared so far from the conflagration, Hirai ninja wove their attack jutsu only to have them countered. Watery serpents twisted and thrashed against one another in a fierce dance of attack and defense, mists formed and were blown away, winds wrestled and, in the middle waters between the ships and the island's rocky shores, armies of water clones clashed.
"The Fire-Tongue Fleet," said Hirai with waxing clarity, his lower lip trembling with rage and hurt. "They…they're attacking me. They're attacking ME!" Mastering himself, the ninja lord clapped his hands together in a seal. "Water style: Water Monsters Jutsu," he uttered direly. Almost immediately the ships of the Fire-Tongue Fleet were beset as the waters of the sea on which they floated sprouted shapes that came alive to crawl, creep or slither up and over their steel bows. Vessels rocked as an aqueous kraken wrapped them with thick tentacles; their errant missiles jetting skyward.
"That's it!" crowed Naruto hopefully. "Yeah, get mad, old man! Fight back!"
The clan patriarch winced in annoyance at having this infant prisoner champion him. He searched through his vestments and produced a prayer wheel inscribed with the cryptic characters of Dao magic, small with a wooden handle and a weight on the end of a string. "People will die for this," he vowed with a hiss, his tone proof this was no idle threat. "Clans, entire nations!" The Councilor set the prayer wheel in motion with a flick of his wrist and began to chant. Almost at once, the skies turned gloomy with clouds as the sea began to darken and churn.
While the ships and their crews foundered in disarray, a-swarm with the ninja-lord's watery summons' and at the mercy of the hostile sea, the bottom of the world slowly fell away. The choppy waters went smooth as they spun, around and around, faster and faster in an inescapable vortex leading down into a pit of fathomless black.
The young leaf-ninja at the ancient shinobi's side was struck silent, his exuberance drained away as the Fire-Tongue Fleet spiraled around the steepening canyon walls of a whirlpool that could have swallowed a hundred villages, swallowing it and all the shinobi aboard down not to the bottom of the sea, surely, but someplace darker, colder and infinitely further down – into the inescapable depths of a hell of another world.
When the last of them had vanished completely, the old man stilled his prayer wheel and let his arm fall to his side. The bombardment had stopped, giving the sensation of eerie quiet for a time until the rushing breath of the still crackling flames, shouts and cries welled in its absence.
Staggering to the inner parapet, Lord Hirai looked out over the burning ruins of the castle that bore his name mute with emotions beyond bearing. White flames licked up the walls of the half-destroyed buildings and battlements that had been his clan's home and the seat of its power for generations, his bright gardens vanished under blankets of fire. In the midst of it all, through the yawning and closing gaps in the white flames and drifting black smoke – flickers of little, yellow-haired ninja, an army of them, bearing his kin to safety, others warding the gnashing, alchemic flames with pitiful bucket-brigades, shovels, and water-soaked blankets, these shadow-clones vanishing in bursts of dispersing chakra where the fires overcame them.
The old ninja's lip trembled, he pinched his eyes shut to spare him the sight and looked away then, after a moment, turned back and said: "you there, jinchuuriki, and you, revenant."
Naruto, his face grim and tired, fists balled at his sides, and the stocky, pale Hideo looked toward him.
"Assist me in extinguishing the rest of these unnatural flames, continue to help my clan and you may have whatever you," he canted his head toward Hideo, "or your creator, wish."
Hideo nodded that he understood and leaped from the top of the castle wall down to the courtyard below.
"And you, young master," the elderly ninja intoned in a far-away voice, "what is it you wish for most – for lands of your own, to be a daimyo with an army at your command, riches beyond the dreams of avarice, for a certain girl you fancy to fall in love with you, to fathom the greater mysteries of ninjutsu, to master that monster inside you and bring it to heel; what?"
The young ninja was silent for so long that the Councilor turned again to look.
"You meant what you told me before, didn't you?" Naruto answered at last, his voice ragged. The chakra he'd spent summoning and maintaining so many clones was taking its toll. "Haku's gone back to the Mist Village to fight a bunch of demons, to fight Krishenay Rahaman, right?"
Hirai nodded, his face gentler now in concession.
"Send me there, that's all I want," said Naruto in a half-growl then grinned. "All that other stuff I can handle myself!"
Haku
The teenager allowed himself a moment to marvel over how surprising life can be. Never would he have imagined being in the position he was in now with the fate of Kirigakure resting in his hands as he stood face to face (or face to abdomen) with the former Mizukage's emissary and executioner, Krishenay Rahaman who'd allowed his approach.
The 108 Demon's gesture was far from a courtesy. Haku could feel the tendrils of their awareness upon him, testing his defenses, gentle as fronds in a breeze, purposeful and probing as a dentist's pic while the Demon's Apprentice's own senses returned the scrutiny. To his consternation as well as all those inside him, the 108 Demons appeared impregnable.
"This is the third time we've met," rumbled whichever of the 108 Demons was given responsibility for their voice, "two times in Wave Country and then here now. It appears as if our destinies are tied. But you're different now, aren't you." Rahaman smiled knowingly. "First Mizukage is in you and others; a few who were with her when she fought us the first time."
"There are many more now," Haku pointed out.
It smiled again, a mechanical, perfunctory expression the same as before. "They will do you no good. We have learned to combine our powers in a new way. Just as a hive is greater than the sum of the individuals that comprise it, so are we, and greater than before by orders of magnitude."
"So you say."
"You know already that we will contend. What you don't know is that it will last only as long as we find you entertaining. You cannot possibly defeat us. We will feed on your substance, add your chakras to ours and that will be the end of all of you…and Kirigakure no Sato."
Haku grinned. He'd heard this sort of speech before – always bold declarations from those who thought themselves powerful enough to bend the future to their will. The shinobi world was full of them. Fate was rarely silenced so easily. "We see this means a lot to you," he quipped, deliberately coquettish. "No doubt you had a long time to think about it over the twenty years you were entombed in the prison Midori Hirai made for you. You should know that within me are forty-seven mist-shinobi, legends all of us but me. All together we've faced enemies many times stronger than you and prevailed," Haku prevaricated; his girlish voice low and level, on the off-chance this enemy could be impressed. "No doubt we will do so again."
This time, Rahaman didn't waste the effort to smile. "Shall we begin then?"
"As you wish."
Thanks for reading! -J
