Chapter 128
Regaining Honor: Daisuke's Resolution!
"Takako, are you sure about this?"
"Mmhm," she hummed, certain of her conclusion.
Adjusting the leather strap of her travel satchel, the kunoichi stepped over a jagged stone protruding from the dirt road like a natural caltrop, maintaining her stride despite the hesitant question. And the obstructing stone.
Beside Takako, heavy hooves thumping rhythmically on the road, was a bay Shire stallion, his mane and feathers black as the midnight sky. She noted decorative plaits within its otherwise well-groomed and lengthy mane, woven, perhaps, by a stablehand fond of the stallion.
The Shire was a gorgeous behemoth, the tallest and largest draft horse she had ever had the good fortune of gazing upon. A veritable beast that made the average Mustang appear as Shetland Pony. Broad, muscular, the distance between the ground and the highest point of its withers a minimum of 19-hands, if she had to estimate.
Takako, by comparison, was around the height of its hind legs. Walking beside its raised head was like being a child standing at the base of a mountain.
A gentle giant with a calm temperament, the stallion walked with a astonishing smoothness that betrayed its immense size, smelling of fresh pine shavings and hay.
It was a familiar scent. As always, without exception, it brought to mind memories of her childhood working in and around horse stables, around gentle giants, moody boss mares, flighty newborns and cocky troublemaking adolescents alike.
She thought of the sweaty days shoveling horse manure from the half a dozen stalls she was assigned to in the rustic timber-framed barn, the stench of urine and manure pungent and overwhelming at first, but eventually an aroma she hardly noticed. It became apart of the routine. A stench like any other.
However, she preferred the smell of fresh hay she loaded into the wheelbarrow, the scent of pine shavings as she laid down new bedding for the horses.
Takako remembered the amusing sight of a black and white paint sitting in a pond splashing the water with its hooves. Never before had she seen a horse sit and play in water. She hadn't seen it since, either.
Favorite among her memories was sitting on the wooden fence line watching the two dozen beasts gallop and trot around the paddocks, whinnying, snorting and throwing their heads. There were few sights as majestic. None were found on a battlefield.
Many years had passed since then. Takako still found the scent calming.
Drawn behind the stallion was an open wooden carriage, the wheels rumbling and clattering as they rolled through and over uneven dips and bumps. The driver, a middle-aged man who's sun-beaten skin was akin to old, worn-out and wrinkled leather, covered his mouth to conceal a yawn. Burped. Then spat over the edge, away from the kunoichi out of courtesy.
Takako was indifferent to the display. On the farm there were no such courtesies. She was treated as one of the men, by her own demand. The master of the farm did not object. So long as she pulled her weight, performing her daily duties in a timely and attentive fashion, he wouldn't ask invasive questions or inform his other employees there was a girl attired in masculine cut clothes masquerading as a boy.
It simply didn't matter. The master of the farm understood. He was knowledgeable of the world, capable of hypothesizing the cause for hiding her identity.
To Takako, hiding her femininity was the reasonable decision after a traumatic encounter. A confident conclusion to protect herself.
For that reason, the driver's spitting did not bother her. Those years were spent around men who burped, farted, chewed tobacco and spat and cursed far more frequently, and far more grotesquely.
The seats of the carriage were occupied by a handful of strangers she did not know—or care to know—as well as one of her injured comrades, who bore bandages wrapped around his head and chest. He seemed to be caught in a haze, blankly staring off into the distance.
On the opposite side of the carriage, walking along silently, were two more of her comrades. One had escaped the recent battle with minor injuries. The other was unscathed.
Flanking her left side was her fourth and final comrade—Riku. A bald man who, like her, had managed to survive the disaster with the Leaf shinobi with minor injuries.
He wore bandages over his eyes yet lived and walked through the world as if possessing sight.
Riku chewed on his lip, frowning.
"You may always turn back," Takako offered sincerely. "There is no shame in second-thoughts."
"It isn't second-thoughts," he replied after a moment. "I agree with what you said before. Yet… I don't know. Despite everything we've been through it still feels…wrong, I suppose."
"It isn't. This is the most reasonable conclusion."
"What about loyalty?"
"We were loyal. All of us. To every mission, every whim, and every sin that man asked us to commit to build the Village we all dreamed of, we were loyal. We scarified and shed blood in the name of the cause. Yet what do we have to show for our loyalty? Dead comrades. Thin purses. And no end in sight for either. What have we been given for our loyalty except death?"
"Hmm," Riku sighed heavily.
"Even when his former comrade is on our doorstep he refuses to aid us. In that way, I envy those young shinobi."
"What do you mean?"
"When they were in danger their superior rushed to their aid. When their Village was under attack their superiors fought to protect them. They fight side by side in order to protect each other, while he flees while we are on the verge of death to spare himself."
Takako lifted her hand and brushed it along the muscular body of the Shire.
"Our dream was always that: A dream. Unlike those young shinobi, who have a home and leaders who seek to protect them, we have nothing. No one. Even some of our own comrades see no worth in our lives."
"Are we any different? We've left them to die."
"I offered all our remaining comrades the same opportunity to leave as you and the others. Do you know what they said?"
"No. But I can imagine."
"They said such thoughts were traitorous. They called me a weak coward, spat at my feet, in my face, and degraded me verbally," she explained calmly despite the experience.
"They refuse to listen to reason," Takako added with a soft shake of her head. "They refuse to see there is no honor dying for a false dream and its false prophet."
"Mm."
"You may always return."
"No. There isn't anything waiting for me there. Nothing except death. What did you say this was again? The reasonable conclusion?"
She nodded silently.
Yes, leaving the Land of Rice Paddies was the reasonable conclusion. There was absolutely no doubt about it.
"So, where will we go? After escorting these people, I mean."
"I do not know. The trip to the Hidden Waterfall Village will give me time to consider a reasonable answer."
"I look forward to it," Riku said with a sincere smile.
They walked on in silence for some time. The carriage rumbled and clattered through another dip. Their comrade in the carriage grimaced, shaken awake from his haze. The driver yawned again.
"Do you think the battle has started?" Riku asked farther down the road, voice low.
A sturdy breeze kicked up. Feeling the bitter nip in the air, Takako pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, adjusting her long braided mohawk to drape over her chest.
Beneath the shadow of the hood only the grim twist of her lips could be seen.
"I suspect," she began slowly, speaking in a whisper, "that Kamikiri ignored my advice entirely and has embarked on yet another impulsive endeavor, likely involving one of those children he kidnapped. And for that sin our former comrades will be shown no quarter."
They didn't speak on the subject again.
The horse carriage rumbled on towards the Hidden Waterfall Village.
They were almost at the outpost. Almost home.
While the seedy town did not appear anything like a glamorous fairytale kingdom, from which bright shimmering ivory towers could be seen from miles away looming over emerald hills, golden fields and dazzling streams of mountain water—even at a distance he could just make out the shapes of the erotic signs—the sight of its sun-beaten stone walls and sleazy businesses did ease Daisuke's mind.
For all that was wrong with the town, and there was plenty wrong with it, it was still home. At least as long as Manzo and the kids were there, anyway.
Carrying Emi in his arms, Daisuke took a moment to examine the child. The sick girl was resting her head against his chest, eyes shut, exhausted by the Pneumonia and the extreme events of the last day. Her breathing wasn't as rough anymore.
He hoped Mimi's intervention would lead to a full recovery, for her and Manzo.
On his left side Scotch plodded along tiredly, mildly annoyed about being woken so early. She had thus far resorted to giving him the silent treatment. He wasn't at all surprised by her annoyance. No one liked their sleep interrupted, least of all Scotch.
To his right was Sasame, who showed even less excitement. She looked like she waiting to learn whether her husband had returned from battle, nervously wringing her hands since they left camp.
Daisuke understood. She wanted to go with the Leaf shinobi to find Arashi, even if that meant facing the grave danger awaiting them inside of the Sound Village. In truth, he felt the same, to a degree.
Master Jiraiya's logic, however, was flawless.
They weren't the most talented or the strongest shinobi. They weren't trained by veteran Leaf shinobi.
Daisuke felt the rust gathered on his skills, on his body, in the short encounter at the abandoned temple. Like a blade left unattended, unprotected, in the elements for decades at the mercy of rain, mud, and the changing seasons, he was no longer in battle shape. His endurance and stamina had suffered significant declines since his last real battle; a prolonged battle would likely mean his demise.
As for Sasame, she was inexperienced. She had never witnessed the all-out conflict or chaos of the battle Master Jiraiya and the others were set to encounter. The heat of adrenaline, the exchange of jutsus, the cries of battle, and death…
Unlike all of them, she did not know those sensations. She did not know how it felt for her blade to pierce human flesh, to see the life of an enemy shinobi fade from their eyes. Sasame had never been forced to take a life to preserve her own or that of a comrade.
She didn't know it. Didn't understand it. Even at the abandoned temple she played the role of a distant spectator. It was different. The heart still pounded, the sensation of fear and adrenaline still played out, and death wasn't an inconceivable end.
Yet it wasn't the same as being in bowels of the beast, hands deep in the gushing blood and disemboweled guts of the thing the world called war.
Compared to Mimi, Naruto and Sakura they were painfully outclassed. The disparity between their abilities was the equivalent of measuring the height of a tree to that of the mountain it was rooted upon—they were in vastly different leagues.
In a battle they would be mere distractions to their allies, no different than small children under the watchful and protective gaze of an attentive parent.
Daisuke knew the Leaf shinobi would go out of their way to protect them. Even at the risk of injury. Those were the kind of shinobi—no, the kind of people they were. Honorable, compassionate, virtuous and brave.
For that reason, Master Jiraiya sent them away. He could've easily conscripted them—they were willing, the impulsive fools they were. He could've used them as bait or pawns to sacrifice to protect his subordinates. Yet he sent them away.
It was an act of protection. For the Leaf shinobi weren't the kind of people to throw them to the wolves and watch them feast on their corpses as they slipped through unnoticed. They would go out of their way to protect the weak links—him and Sasame—at the cost of chakra and risk of bodily harm.
By sending them home, to safety, Master Jiraiya was protecting them as much as he was protecting his subordinates and their mission.
Farther down the road, nearing the entrance of the outpost, Sasame asked,
"Do you think they'll be okay, Daisuke?"
"They'll be fine," he reassured patiently. "The Sound shinobi may have superior numbers, but they have Master Jiraiya."
"I… didn't really see his abilities. I know he's an important figure, but… Is he really as strong as you say?"
"He is," Daisuke nodded. "Presently, Master Jiraiya stands as one of the most powerful shinobi this world knows. He is in the tier of S-class shinobi. He is a man who, I believe, could enter a battle with any one of the present five Kage's, and win. So don't worry," he tried to put her mind at ease. "They'll make it through and find Arashi."
If he's alive, Daisuke added silently. If he hasn't joined Kamikiri in this madness.
"What if he ends up separated from Mimi, Aoko, Naruto and Sakura, though? What if Kagerō uses her Antlion Ninja Arts: Ephemeral or—"
"Sasame," Daisuke cut her off with a heavy sigh.
Sasame ducked her chin meekly into her chest, wringing her hands. He stopped to look at the orange-haired girl, pressing his lips together in an expression that was more empathetic than disapproving. Scotch stopped beside him. Quickly bored, she began to draw shapes in the dirt with her toes.
"You warned them of Kagerō's techniques," reasoned Daisuke. "I know you want to go. That you'd give anything to join them and find Arashi. I understand, believe me. But, please, you need to trust in Master Jiraiya and the others."
"…Before the Sound shinobi tried to ambush us, Mimi told me if I wanted to save Arashi then I needed to be someone he could be proud of. Someone I could be proud of in my final moments," she emphasized, curling her fingers into her flak jacket. "I should be there. Arashi would've joined the Leaf shinobi to save me. He—"
"He wouldn't want you in harms way. He wouldn't want you to be injured or killed trying to save him," Daisuke refuted firmly.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I lost the people I loved to war. Because if you die trying to save him, all Arashi will have left is the memory of you. And the guilt of knowing it was because of his weakness that you—the person he cherished most—didn't come home. Trust me, I know that feeling. I've been in both of your shoes before.
"That's why I can say confidently, if you were my cousin or sister, I'd already be proud of you."
Sasame squeezed her eyes shut tightly. She bit her lip and curled her fingers deeper into her flak jacket.
"You don't need to prove your dedication and love by throwing yourself into battle, Sasame. The fact that you never once gave up hope on him, that you tried to find Arashi and bring him home is enough. He'll be proud of you."
"Yeah. And if he isn't then he's a big jerk!" Scotch declared.
"Scotch," Daisuke scolded tiredly.
"What? It's true!"
"That doesn't make it okay to insult people." He looked at her drawings in the dirt, and sighed again. "This town has taught all of you far too much of human anatomy."
At that moment, as he was half-turned towards Scotch battling her childish pout and stuck out tongue with a disapproving parental look, Daisuke heard the distinct whistle of blades on the air. Shinobi instincts sweeping control over his body, he snapped his head in the direction of the noise to see kunai and shuriken flying from the road, opposite of the entrance to the outpost.
Instinct kept him moving. He shoved Scotch roughly, knocking her off her feet.
"Get down!" he yelled.
Within the same second he push kicked Sasame; the meek girl was tumbled over by the forceful blow, which he made note to apologize for later. The girls safe beneath the range of the projectiles, Daisuke then turned his back to the blades, crouching low to the ground and hunching his body over Emi. He felt the unzipping of flesh on his arms, heard the tearing of fabric on his poncho, felt a blade bury itself in the back of his right shoulder.
Dammit, he cursed, setting Emi on the ground. Did they follow us? Why? We weren't even close to their compound.
Sasame's frantic scream shattered the air, sharper than the crash of cymbals and just as startling. His eyes went wide when he laid eyes on the Fūma kunoichi. Thick spider webbing had ensnared her entire body; the quickly weaving cocoon, and the girl within, was dragging harshly over the ground towards the user of the jutsu—Jigumo of the Fūma Clan.
His former Clansmen had a vile grin on his face. He hung upside down on the underside of a tree branch by his own webbing. He was joined by four other Sound shinobi.
"Scotch, grab Emi and stay behind me!" Daisuke rose to his feet in a flash.
He unlatched his chain, lacking a kunai at its end; he'd removed the blade to carry Emi. There was no time to reattach the blade now. There was only time to react.
Daisuke targeted his former clansmen first, set on eliminating him or, at the very least, rescuing Sasame before the other four were upon him.
His chain unraveled rapidly as he threw its blunt end straight at Jigumo, guiding the serpent-like chain with his chakra. Jigumo dropped from the branch to evade, flipping onto his feet without severing his web. The chain crashed against the branch, the result showering the air with shattered pieces of tree bark.
"Look what my precious spiders caught in their web," Jigumo taunted as he continued to drag Sasame towards himself.
"You won't be taking her or anyone else, Jigumo!"
The metal chain, ricocheting off the tree, abruptly changed directions, bending around itself to lurch at the bald former Fūma shinobi. Jigumo didn't see it. Not until the chain constricted around his neck.
One eye widening, Jigumo choked on his gasp and grabbed at tightening metal. The cocoon stopped.
The four Sound shinobi charged Daisuke. Two attacked from the front, two dashed around his sides.
There was no chance to snap Jigumo's neck. The enemy was too quick.
Hissing a curse, Daisuke unwrapped his chain from Jigumo and retracted it, clutching the metal tightly in his hand to utilize the weapon like a whip first, cracking it over the chest of one of the Sound shinobi charging from his front.
The air was knocked from their lungs as they slammed to the ground. The blunt force trauma bruised and broke the skin beneath his clothes.
Ducking beneath the second charging Sound shinobi's slashing kunai, chain shortening to half his height, Daisuke gripped the chain in both hands, wrapped it around the ankles of his enemy and swept his feet out from beneath him. The enemy shinobi crashed chest first against the ground.
Over the sound of his heartbeat slamming in his ears he heard Scotch screaming obscenities she could've only heard around town at her attempted captors. She held Emi close, backing away towards the town.
Daisuke, overwhelmed by his desire to protect, ran across the Sound shinobi's body he'd just tripped, launching off him with the chain gripped in his hand. The first Sound shinobi barely had a chance to see him before the chain cracked against his face.
Landing on the dirt road, he skidded, practically skating as he whirled around Scotch and Emi, winding up for another strike that his enemy foolishly lifted his arm up to block.
It wasn't his fault. It was just a natural instinct.
An instinct he would pay for.
The chain, previously stiff and unforgiving, loosened suddenly. It wound itself around the limb with the same violent and graceful motion of a snake constricting flighty prey. Then it stiffened again.
Daisuke growled as he tugged the enemy against his will towards him. His foot buried itself in his enemy's abdomen, brutally. Simultaneously, he released the chain, the force of his attack sending the man flying and tumbling over the street. Away from Scotch.
For a moment he was struck by déjà vu. Here he was again, in the middle of a street, struggling against a four to one battle while protecting the children.
The sensation came and went quicker than a heartbeat. Again he whirled towards Jigumo, who had turned his attention to Sasame. The kunoichi was no longer visible beneath the cocoon of spider web. She was visibly struggling, he could hear her muffled cries as she tried to break through it. Jigumo hefted her onto his shoulder.
"Get back here!"
His chain rattled through the air. Jigumo jumped onto the branch of a tree. The chain diverted, ascending abruptly, chasing after him, following him as he leaped away, scarred face contorted by an irritated grimace. The chain neared his ankle, preparing to wrap around it and yank him from the air.
An enemy kunai flashed into sight. Daisuke sucked in a horrified breath. The next sound he heard was metal on metal as the kunai caught the chain, followed by the blade pinning his weapon to the trunk of a tree.
Jigumo grinned vilely at his misfortune and retreated out of sight.
The Sound shinobi he tripped lunged from the ground at Daisuke. Unlocking his chain, he narrowly evaded the kunai wielded by his enemy with a short hop to the side. The Sound shinobi gave chase, causing the former Fūma shinobi to continue evasion, all the while hearing his chain unravel.
Cursing, he gripped the limp metal in both hands, pulling it taut, and caught the enemy kunai. With a quick twist and kick he disarmed the shinobi, but it was no cause to celebrate, for he heard the footsteps of the man he had whipped grinding against the dirt as he dashed in.
Daisuke desperately tried to retract his chain. It refused to budge.
Again he evaded back.
Come on, he pleaded with his weapon. Retract, dammit! Retract!
He hopped back, eyes wide, jaw clenching tightly. Air rushed past his abdomen as the enemy's kunai nearly eviscerated him.
The rattle of unraveling metal stopped abruptly. He'd reached the end of his chain, literally.
Daisuke felt his heart stop as his left arm met an opposing force, like an invisible hand clutching roughly onto his weapon arm to then tug him in the opposite direction of his hop.
His toes landed on the road, but the tugging force disoriented his center of balance.
At that moment, his legs slipped out beneath him.
Like a bird struck out of the air, he flopped chest first on the road, left arm extended out against his will towards the tree his chain was pinned against. Rolling to the side, Daisuke tried to recover into a defensive stance, fingers wrapping around the taut chain in an effort to pull it free from the tree.
Come on, damn you! Come on!
The Sound shinobi, he noticed, were all on their feet. Two had their sights set on Scotch and Emi again, one nursing their bruising and swelling face where his chain had broken open the flesh. The other two were surrounding him.
Desperate, he reached up and yanked the kunai from his shoulder, hissing as hot blood began to pour freely, soaking into his burgundy long sleeve. He didn't hesitate to throw it at the man closest to Scotch and Emi. It pierced into his leg; the Sound shinobi grunted and flinched away from the injury.
"Scotch, run! Go now!" Daisuke screamed.
There was no time for anything else. He felt a kick slam into the back of his knee. As he collapsed forward, a knee from the second Sound shinobi buried itself into his abdomen. Daisuke's eyes bulged, saliva flying from his mouth. Again he was face first in the dirt, a foot slamming down onto his head once, twice, a third time.
The offending foot then pressed against his head, pinning his face against the coarse sand. Dazed but conscious, Daisuke felt his head exploding with a migraine, the bones in his cheek and nose felt broken. Blood was dribbling out of the latter.
Somewhere beyond his pain he could hear Scotch screaming at the Sound shinobi. Obscene as a veteran sailor.
Dammit… Daisuke felt his eyes burn with tears. Why can't I protect anyone? Why does it always end this way?
He tried to force himself to stand.
"Not so fast."
Another foot stepped on his wounded shoulder, incensing the pain, coaxing a scream out of him.
Afterwards, as he lay there, every heaving breath he exhaled spraying grains of dirt away, Daisuke struggled to watch as a Sound shinobi struggled to keep hold of a kicking and screaming Scotch. Emi, too weak to retaliate, was being bound again.
I can't…
He tried retracting his chain repeatedly. Despite his finger movements he received no response from his weapon.
I need to…
The Sound shinobi pinning Daisuke down watched his futile attempts in cruel amusement. They taunted and jeered him over his weakness.
The eyes of the man holding up Scotch widened suddenly, his breath leaving him. He dropped the girl, who fell, landed on her feet and then stumbled over onto her butt. The Sound shinobi wobbled, arching his back as he grunted and tried to grab at the source of pain.
When he toppled over, nearly falling on top of Scotch, his comrades saw the two fletched arrows protruding from his back.
"Stay down, children!" commanded a voice Daisuke would recognize anywhere.
Turning his head in the dirt against the painful pinch it formed in his neck, he looked towards the gate where a company of archers kneeling and standing were drawing their arrows, aimed for the Sound shinobi.
Ahead of them, charging in with a massive two-handed Zanbatō—a single-edged sword—was a man he didn't expect to see.
"Han…zaki…"
He was onto the man responsible for binding Emi before the Sound shinobi could rise fully.
Hanzaki maneuvered the blade around his body, strides quick and powerful for a man of his size wielding a weapon equally as large. The blunt side of the sword buried into the Sound shinobi, snapping the bones in his arm above the elbow—the lower portion of the limb flapped with the same elasticity as a cooked noodle—and shattering his ribs with a single powerful blow.
He was flung through the air by sheer power, bearing the same resemblance to a rubber ball kicked without restraint.
A courtesy. Hanzaki could've cleaved the Sound shinobi in half with the same strike. However, with the child there, to cleave the man would've splattered the girl in blood and gore. He knelt down, shielding the bound child with his body, cold eyes locked onto the Sound shinobi.
"Who dares!" demanded the Sound shinobi pinning Daisuke's face to the dirt.
"We of the Fūma Clan dare. For too long we've tolerated the dark stain your Village has tainted this Nation our ancestors called home. No longer! Archers," his voice boomed, "loose arrows! Send these soulless vermin to hell!"
The kneeling archers loosed their arrows first. Scotch, wisely, flattened herself on the dirt, covering her head with her hands.
The pressure on his shoulder and face vanished. The Sound shinobi leapt away, evading above the first volley.
Again it was natural instinct. Again it would cost them.
The two men gasped as the standing archers loosed their arrows.
Of the two men, one crashed to the earth with arrows protruding from his chest. Dead. The survivor, by a stroke of fortunate misfortune, found his leg caught on Daisuke's chain, disrupting what would've been a fatal evasion. He crashed to the road without injury.
Daisuke's left arm, previously lifted above the ground against his will, flopped to the ground. He flexed his fingers.
Like a rattling snake slithering swiftly through the grass to escape a predator, the chain wound its way around his gauntlet again as it retracted over the street.
The former Fūma shinobi struggled to rise to his feet while the chain coiled around his gauntlet. Blood trickled down out of his nose, over his lips, tainting his tastebuds with iron.
Meanwhile, the Sound shinobi scrambled to his feet in an effort to retreat, abandoning his wounded, dying and dead comrades behind him.
Possessed by raw emotions of anger and guilt, Daisuke growled and unlatched his chain, channeling his chakra into it. He whirled it around once before throwing it at the retreating back of the Sound shinobi.
The chain snaked through the air as if alive and conscious, the rattle of the unfurling chain chasing the Sound shinobi's every fearful, fleeing step.
Hanzaki dashed past Daisuke.
I will…protect these children. I will save Sasame. Now…
The chain wrapped around the abdomen of the Sound shinobi just as he leapt. Daisuke dug his heels in, locking the chain, leaning back against the full weight of the man leaping forward. He grasped the chain with both hands, growling in effort.
"Get back here!" he roared pulling with all of his strength.
The Sound shinobi sucked in a sharp breath, yanked through the air like a puppet on a string. The last thing he saw was Hanzaki with his Zanbatō drawn back.
His head, separated from his body, crashed gracelessly onto the road, rolling once.
Daisuke retracted his chain and collapsed to his butt, grabbing at his pulsing head while trying to breathe. His broken nose made the task more difficult. Painful. But pain was good. It meant he was still alive.
This latest battle had ended, but he was far from finished.
Hanzaki came to him, Zanbatō hung from the harness on his back.
"Are you all right?"
"Why did you come?" he blurted out. "How did you even know we were fighting?"
"I had my scouts watching for you. After Master Jiraiya left, I sent them to check on Manzo's bar and the man himself. When I learned of his injuries I asked two doctors I trust to look after him. They kept him stabilized, for a time. Eventually a Leaf kunoichi wielding Medical Ninjutsu arrived to tend to his injuries.
"I assumed your attempt to rescue those children was successful. I hoped to speak to you when you returned. My scout reported the attack, and here we are."
Daisuke wanted to demand to know why again. After all this time, why bother saving him or these children when it didn't effect the Fūma Clan, when he'd never shown interest in helping outsiders? But he relinquished his bitter questions and wiped the blood from his nose.
"Thank you. For saving us." Daisuke pushed himself onto his feet. "But I don't have time right now to speak with you. I have to go. Jigumo kidnapped Sasame before you showed up. Kamikiri probably hopes to use her as a hostage. Worse, he might be looking to extract revenge."
In a hurry, Daisuke turned away, walking over to Scotch, who was sitting in the dirt. He knelt down beside her and patted her on the head. Hanzaki shadowed him.
"You're a brave girl, Scotch. If you hadn't fought against them, they may have escaped before help showed up. I'm only sorry I couldn't protect you better. Take care of Emi. Get her home. No detours, okay?"
"Okay. But…you're coming home, too, right?"
"I will," he reassured. "But first I have to save Sasame. I'll be home right after."
He stood up and turned to leave, fueled by a new spark of adrenaline. Hanzaki's large hand grabbing his arm stopped him.
"Wait a moment, Daisuke."
"Sasame may not have a moment."
"I understand that. But you don't have to do this alone. You've always been this way, rushing off to help others without thought or a plan of action."
"Sorry," he apologized without any heart, pulling his arm free. "I'm just the kind of man who tries to do his best for others."
"Before the Sound shinobi tried to ambush us, Mimi told me if I wanted to save Arashi then I needed to be someone he could be proud of. Someone I could be proud of in my final moments."
Sasame…
"To be the person I can be proud of in my final moments means I must follow that path to the very end. See Scotch and Emi home safely, Hanzaki. That's all I ask."
Without another word he dashed off for the Sound Village.
"You will murder and kidnap no one else!" Daisuke recalled his own declaration. "Your dreams to restore our Clan has turned into this Nations nightmare! If Hanzaki won't do anything to stop you, then I will! In honor of all those who lost their lives and called the Fūma Clan home, I will stop you!"
You were kind to send me away, Master Jiraiya. Just like you didn't want Sasame to be forced to fight her former Clansmen, you didn't want me to, either, he thought. You were protecting us both. Protecting Sasame from the brutality of battle and war we know, and me from bearing witness to it once again. It's to my shame that I couldn't protect Sasame. It was the one task you gave me but I failed it. I failed because I was too weak, in heart and body. But this time…
Daisuke procured his kunai and attached it to his gauntlet.
This time for sure I will protect her. I will save Sasame. Even if that means I must delve into the hell of war one last time to do it.
For the final time he dashed towards war.
Tracking Jigumo required minimal effort. Threads of spider silk decorated the dense forest from tree to tree, branch to branch, ruffling gently in the breeze like long strips of cloth hung out to dry. It led Daisuke reliably through the abandoned and forbidden forest, closer to the Sound Village.
Closer to war.
He trekked through the canopy, jumping from tree to tree, his goal and dose of adrenaline driving him forward. The fingers on his left hand were tense. Almost unbearably so. This trail was either the result Jigumo's over reliance on his spiders, which, given his history, couldn't be discounted. Or it was an arrogant trail leading him to a lethal trap.
Daisuke stopped once to catch his breath. He braced his right hand on the trunk of the tree, breathing heavily, sweating profusely. His fluffy hair was matted, sticking to his face. His shoulder hurt like hell. His face was thrumming and his head no longer pulsed, but maintained a single persistent ache spreading from the epicenter located above his right eye. He swallowed roughly, throat feeling tighter than a tiny knot tangling up shoelaces.
Finally, after catching his breath, he pressed on towards the Sound Village.
When the webs grew denser, their silk threads becoming thick sheets of webbing woven, in his eyes, from tree to tree, branch to branch by giant spider denizens, Daisuke knew he had entered enemy territory. Some walls of web appeared utterly impassable. Some created haunting but beautiful patterns between tree trunks.
Jigumo must've spun these webs last night.
He wondered how the Leaf shinobi were progressing. Had they been delayed by these webs or other such traps? Had they reached the compound already?
So far Daisuke witnessed no signs of battle or struggle. There were no corpses of Sound shinobi strewn over the forest floor, no webs severed to open up a pathway. He heard none of the distinct noises of battle, not the sharp clang of blades meeting in their endless search for flesh and blood, not the detonation of explosives that thundered through one's bones and left ears ringing, not the cries of battle or the agonizing screams of a fallen soldier in their death throes.
The forest was silent. Cold. The dense mesh of white spider silk appeared to lack a beginning or end.
Traveling deeper through the forest, Daisuke began to worry, began to fear, that he had lost Jigumo's trail entirely. The webs seemed to lead nowhere at all. They kept going, and going, and going, as endless as the threads of time itself. And he was growing weary.
So weary that, as he leapt towards the next tree branch, right eye shutting when a bead of warm sweat stung the sensitive organ, Daisuke nearly missed the human shaped shadow looming amidst the foliage of the tree's canopy.
Guided by instinct more than conscious decision making, Daisuke landed lightly on the tree branch, pivoted his foot and jumped ahead while whirling around. His kunai hilt was in his hand before he realized it, the blade was up in the ready position without a single conscious thought, and because of that instinct honed on the battlefields of hopeless wars he survived the ambush.
His blade deflected the pincer blade, pushing it aside as he and and his enemy floated momentarily above solid ground. Weary, acting on instinct, it took Daisuke a moment longer to recognize Kamikiri by his thick eyebrows and the artificial smirk carved into his face, among other tears of flesh that hadn't healed from Mimi's initial assault.
The weariness evaporated in an instant. His eyes flashed. His jaw tightened. And his foot buried itself in Kamikiri's arms, who managed to raise them for a block.
The blow sent his former Clansman flying at a downward diagonal towards the ground.
Unfinished, Daisuke unlocked his chain, whirled the kunai around once and threw the blade on a direct path for Kamikiri. The chain rattled as it unraveled, the blade whistled.
Kamikiri landed on the forest floor, skidding back on his heels to, in his mind, evade the blade entirely, believing it would bury itself into the grass. As the blade neared it changed trajectory abruptly, much to Kamikiri's irritation, shooting horizontally over the forest floor, severing harmless blades of grass caught in its path. Then, abruptly once again, it angled upwards straight for the Sound shinobi's exposed chest.
For that was what Kamikiri was now—a Sound shinobi. He had lost all rights to bear the Fūma name. Now he was just a Sound shinobi.
Now he was just another enemy.
Using the blunt outer edge of his pincer blades, Kamikiri deflected the kunai and sprang to the side, knowing a mere deflection couldn't permanently knock his blade off course. He reached into his ninja pouch and hurtled a set of three shuriken for Daisuke.
The young man retracted his blade, landing on another tree branch as the chain rewound itself around his gauntlet. Simultaneously, Kamikiri dashed over the forest floor, an ugly snarl on his scarred face.
It could be said their weapons were a matching pair. In the hands of his enemy, a close-ranged weapon not at all unlike the pincers of a scorpion. In his hands, an all-range spear similar to a scorpion's stinger. And like a scorpion, they knew how to best utilize and maximize the strengths of their weapons to survive the harsh world they inhabited.
Daisuke couldn't jump to the tree behind him to maintain distance; Jigumo's webs covered the tree, and with shurikens whirling high and low and his chain in the midst of retracting he couldn't simply duck or deflect the blades. There was but one option—he dropped down off the tree branch.
As he fell to the the forest floor the shurikens soared overhead to sever threads of spider silk before inevitably being caught in the thick mesh webbing, his chain and blade snaked over the tree branch he previously occupied, and Kamikiri's pincer blades opened wide.
The forest floor greeted his feet. His chain continued to rattle as it wound around his gauntlet, he felt the metal links rushing over his open palm. Kamikiri was close enough that he could hear his growl, hear his rough and heavy breaths, feel his dashing footsteps in the earth itself.
The moment he hit the forest floor, Daisuke ducked low, almost flattening himself against the grass, beneath the pincer blades. He felt the air of the thrusting strike meant to capture and sever his torso from his lower body rush overhead, heard the blades clamp shut with a metallic clang.
Once more experience and instinct together kept him alive.
His kunai hilt brushed over his palm. Instinctively, Daisuke's hand grasped it tightly, unlatching the chain with a nimble gesture of his fingers. He slashed with his kunai at Kamikiri's abdomen, who promptly leapt back; the threads of his brown long sleeve tore beneath the tip of the blade, but no flesh was severed.
Daisuke sprang up. He whirled his blade and chain in a circular motion, spinning with the movement as the chain unfurled. The kunai sang through the air, nearly slashing Kamikiri again, who narrowly evaded. The young man continued his spin while advancing, spinning low into a crouch, sweeping the elongating chain and kunai attachment in an effort to wound his enemy and keep him at a distance.
At a distance he held the advantage. If he could just keep him there, then maybe…
Kamikiri hurdled over the chain. Ducked it as it came back around. Then darted in after his attacker.
Daisuke locked the chain. He halted his spin suddenly. As a result, the chain bent around his shoulder, then with twist of his hips and thrust of that same shoulder in the opposing direction of his initial spin, he whipped the chain and kunai swiftly back at the Sound shinobi.
Kamikiri dropped into a slide, momentum carrying him rapidly along the grass. The attack whistled over his head harmlessly.
Close-range was what his weapon was designed for. It was where he held the advantage and so, like Daisuke, he sought to claim the advantage to kill his enemy.
Immediately, Kamikiri buckled Daisuke's right leg with a kick, dropping him to a knee. He jolted up onto his feet beside him, pincer blades open and drawn back, and thrust his weapon for his enemy's upper body.
Throwing himself into a roll, the young man crashed against his injured shoulder, incensing the consistent pain, now beating rapidly with his heart. As he rolled onto his hands and knees, breathing heavily, pores open and soaking through his burgundy long sleeve, he witnessed Kamikiri yank his blades from the grass, the malevolent look on his face growing more intense.
His limp chain snaked towards him. His enemy dashed for him again, but his kunai wouldn't reach him in time.
He needed another moment.
Fingers digging into the soil, he rose as quickly as his injured body could manage and threw the handful of dirt. It splattered against Kamikiri's face, who grunted and shut his eyes, briefly stumbling.
At the same time, Daisuke collapsed onto his back—the crash swelled the mounting irritability caused by the pain of his shoulder. But he did not stop to curse. He swore, coarsely. Yet he did so while rising onto his feet.
Kamikiri cleared his vision within a moment and lurched at him.
The hilt of his kunai slipped into his hand just in time. He sidestepped, evading the pincer blades as they clamped shut where his abdomen had been a moment before. Then, with a deft attack, he wrapped the chain around the pincer blades, forcing the shut blades to remain so.
When Kamikiri's free hand flashed in and out of his ninja pouch, he barely managed to catch his enemy's hand. The kunai stopped mere inches from his abdomen, caught in a struggle to finish its plunge. His muscles trembled, their hands shook, teeth gnashing together.
"I was waiting for you, traitor!" Kamikiri ground out. "Throwing yourself behind those Leaf spies. What was it you said? If that traitor Hanzaki won't do anything to stop us, you will?"
"There is a lot I can say about Hanzaki," he grunted out, "but one thing he's never been is a traitor. Whatever disagreements we had, whatever dishonorable deeds he committed, he did so to keep food in the mouths of those who call the Fūma Clan home. He wanted to ensure those who survived the hopeless wars and the children newly born into the Clan could continue to survive despite the bad hand we were dealt. Everything he did was for the sake of the Fūma Clan. To rebuild it."
"Everything I've done has been for the Fūma Clan!"
The blade inched closer. He could feel the cold tip through his poncho and long sleeve pushing against abdomen.
"Everything I've sacrificed, everything I've done since joining the Sound Village is to restore our Clan! So it can one day flourish stronger than before, and crush all the enemies who would seek to destroy it!"
"So you kidnap children? You kidnap Sasame? You kill in the name of Orochimaru?" Daisuke demanded through grit teeth.
"Sasame made her choice aligning with the Leaf shinobi. She chose the enemy over us."
"She chose shinobi with honor and integrity, who wouldn't sacrifice her or other children to achieve their ends!"
"Shut up!"
Kamikiri thrust the sharpened point of his pincer blades for Daisuke's side. The change of attack lessened the force behind his kunai, allowing the survivor of hopeless wars to push it aside while hopping back, using the length of the chain to grant him maneuverability without relinquishing his hold on the pincer blades.
Again the Sound shinobi launched headlong at him. He swiped and slashed fiercely with both bladed weapons. Daisuke evaded back.
"Everything I've done has been for the sake of the Fūma Clan. Everything! You don't have the right to judge me. Before Orochimaru offered us a place in the Sound Village we had become bandits and miscreants. We had no place to call home. No honor. No pride or strength. Hanzaki—even you—lost it all because all of you lacked the power to fulfill the Feudal Lord's commands."
The insult was the spark to a pool of oil he had thought long dried up.
"Our numbers dwindled. What respect we had was lost with every failure. At Lord Orochimaru's side we have—"
"Nothing!" Daisuke cut him off in fury.
Gripping his chain, he yanked it downwards with all of his strength. Kamikiri stumbled. His pincer blades buried themselves in the earth. Quicker with his reaction, Daisuke rushed in, capturing the blunt side of the pincer blades with one hand, pressing down on it to keep it buried in the dirt, while catching Kamikiri's other arm at the wrist, holding it up above his head.
They were locked in a stalemate. Both men were breathing heavily, Daisuke in pain, fury and exhaustion, Kamikiri in exertion and indignation. Their nostrils flared. The young man wished his mouth wasn't so dry so he could utilize spit to blind his enemy.
"You have nothing," he continued on in a vehement growl. "You've built nothing. There are no new numbers to the Fūma Clan. No new place they can call home. For all you've done, for all you've sacrificed, after all this time working for Orochimaru you're exactly where you started. Where is the so-called strength Orochimaru promised you? What do you have except innocent blood on your hands and empty promises that will never be fulfilled? Tell me!"
Kamikiri face contorted and became ugly. "Lord Orochimaru promised us he would restore the Clan."
"And for that lie you have relinquished all moral values and principals. You have abandoned everything which once made the Fūma Clan a great and honorable Clan," he snarled. "You spit on the graves of those who fought and died fighting in those hopeless wars. On your parents graves, no less! You call those who fought weak, when you're weaker than all of us!
"You who at the empty promise of a known criminal has thrown away all principals! All morals. Who handed over his pride and bent a knee to a egotistical and self-proclaimed 'Lord' and shields himself from the blood he has shed by claiming, 'It was for the sake of the Fūma Clan.' You weren't a bad kid. But you've grown into a poor excuse of a man!"
The Sound shinobi retorted with a head-butt, smashing Daisuke's injured nose.
As he recoiled back, Kamikiri yanked his pincer blades out of the ground and back, thus yanking Daisuke towards him. Vision obscured by blots of black and stars, he didn't have the chance to defend himself.
The tip of the pincer blades stabbed into his abdomen. Awoken by the shock of pain, Daisuke's hand grabbed the blunt edge of the weapon and tried to push it away, prevent it from burying itself further and disemboweling him. Fortunately, the rounded shape of the pincer blades and its blunt edges hindered it from piercing him through and through like a lance.
That did not stop the kunai from slashing him through his clothes from left shoulder to right pectoral.
Through the shadows creeping in at the edges of his vision he saw Kamikiri draw the kunai back to thrust it. Daisuke gestured with his fingers then, guided by survival instinct, pushed the pincer blade while leaping back.
Scouting his evasion, Kamikiri jerked his pincer blades back roughly. And stumbled when he met zero resistance. Like a magician pulling an endless cloth from his sleeve, all he managed to do was release more of Daisuke's chain.
The survivor of hopeless wars staggered clumsily as he landed. But his heart was pounding, roaring, alive in every sense of the word and set on staying that way. And his body… By some miracle his body knew what to do despite the thick haze settled over his mind.
His fingers gestured again. The loose chain abruptly snapped awake, recoiling around his gauntlet. Kamikiri's pincer blades were still drawn back, his footing uneven.
The chain went taut. Daisuke clutched it in both hands, leaning forward as he centered his balance and redistributed his weight properly, and pulled with all his strength, roaring in both exertion and pain. The open wound over his chest and on his abdomen felt like they were tearing wider.
Kamikiri was dragged off his feet, thrown forward through the air. Once airborne the chain wrapping his pincer blades unraveled at Daisuke's command, who was hyperaware of the cold metal gliding over his sweaty palm, of the warm blood trickling down his chest and abdomen, soaking into his long-sleeve and making it stick to his skin. Of his own heavy breathing.
You're a damn fool, Daisuke, he cursed himself. Running off into battle with your injuries, thinking a righteous goal and a yearning to succeed where you always failed was all you needed to save Sasame. What have you ever protected with your feelings?
The Sound shinobi crashed to the earth. His kunai hilt found his palm. As Kamikiri sprang up, he held his ground, holding his kunai up; it trembled with his quaking muscles.
The weight of the gauntlet and chain together was heavier than he remembered it. Significantly heavier than it was yesterday.
"Who are you to judge me?" Kamikiri hissed. "A weakling like you, who couldn't even protect his own brother, who couldn't save his mother, who has only ever been an average shinobi… Screw your morals and your principals! You're a weak-hearted fool! A coward who couldn't even stand by his own Clan! You have no right to look down on me!"
He watched his enemy charge towards him, pincer blades snapping open, kunai gripped tightly in his opposite hand. Waited on heavy legs for the right moment to evade. The crisp air ached in his lungs.
"You're right," he admitted through rough breaths. "I've always been an average shinobi. I couldn't protect the people I loved. But even so…"
Kamikiri lunged for him. At the same time, Daisuke leapt up and back, landing feet first on the trunk of the tree, then shooting straight at the Sound shinobi. The quiet forest was disturbed by a piercing clang! Sparks like tear drops jumped from their kunais.
Daisuke whirled around in the air, throwing his kunai. Kamikiri mirrored him. The points of their blades collided and deflected one another.
"But even so all I've wanted to be able to do is protect those I cared about. Maybe I'm a fool for trying. I could never hope to be as powerful or as fast as Hanzaki. I didn't have your natural gift."
As the chain retracted and the Sound shinobi's blade whirled end over end, the young man landed and slid back on the grass. His enemy lunged through the air, snatched his spinning blade and charged ahead again.
"But I'd rather be a fool a million times over than be a man who so easily throws away his own convictions! Even if that means I die here as just a fool and an average shinobi, I'll keep fighting on!"
He sidestepped the pincer blades. Then kicked the blunt side of it, knocking the weapon and arm away. At the same time he caught Kamikiri's kunai with his own, their blades striking rapidly against one another once, twice, and then meeting a third time in a deadlock.
Daisuke felt his own arm beginning to fail quickly. Unlike Kamikiri, who hadn't stepped away from shinobi life as he had, he was out of battle shape. Wounded. Weary. His eyes caught the sight of the pincer blades coming back, the blades opening like an ant's mandibles to clamp over his sides and midsection.
With a slight twist of his blade, the Sound shinobi's kunai glided off harmlessly. It provided the single second he needed to hop back, though he watched with wide eyes as the edge of the pincer blades caught his poncho, piercing through it and pulling the collar of it tight around his neck.
The front of the fabric tore right off his body, throwing him aside; the back of the poncho hung from his neck by the thin threads of the collar. He rolled roughly over the grass. His injured shoulder and chest thrummed with hot pain.
"Your convictions are worthless!"
Kamikiri appeared above him, pincer blades thrusting for his abdomen. Daisuke rolled like a log tumbling down a hill to escape the attack. He struggled to scramble onto his heavy feet. His movements were getting slower, his body slowly but surely losing its strength.
There was no time to counter. His enemy was on him already, trying to pierce his body with his pincer blades, trying to stab and slash him with his kunai. All Daisuke could do was stagger clumsily out of the way.
"Morals. Principals. Convictions. Their just pretty words thrown around by old men. They amount to nothing! Strength is all that matters!"
"You're wrong."
"Oh yeah? Then why did our Clan fall to ruin if your morals, principals and convictions are so important? You haven't even hurt me, Daisuke."
The greeting of a tree trunk against his back proved he had lost sight of his position on the battlefield. Trapped against it, he watched in momentary horror as Kamikiri lunged at him.
"Where is the power of your useless convictions!"
Collapsing suddenly, Daisuke ducked beneath the pincer blades, lunging forward himself to tackle his former Clansman. He stabbed his kunai into Kamikiri's abdomen. Simultaneously he felt a blade plunge into his mid-back.
He gasped and choked, but twisted his blade.
When they crashed to the ground, Daisuke was quick to rise and yank his blade free. Too quick. He collapsed onto his backside. In contrast, Kamikiri rose and kept his feet, grimacing as a dark stain started to form on his shirt. He thrust his weapon at his abdomen, blades opening wide.
Out of instinct Daisuke caught the pincer blades in his palms. Immediately he felt the flesh unzip and warm blood begin to pool out. He grimaced, body trembling as he tried to push the blades back. As he tried to stop them from clamping shut on his fingers.
Closer and closer the edges inched together. Kamikiri's eyes flashed, wild and crazed.
"Go ahead, Daisuke. Struggle like the fool you are. In a moment you'll be missing fingers. And then I can send you to see your family. Do you think they'll be proud of you because you died holding to your convictions?"
"Prouder than your parents will be," he grunted. "Your parents are weeping for how far their son has fallen!"
The pincer blades inched closer. His heart crashed against his chest, in his throat. Chills danced over his skull and down his spine, stomach churning as he imagined the agony of his fingers being forcefully amputated.
In my condition, with my level of strength, I can't win this battle. I'm at the end of my rope. My body is on its last gasp. He squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth. Scotch, Biscuit, all of you kids, I don't think I'll be making it home this time. But even so…
"I'll keep struggling like a fool," he growled, grimacing as the blades dug deep into his palms. "I've always struggled. I failed to protect those I loved. And all I had was the scars marking my body and heart as a record for all that I lost. But… Those children you kidnapped and threatened, Manzo, they gave me a reason to live. They picked up a broken man and put him back together.
"So I'll push forward. I'll struggle, I'll fail, and I'll get back up again and keep struggling. To protect them and secure their future from heartless monsters like you! Because a man who has something precious to protect can overcome any obstacle, any pain."
This time, for sure… This time I'll…
"Besides, if this is my final battle, then what's a few more scars added to that record!"
Daisuke pulled his left hand off the pincer blades. Despite the horror in his heart, he had committed and there was no going back. And so he could only watch as his pointer and middle finger were severed at the middle digits, sliced through like a hot knife through butter.
The pain was worse than he imagined. In spite of that, as his two digits fell towards the earth, as his pain receptors unleashed their agony through a horrible and gut-twisting scream he almost didn't recognize as his own voice and blood gushed and spurted from his amputated fingers, and as Kamikiri's eyes widened in shock at the sudden action, he refused to stop.
"I'll show you the strength of my convictions!"
His kunai had already left his hand. The chain rattled. Before Kamikiri could react the chain had wrapped around his neck. He reacted with the natural human instinct—he grabbed at the chain constricting his throat with both hands.
I couldn't lose my left hands fingers, he thought through the agony. I needed them to control my chain. And in that position I was as good as dead. My body is on its last gasp, and I couldn't see any other way to catch you off guard.
You're not the kind of man who would sacrifice his own body to win a battle. You'd rather sacrifice others.
With his last burst of energy, he scrambled unevenly to his feet, feeling lightheaded and pale. Sweat and blood dripped off of every part of his body.
A true shinobi is one who endures no matter what is thrown their way, that's what Master Jiraiya said.
He unlatched his chain.
To be the man I can be proud of in my final moments…
He made a powerful leap up and back.
To be the kind of man who does his best for others…
The bark of the tree branch greeted his feet.
To secure the kids futures…
He wrapped the chain around the length of his arm, gripping it tightly.
"I'll follow my path. To the very end!" roared Daisuke, locking the chain in place.
Kamikiri realized too late what he intended to do. His eyes widened in horror. His hand reached out as if to beg him to stop.
Daisuke dropped backwards off the tree. The full weight of his former Clansman yanked against his left arm. He cried out violently in pain, but he gripped the chain with his bloody right hand, refusing to let it go.
When his feet hit the forest floor, he lowered himself to the ground, digging his heels in and pulling with all his might on the chain.
Hanging above the ground, gasping and pulling at the chain wrapped around his throat, was Kamikiri. Daisuke shut his eyes, grimacing. He didn't want to see the final death throes.
His former Clansman's legs kicked for some time.
Eventually his entire body went slack.
Weary, pale, Daisuke released his tension and all his struggling. As Kamikiri's corpse lowered slowly towards the ground, he found himself hung by his arm.
The pain was dulling.
Both former Fūma Clan members hung from the tree in the cold, abandoned and forbidden forest, like the captured prey of the spiders that had woven the thick webs strong from tree to tree, branch to branch and across the canopy.
Daisuke looked at the forest floor through darkening vision. He could hear his heartbeat finally slowing down.
"Sasame… I'm sorry," he muttered. "I tried my best. This…was all I could do…"
His eyes fell shut. And the pain faded away.
Mimi flicked her eyes around at the seemingly impenetrable webbing enclosing her position. And the eight Sound shinobi surrounding them, seven of whom formed a regular heptagon around her and Aoko. Her companion was in Man Beast Clone form, standing back to back with the Inuzuka as her carbon copy.
Of all the Sound shinobi she recognized only one. The spider guy—Jigumo—hung upside down from the farthest tree from her position, an ugly grin on his ugly face. He was quite proud of himself, she could tell.
To think it was going so well a few minutes ago.
Together the team of Leaf shinobi had been utilizing hit-and-run tactics to wear down the enemy numbers. Despite their strength and skill, the point of this mission was to take down Kasai and Orochimaru; the act of preventing the waste of chakra and limiting the potential of further injuries when they were on the doorstep of the enemy compound was important to the overall success of their mission.
So they struck hard and fast as a team of three spears comprising of Naruto and Sakura, Mimi and Aoko, and Master Jiraiya on his own. Before recent events they'd maintained close proximity to one another even in their separate teams, a necessary precaution to counter an ambush from Kasai and Orochimaru.
Or being pinned down by larger numbers, like she was now.
The complete separation was the result of this annoying webbing. They'd made progress in closing in on the compound. However, in the end, they'd been striking down the disposable pawns left behind to build up their confidence and draw them in.
Now they were finally on the battlefields their enemies prepared for them. Jigumo had woven these webs to obstruct their paths, he wanted them fighting in cramped spaces where overwhelming numbers could slip a blade between even the most seasoned and talented shinobi's ribs.
I can still smell Sakura and Naruto beyond these guys. And that other one—Kagerō. She's surrounded them with another squad. Her eyes flicked to her right, beyond the webs to the other scent of her team. And Master Jiraiya is over there fighting the largest team they can muster. Heh, she grinned, I almost pity those fools.
Seven of the eight—all except Jigumo—charged her and Aoko at the same time, drawing blades. Mimi moved to charge herself. Her right foot moved forward.
Then she felt resistance pull on her left ankle.
Eyes shooting to her ankles, she witnessed the cause: There were spiders crawling over her sandals, tangling her ankles together with their webbing. They ignored any area of flesh entirely, focusing solely on her sandals. Smart. She had failed to feel them crawling on her.
Just like when Shino placed one of his insects on me during the Invasion, she thought, I couldn't feel it or smell his insects crawling on me. Insects are too small. The pheromones they let off aren't strong enough for even an Inuzuka's nose to smell.
Jigumo's grin grew even uglier. He closed his hands around the webs attached to the tips of his fingers and pulled his arms back. In an instant her feet were out from beneath her. The Inuzuka caught herself on her hands.
"Ha!" laughed Jigumo. "With you out of the way your little pup will be helpless against us!"
Mimi could hear the footsteps of the seven shinobi thundering towards her. Despite that she grinned wildly.
"Dropping me onto all-fours was a mistake. Underestimating Aoko, though, that's gonna cost ya. Aoko, up high!"
The Inuzuka released chakra from her hands and feet, launching like a missile straight ahead, through the gaps in the Sound shinobi's formation faster than they could react. Faster than Jigumo, too. Before he could release the webs he was jerked from the tree, like he was holding a rope tied around a raging bull.
The next few actions occurred within less than a moment. Mimi whirled around, digging one of her hands into the earth with chakra. With the other she equipped a kunai and sliced straight through the webs attached to her ankles.
At the same time, as Jigumo flew helplessly through the air, Aoko made a powerful leap directly for the Fūma shinobi, throwing herself into a Tunneling Fang.
Aoko drilled straight into his torso, shredding the fabric of his shirt and tearing flesh from his skin. Jigumo cried out in agony. For a moment the transformed ninken stopped spinning, becoming visible to the naked eye, briefly, revealing she was upside down with her feet slamming into his torso.
Then, as if launched from a cannon, she shot off his body, sending the shinobi careening into the tree he'd hung from moments ago. He cracked violently against the bark, then the forest floor.
With their backs turned to face Mimi, the two Sound shinobi's failed to see the second bullet.
Aoko slammed feet first into the center of the first shinobi's back, who's balaclava made it impossible to see anything beyond his eyes widening in agony.
He slammed chest first into the ground. The momentum of the strike caused him to slide and tumble over the grass, right to Mimi's feet.
His comrade gasped and began to turn towards the new attacker. Aoko was already rising up off the ground, unloading a left punch into his stomach. A stiff right into his sternum. Her elongated nails tore through the fabric of the balaclava as he bent forward, across his throat where the neck and head met.
The man recoiled up, arching his back as his hands clamped over his throat. Aoko finished with a straight kick that sent him tumbling over, writhing on the ground.
Kunais and shurikens whirled through the air at Aoko's back, thrown by two of the Sound shinobi behind her. The other three charged behind the blades. Mimi lurched forward, stepping on and breaking the neck of the Sound shinobi at her feet, and throwing herself towards the battle again.
Her nose caught new unfamiliar scents. Likely enemy reinforcements.
From her pouch she procured shurikens of her own and threw them, deflecting the enemy shuriken. With her free hand she equipped a kunai, which she then used to deflect the series of kunai thrown at Aoko.
As one such blade spun end over end through the air, Aoko dashed around her companion, snatching the kunai out of the air to then spin low with a sweeping kick aimed for the Sound shinobi at the head of the charge.
The enemy evaded up, hopping and drawing his blade over his body, preparing to throw it at the transformed ninken. It was the flash of movement, the sight of Mimi leapfrogging Aoko, that snapped his attention to her determined sapphire eyes.
The forest was disturbed by the sharp clash of their blades. Thinking her helpless, the second shinobi in the formation dashed around his comrade with a katana in hand, drawn down at his side in preparation of an upward cut.
Turning her head to face him, water sprayed from the Inuzuka's lips in a weak, unrefined fountain that splashed against his eyes. Temporarily blinded and stalled, Aoko whirled up onto her feet and launched forward, climbing onto his thigh with one foot then slamming her opposite knee into his jaw.
The shinobi was left sprawled out on his back. Mimi landed again, advancing forward while clashing blades with the enemy shinobi. She attacked fiercely, with greater speed to overwhelm her enemy.
The shinobi ducked beneath her blade, then raised his blade to block her next slash. The Inuzuka's lips curled in a cruel smile. She deftly changed grips, twirling the blade into reverse grip and switching from a horizontal strike to a upward slash just as his third comrade leapfrogged him.
In the quick moment before their blades collided she saw his eyes widen. It was a familiar expression, the same one she made when Amari had performed the same attack in the Finals.
Then their blades collided, his in the improper block, hers with greater force behind it. His blade arm flung up, feet stumbling backwards beneath him. His blade was knocked from his grasp.
Then his comrade caught the blade. In his chest.
Mimi stepped back, redistributing her weight. Aoko jumped between her and the body of the falling Sound shinobi, catching his body with a powerful kick. He shot through the air, slamming into his stumbling comrade, barreling him over.
Her ninken landed and ducked low to the ground. Mimi dashed forward, up Aoko's back, using her shoulder as a springboard. Equipping a second kunai, she threw the two blades for the Sound shinobi standing at the back of the formation, forcing them to evade back and deflect her blades, respectively.
The moment her hands were free she began to weave handseals. Simultaneously those two shinobi had their blades drawn back to throw.
Had they possessed enhanced senses like Mimi and Aoko, they would've heard the deadly whistle zipping through the air. They would've heard it and evaded properly. But they did not possess enhanced senses, and so only heard the noise when it was too late.
Both men grunted, bodies stiffening under what almost appeared to be a paralysis jutsu. Then collapsed forward to their knees, eyes wide with their mortality as they tried not to topple over.
Arrows protruded from their backs. The Inuzuka landed without launching a jutsu, instead swiftly jumping back in retreat to land beside Aoko.
A tall and muscular man wielding a Zanbatō emerged from the forest, opposite of the kunoichi, flanked by a squad of four shinobi; three were men, the other was a woman. Jigumo recognized him immediately.
"Hanzaki?" It didn't take enhanced hearing to notice the disbelief in his voice.
"Where are Sasame and Daisuke, Jigumo?" Hanzaki, leader of the Fūma Clan, demanded.
"Sasame and Daisuke?" Aoko repeated.
"Dammit," Mimi growled beneath her breath. "You went after them again?"
"Kamikiri is handling Daisuke as we speak," Jigumo taunted. Hanzaki narrowed his eyes at his former Clansman. "And Sasame… Soon she will be reunited with Arashi. Just like she wanted."
"You're a dead man," the Inuzuka growled.
Jigumo opened his mouth to speak. He was unable to form a single sound, for an electric blue light shot down from the sky into the forest suddenly, swallowing him whole before ascending into the sky once more like a shooting star.
Jigumo was nowhere to be found. He vanished without a trace.
The remaining Sound shinobi, though rising to their feet to battle, looked around the forest in awe. They murmured amongst themselves, questioning what had happened. No one seemed to know. But that didn't stop them from raising their blades again to do battle.
"Leaf shinobi," Hanzaki called. "I'd ask that you go on ahead. Leave these scoundrels to us. That light belonged to Kagerō." His face darkened. "The jutsu she is using can only be used once in a lifetime. If she is resorting to it now, it can only mean she believes there is no other way to overcome your comrades without sacrificing her life to take theirs. And should her chakra even graze them, they will die. Instantaneously."
Mimi swore. Violently.
"Also, please look for Sasame and Daisuke. They were attacked outside of the outpost. Sasame was taken, Daisuke chased them. The two little girls are safe, but… Although you owe me nothing, please look for them. Even if we are too late, I will not leave them to rot in these forests in an unmarked grave."
"I'll find them."
"Thank you. Now, go! We of the Fūma Clan will handle these Sound shinobi."
With that, the battlefield seethed once more. The majority of the Fūma Clan members charged the Sound shinobi, save for the woman wielding a long bow, who kept her distance while drawing arrows.
"You heard the man. Let's go, Aoko."
"Right!"
Aoko dispelled her transformation and hopped up onto Mimi's shoulders. She dashed off without hesitation for Naruto's and Sakura's position, sniffing the air for their scents and the scents of Sasame and Daisuke.
Sakura, Naruto, Sasame, Daisuke, hang on. We're on the way!
Deep inside the Sound Village Compound, Kasai leaned against a wall neighboring the door to old Snake Skin's room. Inside of the room, the only surviving member of the ill-fated Fūma Clan trio prostrated himself before his Lord to beg, barter and plea on behalf of the dead and dying comrades he carried with him.
The first was a meek and thin girl on death's doorstep. She had used a costly jutsu, from the sound of it. The kind that required the user to sacrifice their own life.
Kasai sniffed, a smirk tugging at his lips as ugly as an infestation of maggots.
Sacrificing herself for what? The future of a Clan? Her comrades?
Kasai chuckled darkly. What a pathetic excuse for acquiring strength. What a pathetic waste of her own life. So naïve. So childish. He almost pitied the weakling, if only for being so foolish to believe her sacrifice would achieve anything.
Such a noble sacrifice. My heart is breaking. I think I might cry, he mocked Kagerō and every feeble final breath she took, grinning vilely from ear to ear.
The second shinobi—Ha! Shinobi, what a joke!—was that annoying gnat Kamikiri. He was dead as dead could be. Finally someone had squashed him like the insignificant bug he was. Kasai's only regret was he couldn't be there to see it; he wanted to see his kicks, spasms and screams before his eyes rolled back into his skull. In fact, the only thing better than seeing him die would've been killing Kamikiri himself.
He'd been sick and tired of watching and listening to him strut around like a peacock, self-assured in his overwhelming talent and strength.
Now look at you, Kasai thought sadistically. All of that bravado and posturing, all the sucking up you did to old Snake Skin, doing his dirty deeds for the sake of your Clan. You know what, I think I might just go destroy those pathetic hold outs to spite you. It could be fun to wipe the last few members of your Clan off the face of the map.
No, he decided on a spark of inspiration. No, actually I'll leave them be. I'll let them grow into whatever they like. You wanted them dead, anyway. You called them traitors, so killing them would only be doing your dirty work. Yeah. I'll leave them be.
Kasai grinned and crossed his arms, a satisfied expression on his scarred face.
I want you to squirm even in death, knowing you could've stayed by their side and rebuilt your pathetic excuse of a Clan if you hadn't attached yourself to Snake Skin's leg like a dog in heat. But instead you betrayed your own Clan while calling them traitors. You killed some of them, too. And you didn't even have the guts to admit your "selfless acts" were for your own selfish desires to gain power and freedom.
That's what I hated the most about you. You couldn't admit you wanted more power. You couldn't admit you wanted it so fiercely because you wanted freedom. You wanted to be in control after the Feudal Lord stole everything from your Clan. And you didn't have the guts to take control on your own. You wanted it handed to you on a silver platter.
"But you…. You promised you would rebuild the Fūma Clan!" Jigumo protested, voice carrying out of the room. Orochimaru had clearly delivered his final verdict. "After all we have sacrificed for you… We followed your orders without question!"
Kasai sniffed derisively. And you're not better, Jigumo.
I set myself free. I took control. I did! I didn't wait for Snake Skin to hand it to me. I didn't wait for anyone to hand it to me. When I learned the truth, I took control and broke free from my prison. I set Ryu free from the fate he was destined for. And I set Amari free. Me! I did that on my own power.
What did you do? What did you build? What strength did you acquire?
You did absolutely nothing. You were a puppet, nothing more. And now your strings have finally been cut. Good riddance. The world I will create has no room for weaklings like you.
"Lord Orochimaru… Forgive me for my betrayal!" Jigumo roared.
Not a moment later the former Fūma shinobi let out a cry of agony.
Kasai heard the dead body crash against the floor. And laughed. He laughed in chorus with Snake Skin.
Pushing off the wall, he walked off into the candlelit chamber to await their guests.
So rot, Kamikiri. You, too, Jigumo. All of you can rot and squirm as your Clan moves on and grows without you.
A revolting grin crossed his burned face.
Ha ha ha! To think you fools could've had it all! Oh, what a sad, sad end for you! Ha ha ha!
Gleefully Kasai waited for the Leaf shinobi to arrive.
Amari, are you with them right now? I'm almost tempted to look and spoil the surprise.
I hope you're here.
Come, old friend. Chase me deep into the darkness. And if you don't, I'll keep killing until I have your undivided attention.
So come, old friend! I'm waiting for you!
Review Response to ChillinInKonoha: Welcome back!
I don't want to go into too much detail of what the next arc will be just yet, since how this arc ends and where it leaves the current team and the effect of the mission plays a role in the events leading us to the next arc. We'll be back to Amari, though, and I can say definitively that we'll learn where her path will take her from this point, through the time-skip and into Shippuden during it. Still a bit before the actual time-skip, but we'll have a better of idea of what she'll be up to.
So far with the Mangekyō Sharingan she is two for two with using both abilities. First against the Akatsuki with both powers. She used Amenominakanushi against Kasai, and then Ōkuninushi against the Nomu in the Hero World. I can't say when we'll see them again. I'm sure there will be other chances for it, given what I know is ahead of her, but she, and through her I, will try to keep her promise to Shisui to only use them when her other abilities alone are not enough to keep herself and everyone she loves alive. Which means she'll need to train hard to work off the rust gathered from being injured since the Sound Four and prepare for the road ahead.
Honestly, from a writing and personal stand point, it just wouldn't be as special if she used them repeatedly, and I want to take the vision deterioration seriously, definitely given the power of Amenominakanushi and the strain Ōkuninushi places on her eye. That was part of why, when after her battle with Kasai while in the hospital debriefing with the Hokage and everyone else, I had Tsunade mention the risk of deterioration and the unknown speed of which it occurs and how different abilities might affect it. Its something she really will need to keep in mind.
I can promise Amari will encounter the Anbu in the future. We haven't seen the last of Tenzo, definitely given Amari's present circumstances. Also the Foundation's a problem that isn't going away anytime soon. And I hope to introduce Yugao eventually. Other than that, we shall have to wait and see how those interactions go.
Anyway, thank you for the review!