Rating: M
Warnings: Language, angst, mentioned sacrifice, violence, more angst, jealousy, past trauma, terrible fight scenes, cliffhanger, etc.
Word Count: ~5400
Pairings: eventual Kakashi/Kurama, past Sasuke/Naruto
Disclaimer: I don't hold the copyrights, I didn't create them, and I make no profit from this.
Notes: I sincerely apologize for the late chapter, but my father had a heart attack and I've been in a complete daze the last few days, to the point that I forgot Wednesday was even a thing that happened. This last month has been hellaciously stressful, but hopefully it mellows from here on out. I'll do my damndest to keep from missing another update. Sorry again for the delay.
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Chapter LII: Rapacious
[rapacious / rə ˈ pāSHəs /, given to seizing for plunder or the satisfaction of greed.; inordinately greedy; predatory; extortionate; (of animals) subsisting by the capture of living prey; predacious. From Latin rapax, rapac-, from rapere "to snatch" + -ious.]
Hiashi has had far too much to drink, and he knows it all too well. He's also lost the vast majority of his dignity, seated on the cold ground with his legs crossed under him and a sake bottle beside him. But, given the location and the circumstances, for once in his life he can't be bothered to care.
"You'd be laughing at me right now, wouldn't you?" he asks his brother's grave.
There is, of course, no answer. There never has been, and Hiashi smiles humorlessly, picking up his sake bottle and lifting it in silent toast before he takes a swig. It burns going down, because it's the truly awful stuff Tsume gave him on his birthday years ago, which he's never had the stomach to break out before. The other two bottles are with him as well, ready to be opened, and Hiashi can't quite decide if he wants to actually give himself alcohol poisoning or just didn't want to leave two thirds of the set behind.
After all, he knows precisely how it feels to be the abandoned portion of a set.
"I thought," he tells Hizashi conspiratorially, "about throwing the mission. Maybe guiding us on a different path, or pretending there were people after us and making Tsume and Shibi find a longer route." Another swallow, and this one makes him grimace. Truly awful. He can't understand how Tsume drinks this swill on a regular basis. "After all, there was no need for us to find the Raikage's brother, the same way there was no need for him to kidnap my daughter and then demand my head for killing the kidnapper."
The thought sits heavy and bitter in his gut, or maybe that's the alcohol. He sets it aside, rubbing his hands over his face with a tired sigh, and looks at Hizashi's grave, feeling just as tired and worn-down and full of grief as he did when they buried Hizashi.
"I hate you sometimes," he confesses, and it aches in his chest like shattered ribs, but isn't anywhere near as easily repaired. "There was no need to volunteer like that, you noble bastard. I could—you would have—"
Been fine.
It's true. Without the Caged Bird seal, without the Branch House, Hizashi would have made Clan Head as easily as breathing. He was always better with people, after all. Always kinder without trying.
He snorts, picking up the bottle again, and swallows another mouthful of the veritable paint thinner. "By all rights, I should have thrown the mission," he tells his twin, grimly amused. "I wanted to. I wanted to so badly, Hizashi, you can't even imagine."
All he can think of right now is Hizashi catching him, lowering him to the ground with gentle hands even as Hiashi lost consciousness. Lost consciousness so that Hizashi, his twin, could be sent to Kumo in his place, guaranteed to die. To die for the older brother who had hurt him, sent him away, sealed his son's potential and his own potential and refused to bend.
Gods, but it's so hard to look in a mirror these days. He sees Hizashi staring back at him instead of his own reflection, and it hurts.
"Why would you choose your fate like that?" he demands, and his voice breaks. He buries his face in his hands, sake dropping unheeded to spill and soak his robes, but he doesn't care. He aches inside like he's been hollowed out, even three years later, and he doesn't think it will ever fade. Doesn't think it should, because it's his own fault this happened. His fault Hizashi felt the need to be the better brother one last time.
"Of all the times to overcome your hatred," he whispers through his hands. "Why then?"
"Because all of us are stupid for love," Tsume says, and Hiashi startles, raising his head to find his two teammates picking their way through the graveyard. "And despite what you may think, Hizashi loved you quite a lot, Hiashi." Tsume is carrying a bouquet of red camellia and peonies, and she limps past Hiashi to lay them gently on the stone. Standing up, she almost overbalances, but Shibi catches her arm and Hiashi grabs her belt, and together they carefully help her sink down to sit.
"Should you even be out of the hospital?" Hiashi demands. "I thought they weren't releasing you for another three days."
Shibi makes a face that could probably be interpreted as longsuffering as he settles on Hiashi's other side. "She escaped," he says, but rather than belabor the point he picks up one of the bottles of sake, studies the label, and then gives Hiashi a pointed look.
"Tsume gave it to me," Hiashi defends himself instantly. "I was saving it for a night I wanted to get spectacularly drunk."
Tsume snorts a little, glancing up at the sun that's still high above them. "Well, you managed to get halfway there," she says with clear amusement, but a moment later she leans over, gently bumping Hiashi's shoulder with her own. "Hey. You know we couldn't have refused the mission without starting a war, right?"
Good humor draining away, Hiashi snorts, mouth pulling into a tight line. "The mission we failed anyway?" he reminders her, and doesn't mean for his tone to be quite as biting as it is. Pulling back, he sighs, rubbing a hand over his unmarked forehead, and says wearily, "Yes, I'm aware. The same way we couldn't refuse to hand my brother over to those bastards without starting another war. Sometimes, Tsume, I wish that the Sandaime wanted peace at any cost a little less and the protection of Konoha's citizens a little more."
Her expression sobers, but Tsume doesn't argue. Instead, it's Shibi who says, "When only one party is trying to prevent a war, it is inevitable that they take the weaker position."
Hiashi laughs, and it's a bitter thing. "He died to save my life," he says, and he's just drunk enough that when Tsume leans over to rest her head on his shoulder, he grips her fingers tightly in return. "Not to save Konoha. Not to preserve the peace. Hizashi died saving me, saving Neji. And I can't even tell the boy his last words. I can't, because it's my fault Hizashi died."
"He chose it," Shibi says softly, and uncorks the second bottle. He offers the rescued one back to Hiashi, who takes it gratefully, and with some reluctance sets the third in the hand Tsume waves at him.
"He did," Hiashi allows, and his voice cracks. He covers his face with a hand, hiding, like always, but Tsume and Shibi don't move away.
"Konoha shinobi helped save Bee," Tsume points out after a long stretch of silence, her wild hair still brushing Hiashi's cheek. "In the end, it was a victory for our village. A is a bastard and a warmonger, but he has no excuse now. And a Hyuuga was part of the reason why he can't even threaten war. That feels pretty good."
Hiashi laughs a little, and has to admit it does. He raises his bottle, toasting Hizashi wherever he is now, and his teammates do the same.
"To bravery," Tsume says.
"To loyalty," Shibi echoes.
"To family," Hiashi whispers, and takes a drink.
It burns going down, like before, but this time he thinks it's just a little bit more bearable.
(Behind his back, Tsume cocks a brow at Shibi, not quite glancing at the small shadow that was already lingering among the graves when they arrived. Shibi shakes his head, the barest twitch of movement, and Tsume rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything.
Damned emotionally constipated Hyuuga, she thinks, and doesn't look back as Hiashi's nephew ducks away, heading towards the compound.)
Of all the many, many things that have happened to Kurama since he landed back in the past, this has to be one of the most surreal: standing across from his second jinchuuriki, his third in his arms, with the man who killed the former and saved the latter helpless on the ground between them.
It's not a state of affairs he trusts will last very long. Obito is a slippery bastard at the best of times, and with potential allies all around, they need to get him pinned down permanently.
"Think you can switch that seal around and attach it to him?" he asks Kushina, because he knows seals, but Kushina is brilliant at them.
Kushina's mouth pulls tight, but she nods, and Kurama is more than experienced enough with her moods—even from the outside—to recognize the fury that she's keeping tamped down. Before, he would have reveled in it, strained against the seal just to make her angrier, hoping for her to slip just once—
It isn't like that anymore.
"You really think this is going to be enough?" Obito rasps, rough and derisive. He pushes himself up, onto his knees, but Kurama can see how much that simple movement costs him. The seal is easy enough to recognize as the one Kabuto used on Anko during the war, only undirected this time. Obito's chakra is bleeding out into the air, leaving him on the very edge of chakra exhaustion, and Kurama is certain it couldn't happen to a more deserving asshole.
His one visible eye is plain black again, and Kurama relishes the lack of Sharingan more than he has anything in a while.
"Maybe not," he allows, tightening his grip on Naruto, who glances up at him, one hand fisted in Kurama's shirt. And, Sage, like that it doesn't matter; to keep Naruto safe, Kurama will fight Obito to a standstill again, and again, and again. He might complain about it, but he'll do it without hesitation. "But you're sure as hell not a threat right now, you bastard."
Obito snarls, full of fury, pushing upward like he's going to rise. In the same moment, though, Kushina makes a sound of victory, hands snapping together as her chakra flares. The seal beneath Obito's body twists, then bleeds upwards like it's being pulled onto Obito's skin. With a cry, he tries to jerk away but fails, and Kushina's mouth takes on a vicious slant as she lowers her hands.
"There we are," she says, bright and cheery, and that smile is so very much the Naruto Kurama left in an undone future that he feels it like a blow. He laughs, because it's either that or cry, and Kushina slants a grin his way, violet eyes full of merry mischief and an undercurrent of contained violence.
Maybe, Kurama thinks, allowing himself half a second of optimism, this won't turn out as badly as he's been imagining.
In that same moment, there's a shout. It sounds like Rōshi, and it sounds like victory. It makes Kurama's teeth curl back from his lips in satisfaction, even as he feels the other jinchuuriki in the pass redouble their efforts. Someone just got taken out, and he's willing to bet it wasn't someone on their side.
Judging by the fury suddenly snapping in Obito's visible eye, he assumes the same, and it makes Kurama laugh, a low and vicious rumble in his chest as he stalks forward. "You could pick them off one at a time when they were alone," he challenges. "But together? Yeah, you're fucked, bastard. And now that they've seen what they can do together, their first instinct is always going to be to run for each other now. Even if you could rebuild the Gedō Mazō, you'd never get the jinchuuriki to power it."
Obito growls, but there's something very much like desperation rising in his gaze. He heaves himself up onto one knee, clawed fingers aimed at the seal, and Kushina makes an aborted noise of protest as nails dig in and tear. Blood splatters the ground, but it's useless; the seal repairs itself with Obito's skin, and he makes a noise that's pure fury. "No! It's not going to end like this!"
"It's already over," Kushina tells him, sharp and grim and angry, and flips the kunai in her hand around. She lunges, and even though Obito tries to hurl himself back, to dodge, there's no use. Kushina slams the hilt of the kunai into his temple with a loud crack, and the man collapses in a heap.
For a long moment, Kushina looms over him, eyes fixed on his mask. She takes a breath, tucks the kunai away, and reaches down, her intentions clear.
Kurama catches her wrist before she can even start to pull the mask off. "Not yet," he says quietly. "I'll tell you who he is, and then you can unmask him."
Kushina's gaze darts from Obito to Kurama and then to Naruto, still settled on his hip. The hesitation is clear, but after a moment she nods, pulling back, and offers them a smile. "I guess that means I know him, right?"
Of course she'd figure it out—Kushina isn't stupid, and never has been, no matter what Kurama liked to say to insult her when she was his jinchuuriki. Still, Kurama's pretty sure she's not ready to have the man who might as well have killed her husband and murdered her be the cheerful chuunin she used to want her future son to be just like. Soon, maybe, but…not yet. Let her deal with actually having a son first.
"Kurama-nii?" Naruto asks, tugging a little on his shirt. "Kurama-nii, is everything okay now?"
There's something like wonder suffusing Kushina's face as she stares at Naruto, or maybe something like grief. She starts to reach out, only to abort the movement at the last moment, and—
It reminds Kurama of his first glimpse of Naruto in Konoha. Maybe not quite the same, but close enough to count, definitely. Close enough to see the sudden flare of hope and fear all mixed together.
Kushina was his jinchuuriki, and he hated her. He spent twelve years pinned down, chained up, and seething with hatred for every moment of it. Naruto may have changed most of that, but this isn't going to be easy for either of them, especially when he tells her who he is. There's no way to avoid that, either—if anyone can recognize him by his chakra and temperament, it's Kushina.
Besides, this is Naruto's mother. If Kurama regrets one thing above all concerning his part in her death, as much as it was against his will, it's that Naruto didn't get to grow up with family.
"Yeah, kit," he says, and watches Kushina dart a glance up at him at the nickname. "That's the guy who was after you and the other jinchuuriki. Isn't your mom the best? She totally kicked his ass."
The realization takes a breathlessly long moment to dawn. Naruto stares at him for a long moment, uncomprehending, and then as the words sink in he snaps his head around to stare at Kushina, who looks just as startled by Kurama's words. But there's a fearful sort of hope growing on her face that Kurama remembers all too well, and even though something in his chest is tight and uncertain he gives her a crooked smile. Not that either sees it; they only have eyes for each other.
"You're—you're my mom?" Naruto asks, and his voice quavers. "You're really my mom? But—you were trying to hurt Kurama-nii!"
"Not her fault," Kurama tells him. "The bad guy was making her do bad things, but she's not being controlled anymore."
Blue eyes widening, Naruto glances from Kushina to Kurama and back again. "My mom?" he repeats, like he still can't quite believe it.
Kushina smiles at him, helpless and wondering in equal measures, and holds out her arms like she just can't stop herself. "Yeah," she says, and laughs a little. "Yeah, I am. Oh gods, look at you, Naruto. You're so handsome, just like your dad."
Naruto wriggles desperately, already reaching out for her. Without hesitation, Kurama sets him down on the ground, lets Naruto bolt right out of his grip even though opening his hands feels like it tears something inside of him. He stuffs that feeling down, stomps on it viciously until it's no longer threatening to well up and drag at him, and half-turns away from the mingled laughter as mother and son collide for the very first time.
Blaming Obito, crumpled and unconscious, for the growing bite in his chest is a little too easy, but Kurama indulges anyway.
Three steps away from where Naruto is proudly telling Kushina about his Chains and Kurama takes a breath, refocuses on the here and now. There's still a battle going on above them, but he's reluctant to get that far away from Naruto right now, no matter what. Besides, he can still feel each of his siblings distinctly—and himself, darker and angrier but still stewing in bewilderment, which is by turns confusing and amusing as fuck—and he has faith they'd call for him if they needed him, even if their jinchuuriki couldn't.
Besides, if this is a shogi game in its early stages, Obito is the gold general, the most valuable piece even if he doesn't hold all the power. Zetsu might by Kaguya's king, but one wrong move will be enough to topple him, so right now Obito is his greatest chance at advancing the game. As soon as he figures out that Obito has been captured—
Stones clatter down the embankment, and Kurama jerks, spinning even as he raises his claws. It's Utakata, though, not Zetsu, and the boy blinks at him in clear surprise as Kakashi appears behind him. "Hatake said—" he starts, and then snaps his mouth shut, closes his eyes, takes a breath. Golden amber eyes slide open, and he says determinedly, "I'm glad you're all right."
All of Kurama's attention, however, is on the man behind him, and there's a laugh caught in his throat. Because Kakashi looks exactly the same as he did when they parted ways, if slightly more battered, but there's a miniature human perched on his hip and clinging to his flak jacket.
It takes a good portion of Kurama's effort not to laugh at him, and the only reason he succeeds is because Kushina is currently cooing over Naruto, and it makes him want to hit something.
"Don't," Kakashi tells him blandly as they pick their way down the hill.
To Kurama's vast amusement, Gaara is the one to level an entirely unimpressed look at his bearer before he says firmly, "Put me down."
With a roll of his eye that he doesn't even bother to hide, Kakashi swings him down and sets him on his feet. Gaara doesn't pause to say thank you, but skids the last few feet down the slope and practically teleports to Kurama's side. Before he even has to reach up, Kurama is already crouching down, pulling the little boy into a hug.
"Hey, squirt," he says gently. "I thought I talked to all of you about staying out of danger."
Gaara glances at him, then over his shoulder at Naruto and Kushina, and then back at Kurama's face. For one heartbeat Kurama thinks he's going to ask, but instead Gaara tells him solemnly, "Kakashi isn't as useless as I thought."
Oh, Kurama is never letting that one go, he thinks wickedly, glancing up, and even with the mask he can see the offense writ large across Kakashi's face. Grinning, he asks, "Oh really? He actually helped?"
"He did," Gaara allows. "He can dodge fine."
Utakata is clearly covering a grin with one hand as he approaches, pipe and bottle of bubble solution in his other. "Gaara held Kakuzu down with his sand until I could burn through his Earth Grudge Fear," he says, and lets his hand drop enough for Gaara to see his kind smile. "Saiken and Shukaku work well together, don't they? Just like us."
Gaara nods seriously, but Kurama has to stifle a snort. If anyone is able to work with Shukaku, who is both light on sanity and heavy on malice, it would have to be Saiken, who manages to be the most accepting of the bijuu and also very, very good at cheerfully ignoring things. The sheer aggravation to Shukaku was always worth the fits of rampant destruction it sent the tanuki into afterwards, Kurama remembers.
"The bastard is done for, then?" he asks Utakata, who nods.
"I'm absolutely certain he won't be hunting your heart any longer," the boy tells him, tone deceptively light, and he and Gaara share a look that's full of satisfaction.
Kurama doesn't even want to know at this point. He rolls his eyes, ignores them both, and turns to Kakashi, whose gaze is fixed on the pair behind them. Or possibly on the unconscious form of his former friend—Kurama doesn't particularly want to turn around and check. "Your old man?" he asks gruffly.
Kakashi blinks, glaze flickering back to Kurama's face. It takes him a heartbeat to process the question, but then he grimaces and looks towards the mouth of the canyon. "I left him unconscious. If Kushina is free…"
They can probably hope that Sakumo is as well, though Kakashi doesn't voice the thought out loud. Getting knocked out may have reset her brain, so there's no reason to think it wouldn't do the same for her fellow prisoner.
"Aren't you going to go say hello?" he asks, and is a little surprised when something close to panic shades across Kakashi's face.
"I'll wait," Kakashi says firmly, and the forever, preferably is only implied, but strongly so.
Kurama raises a curious brow, because he remembers just how close Kakashi was to Kushina, especially after the rest of his team died, but he's not going to push. Instead, he glances down at Gaara, hesitates for a moment, and then offers, "Want to stick with me while I rig up some more binding seals?" Now that Kushina's done the hard part of creating the array, he should be able to copy it without a problem, and it's probably the best way to contain the rest of Akatsuki.
Assuming any of the others survive a head-to-head fight with some of the most powerful shinobi in the Elemental Countries.
"Yes, Kurama-nii," Gaara says firmly, and allows himself to be put down, though he stays right next to Kurama's knee as Kurama heads over to take a closer look at the seal Kushina altered.
The changes are simple enough, though not done in a way that Kurama would have thought to switch things around. He's a little unhappy it's not more complicated, honestly; right now, like this, it's all too easy for his eyes to drift over to Naruto and Kushina. The woman is on her knees, Naruto in her lap, and her face is…glowing. Kurama can't quite see Naruto's expression, but he's not entirely sure he wants to.
Naruto is his, he very carefully doesn't think, and there's a thread of anger growing in his gut, undirected, formless, and all too familiar.
Very firmly, he buries it, focuses on the way Gaara's small hand fists in his shirt. "Did you see any of the others on your way here?" he asks, because just sensing their chakra is fine, but it leaves out a hell of a lot of information. Like wounds. Kurama really fucking hopes that none of the kids ended up hurt, but he's not optimistic enough to believe it.
Gaara thinks about it for a moment, considering carefully. "Yugito-nee was getting tired, I think," he allows. "Fū-nee was still laughing, though. She was throwing lots of glitter."
Between Chōmei's wings and her Scale Powder, Fū is probably gleeful about this fight, Kurama thinks fondly. She likes to be in the thick of things, and this definitely counts. Yugito will probably need assistance, because she's the type to dive headlong into something even if she's going to be in over her head, but Rōshi sounded fine just a second ago, and wherever he is Han is probably close by.
Kurama should leave, now that he knows the chakra suppression seal. He should find the others and help them, but it's—hard. Hard to tear himself away, even if Kushina and Naruto are still caught up in each other.
Gaara catches his hand, tugs gently as he asks worriedly, "Kurama-nii?"
Behind them, the winter-swollen river surges like it's suddenly in flood.
Utakata shouts a warning, but Kurama catches the motion out of the corner of his eye and is already moving, snatching Gaara off the ground and lunging right over top of Obito on his way to Naruto. Kushina has him, though, is already leaping back with Naruto under one arm and her fingers twisting into a hand sign for the beginning of a Suiton jutsu. The wave isn't hers, doesn't taste like her chakra, and Kurama practically slings Gaara into Kakashi's hold as he spins, his own chakra rising as the wave crashes down.
A shape rises from the murky darkness of the water, breaking the surface first with a jagged fin and then broad shoulders, more monster than man. Kisame, Kurama realizes, even as he moves, darting across the surface of the flood. Kisame fused with Samehada, chakra entwined and completely identical, a grin on the former Kiri nin's twisted, barely-human face and clear purpose in his eyes as he lunges for Obito.
Kurama meets him halfway in between, catches one rough-skinned hand and tries to throw him. Kisame matches even his greater-than-human strength, though, drags against it and nearly pulls Kurama off his feet before he can let go. One arm edged with a razor-sharp fin lashes around, slices right through Kurama's shirt and into the skin beneath before he can get out of the way, and he snarls even as he leaps back. One hand lashes out, a shockwave rippling from his fingertips, but Kisame plants his feet and ducks one shoulder down to meet it, the force sliding him back and bruising his skin but not breaking through the heavy hide. With a sound of fury Kurama grabs for him again, claws bared, but webbed hands snatch his own, even as another vast shape surfaces from water that should be far too shallow for it.
The shark summons snaps its teeth shut where Kurama's head was a second ago, dives into the water and vanishes again, but Kurama knows better than to think it's gone. He leaps up, breaks the grip on his wrists as he flips over Kisame's head in an attempt to keep the man from pinpointing where he'll land, and grabs for the length of ninja wire Kakashi gave him earlier. Fire comes swift and simple to the forefront, familiar from Mito and Sasuke in equal measure as he hooks a kunai to the end and lets it fly. The loop curls around Kisame's waist, even though Kurama would much prefer to go for the neck—not an option here, when Kisame barely even has a human torso at all. One touch is enough, though, and fire leaps hungrily down the length, blooming into a contained inferno the second it touches skin.
Kisame roars, hooking one hand around the blazing wire, and wrenches hard. Half a heartbeat is all it takes for Kurama to let go, but that's too long. He's within grabbing reach again, too close, and when he tries to dive sideways the prehensile end of Kisame's tail curls around his ankle and yanks him straight down.
He falls into water that's as drowning-deep as the ocean, dark like it's never seen the light. There are sharks everywhere, circling menacingly, but all Kurama can see is the faint, paler shapes of them against the gloom. He takes a breath without conscious thought and chokes as water fills his lungs, feels the waterlogged cloth of his haori and shirt dragging him down. The moment of struggle it takes to shed them has the sharks turning, heading straight for him like a hunting pack, and it's only then that Kurama notices the blood in the water from the gouge in his chest, already closing but not quickly enough.
There's movement above him, a shadow on the surface, and Kurama looks even though he doesn't have the second to spare. Kisame's shape, twisted and all too recognizable, diving down with a wide grin full of teeth. No way Kurama can face him here, in his own battlefield, where both of Kurama's elements are practically useless. He snarls silently, baring his teeth right back, and slams a shockwave at the first of the sharks as it arrows straight for him. The force hurls him back more than it affects the beast, but it gives Kurama space and he takes it gladly, kicking for the surface as hard as he can. Chakra to his feet for force, not quite able to gain traction below the surface, but if he can just break through the water—
Kisame slams into him, impossibly fast. Clawed hands latch onto Kurama's shoulders even as teeth snap at his neck, sink into his skin, and Kurama lets out a cry that escapes as a stream of bubbles instead of sound. He's running out of air, can feel the ache of it in his chest, but he lashes his claws into Kisame's face, aims for his eyes and only just misses. Blood clouds the water around them, and Kurama can feel movement behind him. No need to guess what; if Kurama can't get out of Kisame's hold the sharks are going to do the missing-nin's work for him. The thought of those teeth, that hunting hunger at his back makes Kurama thrash, struggling harder even as his lungs ache.
Kisame laughs, clear and mocking, and his hands tighten. There's movement in the water, and his eyes dart there, full of a satisfaction whose origins Kurama doesn't have to wonder at. He can't do anything but brace himself, though, even as he struggles. There's a surge of chakra, a shadow he only just catches from the corner of his eye, and—
A shape breaks the surface of the water far above, plunging down.
