Coushander
コウシャンデル

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Chapter 29
Arashi of the Azurano

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"'The very boy?' he said, 'Yes,' I told him."

Sakumo rolled his eyes as he drew a speck of blood from his thumb with a kunai, and he set the grey scroll on the ground.

"Won't you take any credit?" Naoya smiled.

Sakumo thought of the dark memory of the deep shaft and shook his head, "No, I won't."

Kuchiyose no jutsu,

Sakumo held the scroll and stood back and when the smoke cleared, a grey dog began sniffing the air enthusiastically, shaking himself down, and hopping around on all fours under the hot yellow sun. "Hairo…easy now, calm down."

Naoya pulled out the little scrap of blue cloth and knelt down, holding it out for the dog. Hairo immediately took it in his mouth as if it were food. "Hairo, no!" Sakumo said. The fabric fell on the ground and the dog inhaled it with his nose, pushing it along the sand as he took in the scent until it buried under the puffs of sand, and Hairo sneezed.

Sakumo shook his head. "I'm sorry—I should have apologized beforehand," he said to Naoya. "This dog…is a little odd."

The Hyuuga smiled crookedly. "So I see."

Sakumo looked at the dog, keeping his nose level above the sand. "Well, boy?"

The dog's nose tracked north, walking slowly.

They were in Suna now, on the old pass north, just south of where Sakumo was two years ago. The two leaf shinobi had found Murasaki earlier that morning in a station and she promised them safe passage until Iwa's border. Only Masago, as she informed with a wide smile, was no longer Murasaki. She'd married Hideki. But Masago returned sympathy to Sakumo on Dalzen, and said it'd affected her husband very much.

She maintained her hawk in the area, and said if they ran into any trouble, to signal to her. Masago and the others at the station just a few days ago had seen a few bands of men move up north; most of them looked as if they were laborers returning from an assignment. And with that reporting done, the shinobi proceeded up the path.

The beige flagstone road ended with a cover of pure sand after barely a quarter mile. Traces of the Wind regime were frequent, all but an old temple of prayer. Sand surrounded them now as a wide, golden sea, and the red mountains of the north were still there, in the distance. Sakumo watched Hairo progress before them as Naoya picked up the cloth from behind. "Do you really think he went this far north?" Sakumo asked him.

"Seems so," Naoya said simply.

"Thirty bars of silver doesn't seem like much," Sakumo thought. "It's enough to get noticed. Even leaving behind a tuff of fabric. I don't know, something just doesn't seem right to me. Either he's a nervous amateur, or he already has everything he needs, and he doesn't care…"

Hairo stopped ahead and suddenly dug in the sand. The two stopped behind him and watched him uncover a shiny object—the sun shone on it, and a hot silver beam flashed in reverse. "What the…"

"…Speak of the devil," Naoya said tritely in disbelief.

Hairo barked at Sakumo, and he took it before the dog had a chance to run away with it. The slender silver bar was about eight inches in length, and an inch and a half in depth and width. "The heck…" Sakumo looked up at the horizon, wondering if the man had gone into the neutral zone, and possibly, into the tall mountains. If so, they would need clearance from at least some high class rock ninja to pass through the border.

Sakumo passed off the bar to Naoya, who studied it. Hairo sat next to his master, in his shadow, unappreciative of the heat of the morning. "I can't believe it," Sakumo said. "He must have gone this way."

Seeing nothing on the surface but the lord's circled stamp, Naoya closed his eyes and activated his byakugan. From the corner of his eye, Sakumo watched the Hyuuga's eyes read the bar further. Naoya's scan diminished, and he shrugged. "Ordinary enough."

Sakumo looked wearily at the mountains. He tugged at his vest a little at the heat. "He probably went into the neutral zone then," he said heavily.

"Then…" the Hyuuga's sight returned to normal. "We should pick up the pace."

Sakumo smiled furtively. "We could get into serious trouble if we don't handle this properly. I know the western neutral zone, but I don't know Iwa—the land, or anyone from that area."

"He could have gone right at the neutral zone—perhaps into Rain or the Waterfall."

"That's true," Sakumo admitted. "And that's even worse," he said, thinking of the mountain. "I guess we'll have to see."

They ran north, the two of them, Hairo seemed to sense their stay in the vicinity, and he returned back to the summon world himself. The two came upon the great gorge divide, the wide scar in the earth, just as the sun dropped over the west. "…Amazing," Naoya remarked. "It's huge."

Sakumo had little idea as to which form of land he referred to. The deep scar was there before them, the pass to the north on the right, and the mountain, rising up on the right, tall as ever. Sakumo tried to ignore the thought of the antiquated cabin there, hidden in one of the evergreen forests, sitting there, by itself, beside the old shaft.

"Is this really the neutral zone?"

Sakumo nodded. "The east side. Beyond this gorge, there's the basin, it's a forest of pines. All that forest is the neutral zone, and anything north is Iwa's."

Naoya activated his eyes again, and looked at what Sakumo described without moving a single step. The Hyuuga's eyes sight lengthened, with chakra, and saw the steep dip of land to the green, and the incline of the land on the right, on the mountain. He shifted focus, and looked west, down along the gorge . It was lit in warm yellow-orange light, and also uneven lines of blue shadow. The depth was great, at first, but then it inclined up toward a plateau, higher than the basin area, where the rocks shouted upward like the massive mountain, but these rocks were a smoky gray, and triangular; crags, many of them. He followed them, and the triangular rocks rose up and formed a very large circle. It was a ring of smoked grey triangles, and nested in the circle was pure blue: a lake. "I see a lake," Naoya explained. He looked at it intensely, he could see the surface shine as an orange mirror by the setting sun. A deep azure, sapphire blue streaked in shadows between the light. The lake was immense.

"Oh—the Sakai." Sakumo saw the hazy grey far in the distance.

"The Sakai?"

"We never crossed that north either."

"It's huge. I've never seen anything like it," Naoya looked around further, and looked back to his right, between the crags and the green forest of the hidden basin. He blinked and saw smoke—not the color of crag, but actual smoke, rising up in the dusk air. "I…see smoke," he said indefinitely.

"Smoke?"

"There's a village, there…"

"Must be a border town."

"No, it's…not, it's very small, and it looks…almost native."

"I guess I wouldn't know…I've only been to the Tsuraku town."

"How far down is it from here?"

"About five miles south west. How far north is that village?"

"Just…on the other side, west of the basin, east of the lake. It's between both."

"Then…I guess they'd be about the same distance."

"The Hyuuga disengaged himself from the sight and his eyes returned to normal. He blinked several times before asking, "Is that lake a part of the neutral zone?"

"…Technically, yes," Sakumo answered slowly. "There was some fighting a few years ago, but it's lulled now. I'd still hate to go down there though…"

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The next morning though, the two split up. Naoya suggested he take the border town, and Sakumo go north, through the forest basin for a sign of a trail.

Sakumo nodded to him, "Should I meet you back by tonight?"

Naoya smiled, "Sure—I think I can keep an eye out of your progress."

So Naoya stayed on the south side, and Sakumo took the north, along the mountain's pass, and into the basin. He walked along the dusted patch in the shadow of the mountain on the right, and he checked both right, and then left. He traveled most of the afternoon, finding nothing that would indicate anyone had come though. He came out of the forest's edge by evening, and saw to the west, the grey triangles point up and around a grand plateau. The Sakai lake was there, brilliantly lit again by the western sun. It was surrounded by those grey projections, spiking upwards like dark swords, guarding a flat blue gem. Sakumo knew it was about sixteen miles across, only by the mention in one of his sensei's notes that Sakumo had kept.

He could also see to the east of it, as he came out around the clearing, a small village in the distance, looking, as Naoya foretold, entirely native, and also primitive. It was completely uncharacteristic of the border towns he knew. Sakumo decided first to check the lake, and he jumped along the crags to get a better look. He finally landed one tall projection and grinned to himself in awe. The blue water shone like a mirror. Sakumo stared into the scene and it's light and felt easy…until a kunai came flying below his feet some moments later—it landed low—it was a warning shot. Sakumo looked around, keeping in the shadow of the triangular rocks, sending chakra to his feet to help keep his balance. He caught glimpse of the man on his left toward the south side, and Sakumo finally began to feel aware of his presence. He sensed the man moving toward him, so he quickly jumped rocks, down further on the north side, skipping four before he stopped and looked.

"Oi, there!"

The man stood easily on the triangular rocks and smiled broadly, a smile nearly as wide as the lake, surrounded by a dark-brown beard of whiskers. He was no native. He had blue eyes, brown, almost mahogany color hair, and a sky-blue cloak with sleeves, open in the front, trimmed a fine red with a swirl design on the lower sleeve of the same color. He was broad-shouldered and at least six foot. There was a tan and weathered complexion about him as if he'd climbed this area all his life, much like a bird that never migrates. His movements across the rocks were fluid enough to prove as such. Sakumo eyed him in case he should draw another weapon.

"Who are you?" the man asked, in a deep and curious voice.

Sakumo did not know yet if the man was a ninja—Suna, or Iwa, he bore no marking of either nation. But Sakumo had a feeling this was their wandering thief. He looked as if he were a ruffian, but oddly gregarious, in his own unique way. Sakumo stated the obvious owing to his hitai-ate, "Leaf shinobi—who are you?"

"Well! I am glad you asked. They call me Arashi, and I call myself, Arashi, of the Azurano," he smiled warmly, as if to welcome another man into his home.

"…Azurano?"

"This place," he extended his arms, "Is the Azurano, so the natives call it."

Sakumo thought back to the village both he and Naoya had now seen. He'd never heard the name before to describe the area, only the faint legend associated with Sakai lake, as told by the people of Tsuraku. In times of old, it was said the lake had been carved by a powerful ninja, who once scarred the land and then cupped a great basin to store…the trophies of his opponents, and then it was said the basin filled with water, and on the opposite side of the earth, when the ninja died there, he was met with flames, that undulated out from all the hidden monsters lurking in the crags, imprisoning him, and torturing him there, for all eternity. The bottom of the lake was said to be inaccessible; no one knew it's depth. Those who tried to find it out, never returned.

"So," the man smiled cordially, "Why does a leaf shinobi cross here?"

"A mission," Sakumo said. "To find a thief."

The man momentarily looked surprised. "A thief?" he asked. "What kind of thief?"

"A man who steals a petty thirty bars of silver…seen him?"

"Seen him? Good God, I see him everyday!" the man announced joyously. "I had no idea he was 'thief'…" the man smiled vainly. "Truth is, silver sits. People move. So you see, I, make do."

Sakumo secured his stance and hold on the dark grey rock. "Do you confess?"

"I confess sincerely into the mirror of this dear Azurano. Here, we keep no secrets. My silver, is mine."

The man vanished, and Sakumo knew he was on the right side now, on the water. Sakumo met him on the lake and they fought with kunai, but the man steered him back toward the rock—Sakumo was at a knowing disadvantage, so he made good use of substitution. But the man did not seem intent on cornering him or injuring him, merely engaging Sakumo as if he were testing his ability. Sakumo met him on all accounts, and landed back on the open water whenever he could. He hoped Naoya would soon look in his direction and assist him.

The two fought on alone, as the sun dropped behind the triangular points of grey darkness. Sakumo guessed the man had to be in this thirties; he was very agile and landed on the terrain better than he. And again, the man made no move to injure him, but to disable, and Sakumo kept the same intention.

A deep dusk glittered pink-red to his left, and Sakumo misjudged the crag behind him; his back fell hard against it as his feet slid in instability from water to rock. Arashi did not pursue him. The man quietly watched from the deep blue water, and smiled.

Sakumo steadied himself, and took notice the orange was slowly diminishing from the broad blue sky. He would not be able to trust his eyes too much longer—he sensed the man come again to the rocks, and Sakumo reacted to the smooth movements, retreating back uneasily. After two attempts, Sakumo finally raced back onto the calm water—he felt the man still on the rock, but he sensed a different presence to his right—he recognized it was Naoya. Taking this knowledge, Sakumo went after the Arashi on the rock, hoping to guide him out on the open water. Sakumo used a diversion substitution, and then both he and the man raced to the lake; Naoya came up behind, but the man jumped and landed back on a crooked spire, with an intrigued look on his face. Sakumo cursed silently.

The night was now blue, and dark.

"He's the one," Sakumo said to his teammate. "Arashi."

"Is he sensitive to chakra?"

"He must be…at least a little," Sakumo nodded. Like myself, he thought.

"Well, what have we here?" Arashi finally welcomed. "A Hyuuga…? I have never had the honor of…formally meeting one…though I am an admirer…and a 'thief' of your wonderful artifacts," he smiled.

Naoya's mouth dropped open, "What?!"

"Mm," he said, "They are very lovely. The sacred runes are quite fascinating. Very old, sou desu ne?"

"My God…What in the hell have you stolen?" Naoya asked incredulously.

"Come now," Arashi said smoothly, "I cannot reveal everything at once. The heavens cannot both show us sunrise and sunset—we get one, then the other. There is patience, in-between."

Sakumo took a step back on the water, ignoring the large bruise on his back from the rock. "Try and get close," he said quietly. "I'll try and get him back on the water, stay close to it—the rocks are very jagged."

Naoya nodded. "I'll move right."

The shinobi split up and Sakumo pulled out one impact seal and wrapped it around his kunai. He fought the man with it, and waited, using his intuition to anticipate the man's movements. They were irregular, as ever, but so easy, like he was a grasshopper in some short-cut grey grass. Sakumo reacted quickly—he sensed the man was going to jump back, and Sakumo threw the blade. It pierced into the rock and the seal exploded, causing the man to briefly re-group on water—Naoya was there on him quickly, using the chakra in his hands to engage the man directly. Sakumo jumped and guarded the man from behind, constantly moving to keep the man on the water, where Naoya had the best chance of moving effectively with the Hyuuga style taijutsu.

But the man increased his own serious after a while as he gave up engaging the Hyuuga, seemingly aware his chakra network would be seriously compromised if he did not react quick enough. Sakumo watched him closely with his teammate, and Sakumo saw him move. Sakumo held out the second kunai he possessed and replaced himself with it, in a kind of reverse substitution. He threw it near Arashi left shoulder. Arashi vanished, and Sakumo had enough time there to block a kick coming his way as his other self vanished, but he was still sent back from the sheer force of it. His left side side-swiped a heavy low rock along the water line, and he fell into the lake. Sakumo recovered and pushed himself up and re-gained balance on the water—Naoya was trying to corner Arashi. Sakumo felt as if his back had been bent a thousand times, but he staggered forward, looking for some kind of opening. He pulled out his last kunai, and moved back into the rocks, slinking toward their position. He saw Naoya be thrown backward by the same kind of kick he'd received. Sakumo dove in with a substitution and the man saw through it and quickly disposed of it and turned around—Sakumo had sated the kunai he held with his rai chakra, and as the man had his own weapon pointed to block, the chakra erupted from blade to blade, glowing white. But normally, Sakumo could feel that chakra completely envelope a man—paralyzing him—Sakumo strangely could not feel that now as their blades were locked—it was negated, or evenly discharged somehow, like the negative ions in a cloud meeting the positive ions of a tree or flagpole. Sakumo began to feel very warm, and he noticed Arashi was as well. They broke apart.

The heat steadily dissipated, but Sakumo still felt vaguely singed somehow. He noticed Naoya recover on the water, and he waited as well, with the sudden stand-still. "…I confess…" Arashi admitted with a curious look in his eyes, "I have never seen white chakra before…Is that natural?"

Sakumo needed the lull, as his back and his left side ached. The muscle was tense and taut, bruised from the rock. "I wouldn't know," he would have shrugged were it not for the pain. "…Are you…also, a rai type?" he wondered.

"Makes two of us," Arashi confirmed with an interested gaze.

Sakumo looked on too, in wonder. The similarities they shared were strange, at best, coincidental, at the least. He was about to glance to Naoya until Arashi suddenly shouted out a word Sakumo did not understand; "Avanti!" And Arashi sprang toward Sakumo with a sudden gusto, as if he'd been pushed along by an unseen gale.

Sakumo leapt back and then used substitution to give Naoya the chance to come in on the north side in his place. But as Sakumo came back around, he was fully prepared in case the man should dodge him, but the man held two kunai in his hands—Sakumo could sense chakra concentrate and condense near the blades, and he saw a flash of blue light release and whip in his direction with a faint crack sound, and Sakumo deflected it with his own chakra—he could see Naoya had done the same. Sakumo watched—and suddenly, the man vanished in smoke. Sakumo felt a hard kick on his back, and he fell down through a scar between the rocks. He fell badly.

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Sakumo woke up in a daze the next morning.

He woke up in a small hut—a stretched canvas roof laid over the narrow beams of wood, and there was a small cutout in the center where a wooden spar stood, about six inches in diameter, and it extended upward through the beige material, holding it up. The canvas above was spotted with some discoloration here and there; the sunlight lit the spots brown and gold. He knew he laid low, on a rug, on level, brown ground. It was dry clay. He sense a familiar presence near him, but Sakumo could not move his head; he felt his spine could not move—his back and head were both heavy, and stiff in pain.

But Naoya moved closer and half-smiled.

Sakumo looked and answered with a short blink, and he looked over as far as he could. He could see a slit of soft white light coming down from the low ceiling between two flaps of the canvas—he guessed the day and time as Naoya asked him how he was.

Sakumo blinked and looked again at the Hyuuga, then to the shadow line of the canvas roof where it met a wooden wall. The beams were small, and very tiny slits of light shone between the wood. The room felt like a circle. "…Heavy," was all he thought to say. "…What happened?"

"You were knocked out," Naoya said, staring also at his teammate's view of the wall, "I couldn't get him. Arashi wanted to treat you—you had a mild concussion; do you remember?"

Fighting the urge to simple shake his head, Sakumo said 'no', gradually remembering the fight on the lake. "...Where are we?" he murmured after a while.

"Oh—remember I saw the smoke? We're close to the lake, this village…is called Azurano. The name originates with the people here, they're native, they speak in a native tongue."

"…Native?"

Naoya nodded, and he looked down at the dirt. "I've never seen anything like this. Arashi says he uses his…'art' of stealing to protect these people," he said with an objective tone. "He said the reason the fight lulled a few years ago was because he bought off a certain business man 'to keep them away from the Azurano'. He said ever since—"

The two heard faint footfalls outside as someone approached: it was Arashi. He ducked his head and came into the hut and smiled. "Well well, very nice," he said, kneeling, as if he were appreciating a blinking clay mold. Arashi looked at Naoya; "Did you tell him?"

The Hyuuga's brow lowered in some disdain, "In effect."

Arashi grinned. "So you see! I am not so bad. A thief is rarely painted as anything else. Oh I do hope you will not take me back with you…!"

Sakumo caught notice Naoya's Hyuuga prided had been injured with the insult. Arashi was seeming to be helping them, for the moment. Sakumo swallowed, "Who are these people here—where did they come from?"

"They are here," Arashi stated. "They have always been here. Well—Since last they migrated from the north, and that was a while back. But they are small, and tired of moving. So, I devote myself to let them stay here."

"With bribes," Naoya inserted.

"With bribes, with force (when necessary), with anything in my arsenal to defend this wonderful wilderness of confusion, the Azurano. The lake, the scars, and hills of land, everything. For them," he added with a distant fondness. "And it was all going splendidly until you two came along."

Naoya said nothing—Sakumo followed suit.

"Well then," Arashi smiled cordially, as if to await some apology. "Recover quickly…so you may go home, my secret-sharer," he winked.

Naoya cast him a stiff look before he exited.

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When the evening came, Sakumo decided to go against everything his muscles were telling him, and try and sit himself up. The ordeal rippled in him tremors of pain in his back and shoulders, but he sat up, gingerly letting his head adjust to the heavy gravity. There was a yellow orange glow of a fire burning outside, Sakumo could see the flickers of light filtering in from the wall, and he could also smell it's sweet scent. "…What's going on?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Naoya said, looking on through the wall with his byakugan. "There's quite a lot of people gathered…There's about forty of them or so—maybe fifty. I see Arashi there—oh, some of the are putting on different garbs, like they're…going to do something. I don't know."

Despite his condition, Sakumo was overly curious to see. So far, he'd only seen a middle-aged woman come in to give them food and water; she'd been dressed in a lilac-color frock, with brown trim, and azure blue beads along her waist. Naoya helped his teammate up, and very slowly, they stepped out of the small hut and Sakumo looked north: many of the tribesmen were gathered around the large red fire in the center, it's flames snapping tall red flags of bright heat into the air, under the indigo sky and white stars. Men and women were gathered around, some sitting, some standing. Sakumo saw few children, and the ones he did see were nearly hidden by their mothers. Generally, they all shared dark color hair and a deeper tan complexion than Aarashi's. They were medium skinned, a little more like Masago's appearance. Sakumo saw bright colors of sashes and tunics, but most of them appeared to wear browns, mixed with beige-color feathers. There were six men receiving long headdresses, in the same color feathers, and red trim.

Sakumo wished to get a little closer, and he moved a little on his own, transfixed by the sight. Naoya helped him, and they sat outside the circle a ways to watch. He noticed a few more people coming out of their small houses to the epicenter of activity. Sakumo saw Arashi hanging back, standing behind a group of people, looking on at the men by the fire.

An old man stood up on the right, near the fire, and raised a long wood shaft, a sash of bright lilac tied near it's top. He addressed them in a low and resonant voice in a different language. The people quieted instantly and listened, and he continued to speak to them, gesturing and looking up at the sky very often. The man slowly lowered the rod and his hand and the six men lined up near the fire, with feathers and blue paint in different patterns across their faces. The old man said one other word and then lowered, sitting.

The six men scattered, each taking position around the fires. Each of their arms rose high up in unison, and they also spoke as one, as if they were reciting a verse. Sakumo imagined it was a ritual of some kind, he could not yet discern what their goal was. The men became silent and lowered their arms.

The began to walk—dance, around the fire, and a drum beat as they chanted and sang, to the heavens, as they looked up, and then down, intermittently.

Naoya's brow furrowed at the sight, unsure of the practice of the native men—Sakumo listened intently, as if it were the only sound in the world:

"Ane, ane, maridesanté-re-kuno; Ane, ane…"

The chant-song continued in several parts, the dance started and stopped, forward, and then reverse. Sakumo some of the men around the fire spoke the words along with the group, and others clapped with the drum. And when the drum suddenly ceased, the six men stopped, and recited again in unison. Then one of the men in the headdress spoke alone, and the people responded with a shout.

Sakumo noticed a young girl stood next to the man with the drum, an arrow in her hands, and there was a young boy next to her, they looked no more than ten, and he had a bow in his arms. Sakumo slowly hazarded a guess, and he suddenly smiled, awe-struck with what he was witnessing. "…It's a rain dance," he said to himself.

Beside him, his teammate heard him and Naoya looked at him strangely—"What? How can you tell?"

"The arrow…" Sakumo murmured. "They'll shoot the arrow into the sky, into a cloud," Sakumo looked up and saw no moon, only a few stars peeking out of a misty dark blue void.

"How do you know this?" Naoya asked his teammate again skeptically.

Sakumo watched the man who'd spoken break formation and take the items the children held. Sakumo rose up slowly, to be sure of his balance, he smiled again.

The man said another line of worlds, and the people voiced their approval, a few men gave loud shouts. The man holding the bow and arrow moved, and led the way right toward the lake, and the pointed rocks. Some of the people followed, about twenty-five or so, including Arashi and the two shinobi.

They arrived at the base of a very tall, triangular rock, that stood before the lake. The man addressed the crowd briefly, and then let out a shout. He climbed up to the very top of the rock with the bow and arrow. He shouted again as he stood upon it's peak, and Sakumo watched his arm come back with the arrow and wire taut in his fingers, and the man pointed it upwards, and released the long arrow. It soared high into the opaque indigo, and Sakumo did not see it fall.

The man in the headdress stood for a long time upon the peak, silent, after the people returned to the fire. "…Why did he stay there?" Naoya wondered aloud.

Sakumo looked back at the peak, but could not see the man amid the black shadows. "He must stay as a sacrifice. He must wait for the rain. And when it comes…he'll probably leave something behind—something he valued, or something precious, as a gift of thanks."

Naoya eyed him with those intense white eyes. "How do you know?"

Sakumo smiled privately to himself. "I've heard of it before, a long time ago," The eighteen year old would have never imagined he'd ever see it in person. Sakumo looked up at the sky, half dark, half stars, and he suddenly felt hot. Sakumo didn't moved, but the feeling slowly sank heavier in him, hour by hour.

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Sakumo did not wake the next morning. Instead, Naoya found his teammate in a heavy sweat, from fever.

Arashi was quick to diagnose it was a recent strain of virus that had passed through the area only a year ago—Naoya found it difficult to accept otherwise. He remembered his uncle had come back from about the same time, joyously passing something on to his father and kin. But being subject to Arashi every moment Sakumo was incapacitated, the Hyuuga had to submit to treatment as well. The border town had no hospital, and the med stations the Suna ninja kept south of there was well over the deep scars of earth, at least a day away, assuming he ran all the way there, carrying an eighteen year old on his back. Naoya also could not enter into Iwa without permission, and so the circle curved back to Arashi, who seemed so willing to oblige. He was only gone for a half an hour.

The Hyuuga checked the doses himself with his eyes, and was finally satisfied Arashi wasn't pulling any stunts. Sakumo was given the injection in his arm, and Arashi went back out to consult an old shaman; 'an old medicine woman' from the village. Naoya was shocked he came back with her—and the tall man explained to her about the young man, perfectly well in her own language. She said nothing as she walked in, small, and bent, like a gentle willow limb. She wore a clay-red dress, tied at the waist, and in her brown withered hand, she held a small and short staff, and tied about the top were several very small satchels; one a cornflower blue, another yellow, and another reddish-orange. And each were tied closed with small white string. She did not kneel, but she looked over Sakumo with careful, unmoving eyes. She said nothing.

The old woman slowly turned and walked back out, and continued keeping her head level as she spoke shortly to Arashi. She then walked forward, into the village.

Naoya looked expectant through the open canvas—"So? What'd she say?"

"Oh, so now you're finally interested in alternative therapies!" Arashi grinned as he knelt and peered through the door. "She says the boy must be cleansed."

"…Wha…?" Naoya said, unaware of what exactly that cleansing entitled, "What do you mean?"

Arashi smiled. "Abequeto will help."

"Wha—Who is Abequeto?"

"You'll see."

Some fifteen minutes later, the old woman returned with a tall, young village man, about as tall as Arashi, though incredibly slim and lanky. The man, Abequeto, picked up Sakumo, and Naoya followed him out of the hut in anxious speculation. The man and old woman, with Sakumo, walked west, toward the crags; Naoya and Arashi followed, from behind. "Where is he taking him—?" Naoya felt he had the right to know.

But Arashi raised his right hand in silence. "You will see," he said quietly.

Naoya was not satisfied with his answer, but he looked on ahead anyway, and followed in silence.

They arrived at the base of the plateau of the lake, and Naoya was surprised the young man started to climb the rock to the lake—he was more surprised when he saw the old woman was able to follow him. He stole a look with his byakugan and saw no profound chakra in her. The young man, however, seemed a little more refined; a swift blue wind coursed through his form, making his movements seem fluid. The four stood at a little flat plateau, just wide enough for all of them to stand two foot apart. The woman and the man stood directly adjacent the water, and Naoya looked on with skepticism. Naoya noticed far down on his right, on one of the tallest peaks, a man still sat at the top of it…

Abequeto laid Sakumo on the flat grey rock, and the woman knelt with Abequeto, and she spoke slowly, and quietly. The healer recited a few lines, and then she laid down her short staff before Sakumo. She untied one of the satchels—the light blue, and she emptied a dull grey-lavender pomace and Naoya watched her head lower over her closed hands with the substance. She spoke again, as if in prayer. Naoya could not decipher or guess a single word of it, so instead he looked again more intensely with his eyes and this time, as she poke her words, he saw the blue current in her—a bright breath of cerulean sky. And beyond her, he saw his teammate's uneasy chakra, slinking white in unsteadiness as if it were trying to escape his limbs.

The woman finished her prayer, and her hands came over Sakumo's chest and she released the powder like sand in a curved vile. She made some sort of shape, or a rune like his own clan had once designed. Her symbol was a little like the written symbol of hito, but flipped vertically. The last of the powder finished the line of the symbol and she spoke words again. She finished, and the young man also spoke with a surprising deepness. Abequeto then lifted Sakumo—Naoya thought the practice was over, but the man went ahead two short paces and laid Sakumo in the blue water.

The three others were perfectly calm—even Sakumo flinched little, all except Naoya. The Hyuuga held his tongue and simply stared tensely. The young man had a careful hold on his teammate, and the woman suddenly sang a verse of song.

Sakumo was half-submerged. The symbol was dry on his chest, and moments later, his body did have a reaction to the new element—Sakumo's sleeping eyes seemed to travel frequently, and his body seemed to tremor, and finally his head flinched around uncomfortable. Naoya looked on in anticipation of the scene, as if a long tailed blue bird should suddenly fly down from the top of a pointed rock nearby and descend to heal…

No such event happened, but after a while, Abequeto returned Sakumo from the water, and laid him back on the flat rock.

The woman spoke a final incantation. The tremors stilled, and she picked up her stick and stood. She said something to Abequeto, and he picked up the young man, and the four descended down from the lake and the rocks. Naoya still said nothing as they walked back, not until Abequeto and the old woman left the hut, both saying nothing else to Arashi. Sakumo was still unconscious and very still, and Naoya looked at Arashi intensely inside the little hut.

He smiled "The Azurano are interesting people, are they not? Old fashioned—"

"I gathered that much," Naoya said, with a sting of shortness. "What in the world did they do?"

"Exactly what you saw them do. Sprinkle some dust on him, say a little chant, dip him in the lake, and pray to Holy Spirit to purge him clean."

Naoya stared. There was something so frank in Arashi's tone that made Naoya nearly smile. He looked at Sakumo: the lavender dust still laced on him. "…Strange," was all he could think to say. Naoya had been raised as practical as his father, he looked at the symbol dubiously.

"…Strange to you, routine to them," Arashi observed simply. "Well I'd love to stay and chat, but…" he smiled, "I have other things to do."

Naoya's sense of incapability rose in his mind, but he let the tall man go, and the Hyuuga focused on Sakumo.

.

By daybreak the next morning, whether by mysticism or simply Sakumo's own immune system, his fever had reduced greatly. Naoya felt confident his teammate was over the worst of it. The old woman saw him once more, too, for a very short time. Sakumo was semi-awake, but he could not say anything, but as he looked at her, he remembered a distinct smell he could not attach an image to. The smell wafted as he saw her; the only thing he thought of was a thistle flower, azami.

He continued to improve, and Naoya told him the venture of the old woman and 'Abequeto'. The next day Sakumo asked Arashi what her name was, and he replied, "Aiyana, the Spirit lady in the course of healing. She's quite old; she trains a young girl now to take her place. There are…a few other healers in the tribe, but Aiyana's style…involves a form of psychomancy. Spirit communication, through certain herbs and flowers and such. It's all legend."

"…Like a thistle? Or violet?"

"Probably—that is not my field of expertise," Arashi smiled with some vanity.

"Oh—" Sakumo remembered, "Hey, has it rained?"

"Rained? Oh no," said Arashi. "Poor man Ocho is still sitting up there. And I think this drought will continue. They may call on the spirits again."

"Sakumo—" Naoya cut in, "How did you know that was what the dance was, really?"

Arashi looked at the young man very curiously; "You knew?"

Sakumo nodded slowly, "…Only when I saw the arrow," he said quietly, remembering the night. "My father…would tell me a few legends, from time to time. I never dreamed I'd see it first-hand."

Arashi smiled, "They are a great people," he said with finality, "The Azurano should remain here, if I have but a final breath," he declared boldly, "They shall stay in peace, to practice their ways."

That evening, Sakumo absolutely restless with thought.

Arashi was a thief, yes, but he did so for the tribe of the Azurano. Sakumo, in all inner entirely, could not argue with that cause; he would even support it himself. Perhaps he would not resort to thievery, but the people deserved this place, and their way of life. Sakumo felt a connection to them he could not fully explain. Though he could not understand them, he did, in a way, through the lost stories of his youth when he was five, or six, or seven. He could hear their stories, whatever they were, in his father's voice, outside on the back porch, or in Zosha's old field, by the garden. Those stories wafted north-west, and here, in this singular place in a basin surrounded by mixed and high wilderness, here, they were personified in colors of red and lilac, blue, and brown. Feathers and skins, it was all here. And it was very calm and quiet, like the same air whenever his father would tell him something after switching off a distant grey static, and after closing a worn, sun-faded red notebook.

Sakumo fell asleep uneasily, worriedly doubting he could bring Arashi to any kind of justice for his actions.

.

"…You what?"

The sun was high, mid-day, as Sakumo sat upright, feeling only slightly nauseous. "I don't know," he said slowly again. "If I can continue this mission."

"…What?" Naoya said with more gravity. "Well—look at you, you've almost recovered from—"

"It's not that—it's Arashi. He's helping these people."

"Arashi is a thief, we've been asked here to bring him to justice."

Sakumo continued his eyes trained on the faded red rug. "I'm not sure I can do that. These people deserve help, and protection."

"They're natives Sakumo…I didn't know you empathized with them…They can adapt."

The thought of the Azurano going south to the empty pit of the desert was not comforting. Sakumo felt horrid. There was a deeper meaning in him somewhere he tried keeping out, but it was as relevant as ever. Considering his father, Zensare, Dalzen, and now Arashi, he'd wondered, and even believed, at times, he may not have been cut out, or even meant, to be shinobi.

All it ever brought was pain.

How could he continue to live in such a system; to obey an order blindly, when something else, his heart, contradicted it? He did not like the attention he received as a result of Zensare. That mission only taught him the dire worth in holding on to what left he had. He missed his father more than ever at that moment, and the feeling never lessened. The memories, and Keiko-san, she'd supported him when he needed it most, and he continued, up to now. Sakumo could have easily seen himself giving up had it not been for those around him, believing so much in him. At the same time, his old captain had taught him so much, he felt it would be an absolute betrayal to his memory if he should abandon the system…like his own father had, so many years ago. Coushander had been so brave to continue on without it…But his father had faith in him as well. Sakumo had read the letter a hundred times enough to know. Sakumo inwardly groaned. They can adapt, were Naoya's words. "I can't," Sakumo murmured in torment.

The Hyuuga looked at him with those wide pearl eyes. "What do you mean you can't?" he asked curiously.

"I'm not cut out for this," Sakumo stared dismally at the wood and the narrow slits of light, trying to convince himself one way, or the other.

"Sakumo…you've just had a nasty fever—you shouldn't doubt yourself."

"I should…I'm not fit to be shinobi."

.