The scream echoed in her skull.

A gurgling, bloodcurdling scream. The kind that ripped from your throat until it was raw and bloody and left you unable to speak.

Darkness swam in her vision as she watched the monster pin Bolt to the wall and tear out his throat with its fangs. She wanted to get up. Her spirit was willing, but not her body. Unconsciousness had her in its grip and refused to let her go.

Hikari didn't want to die. Didn't want Bolt to die. Didn't want to let the viper kill them.

Her eyes closed.

When she opened them again, she was cold and her body ached. There was a pounding in her skull. Hikari blinked. She was dazed and confused. She couldn't breathe through her nose. Hikari raised her hand to her face and recoiled as her fingers brushed against her mangled nose. She ran soothing chakra through the broken cartilage and shredded flesh. As she did, Hikari glanced around the room.

Hibiki lay a few feet from her. He was sprawled on the ground, laying face down. One arm was bent at an awkward angle; clearly broken. A pool of dried blood spread from beneath his skull. It dyed his inky black locks red. And Tetsu...

Tetsu was the worst of them all.

He was dead.

Hikari swallowed and crawled over to him. More dragging herself than a crawl. Orochimaru had pinned him to a wall with a sword hard enough to shatter stone. Dirt spilled in through the cracks in the wall. Hikari could see where the sword had pierced him; between the sixth and seventh ribs. His robe top was stained a deep, muddy red color.

Hikari reached out and pressed two fingers to Tetsu's wrist. She waited. One second. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty.

Lub-dub.

Hikari exhaled a shaky breath. He was alive. If only just. She examined him. Heavy blood loss; at least fifteen to eighteen hours old judging by texture and coloration. Dextral sixth rib partially fractured by Orochimaru's sword. Collapsed lung. Hikari leaned in and could hear Tetsu take a gurgling, shallow breath.

She pulled her knees underneath herself and raised both hands. They glowed with a soft green light that illuminated the destroyed kitchen. The table and chairs had been turned to splinters, and the remnants of their meal had been strewn across the floor. A forgotten stove glowed cherry red.

Hikari moved the healing chakra through Tetsu. Extracting the shard of bone. Repairing the lung; extracting the blood through the open wound. Knitting the flesh back together. Stimulating the body's Yang energy to promote healing.

It was all she could do. He would live, she hoped. The Uzumaki clansmen were notoriously difficult to slay. Their natural vitality would, Hikari hoped, allow Tetsu to pull through. She crawled over to Hibiki.

His right arm was clearly broken. It jutted out at an unnatural angle that made her wince in empathy, remembering her own broken limbs. Her fingers ghosted over the injury. Dislocated shoulder. Humerus cleanly broken in two places. Stress fracture of the scapula. Hikari went about her work. Removing shards of bone too small to be grafted back together. Setting the broken bones. Grafting them in place. Reattaching muscles and ligaments. Pushing the limb back into its socket.

The head wound was worse. A depressed parietal fracture. Intracranial hemorrhaging. No brain damage, as far as Hikari could tell. She desperately wished she had taken more field medic training. The hunter corps just slit your throat if you were dealt a brain injury on a mission. Too much of a liability. Hikari placed the palm of her hand over the depression and began to heal Hibiki. He was dying. Would die, if she didn't make an attempt at stopping the bleeding.

It was a long, tense half an hour. Hikari didn't have the strength to crawl. She removed her hands, the glow fading, and lay on the cold, hard floor.

Then she closed her eyes.


"Is she alive?"

Hikari threw her fist forward and struck the person looming over her. It caught wispy strands of hair as it sailed past. Hibiki flinched out of the way, perhaps sensing her sudden burst of chakra. Her breaths came rapid and shallow as her eyes darted to every shadowed corner of the room. Her mind was racing as memories and thoughts assailed her in equal measure.

She was alive. Hibiki was alive. Tetsu, looking worse for wear, was alive. Bolt was—Bolt was gone.

Bolt was gone.

Bolt was gone. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

How had she missed that? The most important detail. She'd healed two of her teammates. Not three. Fuck. Oh god. Orochimaru. Orochimaru took him. Or worse: he was dead. No. No, it would be worse if Orochimaru took him. Experimented on him.

"Calm down," Hibiki whispered.

Hikari opened her mouth to snap a reply, but the words came out garbled. Hibiki placed a hand on her shoulder. "Whilst I'm thankful you deigned to heal me, you should have healed yourself first. You're a beautiful woman; it's a sin to let that face scar," he said in that too smooth, too confident way.

Hikari twitched. She raised a hand to her face and channeled healing chakra through it. Her jaw had been dislocated and was sporting a nasty purple-yellow bruise. Her nose was broken and her features caked in dried blood. But worst was the soft tissue damage. Her mask had been shattered when Orochimaru struck her. Shards of porcelain had been imbedded in her face.

"Fuck," Hikari swore. It came out as an intelligible, warped noise.

She pumped healing chakra through her system. A healthy dose to kickstart her body's Yang energy. Reattached her jaw and worked out the kinks in her muscles so he could speak again. Picked out the mangled cartilage of her nose and knit the flesh back together as best she could. Hikari swore. She'd need a mirror and time to properly fix her appearance. Then she set about removing the shards of porcelain and repairing the soft tissue that had been slashed to ribbons beneath.

"What happened?" Hikari asked, her voice hoarse. She found the mangled ruins of her mask. It had been destroyed except for the upper left portion. It wouldn't cover anything more than her left eye, part of her nose, and her cheekbone. Still, she slipped it on and the jutsu held it fast. She felt more comfortable with it on.

No one answered her. "What happened?" Hikari growled.

"We don't know," Hibiki answered. "I just woke up a few minutes ago."

Tetsu looked deeply ashamed as he hung his head. He hadn't moved from where Orochimaru had left him.

"Can—can you sense Bolt?" Hikari asked.

Hibiki's face contorted with effort. "No, but—wait. Yes? The chakra signature is remarkably similar. More pure than Bolt's own. It's... warm, bubbly almost. Timid, too. Does he have a sibling?"

"Fuck!" Hikari swore, slamming a fist into the floor. The stone spiderwebbed with cracks.

"I take that as a yes?" Hibiki asked.

Damn it. Bolt's little sister was chasing after him again. Fuck. That made everything more complicated. They couldn't even fight her, now, and they didn't have Bolt or an explanation for where he was or what happened to him. What did she do? What did she do? What did she do?

Tetsu swayed on unsteady legs as he stood. "What are you doing?" Hikari snapped. He wasn't well enough to stand.

"This one shall fetch reinforcements," Tetsu spoke. "The family of my lord shall assist us in rescuing him, or extracting vengeance. That is my sacred duty."

"Judging from her reaction, I don't think that's such a good idea," Hibiki said.

"It's not," Hikari hissed. "Bolt doesn't want to fight his sister. His sister wants to bring him back to the Leaf. He would be furious with us if we hurt her, if he's even still alive. Besides, if she is hostile we aren't in any condition to fight her off."

Tetsu paused.

"Hibiki, how many people are with her?" Hikari asked.

"Three—one with a very powerful chakra signature, two with middle jōnin levels of chakra. The two of them are... odd," Hibiki answered.

"Odd how?" Hikari pressed.

Hibiki paused for a moment. "One feels feral. Wild, almost. More like an animal than a man. The other... I don't know how to describe it." Hibiki shivered. "He is—is disgusting. His chakra makes my skin crawl."

That didn't sound like any of the people they had met on their journey from the Land of Rain to Wind. "And the other one? The one with the powerful chakra signature?" Hikari asked.

"Oh, him. Very powerful. His chakra is beautiful; dark, looming over his head like a stormcloud. But beautiful all the same. Like watching a thunderstorm," Hibiki said. His eyes took on an unfocused, glassy quality. Hibiki shook his head. "Not nearly as beautiful as Bolt, though."

Hikari sent a glance at Tetsu. He seemed to understand. "A new team, then," Hikari decided. "None of those people were ones we fought. At least, I don't think they were. Tetsu?"

Tetsu grumbled. "This one agrees with you, my lady," he said.

"We need a plan of action. Hibiki, can you try to sense any remnants of Bolt's chakra? Or Orochimaru's. Anything that could tell us what happened or where they went," Hikari said.

Hibiki went silent. His eyes stared forward, unseeing. Hikari waited on bated breath. One minute. Then two. Then three. He blinked, paused, then shook his head. "Nothing," Hibiki answered. "These bases are hold. It's possible Orochimaru has him hidden in a modern, more well protected facility. One my senses cannot penetrate."

Hikari growled. She was the interim leader of their band of misfits until Bolt could be rescued. It was up to her to get him back safely. She had no idea how to find Orochimaru. Many more skilled and powerful have tried and failed—and paid the ultimate price. Hikari had to get him back. Had to. Had to. She paused. "What about—"

Hibiki collapsed as spasms shook his body. Hikari rushed to his aid. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit. Something had gone wrong when she healed the bleeding in his brain. Damn it. She knew this was going to happen. Her hands glowed with the green chakra of the Mystic Palm. Her fingers ghosted through his inky black locks—

A moan escaped Hibiki's lips. Not one of pain, but one of pleasure. Hikari paused. "Oh, God," he managed to rasp. "I've never felt chakra like this before."

"... What?"


Bolt woke, as he normally did, to Suigetsu having zero sense of privacy and decency. The white-haired man kicked down his door—sometimes literally—and slammed it against the wall. "Rise and shine, kid!" Suigetsu proclaimed for the entire facility to hear. "You're getting new accommodations!"

Bolt grumbled and reluctantly rose to his feet. He slipped into the one outfit he could wear; the outdated and slightly suspicious robe Orochimaru had given him. Bolt certainly wasn't about to take an Akatsuki uniform out and wear those.

He yawned as he trailed behind Suigetsu. He was led to another wing of the base, one that he hadn't yet had the chance to explore. Bolt stretched, relishing in the experience of nearing half his full strength. He was slowly learning how to separate his own chakra from the Cursed Seal's. Another few days and he'd be back to one hundred percent capacity. If not sooner, if he got even better at purifying his chakra.

"Here we are," Suigetsu announced, inserting a key into the door and pushing it open. He gestured Bolt inside with a theatrical flourish of his arms.

It was a nice room. Larger, more ornate. Two beds. They were large, yet strictly utilitarian in their appearance and function. Like barracks. A desk. Two bookcases. And—and not empty.

"Mitsuki," Bolt said.

Mitsuki turned from where he stood before one of the bookcases. He sported a nasty bruise on his right cheek. It was an angry purple-black color, tinged with yellow. He wore a similar set of robes to Bolt himself.

"Bolt!" Mitsuki exclaimed, jogging and wincing in equal measure as he made his way over to him. Mitsuki looked like he wanted to hug him, but stopped short as his eyes came to rest on the Cursed Seal.

Bolt quickly turned away, using what meager collar the robe top provided to shield the seal. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?" Mitsuki managed to huff out in a single breath.

"I—" Bolt paused. Suigetsu had disappeared. "I could ask you the same thing. Why aren't you in the Leaf?"

Mitsuki looked saddened and angry in the same moment. "My father," he spat the word. "Requested my presence, apparently."

Ah. Bolt understood. "Same thing, basically. He ambushed my team and I. We didn't stand a chance," he said with a shrug. That fact stung more than he'd like to admit.

"Was," Mitsuki hesitated. "Was your team okay?"

Bolt felt the weight on his shoulders that he had been trying to forget grow heavier. "I don't know. I don't think so," Bolt answered, kicking at the floor. "Orochimaru isn't really the type to show mercy."

Mitsuki nodded. "I'm sorry," he said.

There was an awkward pause. "What do you think he wants with us?" Bolt asked, if only to find something to talk about. He had missed hanging out with Mitsuki. He wished, not for the first time, that he could have retained the relationships he had in the Leaf.

"I don't know," Mitsuki said.

Bolt sighed. "I thought he was using me to lure you out," he explained.

Mitsuki stilled. "If he captured you, and he captured me... he could be trying to kidnap Sarada. His fascination with the Sharingan, remember?"

Bolt felt something hot bubble in his chest. That would not happen. He wouldn't allow it to pass.

A dark, gravelly chuckle.

Bolt whirled around. Mitsuki mirrored him. Orochimaru stood in the doorway. Bolt hadn't even heard him approach. "Nothing of the sort, I can assure you," Orochimaru hissed. "I already have access to a cloned set of eyes, and I am not so foolish as to attack the daughter of Sasuke."

"But you're foolish enough to attack the son of the Hokage?" Mitsuki asked with a wry grin.

Orochimaru bared his fangs in an unnaturally wide grin. "Bolt himself shrugged the protection of his father when he became a rogue ninja. Daddy dearest won't be coming after him anytime soon. He and Sasuke have much more important matters to prepare for."

Bolt sucked in a breath. It hurt more than he would have thought to hear that thought voiced aloud. In some deep, dark part of him he had wished his father would come after him. He never did. And apparently, wouldn't.

Mitsuki frowned. "Why not?"

Orochimaru chuckled. "They didn't tell you?" He paused. When neither him nor Mitsuki answered, Orochimaru hummed. "Interesting. You should ask about what really happened at the end of the Fourth War. Sasuke should be returning any day now. Last I heard, he found something quite... fascinating."

"What do you want?" Bolt growled. He wasn't in the mood for mind games. He berated himself for allowing Orochimaru to get under his skin. That was what he was supposed to avoid. He had to be better; stronger. For his team.

Orochimaru chuckled again. Fuck, Bolt hated that sound. He thought the snake did it just to annoy him. "A father is allowed to dote on his son, is he not?"

Bolt didn't believe that. From his expression, neither did Mitsuki. Orochimaru chuckled. "I, too, have an important duty I must perform. Come," he commanded.

Bolt followed after him. No sense in making whatever Orochimaru wanted harder than it already was. Mitsuki followed beside him.

Orochimaru led the two of them to a large room beneath the floor they had been staying on. It was huge, easily a thousand feet in diameter. The floor was made of stone and covered with a thin sheen of dirt and dust. The ceiling was vaulted and ribbed with arches of rock that seemed to grow from the walls; an Earth jutsu.

It was a sparring arena.

Orochimaru spun on his heels, a wide grin already on his face. His serpentine eyes darted between Mitsuki and him.

Bolt knew what the Sannin wanted. And he was happy to give it to him. Bolt glanced at Mitsuki. The two of them nodded in agreement.

His eyes faded from blue to a pale violet as he emitted a shroud of chakra. Bolt didn't think that the two of them would defeat Orochimaru. If him and his three companions couldn't, there was no way he and Mitsuki could—at half strength, if that. But Bolt hoped they could hurt him. He hoped that body felt pain.

His Lightning Armor sparked to life with a crackle and a chirp. Pain coursed through him, emanating from his shoulder. Bolt pushed the Cursed Seal back. Next to him, the wispy, incorporeal serpents formed around Mitsuki as a single horn erupted from his forehead.

Together, they leapt forward.

Bolt was faster, if only just. He pushed himself, leading the charge. He'd make an opening for Mitsuki. He knew his friend would see the opening and press their advantage. Bolt could feel it. Years of fighting at each other's side as both an Academy student and a genin. Old instincts never really died.

Bolt sent a flurry of Gentle Fist strikes at Orochimaru. A few to the left shoulder, a few to the right. Then, he knocked the Sannin's right arm away and broke his guard. Mitsuki was right behind him. He slammed a fist, aflame with one of the incorporeal snakes, into his father's chest.

Orochimaru didn't even grunt as he was pushed ten feet backwards. A cloud of dust had been kicked up in his wake. Still, he appeared no worse for wear. Mitsuki was weaving hand signs. A Water jutsu, Bolt didn't know which. He simply raised his hand, and the moment the jet of water left his friend's lips, electrified it.

A wave of water rushed forward, white-blue electricity coursing through it. Orochimaru smirked and simply strode forward, wading through the wave. The electricity didn't even seem to bother him.

What was the point?

Bolt already knew that Orochimaru was immune to everything they could throw at him. Why did he want to fight them? What was the purpose? Bolt knew that Orochimaru knew they weren't a threat. Why fight? Was he bored? In some ways, yes. But that wasn't enough. An opportunity to force him to use the Cursed Seal? Plausible, but why? What was the point in branding him?

There had to be a reason.

Bolt spun into a Revolving Heaven as Orochimaru launched himself at him. He was batted backwards and away as Mitsuki crashed down upon him with all four of his incorporeal snakes. Still, any injury that he was dealt quickly healed.

Why bring the two of them together? If Orochimaru wanted to push him to use the Cursed Seal, he could have just beaten him black and blue until he had no other choice but to tap into its powers. But Mitsuki? Why risk sending agents to the Leaf to kidnap him? What if they had been caught? Why would Orochimaru risk bringing the might of the Leaf and the Union down on him when the powers that be were content to let him roam free?

It didn't make sense. Bolt was missing something. An itch at the back of his mind that he couldn't quite reach.

Orochimaru broke away from Mitsuki and charged him. Bolt slipped into a defensive Gentle Fist stance. He slapped away punch after punch and evaded kick after kick. Bolt could tell Orochimaru was holding back. If he used his full strength, his full speed, Bolt had no doubt the Sannin would crush him. All the while, he pondered.

Why?

Mitsuki had drawn Kusanagi. Bolt didn't catch where he had produced the sword from. Orochimaru, at least, was avoiding their attacks for once. He didn't let Kusanagi touch him; not even a scratch. Still, the Sannin pressed the assault on him. Bolt grunted as one of the snake's fists caught him. He was throwing stronger and stronger punches.

Bolt slapped away a kick with his left hand and raised his right. Lightning gathered in a storm of chirping. A low-powered Chidori. He lunged forward and thrust it through Orochimaru. The Sannin saw it coming, could have dodged or blocked, but didn't. He let it sink into his chest cavity before gripping Bolt by the wrist tightly.

The snake tilted his head, ever so slightly, so that he could look at Mitsuki. Orochimaru inhaled. Bolt lifted a leg to kick him in the skull. Mitsuki lowered the tip of Kusanagi and charged. Orochimaru exhaled a blade of wind that cut deep into the shoulder opposite the Cursed Seal. Bolt whimpered in pain. The injury robbed his kick of its power, but Orochimaru released him all the same.

Mitsuki screamed a battle cry and attacked with a newfound zeal. Orochimaru just chuckled, attention now firmly on Mitsuki.

Why?

Bolt cauterized the wound with an uncontrolled arc of electricity. Then he darted forward and sent a barrage of Gentle Fist strikes at the Sannin. He aimed for the heart, the lungs, the liver, and the brain. Or the areas of the body that would normally contain the vital organs. Orochimaru seemingly didn't have any.

"Don't touch him!" Mitsuki barked, sending a flurry of slashes at Orochimaru.

The Sannin chuckled in that same dark, gravelly voice that irritated some deep, primal part of Bolt. Then, Orochimaru turned and attacked him again. Bolt took several hurried steps back as Orochimaru came at him again and again with increased strength, speed, and agility. Attacks that once didn't hurt now did. The snake slithered faster than he did before. Orochimaru would dodge Gentle Fist strikes that once landed true.

His body, once on the mend, was quickly sporting bruises, scrapes, and cuts once more. Bolt wheezed as Orochimaru caught him in his wounded shoulder with a kick, tearing the wound open once more. Bolt reeled, staggering away as he held his good arm to the wound. He should have asked Hikari to teach him some medical ninjutsu, even if he didn't particularly enjoy the discipline. He regretted that, now. He regretted a lot of things.

Orochimaru was not a merciful man. He pressed his advantage, mercilessly beating him to a pulp at an agonizingly slow pace.

Mitsuki appeared in a burst of wind. Two of his incorporeal serpents were coiled around the blade of Kusanagi as he swung. The slash carried forward, imbued with the power of natural energy. Orochimaru beat a hasty retreat as he avoided the attack. Bolt held a hand aloft as a sphere of whirring, blue-white chakra formed in the palm of his hand. He hurled the Rasengan forward, catching the Sannin as he retreated. The attack sent Orochimaru flying as he was ground into the floor.

Bolt watched as Orochimaru rose with that same wide, predatory grin that bared his fangs and unnaturally long tongue. Mitsuki stepped in front of him and brandished Kusanagi. "You promised you wouldn't hurt him! At the hospital!"

Orochimaru chuckled with, what Bolt considered, to be genuine mirth. "I said I would not harm him—for now," he hissed. "Now has passed."

Mitsuki growled something unintelligible. The wispy, nebulous snakes around him became almost agitated. The veritable cloak of natural energy he wore spread. Another two serpents joined their brethren and numbered five. The horn protruding from his forehead dwindled until it was no longer so severe or pronounced. Even the inky black markings around his eyes became more focussed and less messy.

Orochimaru sported his widest grin yet; a twinkle in his eyes.

And then Bolt understood. Orochimaru didn't care about him at all. This was all for Mitsuki—just like the Sannin had claimed. Orochimaru kidnapped him, branded him, all to put Mitsuki in this position. To force him to grow, regardless of the pain inflicted.

But why?

Bolt didn't know. That itch in the back of his mind bothered him less, but it was still there. Something still missing. But he didn't know what it could be. Mitsuki leapt into the fray faster and stronger than ever before. Orochimaru actively evaded his son's attacks, now.

But Bolt did know something. He knew that Orochimaru was hurting Mitsuki. A father hurting his son. Bolt knew that feeling well. And he wasn't going to let Orochimaru inflict that kind of pain on Mitsuki.

He felt the pressure pulsing through his entire body that originated at his shoulder. A good deal of his focus had been directed towards suppressing it. Pushing it away.

Now? Now he reached for it and pulled.

The influx of chakra was as pleasurable as it was empowering. A rush of chakra, more than Bolt had ever felt before, filled him to the brim—and then some. And it wasn't just his capacity, it was the quality. Each ember of chakra burned brighter and with a greater intensity; individually empowered beyond his normally produced chakra.

The same feeling from when he suppressed the Cursed Seal assaulted him. A wave of power that swept all his burdens and worries away. The little aches and pains, both body and mind, were conveniently placed out of sight and forgotten. He wasn't the scared little boy with a mangled honor running from the world, from his father. He wasn't a brother that had abandoned his sister. He wasn't a friend mourning the loss of the only friends he could ever, would ever, have as a rogue ninja.

He wasn't a failure.

Now? He was Bolt Uzumaki: infamous rogue ninja, slayer of the One-Tail, and more powerful than he had ever been in his short life.

His Lightning Armor snapped into its upgraded form with an audible crack of thunder. Locks of blond hair floated skyward as stray arcs of static electricity escaped his control. The cloak of chakra that surrounded him was flooded with electricity. So much that he could barely maintain control of it. Muscles gorged and enlarged. Beneath his feet, the stone floor of the arena cracked.

The world crawled forward at an agonizingly slow pace. Bolt could see, individually, each muscle and tendon flex and move as both Orochimaru and Mitsuki began to turn and look at him. The little details. Eyebrows rising. Eyes widening. Hair standing on end. Goosebumps spreading across skin—fascinating to watch as each little bump erupted one-by-one. All in that some agonizingly slow pace that only Bolt could perceive.

He walked forward. A slow, casual walk as his mind calculated and formed a plan of attack. To his target, Orochimaru, it would appear as if no more than a handful of seconds had passed. To Bolt, he had nearly a full minute to decide how, exactly, he was going to make the Sannin hurt.

Bolt stopped before the father and son duo. He raised a hand, and with great caution, pushed the brandished blade of Kusanagi out of the way. Bolt made sure to keep his armor from letting the steel touch flesh. With room to work, he raised his right arm and pressed his fist to Orochimaru. White flesh, nearly waterlike in its consistency, rippled outwards from the blow. The snake's body was slow to follow, but it did. Arms and legs raised as the force of the strike catapulted his body backwards.

Already, Orochimaru was bringing his hands together to weave signs. Bolt stilled and raised his free hand aloft; palm up, fingers splayed. He began to gather chakra. An enormous quantity of chakra. Far more than he could have ever dedicated to the technique before. He startled slow. He had the time, after all. Orochimaru was just finishing weaving his first hand sign nearly fifteen feet away.

Rotation. He formed a mass of chakra so dense that his arm struggled to keep aloft. Bolt bent the chakra to his will; forcing it to whirl clockwise faster and faster until it made the telltale whining whirr of the Rasengan.

Power. More chakra. His arm dipped, unable to hold the quantity of chakra he was pushing into the technique.

Containment. Form a shell of ultra dense chakra around the Rasengan. Tame the forces at work. Harness them, and turn them towards destruction.

Then came the most difficult part. Nature transformation. Bolt reached out and felt each wisp of chakra and began to phase each one into Lightning Release chakra. The blue-white color of the chakra darkened until it was a cloudy gray. It was a process. The longer he transformed his normal chakra to Lightning chakra, the more powerful the jutsu was. Bolt held the sphere of gray chakra in the palm of his hand. No larger than his fist. That would have to change.

Orochimaru had completed three hand signs and was now forty feet away and gaining speed as his body reached maximum velocity.

More rotation. The telltale whirr of the Rasengan drowned itself out until it was nothing more than a low rumble, like thunder booming in the distance. More power. Even more chakra. The sphere of gray chakra darkened until it was nearly black. A halo of pure white chakra erupted from its circumference and then collapsed in on itself; from a sphere to a disc. More containment. Prevent the jutsu from losing any of its power in transit. More transformation. Every single particle of chakra attuned to the destructive element of Lightning.

It was done.

Orochimaru struck the wall at the far side of the arena. The impact shattered stone and kicked up a cloud of dust that obscured the Sannin. A great wall of metal erupted from the ground in a wisp of smoke. Then a second, and then a third. Each with demonic faces and colored red, green, and blue.

Bolt hurled the perfected Rasenshinsei forward.

He turned and left the room.

For all his power, all his strength, and all his speed, Bolt knew that he could go faster, be stronger. A second level of power existed. Waiting for him to grasp it. He had only reach out and take it.

But he didn't. He wouldn't become reliant on the Cursed Seal. But he would use it, just this once, to prove his point. Bolt strode through the halls of the underground facility. An alarm was blaring and the lights were flashing red.

He came across the first room he hadn't been able to spy into with his Byakugan and shredded the door. Inside were stacks of wooden crates. A simple wave of his hand sent a storm of electricity through the room that destroyed the boxes and set them, and whatever was inside, aflame.

The next room was a locked laboratory. Several rows of tall glass cylinders filled with green, bubbling liquids lined the walls. Bolt hurled a Rasengan into their midst and strode from the room before it detonated.

The next room was more akin to an operating room. Metal slabs in the center of the room. Tables and trays filled with surgical implements. One of the walls was lined with what appeared to be fridges. It was a morgue, Bolt realized.

He destroyed it with another Rasengan and then continued on his path of destruction. Another storage room. A barracks with row upon row of bunk beds. An ornate bedroom—Bolt hoped it was Orochimaru's. A room filled with growing fetuses. A room with—

The pain came, then. More agonizing than anything Bolt had ever felt. Nearly as incapacitating as the moment Orochimaru branded him with the Cursed Seal. Bolt fell to the floor, limbs sprawled, as his body spasmed beyond his control. His Lightning Armor faded into nonexistence and time came rushing back with a tangible strike of a hammer.

Bolt curled into a ball, whimpering, as the Cursed Seal receded and coiled within its housing branded onto his flesh. Chakra, wild and uncontrolled, ripped through him and shredded organs as easily as it crushed bone.

Darkness came, and Bolt couldn't fight it.


It happened in the blink of an eye; an instant too small to be perceived by the human mind without augmentation.

One moment, rage coursed through Mitsuki as he dueled his father. For daring to hurt Bolt, for daring to break his oath to him. The next, a great, oppressing wave of chakra rolled over him like nothing he had ever felt before. His eyes were seared with the sheer intensity of the light that was, Mitsuki assumed, Bolt's Lightning Armor.

The explosion rocked him. Catapulted him backwards until he slammed against the wall near the entrance to the sparring arena. Mitsuki groaned. He had only caught glimpses of the impossibly fast attack. Three demonic gates rising; the triple rashōmon.

The first gate, the red one, was simply gone. There was nothing left. No warped shrapnel nor tile from the gate's roof. Just gone; utterly destroyed. The second gate, green in color, was a ruined, mangled mess of steel. Like something had bored a hole through the center of the gate and exploded outwards, destroying its supports. The only thing recognizable was a small pile of tiles, a single dented bell, and spiked base. The third and final gate was dented and scratched beyond recognition. The demonic visage that it bared on its door was gone. As if it had been ground away.

The damage to the room had been extensive. Mitsuki remembered a momentary flash, a nova of white chakra, expanding and touching all corners of the room as the jutsu impacted the first gate. Mitsuki traced it with his eyes. Everywhere the nova touched stone had turned to molten rock. Globules of magma dripped from the walls as a swathe of rock nearly three feet tall circumnavigated the room and glowed an uncomfortable cherry red color. From the gash of molten rock, the stone fractured with spiderwebbed cracks that maimed the floor and ceiling in equal measure.

"Mitsuki!" Orochimaru shouted.

Mitsuki turned, dumb, as his father grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from the training arena. He was unharmed. As he did, a colossal boulder fell from above. The room, more of a man-made cavern, was collapsing. Coming down all around them.

The echoing boom of explosions and the crackle of fire sounded from every room in every direction. Looking down, Mitsuki could see a vaguely human footprints scorched onto the floor. There were screams. People flooded the halls, shouting in alarm and barking orders. A few had metal canisters that sprayed a thick, bubbly foam over the fires that raged from a room every couple of doors.

Jūgo and Karin came barreling down the hall. "Lord Orochimaru!" they called out.

"Jūgo. Karin," his father acknowledged them. "Am I assume it was you who sounded the alarm?"

Karin nodded. Her hand was shaking, Mitsuki could see. "Excellent work," Orochimaru hissed. "Do you know where he is?"

Karin ran a shaky hand through her crimson hair. "I—the chakra signature dwindled in the southeastern wing of floor five, near lab thirteen," she informed him.

His father ran. Mitsuki followed him. So, too, did Jūgo and Karin. Mitsuki spotted the dismembered head of Suigetsu riding a wave of water as he rolled through each of the fires. Their group descended a set of stairs, then another, as they ventured deep into the bowels of the facility. The power was out. The only thing that lit their path was the red, rotating lights of the alarm. Fires raged, uncontrolled, from several rooms.

Orochimaru spat water at them when he could. Mitsuki could have lent his assistance, but declined to do so. A small, petty vengeance. Mitsuki saw Bolt. He lay on the ground, a fire crawling ever closer to him. A tongue of flame lashed out and licked at his robe top. It caught fire. Mitsuki spat a wave of water over Bolt and then directed it to the nearby fires. Now, he regretted not helping put them out. They would need to bring Bolt to the upper levels to escape the smoke and flame.

Bolt was spasming uncontrollably. Frothing at the mouth. Blood leaked from his nose, ears, and eyes.

He felt cold. "What's happening to him?" Mitsuki demanded angrily.

His father kneeled. His expression, for once, was serious—and grim. "Karin!" Orochimaru barked.

The red-haired woman kneeled and tore at the collar of her shirt. Jūgo helped his father press Bolt to her chest. Jūgo managed to part his jaw so that his teeth dug into Karin's skin. A flash of green chakra leapt between them. Bolt stilled, his body sagging. He was pale and shaky and damp with cold sweat.

"What's happening to him?" Mitsuki demanded as Karin covered herself.

His father, for the first time, frowned.

"The Cursed Seal is rejecting him," Orochimaru said.

"He is dying."


A/N:

So... yeah. Not too much to say this time. Remember: if the death isn't on-screen, no one is officially dead. Sasuke chapter coming up soon, but not next! There is... maybe three or four more chapters of this arc. I hope to have them done sometime in the next two weeks. Then we're on to a mini-arc, an interlude, and, finally, the timeskip.

Mariposa — Bolt's headband in the manga is Sasuke's original one that Naruto defaces. He gets it from him during the movie.

Shiki Shiori — I was considering writing a Worm fic after I'm done here, but I'm honestly pretty happy with how Worm wrapped up. Wildbow did an excellent job with it. Normally, I find it easier to write for worlds where I'm not satisfied by the ending or some key aspect of the story. Worm doesn't fit that. My favorite part of the story was the early arcs, up to where Coil died. The whole "street-level" villainy was fun to read. If I did write a fic, I'd probably do an AU where the whole Golden Morning thing doesn't happen and Taylor focusses her efforts on becoming the warlord of Brockton Bay. Probably with an alternative power.