(Quick note: Yes, this is the beginning of the second war…)
.
Coushander
コウシャンデル
.
.
Chapter 37
Fighting the Tides
.
.
"Takato…where are you going?"
He turned around and smiled with a small letter he tucked in the inside pocket of his old green vest, "For a walk?"
His wife's face fell flat.
.
Ichida Takato did walk under the sunshine of a clear day in the shinobi village, toward the hokage tower (a wonderful tourist spot), in the heart of the village, just south of the mountain tributes of the two men that had founded and shaped the village as their own so many years ago. He walked down the dusty brown road, lined with business as usual and the odd propensity of normalcy despite two months of the unwarranted and unprovoked tsuchi campaign against it's neighbors, and the numerous flocks of messenger birds flying in and out at every time of day, all day. As a result, most of the little songbirds held riots like Konohagakure was being invaded by bigger and better birds of prey. It was the last week of December of that year, so nicely quiet until that time. And Ichida Takato walked up to the door of that short tower and walked inside. There were at least thirty shinobi crowded together in the main lobby, divided and circled in groups of four or five, with the noise level loud as the aides who were walking around dazed and confused. "Oh, sir!" One young aide such shouted, "Get in line!"
Takato smiled to the man and walked on without reprimand, but with a sudden array of interested looks. The basement was not as raucous, nor crowded. In fact, it was quite empty, devoid of the noisy birds upstairs. The old shinobi walked down the vacant maze of halls and down to an old conference room with a closed birch door that looked like it had not been opened in over forty years. Takato knocked.
"Who is it…?" came a quiet voice, ruffled voice.
"Ichida, Takato, sir."
"Oh oh; come in, please…"
Takato closed the door behind him.
"Have they found me?"
Takato shook his head.
Hizuren grimaced over a large map of the continent spread out in six large pages over the table. "Forgive me," he said. "You must think me incapable. Truth is I'd give anything right now to be out there, with them, instead of in here, drooling over this mess..."
"I understand," Takato said readily. "And I do not think you're incapable. Far from it. Anyone would shrink from that mayhem upstairs. Shodai would."
Hizuren looked up, "Really…" His query faded as he slowly retracted and straightened his back. "My clone is keeping them busy—for now. Do you…have information?"
Ichida smiled. "I have some information, that is some years out of date."
Hizuren took a cue from the sudden painful stiffness in his back to sit—Takato joined him and sat across from him.
"Suna is able to reach Konoha easily from the south sea. Tsuchi will do it from the north and west. We're very fortunate to have Kumo with us, for now, and I realize you have already taken all this into consideration."
"…The war is barely two months old tomorrow—You think they'll be making that move soon? That this is all just distraction?"
"I don't know when they'll make the move," Takato shrugged. "My guess would be that they're still waiting for all the arsenal they need for when they do. I don't know. But I do come from the memory of the first one. It was Suna's one to lose, tsuchi's now to win. And I know it's taken Iwagakure a while to come back, Sunagakure even further. Point is, Morino Dalzen got to the position where he could predict suna's strategy, because it hadn't made any sense. Suna got us bad on the south side because that way, Kumo could strike the refugee's fleeing to the north. I can't say for certain, but it might be possible Tsuchi will try the reverse this time around. Kick us in the north, where Suna will strike south."
Hizuren took this in silence for a moment. "Fine…I can send a general…I could send…"
"Actually, I'd like to coordinate in the north, with Sakumo. Hold the line. That way our forces could remain in the north, and half of them in the south."
"We may not have the manpower for—wait, wait—you?"
"Yes, me," Takato smiled.
"You…? Uh—Forgive me, but, do you really think you—?"
"Yes."
"At your age?"
Takato smiled again; "They always said I looked far too young for my age. Fifty-five, you think?"
"But aren't you—"
"Sixty-five? Fine. Be accurate," Ichida said. "But re-commission this shinobi. I can rendezvous with the troops up there in about two, three days. All right. Closer to three days."
"You're serious," Sarutobi stated.
Takato merely nodded.
"I hate to ask what your wife said about this."
"She let me go out for a walk, today, Hizuren. In my mind, I'm stretching that concept just a bit. One last time."
.
"So where are we going?"
"West," the nineteen year old answered.
"Oh rapture."
"I though you said once this was what we were born for," Jiraiya said sullenly.
"Maybe. I didn't say we could die for it."
A red image of the Yonbi flashed forward in Jiraiya's mind. He had to force back the comment that his brother wouldn't let that happen. "It may not be so bad," Jiraiya said, wondering where his brother was that morning. "It can't last too long…"
.
She heard a faint knock on the door of the room of a patient she was looking after, and she craned her head to look behind her, and saw her former teammate, Ichida Takato standing there, with a calm smile on his young face. "Takato!" she smiled, remembering to whisper. The man she was looking after was asleep; she walked to the door and he asked, "May I have a word with you—alone?"
"Of course," she said, and asked another nurse to take her place. After that, they walked into an empty room together and she smiled innocently, expecting him to tell her some trivial news. But his smile was a sort of sly one, one she saw fixed upon him not too often, "So what's it about?" she started.
"I'm going north, to rendezvous with the troops up there. I'm going to leave this afternoon."
Her mouth dropped—"You can't be serious…" she disclaimed. "No…"
"I know I'm a bit old, but I don't feel like it. I've got the fight left in me to do this, Keiko—"
"But you're—you can't—What did Yukie say?"
Takato then smiled coyly. "It's my duty, Keiko, to my rank, and to my profession."
"But! How could you!" she exclaimed heated, "Takato--!"
"This is the makings of something horrible, Keiko, you know it, as well as I. Why not get some advice from the ones who lived through it before? Don't worry about me. You worry too much."
"I have a right to worry…" her knees felt increasingly weak, and so she sat on the empty bed behind her.
"I'm going to see Chinatsu, before I leave, and see if she'd let me borrow Dalzen's diary from the first one. I'll pass it on to Sakumo while I'm out there, at some point. It'll help him, I'm sure."
"But…" she couldn't think of a definite reason of how she could ever persuade him not to go. Despite the thoughts and ideas swirling in her head, she knew it was his decision. But Kano had never expected it. She lowered her head, slowly accepting the constant worry for three men, now, she was forced to think of, out there in the confusion and hell she knew all too well that was waiting for them. For she had worked in four different med stations during the first war; the insanity and wounded never ended, even until long after the fighting stopped.
"But," Takato picked up softly, "I do have something for you, and I wanted to give it to you, before I left. Dalzen…had been meant to give it to you. And I'm so sorry he couldn't. Chinatsu passed it on to me about a year later, when she was looking through his things, by chance," He took out the small letter, and passed it to her, and her name, Kano Hoseki, was written neatly in Hiragana on the face, and centered below that, there was written her nickname, Keiko. "Who's...it from…" she asked hesitantly.
"It's from Coushander," Takato smiled.
She looked up again, in utter disbelief.
"Goodbye, Keiko."
"Wait—but—!"
"I'll take it easy…just not on the enemy," he smiled.
Shakily, she stood, and hugged him tightly, "Take care of yourself," she whispered with tears coming to her eyes.
"I will."
He turned, and she watched him go, walking down the hall quietly, with such poise and calm. She stared back at the face of the letter in confusion. Once he was gone, off the right and hand side, slowly, she came back into the empty room and sat on the edge of the bed, and unfolded the back, and she opened out the single page, and read,
Keiko, you asked me to write to my two sons the day they turned eighteen. You're a well of ideas, you know. So I've asked Dalzen to give you this for when you're old and grey. Though I don't think your hair will take on that color willingly, you know what I mean. All I want to say is thank you. For putting up with me, for healing me, for saving me—or at least trying so hard to. I still don't know if there's enough forgiveness in the world to pull this sinner through. But thank you. This goes for each of you. I'm still sorry I hurt you the way I did. I'm more sorry than I can say, and I'm actually glad since I can't hear you fake it and tell me otherwise right now. You've shown me the patience of a lifetime, and still, I hardly know what to say to ever make that up. You've been a perfect mother and a better friend—I'm sorry for my anger. I've been thinking back lately (I've had to), wondering why the moment never came sooner, and every time I come back to a certain saying, 'everything happens for a reason'. And so it has. I was meant to go it alone, and you were meant to become one of the greatest medic nin Konohagakure has ever seen. I'm glad, and grateful our paths crossed one last time, even if it wasn't in the way either of us expected, and I hope you've moved on, and that I don't cross your mind as often anymore. Just know this now, I'm exactly where I need to be. And thank you, forever, for helping me get there. Yours, Coushander
.
Sakumo knelt down on the ground high on the western mountain ridge on the borderline of tsuchi and kusa. Several men were with him, half awake, and half lolling in their break with lowered eyelids over the earth and stone, all resting before the next course of the way through the mountain. The fading dusk of that day darkened their retreating steps journeyed so far; stars were tumbling out in the eastern sky behind them like tiny windows of the next dawn to come. All hung stationary above the horizon, and made no sound like the band of shinobi hidden, and resting beneath. The ninja were all Konoha men, save one Kusa man they found willing to be their guide beyond Kusa's border. He was not yet twenty-three, and he was sound asleep. He said he'd been running for days, evading iwa nin. Sitting there, Sakumo picked out ten grey rocks, pebble size, with two flat sides each. Using chakra, he carved out a single mark, an 'x' in one side of each of the rocks. After each one was marked on one side, he let them roll around inside his hand much like dice and then let them fall on the ground. His second, beside him, began looking on curiously.
Five of the indented sides landed face up. The other five stones were blank.
Sakumo frowned.
"…Sir?" The second asked.
Sakumo cleared his throat and said quietly, "My sensei said he did this. He was…bored stiff on Konoha's eastern border, waiting for the go-ahead order to come through before one of the early battles with Suna. It was the third month of the war. At night. Six of his marks were face-up. The war lasted exactly six years, four months, and four days. I don't know if they happen to be portents for war, but I guess I'll expect nothing less than five from this one, and hope for something different."
The chuunin cringed, looking down at the stones.
Sakumo looked behind him, toward the west, toward the ghostly innards of brown tsuchi, wondering if it felt more like five, or fifteen. "I wonder if he asked himself the same thing," Sakumo thought aloud silently, wondering more than a dozen things as to how to survive this.
.
Back in a sleepy Konohagakure, she rose up in the quiet den quite late in the evening, after hearing the hard knock on her front door. She answered, hopeful of half expecting to see her son back so soon, when instead she saw Kujo Rion, standing as innocently as he ever did with his boy-faced expression and weathered, crazy hair. "Rion!" she exclaimed.
"Hello Keiko," he smiled.
"Come in," she said, letting him through and then closing the door.
"I'm not senile yet," he announced firstly. "So I do know this is Wednesday, and not Thursday," he said, taking a seat on the sofa, "But I want you to know, I won't coming by tomorrow, like usual."
"…Oh?"
"No," Rion looked at her, still standing surprised before him.
"…Why is that?" she asked.
"Sit down, Keiko, You look like you're going to shout at me and then faint or something."
"…Why…is that?"
"I'm heading out," he said. "In the morning."
"Where?"
"For God's sake, you know where, sit down, now. Please."
Her right hand came up to her face; her knuckles rested on the line of her mouth—"Rion," she blurted plainly, "You're sixty-seven."
A flash of a boyish grin leapt to his tanned face.
"Rion!" she commanded furiously. However, the temper was fused short as she blinked her eyes intermittently as he predicted they would be—"Be reasonable!"
"Reason? War has nothing to do with reason, my dear."
"Rion…" her breath was short.
"Sit down—please?"
Slowly, she moved and collapsed herself on the sofa, burying her face in her palms for a moment before asking, "You're kidding me."
Rion merely admired her frame, with her black hair shielding the side of her face.
"You're fooling me," she turned to look at him square in the eye. "Please say you are."
A smile, again, curved his lips. "I'm heading north, with part of a small cell on the east block for backup. I figured, too, Takato ought to have a hand up there. We'll work well together, I think."
She looked at him, half stunned, and half furious.
He smiled, and rested a comforting hand on her knee; "Keiko, I'm not going to rest easy with that going on out there. Try to understand that. Now when I come back, we'll have lots of time together."
"You—" she pounded hard on his hand furiously, "You little—"
"Now now," he grinned, catching her hand before it struck his again. "Maybe you could find it in yourself to hook up at a med station north of the border. I'll find some way to critically injure myself, and we could fall in love all over again. Wouldn't that be fun?"
"…You idiot!" she burst, and turned her face away as tears rolled over her cheeks.
"Well I thought it sounded nice," he said, staring off into her bookshelf on the opposite wall. "Really," he turned to her, "Just…wanted you to know."
Kano struggled to take hold of her crested emotion. "You little…" she fidgeted harshly, without looking at him. She could feel him smile cruelly. "My boy," she said after a minute, "My son, left, early this morning. What with him, Takato, Sakumo; I've had all the goodbyes I can stand without one more," she said firmly, clearing her face with her sleeve. "Why. Rion, you're sixty-seven for—!"
"Doesn't matter. The only numbers that matter are the numbers that decide the difference between the armies of light, and the armies of dark. You remember that don't you? Nidai, in the second war? His voice was gold over the static radio. I couldn't hear it though. The med stations where I went to were always really suspicious, you know. Never carried radios. Or running water."
She fought his joke off her lips. "Nidai said anything back then, and I agree with him, but Rion, one more isn't going to make the difference—"
"I've decided it will. And I've decided I'll put up with the new facilities out there in the secret hideouts where they tide over the ill forgotten. Please. I've made up my mind."
Her reluctant smile was tinged with sadness.
"They know me well out there," he teased, "They know I don't put up with any of their shit."
"So who exactly will you be fighting—the enemy or the doctors?"
The two both laughed softly.
After a moment, she leaned over and let her head fall on his chest. "Please, stay."
"Tell you what. Till nine tomorrow, I'm yours."
She frowned; Rion kissed her forehead, and he smiled.
.
"Hm," he remarked quietly. "Just as ugly as the last time we met."
He was looking at the yonbi juubi nearly thousand feet down, paired with another thousand smaller dots like henna brown ants, with the red queen (or king) of a demon ape standing tall to the north, dwarfing them to size, in the north. The beast's skin was flaming red, the kind of coral, carnelian menacing red in the afternoon, and the kind of red that in the night, turned into the clear vision of fire and brimstone itself, ablaze with the light of hell in it's fibers. The ape had an alabaster color chest and face with curved horns on it's head like two bent curves of a pitchfork, more askew than the road down the mountain. The beast's eyes were a bumble bee color yellow, fierce and blinking in all directions.
"Looks like the new host has got some hold on him. He usually bounds around if he's not in check properly."
"He would have had, what, two years sir?"
"About that time," Sakumo nodded. "There's no telling what new skills he has," he murmured to himself quietly, having imagined many different scenarios over the past week.
The jounin immediate him kept a hand on his captain's arm. It was the only way the four could keep secrecy with such a high chakra level as Sakumo, who was unable to mask it effectively enough to keep away suspicion. "With what Gobi fighting Shichibi, I suppose we're fortunate just to have him," the jounin commented lightly.
"Don't forget Shukaku," said Sakumo, unable to take his eyes off the beast.
"I suppose that will be the next assignment, sir," a different jounin spoke up, opposite him. The jounin was Nakamura, a high-level specialist in sealing jutsu and also, survival. The next man, to his left, was an earth-type, Manjiro. The third, the one next to Sakumo, was a renaissance man and jack of all trades; his name was Nozaki. As one of his skills, he could hide the chakra of any ninja simply by touch. He also took two years study in medical ninjutsu, and was adept at both fire, earth, and water elements.
The four were silent until Nakamura spoke a little begrudgingly; "Please, one beast at a time, sir."
Sakumo grinned. "Right, right, of course, I apologize. I couldn't help it. Being in a situation like this, I'm just setting myself up after we finish here. I get to feeling a little giddy, I suppose..."
Manjiro looked up; he was a large and robust man, lean with muscle and a curly brown-orange beard nearly as long as his forearm, tied with a red band near the bottom. "Are you…feeling all right, sir? Are you…nervous?"
"Nervous? It's possible. But it's also possible we're attempting something attempted by only Nidai in the first war. You know I had the hardest time convincing Sarutobi to try this, for the same reason. It's utterly dangerous, and I have to say, for all it's worth, it's the only thing that could stall this war, even just a little."
"…Nidai failed, sir," Nakamura said quietly.
"And that was against Shukaku, unless I've already tempted fate twice and he's on his way here, in which case, we retreat. Understood?"
A collective and quiet, "Yes sir."
After a moment, Sakumo said, "Let's go over the plan one last time, then we can get started."
Manjiro looked down, as if a snail were crossing their path and they should wait respectfully for it to cross, Nakamura looked askance, as if he were thinking of other things they could do like sight-seeing and holding out in the mountain for something different, and even Nozaki, after bouts of communication unlike him, sat quietly beside him, silent as a church mouse, not interested in the sermon, but a crumb under the communion table. Sakumo sighed. "Yes. In answer to your question, I am nervous. I have no idea what to expect the power of the host to be. And if I'm nervous, it's quite all right for any of you to be so. I don't expect anything else, and I'm not strong enough to imagine I didn't bring it with me," The three began to look at him. "But, you know," Sakumo continued, "Nidai technically did succeed. He just didn't come home for eight weeks, or rather, it took him longer than projected to force the cease-fire. And I've been thinking, lately, of every person safe at home, back in Konoha, and it must be done for them. Our friends, our family, everyone in that country may well ride on what we do here. Hizuren himself wished he were here with us now at this very moment, and for all the wishing spent by him and those people, they may as well be. They believe in us, so why shouldn't we—at least for the nest twenty-four hours, or eight weeks, hm?"
Manjiro smiled beneath his grizzly beard. Nakamura looked as his shoulders were finally dropped to a comfortable level, and Nozaki smiled in his cunning fashion.
"I have a piece of land, back home," Sakumo added quietly. "My wife will be left to tend spring planting if I can't get there by May."
"Is it…a big piece of land, sir?" asked Manjiro.
"Very big," Sakumo answered, with a smile in his eyes. "Now. Are we ready to discuss the battle plans?"
"Yes sir," was the collective answer.
.
"Naoya-san, where is Masanae-sensei? I can't find him anywhere," a young Hyuuga boy of five asked the brown-haired thirty-two year old.
"He shipped out yesterday," Naoya said calmly. "He will not be back for some time."
"How come?"
"Because…" Naoya looked up over the porch railing, and into the deep green forests nearest the house. "He felt it was his, duty," Naoya pronounced like it were a foreign word, "to go."
"How come?" the five year old persisted.
"It was his decision," he said firmly to the boy. "How am I to know the reasoning of others, hm? Ask him, not me. I have no other information useful to you, now run along," Naoya said sternly, and mulled over the book in his lap. He sighed when he heard the little footsteps of his apprentice run timidly through the doorway. A few seconds later, an adult walked out on the porch. "Naoya, are you coming back in?"
Naoya looked up briefly; "I wasn't planning to."
"You must come in. You spend too much time by yourself. Natsuko has made some tea, won't—"
"I will sit out here till I chose, and not a minute before, thank you."
Surprised by his frankness, the man merely nodded his head. "Yes, Naoya-san." And with that, he too walked inside.
Resolute to thinking he would not be able to finish the chapter of his book in peace, Naoya rose up and moved to the south end, where a retired sensei sat peacefully on the back porch with a newspaper and radio, talking quietly as to not to disturb the classes. He was in his late sixties; sixty-eight and white-haired, white-eyed, each shaded darkly under an old grey hat. Naoya smiled as he approached silently, with his book on bonsai and topiaries tucked under his arm. He stopped and observed the man, sitting very comfortably on a blue cushioned maple wood chair, with his newspaper unfluttering and motionless, spread out and held by his two weathered and wrinkled hands. Naoya looked for Rikuzou's gentle but hidden eyes and saw them, open and alert. "Good afternoon, Rikuzou-san."
"Hello," the old man responded. "Which one are you?" he asked with a sly smile.
"Naoya, sir,"
"Oh, Naoya, sit, please," he offered warmly. A corner of the paper fluttered and he winked, "I must keep up my disguise, you know," Naoya sat and Rikuzou folded the paper and let it lie on the stand beside him.
"I wish I could hide away that easily," the young Hyuuga commented.
"Oh?" he inquired. "One might think you already do."
Naoya exchanged opaque glances with him and said nothing.
A moment later, Rikuzou turned his ear upon a certain sound the program on the radio suddenly made; it was a low bell chime, and the old man turned up the volume carefully, at a low level the two could listen to; "A special update now from the Konohagakure, Allied Village Campaign," a man said, "As of this date, February 3rd, and this time, 1:00 pm, word has been confirmed the capture of the bijuu Yonbi was successful by Hatake Sakumo and his team. This update will be re-broadcasted every hour on the hour for the remainder of the day. Thank you. Once again, word is confirmed the capture of Yonbi from tsuchi forces was successful."
Naoya was staring white and wide-eyed, at nothing in particular.
"Ho ho," Rikuzou smiled, and beat one side of his palm on the arm of his chair. "We got ourselves a victory!"
"…Indeed," Naoya managed, very surprised. "…Indeed."
"If I recall," the old man eyed his young blood, "You served with that man."
"For a brief time," Naoya interjected.
The old man, as well as the entire clan, were all well aware of the plight that befell the only son of the great Hyuuga Hiromasa. "What was he like?"
"Sakumo?"
"Yes. Who'd you think I meant. Yonbi?"
Naoya's brow furrowed as he remembered. "…Brave. Sensitive. And...powerful."
"Hm."
After a moment, Naoya rose up with quickness, "I do not wish to talk about it," he said abruptly, without thinking.
"Oh?" Rikuzou inquired. "Every one of your clansmen can see that."
"Then so be it!" Naoya shouted without looking him in the eye. He didn't have to. He could feel that man's piercing stare from the corner of his shoulder. The young Hyuuga then marched off, down the porch, and led himself onto the grass, toward the gardens.
"Oh dear," Rikuzou sighed, watching his nephew turn away. "What would your father say if he saw you now…?"
.
Sakumo sat on the edge of an old white sink, staring into the mirror, shaving the grizzle off his face with a kunai. His brown crutch (he was down to one now), laid against the wall on his right. It was the small med station hidden on Konoha's western edge, not yet targeted or found by Suna's forces. The station appeared a normal house, and the plans of imminent seizure always contained a plan of the four doctors putting on regular clothes and acting like an innocent family. If that failed, they could only hope to defend with their chakra, rather their diplomacy when the kunai were shown. Nakamura knocked on the door and let himself in, "Sir, would you want to see the prisoner off?"
"Is he leaving?" Sakumo wiped the kunai.
"Yes sir, this very moment."
"I see," Sakumo stared down at the black blade; the last of soap left the blade hazed somewhat.
"Yes?"
"Yes," He stepped onto the cold tile floor and put the kunai away, in a back pocket. He ran a hand across his face as he looked at his second, "Yes, I will," He turned his weight and suddenly he bit out a constrained "Ow," as his right leg suddenly vibrated with pain.
"Sir—"
"No, it's fine," He grimaced and reluctantly took the wooden crutch and began walking with it. Sakumo limped and followed Nakamura out.
The young host was standing, heavily guarded, in the anteroom with the four resident doctors, and eight Konoha ninja newly arrived, ready to escort the red-haired iwa nin to secret grounds outside Konohagakure, on the east side. There were special seals on the hosts arms, some controlled by outside chakra, and other by inside, as done by Nakamura; however the other ninja had made some enhancements as the blue seals Sakumo did not recognize. One of the Konoha men stepped forward towards him with a clear medical vile in hand.
"Well—" Sakumo stopped. "Hold on—Is that—Whose orders are those?" he asked the ninja.
"They came from Sandaime-sama, sir," the ninja looked slightly taken aback.
"We were all there," voiced a second ninja in the back.
"Oh," said Sakumo, sensing the man was truthful. "I see."
The jinchuuriki turned his head and looked at Sakumo. "I shall hate them for this. You know how I told you I should have liked the scenic trip. But…as I said…I shall not hate you."
"The feeling is mutual," Sakumo said. He took another slow step forward. "But let me tell you something; the next time you go looking for a divine revelation, please just try and do it in a way that isn't quite so…destructive."
The host grinned.
Sakumo sighed as the group left, with the host completely drugged and subdued. He received new orders from one of the men to head back north. Nakamura, Manjiro, and Nozaki all stood by him as he sat outside the entrance of the little stations, surrounded by a dense and dark green Konoha forest. Their captain's crutch rested against the wall of the building.
"Can you walk, sir," Nozaki inquired, for the long journey ahead.
"Yes. But we need to wait for someone first, before we go."
"Sir—?"
Just then, a little grey dog came running up alongside the house and barked loudly. An old hawk came flying down from high in the treetops, and Sakumo smiled, pulling out a note for the bird. He tied it to her leg as she stood proudly on the ground, blinking her fierce and watchful eyes. "We couldn't have made it out without you," said Sakumo to Teguri. "Thank you…Murasaki."
The bird cawed and then flew off with the note, out of the forest.
"Sir…" Nakamura smiled curiously. "You still didn't explain to us why she was willing to help us."
"Really boys, isn't our friendship a good enough reason?" Sakumo rose up slowly, supporting some of his weight with the back of his hands on the wooden walls. "You treat everything as if there were an ulterior motive."
"Well, normally, there is," he responded.
"Granted, but, accept the small and fleeting fortunes. In the end, they'll be all we've got."
Hairo barked.
Sakumo took his crutch and walked on haggardly, leaving that chapter of adventurous escape of red and brown in the back of his mind. Hairo pranced on beside him.
.
The war raged on. Furiously, endlessly, and even after the joyful and inspiring news. Tsuchi still had the manpower, and Suna, and the five tailed beast, in addition to the sand's ruthless beast, Shukaku, who was engaged in bouts of fights off and on with waterfall country's Shichibi—adept at fighting the large sand beast, but too often underpowered. In the meantime, tsuchi's gobi, the five tails, was frequently tested by Kumo's two tails, Nibi, Kumo, the land of clouds, being the only other major nation to join Konoha. The land of mist remained detached and neutral, despite Sarutobi's intermittent requests. The nations along tsuchi's border fought for survival. The actual armies of tsuchi were large, larger than any single unit Konohagakure could produce, and they took cities easily, as the local population could not hope to defend. In truth, the capture of any of the enemy bijuu was a short stitch of morale, hopeful to entice any unaffiliated young man to the cause, to fight the tsuchi armies of expansion.
The first day in November, later in the year, after being back in the east, Sakumo was in the south, fighting suna's advances on Konoha's terrain, throwing himself in Shukaku's way every now and then to buy time for his teams to escape. He was holding out with some men near a small town in the land of fire, much further south than bustling Nobu, and quite near the southern coast. Nakamura had gotten a special transfer order four months ago; both Manjiro and Nozaki, their only medic, were still with him, along with one other shinobi Sakumo knew well, Rinsano, whom, after surviving the great battle of the east in Kusa, chose to serve in the south, with his former captain. In all, the groups of ninja were divided. Sakumo's cell had no more than fifteen men. The thirty year old was sitting against an old oak tree, with a sheet of paper and a pen in his left hand. His right arm was bound up in a sling, and his fingers were all taped. Nozaki's doing; Sakumo's fault. It had occurred to him, that he had not written once to his wife, in all the fifteen months so far he'd been away from home. Being close in Konoha now was his best chance yet to successfully send something to her; a message long, long overdue, and nearly illegible as his left hand would not cooperate against the left side of the page. Still, he wrote, and apologized to her, hoping instead he would be able to come back home soon. He doubted the word 'soon' was the best one to use. At the rate the war was progressing, he did not like the endgame scenario that was playing in his mind. They were outmanned, plain as any non Uchiha or Hyuuga's eyes could see.
He folded the letter carefully when he was finished, his right hand still of limited and painful use, and he wrote the address on the front in the best writing he could. He then took out the other sheet of paper he kept out and began writing slowly, To my otouto, In ten more days, you will be twenty years old. No longer a teen, no longer a boy, but a young man who has now seen the horrid conflicts of our day, and knows we have such little control over them. I hope this letter finds you resting at home, rather anywhere else. I realize I have not seen you since you returned from your grand trek. Your mother wrote to me and said she'd given you the letter our father wrote to you. I knew she must have. Especially in these hard times, I think you will draw upon those words, and remember them. But, here is some advice from your niisan: watch your back, keep alert, and stay safe. Granted, it's a little dumb advice, but I find it has helped me, in some ways, not all. I believe in you though, in promise of that advice, because I know you are capable of it. Never give up, never surrender, never back down. Remember that the true soldier fights not because he hates what is before him, but because he loves what is behind him. It is because of that end, that we are sustained. And it is for that end, that we are endured. So, watch your back, keep alert, stay safe, and happy birthday my little brother. Your niisan, from the secret, unknown depths of a blue-green mirage.
Sakumo folded that letter carefully, too, though his letters, to any soul, were treated as the foremost privacy save in the lucky hands of the receiver. But Sakumo addressed the front of the letter (neatly as possible, he was getting better) to Jiraiya, in care of Chairo Takahashi, number 507 post office box, Konohagakure, Konoha. It was Hizuren's doing. Select few shinobi knew that name and address. All the notes were collected by Hizuren himself, mostly they were all specific reports, but in this case, Sakumo hoped 'Takahashi' wouldn't mind doing him the favor.
Sakumo gave both letters to a young chuunin, and he went on to the nearest town to send them on. The ninja returned, about ninety minutes later, mission successful.
"I wish we were doing those kinds of missions right about now, that I really wish," Rinsano commented.
"Hm?" Sakumo wondered.
"You know. Delivering letters. Guard duty; patrol duty. Anything but this."
Sakumo smiled. "You're right. The planting went on without me. I feel horrible."
Rinsano looked at his captain empathetically. "I'm sorry sir."
"It's not your fault. It's my occupation." Sakumo murmured quietly.
"Sir?"
"Nothing," Sakumo shook his head. "You'd better sleep. We have a long way to go tomorrow."
"Yes sir."
.
Another year of war continued. Come October, Sakumo, thirty-one, was back west, in Kusa, where it was quite miserable with a constant rain on the far east border. Rinsano and Manjiro were still with him, along with a small team of men; Sakumo had purposefully directed the transfer of Nozaki to a cell led by Orochimaru, which included Jiraiya. A new Konohagakure chuunin had arrived to join Sakumo's cell, bringing a small package wrapped in canvas cloth with a note. Sakumo accepted it, sitting Indian-style on a mat that was his green vest, blinked through the haze of his red fever under the small muggy shade of the tent and unfolded to read,
Sakumo, know you will find this useful, even uplifting, in it's own melancholy way. He was that sort of man. You always knew he was right, no matter what he said. Ever proud of you. We all are. Good luck in life, and Godspeed in your battles. See you when the time comes. Ichida Takato.
Sakumo's mouth dropped open—he looked up at the chuunin, who had elected to sit down on a piece of blue clothing not occupied in rest. "Who gave this to you?"
"The northern junction, sir. I was told it was for you."
"How many days ago?"
"It took me two days, sir. I'd reckon the other man had it with him for a day's time."
"Shit."
"Sir?" said Rinsano, unaccustomed to the word from his captain's mouth.
"Sir?" continued Manjiro, after a moment.
"No…" Sakumo sighed, weighing the gravity of disobedience over in his mind. From the peculiar language in the note, Sakumo felt a strong sense of the odd peace and calmness in death. Sakumo looked down at the canvas-covered item. He unfolded it carefully; it was a small, thin, grey book, and Sakumo's eyes narrowed in tearful emotion upon immediate recognition of the handwriting inside:
Day 1 & 2—Ironic the first entry is belated—Headed south—Aren't we all…? I shall attempt to convey (in all possible detail) the 'war'. Chuunin Ichida-san has just smiled oddly. Sitting on the ground, wondering where the hell we are. Again, are not we all…? …One minute, it was…
Sakumo looked up and again, briefly wondered how bad he would be scolded if he should pack up and take his team to the north east. The last time he disobeyed order sent him to Sarin's woods. He could only wonder what punishment could befall him now. It wouldn't do anything for morale, with so many watchers, and it may well be too late anyway. Sakumo rested his warm forehead to the inside of his palm.
"Sir—do you need a doctor?" asked Manjiro.
"No I don't need a doctor," Sakumo snapped. He grasped both objects in his hand and stood, turning away from the group. The cloth fell on the ground. "The only thing that has made me sick is the damn, fucking war!" After a moment, Sakumo controlled his anger. "I'm fine," he said calmly, regretting his emotional outburst. He took a deep breath and straightened his spine. He looked at the journal, and the clean white slip of paper in his hands. "Godspeed," he said quietly, and slowly, he made a quarter turn. "Say a prayer, tonight, men. I don't care how, and I don't care to what god—say something."
Sakumo walked away. He had some reading to do, if his mind might hold out long enough to learn.
Meanwhile, it was the opinion of her boss (yes she had one, and only one) that she stay in the hospital in Konohagakure, safe and sound and useful, like she had for the past twenty-five years. But Rion's words had slowly sunken in, to the point where the sixty-five year young lady teamed up with a few new bands of ninja heading out, and she traveled with them to reach her destination: a med station on the north-west side of Konoha, that was apt to receive and retrieve survivors from battles both in Kusa and anywhere north, all the way to taki.
Before she settled at the hospital, the frantic paces of the assorted medical houses; the attacks, the intrigues, the scarcity of supplies and invention were the skills and mindset she lived with, day to day. The supplies were usually first to go, and never lasted between infrequent and unreliable stock. The next supply was in most demand for most of them; assurance and unwavering compassion. Even the most stoic and unsympathetic doctors she'd known softened through the years and wars with those brave and courageous soldiers who gave all they had and more in service to their country, coming in the most heart wrenching tales and scars to show for it. Then of course, there was the constant threat of the enemy; seizing the base and holding all those there hostage, using the facility for their men, always believing there were more supplies hidden somewhere. "Check beneath the floor boards!" "…" "Well check again you freaking idiot!" Kano had experienced that hell before, and suffered little trauma from it, giving her a near-empty supply of fear for it. On two occasions, her doctors gained the upper hand and dispelled the enemy ninja within twenty-four hours. They were her doctors, too, as she'd been the top doctor in several facilities for a long time. She always had a quaint feeling she was built to be in those stations. She guessed the feeling came from the ability and experience of Kiri, where both Saru-Shin and Dalzen pushed her far beyond what she thought was ever capable of herself. She was thankful, for that.
So it was more like coming home, in a new age, with new faces, and newer equipment. And tile floors.
"Did you have a good rest, sir?"
"What in the…what time is it?" He asked, clutching his forehead, sitting upright. He noticed then, the light and misty rain had finally ceased.
"Rinsano has told me the sun is high in the sky, sir."
"What?!"
"He wanted to let you rest."
"That's absurd! I told you before, we move together—"
"But do you feel better, today, sir?"
Sakumo dropped the argument in front of Manjiro, and assessed his own state. "I'm still lost," he said. "Can't sense anything. But you know how I can tell you're my second? My captors wouldn't have let me sleep till noon," he said disapprovingly.
"One, actually," Manjiro smiled.
"One, really? Oh now that's unbelievable," he said, still clutching his forehead.
"Sir, you must understand, that this kindness factor works both ways. Like a reciprocal."
"Does it?"
"Indeed. At least that's what Rinsano told me to tell you, sir."
"Oh did he."
"Yes."
"Well then, I will have to have a talk with him when he returns."
"With all due respect, you're no good to anybody if you are unwell and…cranky, sir."
"Cranky."
"Yes sir. Considerably."
"Considerably?" Sakumo questioned.
"Well, as far as your natural serenity goes, and I have spent enough time with you now to know."
"Oh good. That makes me feel better. At least I am not misunderstood when I have one moment of pure outrage over this damn, fine…" Sakumo dropped his anger again, re-composing himself. "…Mess," he finished. "What a mess."
"Please understand, we did this both for your, and our interest."
"Oh you collectively," Sakumo smiled. "I suppose," he sighed after a moment. "It kills me now, that people have to die in this war," he said solemnly, thinking of Takato with tears coming to his eyes. "I'd have given anything to have packed us up and go east the other night…Kusa was never one of my favorite destinations, anyway, but, I can't blame it on the land. It's just the feeling I get when I'm here. I can't explain it," Sakumo looked around. "It's almost as if…"
"…What?"
"It's almost as if I'm treading the ground over my own grave. Have you ever have that feeling?"
"Once before."
"Where was that?"
"I was standing quite near the grave of my grandfather, Akimichi Chouza," Manjiro said. "I'd like to be buried there; it's a quiet little wooded lot, not open, but not dark, just green and gentle."
"Sounds wonderful. Is it cool—shaded?"
"Yes sir. It is."
"Thank God," he murmured, remembering for a brief moment what cold air felt like. "Forgive me—are you married?"
"Yes sir, I am," The man pulled out a chain hidden beneath his clothes locking a silver band. "We have a young boy, he's eight. I named him Chouza after his grandfather. Looks just like him, too."
"Oh," Sakumo smiled. "You're a father. I envy you. And thank you…I do feel…a bit better."
"Good." Manjiro smiled.
.
'To the End of Night –A Reprisal', he wrote, And to all those like myself this night, thinking of home. Those tired, brave men, who continue fighting despite their fatigue, their weariness, their exhaustion, who have worked with the toils and waste, the kind refuge and none. We have not slept the night, often time, over the dark moorland and the grassy plains, filled with emotions sharper than blades, more piercing and retrospective; more arduous and alone than we have ever known. But! the night is young, and so are we. We will follow this day, this dawn, and this dusk, to the end of it's starry bright tail, shining with the hope of all our loved ones back in the comforts and the infinite rest and cool shade of home. We will toil and bear ourselves till the dawn, the light and hope of final victory within our hearts, and of our fond and sweet returning. It will be nearer still. Hold fast. Your fellow soldier.
Jiraiya addressed the letter to Chairo Takahashi, and asked him if he could send it out to all the troops.
.
"A massacre," the young doctor repeated, with an anxious, shocked look in his eyes.
She put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and said nothing, as she then walked back to the room with tears stinging her eyes in her own grief and sorrow. Four men lay in that room, Konoha born, who were still alive. A fifth and sixth man were there also, alive, both of tsuchi origin. The two were the only ones with one arm tied to the bed each. They were all very sure they weren't going anywhere anyway. The ones that didn't make it out, were still being found and gathered in another room under clean white sheets. She walked to the bed in the corner, and stroked the sleeping man's arm. This was the waiting game.
She stayed with him, sitting next to him, keeping her grief in check after the image rested in her mind from four hours ago. Or was it five? she asked herself. She turned her head and looked at the clock, but could not reason the difference. She looked back. None of the six had woken yet from their dark and dreamless sleep. She sat for a long time until he finally began to rouse beside her, and after a moment, Rion finally and slowly, opened his eyes.
He looked around slowly, like he were squinting up at her, in hopes to distinguish the woman from a shadowy ghost. The dim lights cast adumbral patterns on the walls, spinning in front of him, and on her blue clothes—he could finally see her face, clearly.
"Hello," Fresh and relieved tears welled in her eyes as she smiled warmly.
He smiled. The only movement in him was the movement of his eyes, his breathing, and his beating heart. "I knew…you were an angel," his raspy voice said to her.
"Shh," she smiled, holding his left hand. "You're all right. You're going to be just fine."
"Am I?"
She nodded joyfully. "Yes."
"Do I…have all my limbs?"
"Yes," she smiled.
"…All of them?" he looked at her seriously.
"Yes," she nodded, nearly laughing.
"Oh good," he grinned.
A tear finally rolled down her cheek; she wiped it away with her sleeve on her shoulder.
He looked at her, into her dark and thoughtful eyes. "You didn't have to come after me. I was just kidding…you know. I'm a big boy."
She laughed quickly. "I had to. You convinced me."
"I did…? Now…" he swallowed. "Can I convince you of the fact I am…madly in love with you…?"
"You have. You always have. I always knew."
"Did you…make any new boyfriends…since I left…?"
"No," she smiled. "No, you have me, now. I promise."
Rion smiled shakily—he swallowed again, and thought about the battle. "Where's Takato…? Did he…?"
Her expression changed within an instant—she caught a miserable sob in her throat and she put a hand to her mouth. Her brow furrowed, and in grief, she shook her head. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "The battle…" she caught her breath and rested both her hands on his arm in support, "Was a stalemate. Both sides…endured…" she shook her head, remembering the carnage of the scene. "You're one of four, Rion…"
"Of seventy-eight?" He looked up at her in shock.
"I'm sorry," she said again, her voice light.
The man beneath her took this in shock and silence.
She looked down, horrified of the fact.
"What…What of…Kakuzu…?" He began again.
Keiko shook her head. "We never found his body. He could have escaped. With any luck, the injuries he sustained were…"
"Bastard."
She held her breath and quit talking, letting him speak volumes about the matter.
"Cheap bloody fucking bastard. I hope Takato…gave him…" Rion stopped his own sentence and went no further.
Keiko knew how he would have finished it.
.
Sakumo read the tract and grinned. He passed it to Rinsano, on his left. "Read it, and pass it on. You'll love that," he laughed.
.
'To the End of Night, Returned', Friends, thank you for your steadfastness in the fall months, defending the west with soaring attitude and infallible will, standing tall in the face of danger. The bitter winter winds cometh, but we will meet them with unfailing fortitude. The people in bondage depend upon it. The people enslaved depend upon it. We are liberators, and we walk in those dark places no others would dare tread—we stand between shame-faced terror, and glorious freedom and liberty; we live for our country, and we would die for our country. For the true solider fights, not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him. Stay strong. We will prevail, justice is on our side, and peace will return in a new age without hatred or apprehension, worry or fear, pain nor conquest. Stay committed, stay resolute, and stay safe. The ignominy of defeat knows us not. Brave calls each of us out by name. Together, we are bold and strong, and unfailing brothers in hope. Your fellow soldier.
The letter was first sent to Chairo Takahashi, before anyone else.
.
"Keiko," Rion looked up, "Am I…going home?"
"Yes," she smiled hearteningly, taping a bandage on his arm.
"There's a…problem…with that…"
"What?"
"Well, you see…I sold…all my furniture and things, and cancelled the rent agreement, 'fore…I…left…" he grinned lopsidedly, staring up at her like a lost puppy.
"You little idiot. Are you serious?"
He tried to laugh. "Serious as I get, miss doctor, ma'am. Did I…tell you yet, that I have fallen madly in love with you…?"
Her cheeks flushed a little in the low light. She stopped for a moment what she was doing and sat on the bed, looking at him, "Yes, you have, stranger."
"Did I not introduce myself?" he asked.
"For all I know, you're an iwa spy," she said lowly and smiled to show she was teasing.
"Oh, you mustn't think that, ma'am," he played. "Check my dog tag, lest it fell off out there somehow…I was…Konohagakure born 'n raised, even though it might not actually say that on my birth certificate. But I promise you ma'am, I am one of Konohagakure's sons. Yes sir—ma'am. Please say you'd take me in."
"Well, since you asked politely," she smiled. "I think I can find a place for you, young man."
He grinned at what she called him. "You are sweet, aren't you, miss?" he said, lying there. "Young man. Ha ha. I feel like I'm hundred and six. For all you know, I might be."
"You're sixty-nine, and you've done all you can do, Rion. I admire you for it."
"Oh sixties…!" he wailed quietly and mournfully. "How I shall miss thee!"
She smiled and touched his arm, "Drama queen," she stood and prepared him for the long journey home, to the land of fire.
.