The Pantheon of Nine

By: Finn Mertenz

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN NARUTO. I DO NOT CLAIM TO OWN NARUTO.


Chapter 134: Together: Now And Forever! Until The End.

Friday 2:47pm, October 24th 58SSP.

"That's the goal." Fuki mischievously cackled.

With overgrown hair that reached her shoulders, this 7 year old child glared with grey eyes. Accompanied by her vigilant guardian, Menma sat above her, resting on the hull of an oaken branch.

Instilled by the loss of Jiraiya, each of his students returned to Konoha, seeking advice. But in reality, the harsh truth was no one had an answer, because the erosion of time changes all.

Now, Fuki sought to mediate a plan, a dreamed outcoming of bringing a smile to her friends. Most of all, she wanted the radiant grin of Konohamaru to take shape, like days of old.

"It'll be hard, all he does is sulk." Udon sniffled.

Wiping the snot from his nose, this academy student was joined by his girlfriend, Moegi. Holding a makeshift assembly in a sparse alley, the road was dirt lined with rotten planks and fencing.

"Without his grandpa... Or Naruto." Moegi stroked her scalp.

Oblivious to the true nature of Naruto's goal, and his sacrifices, Moegi didn't care. Instead, all affection went towards Konohamaru, striving to cheer her friend and end his depression.

"Oh, I've learned a thing or two from Jiraiya." Fuki blushed.

Plunging a sole hand into the satchel on her waist, Fuki unfolded a frog-styled onesie. Originally sewn and embellished by the Toad Sage himself, it was the size of a teenage Jiraiya.

Speaking with hushed whispers and muffled words, Fuki, Moegi and Udon murmured. Fueling the wide smile across Menma's face, he basked in rays of sunlight, piercing lush foliage overhead.


Thirty minutes later.

"How did I get stuck on guard duty?" Bekkō sighed.

Seated behind a rickety shack in front of the Eastern Gate, one leg rested on the counter. Partnered with Daikoku Funeno, this 35 year old Chunin was a veteran of the 3rd Shinobi War.

The academy instructor for Itachi himself, Daikoku held great praise for the Uchiha. Translated to Sasuke, this survivor of an endangered clan earned respect, praise and admiration.

Where the Uchiha were once feared and eyed with suspicion, none felt that way about Sasuke. Citizens of Konoha gazed upon this pale-skinned shinobi with absolute trust and love.

Throughout his career as a ninja, during Orochimaru's invasion and beyond, he risked his life. Saving dozens of innocents when Oto and Suna invaded, their rescue added to his prestige.

"You could always trade places with Sasuke." Daikoku joked.

Dispatched to the northern border, Sasuke and his team of Genin patrolled the Land of Fire. In their stead, Konoha's military might was brought to bare, crowding their towered walls.


Meanwhile.

"Are you sure this will work?" Udon sneezed.

Dressed in a life-size frog costume, Udon's face was encircled by the hem of a toad. Standing in the trash-lined alley beside Ichiraku's Ramen Stand, flies feasted upon day-old garbage.

"Totally! Anytime Jiraiya did this, he always cheered up!" Fuki proclaimed.

Like Udon; Fuki and Moegi wore the lime-green attire of a full-boded frog costume. Watched over by Menma, this teen shinobi sat atop an orange-tile roof, baking beneath a hot sun.

Strolling through the foreground, Suzume walked beside Kotetsu, Izumo and Aoba. An introduction for the latter, Aoba was a 26 year old Tokubetsu Jonin, experienced from the 3rd Shinobi War.

In the same graduating class as Kakashi and Obito, this Jonin was renown for stamina. Capable of flawless Fire Style, his hair was dark black and spiked upwards, restrained by Konoha's headband.

Resting each hand inside the pockets of his flak jacket, he enjoyed an early day off. The eye of the storm, a tranquil haven in a world of conflict, Konoha was spared only by the sacrifices of others.

Encouraged to silence, Fuki, Moegi and Udon piled behind a bin of bagged trash. Alarmed by creeping footsteps, they leapt out to surprise their intended target, saddened by the result.

"Are you three looking for Konohamaru? Again?" Ayame teased.

Tossing out another bag of trash, this blossoming adult wiped the sweat from her neck. Untying the bundled cloth around her hair, a single hand vigorously combed unkempt strands.

"I saw him about an hour ago, but he's gone now." Shrugging, she stepped through the backdoor to her father's restaurant.


Forty minutes later.

"Where did he go?" Moegi tapped her exposed cheek.

Wearing the gloved texture of a reptilian hand, puffed fingertips squished against skin. Ignorant to the occasional glare she earned, her and her friends relentlessly scoured Konoha.

"Where would he go?" Udon sniffled.

Blowing the snot from his nose, this mucus shared the same tone as his frog costume. Standing in the center of the populated market district, troves of silk, cloth and garments were sold.

Framed by the cushioned frog head she wore, Fuki's face was emboldened by sunlight. Overcast by Menma's yawning silhouette, he stood on the wooden seal of an opened window.

Pondering her place in Konoha, and the frequent discusses she once shared about it. Fuki was led by Konohamaru's memory, encouraging her friends to follow, she dashed through crowded streets.


Ten minutes later.

Battered by leaf-filled gusts of wind, Konohamaru stood atop the stone face of Hiruzen. Still dressed as a civilian, a stark gaze betrayed the internal conflict he felt inside his mind.

Naruto was innocent, and the 3rd Hokage gave his own life to saved this whiskered child. Instilled by the Monkey King himself, Enma, this truth was too much for this young ninja to bare.

Blindly glaring over the cliffside of the Hokage Monument, reality appeared to slow down. Broiled and dark, downcast and hidden, black pupils were as empty as the depths of an ocean.

Without Jiraiya, Hiruzen or Naruto, he felt devoid and barren, decrepit and depressed. Rustled in a gentle breeze, his sapphire scarf wavered, striking stray leaves that floated and soared.

"Hey, you!" Fuki cheered.

Confronting her troubled friend, this frog-wearing kunoichi squished with each step. Met only by the solemn and oblivious eyes of Konohamaru, she promptly shook him back to earth.

Seeking to highlight the ridiculous attire she wore, her friend was utterly immune. Enveloped by a lingering haze and the static pain of loss, this emotion was too common in the shinobi world.

"Let's go eat some ramen! I have a spare costume." Fuki dangled an empty suit.

"What's the point?" Konohamaru mumbled.

Turning over his left shoulder, he noticed the distant outlines of Moegi, Udon and Menma. After losing so much, Konohamaru forgot he stilled possessed several friends, and family.

Playfully bopped atop his scalp, he was struck by a direct karate chop from Fuki. Enamored by a hungry roar from his stomach, the sound of free food finally caught his attention.

On the sole condition that he dressed up as a frog, Konohamaru agreed to eat. Hastily snagging his hand, Fuki dragged him towards the village, rushing past a group of smiling friends.


Meanwhile.

Dampened by creaking joints and rotating mechanisms, Kankūro was crouched and bent. Suspended over endless and curved dunes, this 15 year old shinobi obtained the Jonin rank.

Veiled by the special cloth of his bunraku, he was devoid of sweat, despite the heat. An earned trait from years inside the desert, his lifestyle in Suna was harsh and without mercy.

Wielding metallic screws with medical lens as glasses, he shuffled to construct new work. A stunning invention and another step forward in the art of Kugutsu, even Sasori couldn't compare.

"You're distracted, again." Matsuri waved a dismissive hand.

Seated atop a granular pillar of tan rock and stone, she swayed each leg in boredom. Striking natural granite with the shelled heels of her feet, blue shinobi shoes were scoffed with dirt.

"If there's one thing I've learned these past months..." Kankūro sighed.

Straightening the irregular spine and limbs of a limp torso, slates of wood chattered. A robed figure with waved lofts of tossed and auburn hair stood, twitching with uncontrolled spasms.

"Art takes time." He screwed a spare bolt.


Meanwhile.

Washing her feet in the central fountain of Makapu Village, Olivia vigorously scrubbed. Bobbing her head to unheard music, rhythmic echoes reverberated like a muffled chorus of sound.

"These kunoichi sure are strange." Kurobachi scratched his chin.

Alongside his sister, Suzumebachi, these delegates and guards for Deidara were stationed. Nestled inside the Land of Hot Springs, refugees from Yu fled far and wide from the Akatsuki.

Drinking from a bottle of pristine syrup, Kurobachi treated honey like a beverage of water. Drenching his goatee in sweetened liquid, he groaned and croaked in joyful delight.

The head of the Kamizuru clan, Suzumebachi led this extended family through times of war. Younger than her brother, that didn't deter the presence she commanded, a stalwart beacon.

"It's strange that we're here, instead of protecting the Tsuchikage." Suzumebachi spat.

Concerned with her own nation and the plight of her people, she didn't care for foreigners. But now, as the shinobi world faced annihilation, once divided nations forcibly rallied.


Meanwhile.

Sighing with boredom, Sakura vaguely glared at a trembling broth of sautéed ramen. As Raiga and Ranmaru argued in the background, chirping birds sung and rang, soaring their wings.

With a hunched and aged back, Gennō strolled up to this seated kunoichi, humming. While his elderly face was framed by the tan cowl he wore, wrinkles and liver spots were revealed.

"Trouble?" Gennō hummed.

Possessing great age, greater resolve and supreme experience, his ninja skill was fabled. Fighting in conflict for over fifty years, his reflexes were trained, honed and sharp like razors.

The passage of time affected everyone, carrying a weight and toll upon Sakura's innocence. Just six months ago, life was peaceful without a care in the world, blind to daily fright.

Back then, days were spent inside the academy, drooling over Sasuke and cursing Naruto. These memories instilled nothing but regret inside this pink-haired kunoichi, dwelling on the past.

"If I'd known everything turned out like this..." Sakura wallowed.

If she was kinder to Naruto, if she treated him like the friend he was, he would still remain. If she matured faster, Sasuke would've kept interest, growing and training beside her.

These inclinations were dead and gone, as cold and isolated as Iruka's buried and decayed corpse. Lost like Hiruzen's spirit, Kakashi's fabled wink or the perverted laughter of Jiraiya.

For everything to be the exact way it was, an unspoken dream throbbed in Sakura's mind. Hoping to take it all back, to replace the empty void that swelled in her heart and chest.


Meanwhile.

Loomed beside one another. Sasame sat barely a mile south from the village of Oto. Accompanied by the bestfriend from her childhood, Kagerō fed acorns to a wild and hungry squirrel.

"This is what you two have been doing?" Dosu groaned.

Limping from the adjacent shadows of nearby trees, his singular gaze was leered and straight. Forever hunched and arched, his crooked back was cloaked and bathed by violet robes.

Sealing the stone entrance to their home, Hanzaki and the Fūma clan initiated a lockdown. Patrolling exterior outskirts and overgrown forests, sound shinobi moved in the shadows.

Hesitantly defending her short respite, Sasame surged to her feet, blaming Kagerō for delay. Distracted by a herd of forest critters, this emaciated kunoichi was stuck in her own mental world.

"Everything is just so quiet! You can't blame me!" Sasame stuttered.

True to statement, the shinobi world was involved at the height of brewing and stark conflict. Unknown to all, this peaceful lapse was only momentary, a prelude to death and gore.

Stroking his bandage-wrapped chin with the metallic and alloy gauntlet on his right palm. The 4th Dokage raised a sole gaze to the sky, exposing his left eye under rays of sunlight.


Meanwhile.

"You're lucky I love your mother." Zabuza groaned.

Draped in the pale blue and pristine white garbs of a Namikage, he gurgled under his breathe. Carrying his 8 year old stepson, a sapphire skyline was etched above, matching the ocean.

"Yea, yea, admit it! You love me too!" Inari snorted.

Strolling throughout the bustled streets of Kai, stray citizens and children cheered aloud. Offering praise, compliment and gifts to their savior, Zabuza was soon weighed down by presents.

Leaping to aid, Inari jumped from his father's shoulder before grabbing a piled hull of loot. Wheezing as he stood, Zabuza breathed a sigh of relief, concealed by the linen around his mouth.

Still playing an innocent game, Kahyō chased after Paku, clapping shingled roofs under foot. These Yuki and befriended kunoichi lived in the moment, enjoying a beautiful day of life.

A shrunken isle adrift in a massive ocean, the Land of Waves was encompassed by sea. Secluded far and wide from the external conflicts of shinobi, war had a habit of spreading.


Meanwhile.

Searching the charred and burnt remnants of Kusa, the Land of Grass was crippled by war. Traversing this dangerous landscape, Ryūzetsu was joined by Sazanami, Ino and Hinata.

A vanguard ahead of the 5th Kukage, these ninja advanced with caution, treading timidly. Young shinobi embroiled in conflict, Ino and Hinata wore the green flak jacket of Konoha.

Tightly woven around their scalps, the iron headbands of Konoha glimmered in the sun. Threads of pale blond hair were pinned in a ponytail while Hinata's shortened black strands rustled.

"I can't believe this country has a forest... Made of mushrooms!" Ino beamed.

Resting her tiny butt atop disheveled lumber and crumbled pillars of wood, she screamed. Receiving a sharpened splinter in her backside, she promptly stood before rubbing each cheek.

Tangled inside the layered bandages around her butt, Ino struggled to tear them free. Accidently revealing her naked behind, she squealed in embarrassment, leaping to safety.

On the cusp of adulthood, Ino was a 13 year old kunoichi, rehearsed in Yamanaka Genjutsu. A princess to her clan, she was paired with another female member of Konoha nobility, Hinata.

"That's why you should wear pants..." Ryūzetsu pinched her nose.


Meanwhile.

"That's disgusting! Don't flaunt that stuff around!" Karui snapped.

Beating the life from her sweaty teammate, a toothpick flew from Omoi's gasped mouth. Enthralled by a rampant display of earwax atop his fingers, Karui's rage was brought to bare.

Positioned in the foreground, Kegon and Yōrō were struck by confusion and bewilderment. Watching foreign shinobi bicker and argue was one thing, but these ninja were honored guests.

Forever striving to remain stern and rigid, Kegon's usual persona was broken by Yōrō's laugh. Catching the ire of Karui, he promptly fled, chased by this crimson haired kunoichi from Kumo.

Cemented to his post, Kegon watched his friend surge into the waterfall of Taki, disappearing. Swiftly trailed by Karui, this foaming ninja was soaked and drenched by falling water.

Adamant in her pursuit, she charged through a dimly lit cave, lined with stalactite and stalagmite. Left alone with the gurgled and unconscious outline of Omoi, Kegon sighed with wild breathe.

A 26 year old Jonin with fair-skin and curly brown hair, Kegon experienced the 3rd Shinobi War. However, the recent outbreaks of conflict were a startling and jarred disfunction in life.

Wearing a black top with a long-sleeved grey jacket, his naked and bare midriff was exposed. Glaring across the horizon, tree branches were partially barren, subjected to the height of fall.


Meanwhile.

Steering the wheel to a vessel, Chōjūrō directed this wooden hull through the Narrow Strait. Guided by Ao's experienced and practiced knowledge, waves below parted beneath oaken planks.

A habit from his great age, Mifune sat with crossed limbs, closed eyes and a rustling beard. Meditating, he sought to become one with his sheathed blade, the truest goal of all samurai.

Seated on an iron railing, Idate was lost in his own mind, thinking blurry and hazed thoughts. Dwelling on the past, on the scarred face of his brother, Ibiki, the environment slowed.

A former shinobi of Konoha, this youthful Daimyo now served a different land, another country. Previously running from old fears, his resolve was now stern, hardened like an iron will.

Momentarily opening his mouth to speak, he froze at the last moment, biting a wet tongue. A failure to his clan, and the village he originated from, his goal was to change the future.

Bridging the crescent horizon of a stretched ocean, segmented earth took shape in the distance. Preparing to disembark for the Land of Water, their sailed journey continued to swell.

Accompanied by stray dolphins protruding atop the water's surface, they flipped and sang. Wrought with joy, a dazzled smile was etched across Idate's face, happy to fight for his home.


Meanwhile.

"Do these tunnels ever end?!" Temari sneered.

Holding the shape of a curved silhouette, this kunoichi directed her massive and opened fan. Joined by Kisame, Deidara, A and Might Guy, their eyes frantically searched dim canals.

Traversing the old sewer system of Uzushio, cobbled brick was stained with mossy coral. Jolted, brushed and scrubbed by rushing streams of crystal clear water, they scanned for its source.

Equally impatient and bold-headed, A and Guy leapt towards a vertically inclined wall. Running alongside one another, subtle tones of yellow wavered next to the crimson robes of a Hokage.

"Tch." Groaning aloud, Deidara reached into his pouch of clay.

Cackling with unbridled sincerity, Kisame's jagged teeth were bare, white and lethal. Possessing beaded and fish-like eyes, he was virtually blind in the dark, fuel for his laughter.

Flying past a decrepit corner, Temari was trailed by A and Guy, clapping rock under-feet. Briefly paralyzed by an alarming sight, Madara fought against Hashirama, screaming bygone words.

Instantly identifying the hallmarks of Genjutsu, Temari broke free, encouraging other Kage. Dispelling this illusion, the Hokage and Raikage stood back-to-back, observing their surroundings.

"Did you know..." Naruto's voice was gurgled.

There's two types of pain, a firm declaration and statement, spoken with years of experience. The first sensation of pain hurts you, but the second, changes you forever, leaving nothing behind.

"In this shinobi world, that is a constant truth." His eyes were hazed.

Rippled and violet, an unblinking glare of Rinnegan pierced darkened and cloaked shadows. Concealed by swirling abyss, only his eyes were visible, like a veiled wolf stalking its prey.

Enthralled by the untimely death of his younger brother, A surged like a wild and rabid boar. Awash in a static aura of blue lightning, his chakra shared the vibrant tone of sapphire.

Strangling the life from his whiskered nemesis, a flock of screeching ravens flapped instead. Swarming past the aged muscles of their attacker, they spiraled through an old sewer system.

Hastily manipulating her wide fan, Deidara and Kisame jumped off, allowing Temari to swing it. Employing Wind Style: Wind Cutter Jutsu, this technique swiftly swelled with chakra.

Bisecting dozens of black feathers within the strength of a single gust, they fell and floated. Clumped and swatted, molted and plucked, mounds of limp flesh congealed together.

Reassembled into the blond-haired outline of Naruto, his eyes glinted like solid amethyst. With a mouth hidden behind the raised collar of crimson cloud robes, his pupils permeated the air.

"Too slow!" Deidara snickered.

Suspended upside down on the chiseled ceiling, the mouth on his palm chewed and gnawed. Expunged like a downtrodden geyser of soot and wax, hundreds of clay spiders were spewed.

Launched and crawling, chittered and quick, inanimate insects washed across the landscape. Wrapped, trapped and snared around their target, they clung to Naruto's clouded attire.

Defined by an ear-wide grin, Deidara preformed the half-tiger hand seal, enabled by chakra. However, this joy turned to dismay as various spiders became shriveled, drained and discolored.

Flaked like the dry husk of humid bile, still spiders were crushed beneath Naruto's feet. Deprived of chakra, their source was distilled by a rippled and ancient gaze of violet Rinnegan.

"You've done it again!" Kisame jokingly unsheathed his blade.

Surrounded by five Kage, Naruto's own expression was dazed and aloof, stuck in thought. Solemn to the price he had too pay, and the shinobi confronting him, he wanted everything to end.


Meanwhile.

Basked by stunning rays of sunlight, Matsuri sat atop a heated rock amongst sandy dunes. Dwelling on the past, and the orphan life forced upon her, squinted eyes were downcast.

Stationed in the north eastern reaches to her country, this kunoichi wore a tan flak jacket. Wearing the clothed headband of Suna as a scarf, spiked strands of brown hair hung over her eyes.

Dressed in a thigh-length black skirt with encompassing socks, her shins were plated in iron. Trained and instructed by Baki, she sought to redeem her fallen parents, to avenge their loss.

Pondering far-off memories, she blindly watched a distant Kankūro, busy with construction. Yanking the metal communicator from her ear, she lowered it to sunbaked grains of earth.

Subtly placing each knee against her small chest, she was oblivious to sandy gusts of wind. Abruptly amplified by violent static from her discarded earpiece, muffled screams fell silent.

Squabbling to investigate, she narrowly rolled from a sharpened stream of condensed sand. As debris was battered from its terrain, dislodged pebbles crushed her earpiece with ease.

Emboldened by the armored gauntlet's she wore, Matsuri dug a spare palm into the ground. Regaining the balance she previously lost, shinobi shoes smothered the land she stood upon.

Submitted like a hail of corpses, two shinobi of Suna fell and plummet, striking grained earth. Overshadowed by a shifting cloud above, Matsuri raised her gaze, blinking beneath the sun.

Resembling an apple under starlight, Gaara's scarlet scalp glimmered brighter than rubies. Mirroring an identical hue to his red clouded robes, stretched sleeves swallowed him.

Gazing with pale eyes of green, emerald pupils were devoid and empty, revealing nothing inside. Holding no emotion, the inked seal on his forehead resembled a crimson depiction of '1'.

Instantly cocooned by layers of sand, these grained particles absorbed a barrage of senbon. Tipped and posed with poison, their lethal intent was obvious, too slow to reach their goal.

Launched from Karasu's mouth, this spider-like puppet crawled forth with a chattered jaw. Draped in a tattered grey cloak, this cloth was promptly ensnared by streams of sand.

Squeezed and splintered, torn and twisted, this fabled tool was broken and dismantled. While shallow arms rested against Gaara's side, fabric covered both of them, stricken by wind.

Inflamed by this startling sight, Matsuri sprang into action, clapping armored palms together. Preforming the necessary snake seal, nearby rocks sprouted from grained terrain.

Divided into two sections of stoned and flat plains, twin cliffsides were gigantic and stretched. Swiftly gliding across the land, they collided into a single mountain, steep and stern.

Titled as Earth Style: Ground Bedrock, this B-rank technique was a pinnacle of skill and talent. Holding an affinity for Wind Style and Earth Style, Matsuri's prestige was earned.

Buried beneath crumbled rock and cracked stone, Shukaku's jinchūriki silently disappeared. Imprisoned below an endless plateau, Kankūro and Matsuri gawked like a blinded deer.

Sundering tectonic plates far from sight, the encompassing cliff was splintered a hundred times. Diluted and dislodged, an avalanche of earth and dirt rolled forth, a tsunami of pebbles.

Jumping from the path of this rockfall, Matsuri and Kankūro displayed their prowess and reflexes. Landing sideways against a protruding pillar of rock, Matsuri crouched with a stained skirt.

Flipping across suspended mounds of dirt and stone, Kankūro's eared hood fell from his scalp. Exposing a needled array of prickled brown hair, sporadic spirals of violet paint adorned his face.

Ricocheting with the sound of metal striking stone, a headband of Suna battered the ground. Too busy to retrieve it, Kankūro's back was laden with a hooded puppet, his late experiment.

Uprooting tons of chunked earth, Gaara emerged anew, devoid of any scratch, scrap or blemish. Still standing atop a shifting cloud of sand, sleeved arms were crossed in front of his chest.

Without any movement, the adjacent cliffside was suddenly crushed into a sea of sand. Swollen to the size of a grained ocean, the sun was bloated out, cascading Matsuri in darkness.

Positioned further away from battle, Kankūro remained in the last sliver of glinting light. While Matsuri dismayed, falling to her knees, he yanked the finished puppet from his shoulder.

Enabled by blue threads of chakra from various fingertips, his puppet stood upright. Dressed in heavy robes of black, a visible jawline was lined with carved crevasse's and ridges.

Flicking his own wrist, Kankūro's puppet leapt into action, raising wooden limbs to the sky. Employing a swift gust of wind, golden particles of dust swirled into existence, multiplying.

Meeting Gaara's sandy wave on the battlefield, magnetic dust was the heavier substance. Winning this match of grains, Kankūro's puppet stood triumphant, halting Shukaku's sand.

Blown off by a stark breeze of dust, greased strands of auburn hair rustled from side-to-side. With steep creases around his mouth, the oaken and tan-skin of Rasa was highlighted.

Once the 4th Kazekage, Rasa now stood as an immortal and lifeless puppet, unable to think. Hollowed and transformed, past flesh was replaced by ornate plates of slotted wood.

As black circles covered both eyes, the 4th Kazekage possessed a unique type of Ninjutsu. Like the 3rd Kazekage, he could merge Wind Style and Earth Style together, creating Magnet Style.

With brother confronting brother, their father was the sole dividing factor between them. Now, each seeing a different future for Suna, and the shinobi world, only one sibling could leave this battle.


Meanwhile.

Dancing down the street, Olivia swayed with bent arms, jittered knees and a bobbing head. Strolling through barren alleys of Makapu, this once lively village was reduced to a ghost town.

Months ago, this youthful girl was trapped and ensnared by Kabuto's hypnotic beats of music. Now, she was a devoted and proud kunoichi of Yu, safeguarding the Land of Hot Springs.

Licking sticky substance from his fingertips, Kurobachi gorged himself on sweetened honey. Joined by his younger sister, she scoffed in disgust and annoyance, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Why waste time patrolling a worthless village?" Suzumebachi snorted.

Stomping a sole foot in protest, Meng argued against this frivolous claim, defending her home. Emptied of Aunt Wu and the flock of faithful that followed her, Makapu endured.

"We're scouts for the Jokage! Did you even listen?!" Meng inherited Tayuya's rage.

Scanning the path ahead of her father, Meng held this assignment to heart, mind and body. Deaf to the commotion around her, Olivia swayed and shook, tapping to an unheard beat.

Enamored by the foul-mouth of the teenager she accompanied, Suzumebachi bared her teeth. Alarmed by a high essence of chakra, fiery lights of sapphire swelled in darkened alleys.

Resembling Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu, these flames held unique properties, heat and strange hair. In reality, this barrage was the choked and flamed hairballs of Matatabi, sealed inside Karin.

Intercepting these cindered spheres of heat, a black-steeled halberd horizontally swung out. Yanked from Olivia's oversized pant pockets, this weapon unfolded with the touch of a button.

Permanently etched and inscribed with black kanji, her halberd was able to nullify Ninjutsu. Splitting hurled balls of fiery hair, azure embers were drained, flickering from existence.

As charred remains drifted in front of Olivia's well-kempt and short violet hair, she danced. Defined by separate and twin ponytails, this 17 year old ninja wore the colorful garb of a raver.

Muffled by gigantic headphones around her skull, both eyes were tinted by rectangular glasses. Twirling her halberd like the staff of a cheerleader, her waist bumped to damp music.

Singed by sweltering gales of blue fire, shingled rooftops were scorched beneath Karin's feet. A colorful retraction from scarlet hair and crimson clouded robes, her chakra was sapphire.

Infiltrating Makapu with ease, there were no shinobi to stop her, stuck in far-off conflict. Holding her petite waist with a stray hand, Karin's eyes were mix-matched and discolored.

Her right pupil was as amber as yellow honey while the left swirled in deep tones of azure. Unhindered by poor vision, no longer did she wear glasses, surpassing the need of them.

Unmoved by this sight, Olivia's determination was strengthened only by the thump of music. Leaping from the dirt road, she vertically scaled the windowed walls of a four-story apartment.

Promptly confronted by the heated outline of Karin, Olivia swept her halberd in a vertical slash. Sidestepped without a single glance, her crimson haired opponent was distracted by Meng.

Retracting her blade to unleash a second strike, Olivia was overthrown by a fiery shockwave. Hurled threw thin sheets of maple walls, this kunoichi was expelled into an adjacent building.

Instantly veiled by a static swarm, hundreds of bees soared across the horizon, buzzing aloud. Unleashed by Suzumebachi, these insects were swiftly burned by scorching blue heat.

Swollen with chakra, the nails on Karin's feet and hands began to grow, hardened like steel. Using these sharpened claws to shred approaching bees, spiraled shuriken were caught in the midst.

Thrown by Kurobachi, these rotating blades were easily deflected by Karin, falling to the roof. Joining the assault, Meng clasped each hand, weaving through an array of complicated seals.

Born with innate levels of Fire Style and Water Style, Meng merged unique styles into one. Amplified into Steam Style, chakra-filled gas poured from her mouth, titled as Sizzled Mist Jutsu.

Basked by this B-rank technique. Karin's heterochromia glare dazzled with vibrant colors. Surrounded by Meng, Olivia, Kurobachi and Suzumebachi, the jinchūriki for Matatabi held no fear.


Meanwhile.

A border settlement that lined national boundaries, Chin Village bathed beneath the sun. Setting early because of the timely season that was autumn, nearby trees were bare of leaves.

Slurping noodled broth from a porcelain bowl, Sakura ate outside a popular restaurant. Seated with her back against the wall, emerald eyes and pink hair reflected off the soup she devoured.

While Ranmaru stood in the background, he helped Gennō throw away piles of trash. Cleaning the streets of Chin, Raiga continued to sit inside a barren restaurant, eating with a downcast face.

Enamored by the distant chirp of birds, Sakura twitched, exposing her depressed face. Despite the beautiful landscape around her, she thought only of the past, of her young childhood.

"Never thought I'd end up like this..." Sakura mumbled.

Missing Sasuke and Naruto, even Ino was no where near, left alone to face the world. Throughout the course of the year, she lost everything, including her sensei and her innocent nature.

Devoting the entirety of her will into becoming a kunoichi, she left her own parents behind. However, that didn't fill the void in her heart, an empty circle of loneliness and regret.

If you asked Sakura, she would tell you a lie, a fumbled statement that everything was okay. In reality, she was on the verge of a breakdown, second guessing all of her decisions.

"What's up?" Raiga hummed.

Strolling from the front entrance of a restaurant, this shinobi wiped the broth from his mouth. Taking a swift seat beside Sakura, he was easily three times her size, an adult next to a child.

Previously saved by Sakura's kind words, he sought to return the favor, an ear that would listen. Once a fierce and violent ninja, age got the better of his restraint, calming his rage.

Able to save others, like Sasori, Deidara, and the seventh ninja swordsman that comforted her. Sakura was incapable of rescuing herself, too busy dwelling on failed opportunities.

If Sakura stood up to Ino, she never would've lost her friend to begin with, a saddening fact. If she accepted Naruto for who he was, instead of the demon inside, she wouldn't hate herself.

Interrupting this conversation before it began, spires of mountainous coral sundered the earth. As radiant and bright as scarlet, this stony substance divided streets from neighboring homes.

"Being useless, as always." Tayuya sneered.

Appearing atop the highest tip of peaking coral, her knees were bent, hidden by black fabric. Dressed as a rogue Akatsuki, she wore red clouded robes that perfectly matched her hair.

Forever defined by a furred hat of choice, this foul-mouthed Uzumaki wore a fuzzy penguin hat. Combing stray strands of red hair with two fingers, brown eyes carried disinterest.

Triggered by the voice of someone she considered her enemy, Sakura's eyes turned to saucers. Carrying an identical tone to emerald, they became squinted, narrowed and stern.

Blaming Naruto's defection, Sasuke's rejection and Kakashi's fall on one person, Sakura snarled. Plunging twin palms into the ground below, she easily uprooted a plateau of land.

Chunking this crumbed rock like a twig, jagged coral collapsed and cracked as it approached. Overshadowed by this behemoth of stone, Gennō and Ranmaru gasped in genuine shock.

Met by the sensational clap of Tayuya's hands, even more coral sprouted into existence. Rapidly swelling with chakra, rebuilt houses were skewered as hibernating trees were impaled.

Splintered by this combination of force, Sakura's hurled boulder crumbled under pressure. Spewing dislodged pebbles and pulverized dust through the air, nearby windows shattered.

Watching this confrontation from a far-off mountaintop, Aunt Wu long foreseen such a fate. That's why she fled into the countryside, fully aware of the dangerous outcome that approached.

Undaunted by the jinchūriki she faced, Sakura launched a barrage of poisoned senbon. Hardening her own left arm to coral, Tayuya deflected these attacks, laden with demonic might.

Crackling like electric gales, Raiga sprang up, unsheathing the twin blades of Kiba. Mirroring this response, Gennō unrolled a bundle of scrolls while Ranmaru's Ketsuryūgan sparkled like ruby.

Standing at the head of this group, Sakura's reaction was different and separate from most. She was ready to show her value, as a ninja of Konoha, and a kunoichi from Team 7.