Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.
-l-l-l-
As a child with a growing aptitude for the shinobi arts, it became a habit for Utakata to sneak out of the compound belonging to Kirigakure's bubble-users and simply explore the outside world. Harusame didn't like him being out – a consequence of being the Jinchūriki to the Six-Tailed Slug, most likely – and it was within the nature of children to be curious about that which they were prohibited. The grey stone walls of his living quarters were as much a prison to his inquisitiveness as they were to his body.
It was an expedition to one of the Land of Water's many inland lakes that eight-year-old Utakata met the Hidden Mist's other Jinchūriki.
The other boy was shorter than him, with messy grey hair that blended into the fog prevalent throughout the Hidden Mist. Just by the boy's physique, Utakata guessed himself to be older, but there was a rigidity in his stature that was unbecoming of someone so young. "I know you're there," the boy said, startling the Six-Tails' Jinchūriki. His voice was soft but matter-of-fact, carrying only the barest inflection.
Surprised and curious – there shouldn't have been a way for this younger stranger to notice him from his hiding spot – he approached the shorter boy and sat down beside him. His too-large kimono served as a makeshift blanket for him to sprawl upon. "How'd you do that? Know I was there?" he clarified when the boy didn't respond right away.
"Isobu told me."
"Isobu?"
The boy nodded. "The Sanbi."
Utakata gaped. "You're a Jinchūriki?"
"Mm." He appeared pensive, pupil-less pink eyes finally acknowledging the brown-haired boy. A long, stitch-like scar trailed to his jawline from beneath his left eye, giving him the appearance of having undergone facial surgery that had never healed. "So are you…Rokubi Jinchūriki."
"How'd you know that?" he asked, taken aback by the boy's strange perceptiveness. "Isobu again?"
The boy returned to staring across the lake. "Isobu and I are on good terms. He's the closest thing I have to a friend." There was a long pause in which Utakata was unable to find the words to mask his surprise, and the boy continued, "Also, you gave yourself away by admitting you know what a Jinchūriki is. I have no peers who comprehend the concept." He directed his gaze elsewhere, as if hearing something no one else did. "I have to go."
As the grey-haired boy turned to leave, Utakata reached out a hand as if to grab him, a hundred questions fumbling for control of his mouth. The other Jinchūriki stopped, recognizing the attempt for his attention, and the older boy finally managed to ask, "What's your name?"
"Yagura," came the reply in that same soft voice, and then Utakata watched him disappear into the mist.
-l-l-l-
Utakata fled.
Unlike most renegades, who typically ran on foot, the brunet was floating in a large bubble camouflaged to blend precisely with his surroundings: the open sky. He was immensely thankful for the calm, if chilly and overcast, climate that pervaded the Land of Water; it made his escape from Kirigakure easier and gave him plenty of time to think, time which he desperately needed to organize the chaos of his mind.
Part of it was related to who he was – or more specifically, what he contained – but the other part was based on his very abrupt decision to leave the Hidden Mist. He needed to put as much distance between himself and the village as possible to get ahead of the hunter-nin who were sure to be sent after him. It was better to make their inevitable chase as difficult as possible, especially considering he already stood out far too much for his own liking.
While he knew it was smarter to abandon the cornflower blue kimono which distinguished him as one of Kiri's rare bubble-users, it and his black sweatpants were the only clothing that could withstand the Six-Tails' 'gift', the physical marker each Jinchūriki possessed in some form. The orange strips woven into the hems of the kimono's billowing sleeves and the orange sash cinched around his waist denoted him as a journeyman, one step below the red-sashed masters.
Not that he ever would have reached that stage even if he had stayed in Kiri. Despite how rare it was for a Kiri-nin to possess an affinity for bubble-line ninjutsu, Utakata's status as the Rokubi Jinchūriki precluded him from ever rising to such a prestigious position. People feared the fallout of having a second Jinchūriki in a position of authority.
Never mind that, throughout his entire life, Utakata had never harbored a grudge against his village. Fear of the Six-Tailed Slug within him, and the Three-Tailed Demon Turtle within Yagura, seemed to override rationality, deluding people into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Saiken, as the demonic gastropod had introduced himself, had been in Kirigakure's possession for nearly half a century, and Utakata was only his second Jinchūriki. The original host – a man whose name Utakata had never known because he had died when the Bijū's resealing had taken place – had discovered a talent for the then-unknown branch of Suiton ninjutsu and had eventually taken the fighting style to its peak, even starting the special training for those with the bubble-line affinity.
Like his predecessor, Utakata excelled at the manipulation of bubbles, earning his official place among the bubble-users years ahead of the other shinobi. Unlike the ninjutsu's human originator, however, the brunet had grown up in a time when Kiri was recovering from an assault by its other captive Bijū, the Three-Tailed Demon Turtle, and there was a new stigma to hosting one of the Tailed Beasts.
That Yagura was both the Sanbi Jinchūriki and the Mizukage would probably have worked in his favor if the grey-haired boy had remained as soft-spoken and benevolent as he had in their youth.
At least now he had an explanation for why his friend had changed so drastically.
Utakata's head broke the water's surface. The cavernous hideout was supposed to be known only to the Mizukage and the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen, but Utakata knew of its existence courtesy of Saiken; the cave, ironically, had been the giant slug's home prior to his capture by a young Kirigakure decades ago.
Utakata preferred the cold dankness of his prisoner's former home to the stone pathways of the bubble-users' compound, where the chill in the air always seemed amplified by the other occupants' silent disdain. Visiting also gave him the sole semblance of a connection to his father, the former wielder of the twin thunderswords Kiba, who had perished during the Sanbi's attack when Utakata was only two years old. Sometimes the brunet liked to imagine his father grinning at the other Swordsmen, sharp teeth bared in a smirk, feet propped lazily on the circular table they conferred around.
Voices reached Utakata's ears, and he hunkered down in a nearby corner, apprehensive of being caught by whoever was in the cave. Kiri's ninja, particularly the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen, were not known for their compassion or understanding, and he preferred not having to explain himself.
When his blood finally stopped pounding in his ears, the conversation he was inadvertently eavesdropping upon became clear.
"Apparently," intoned a young yet apathetic voice all too familiar to the brunet; Yagura rarely sounded like he was interested in anything anymore, "Kumogakure possesses both the Nibi and the Hachibi." There was a muffled sound, the impact of something heavy hitting something soft. Utakata guessed someone had just hit someone else.
"How reliable is that information?" asked another person, the voice striking both a chord of familiarity and a sliver of fear within Utakata. The reputations of the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen, alive or dead, loyal or not, preceded them.
"You should know better than to doubt my methods, Kisame," replied a deep voice. The Rokubi Jinchūriki couldn't repress the shudder that ran through his body of its own accord, the malice in the man's tone seeming to reverberate and amplify in the cavern. "There are no secrets from these eyes."
"Heh, so you decided to actually show up this time, eh?" Kisame noted mockingly.
"Some things are best tended to in person."
"What's the plan, then, Mizukage-sama?" the swordsman drawled, placing sarcastic emphasis upon the title.
Utakata was surprised to hear the third man speak instead of Yagura. "Nothing for now. We're still too unprepared to deal with this new information." There was a brief pause before he continued, "In the short-term, I think that it will be best if you pretend to stage a coup against Yagura so that you can work full-time for Akatsuki."
"Khe heh heh, as you wish, Mizukage-sama. This place was gettin' kinda boring anyway. What're you plannin' to do next?"
"Yagura has proven to be a convenient puppet. I'll stay here to keep my influence over him and continue to use Kirigakure's resources for our benefit. Surviving your coup attempt will further cement our control here."
Utakata reeled at those words, his body slackening in shock. Yagura, the leader of the Hidden Mist, the only other person in the village who understood the burden of being a Jinchūriki, his friend, was being controlled by some stranger who was dangerous and most decidedly ill-intentioned. Distracted, he nearly missed the man continuing, "Besides, it'll be much easier to monitor the Sanbi and Rokubi from here, and possibly discover the locations of the remaining Jinchūriki in the meantime. I trust that you'll monitor Akatsuki's progress in my stead and report back to me. It may be awhile yet until we're ready to extract the Bijū, but I am a patient man, and I will wait however long is necessary to see our world realized."
The phrase 'extract the Bijū' echoed in the recesses of Utakata's blank mind, filling every nook and cranny. He didn't know for what purpose Kisame and his partner sought the Bijū, but extracting them would have only one result: the deaths of the two Mist Jinchūriki.
Cautiously, so that his presence would continue to go unnoticed by those who plotted his demise, he edged backwards to the water. Calling upon Saiken's chakra, he readied himself for the arduous swim ahead; the alkaline properties of the Rokubi's power coating his skin would make his transition from land to water seamless.
Gurgling resonated from deeper in the cave, and Kisame's voice mused, "Hm? Seems like Samehada senses something…"
Utakata took that as his cue, slipping into the water as fluidly as an eel and sluicing desperately through it for the surface.
With miles between himself and the Hidden Mist, his bubble floating over the ocean separating the Land of Water from the eastern shore of the Land of Fire, the Rokubi Jinchūriki could finally consider his situation with a clearer head. The talk between Kisame and the unknown man had revealed the danger of remaining within his own nation. Beyond that, if mention of the Nibi and Hachibi was any indication, Utakata could safely extrapolate that all the Jinchūriki were in trouble, not just him and Yagura.
Not that any of them were as important to him as the Mizukage, but it was interesting.
Unfortunately, despite his desire to rescue Yagura from the clutches of the unknown man, he knew he had nowhere near the strength required to do so. Kisame, apparently, was at the man's disposal, and the swordsman was one of the strongest inhabitants in the whole of the Hidden Mist. Not that he was even needed; if the unknown man was powerful enough to manipulate the Mizukage, host of a Bijū, then he was clearly more than capable of fending for himself.
Hence the golden-eyed boy's flight from Kirigakure. He had no doubt that his status as a Jinchūriki – and thus a valuable asset to the island nation, if not to the evil man – meant that he would be hunted by the oinin as soon as his absence was noticed.
So I need to avoid the oinin while training to get on Kisame's level. Then I might have a chance of freeing Yagura from…whoever's controlling him.
He hung his head, morbidly grateful that the despondence weighing him down didn't affect his Drifting Bubble Technique. Easier said than done. In spite of his young age, Utakata was a skilled Jōnin, but Kisame was in a league of his own, and training while on the run sounded complex.
Utakata sighed. I need help.
Even admitting that to an audience of himself was painful. Utakata was used to doing things on his own, to finding contentment in solitude, especially after Yagura had become Mizukage, and the idea of finding aid for this mission seemed both impossible and unnatural. Sadly, the pragmatist within knew that he would never survive the challenges ahead without assistance.
Conveniently, those who might be most receptive to aiding him would simultaneously help thwart the plans of the unknown man manipulating his friend.
The other Jinchūriki.
In theory, the remaining demon containers would have enough power to overcome whatever obstacles he would have to face on his journey to rescue Yagura. Not only that, but they needed to be warned that they were in peril from a group comprised of what he could safely assumed to be immensely powerful shinobi. What was that group's name? Uhh…Akatsuki, I think? That sounds about right…
Regardless, in a perfect world, he could convince the other Jinchūriki to join him on his quest and they could fight the threat together, watch the others' backs, and ultimately save Yagura.
As likely as that is… Utakata knew the idea was a long-shot even as it came to mind, but his options were limited, and no other reasonable alternatives were coming to mind. They were the only individuals he thought he had a marginal chance of convincing to join his crusade; self-preservation was a strong motivation, after all.
Either way, that plan depended on actually finding the other Jinchūriki, which was no mean feat. Hidden Villages were cagey with their secrets under the best of circumstances; trying to locate their human weapons would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. Yagura's in Kiri for the foreseeable future, and the Nibi and Hachibi are in Kumo, he mused, ticking off his fingers for each accounted Biju. Unfortunately, Kumo's rather militant tendencies coupled with alliances made during the Shinobi World Wars – Kiri with Konoha, and thus against Kumo – meant that Utakata would not be warmly welcomed in the Village Hidden in Clouds, or even in the Land of Lightning as a whole, fugitive or not.
Another sigh. So that leaves…what exactly? Momentarily stumped by his lack of knowledge, he wracked his brain for some clue he'd overlooked until the story of the Kyūbi no Yōko came to mind. Harusame's world history lessons had never seemed more relevant than in that moment, and he tried to recall every detail he'd been taught.
The Nine-Tailed Demon Fox had rampaged through the Hidden Leaf a little over a decade ago, appearing seemingly from nowhere. It seemed to be generally accepted as fact that the Fourth Hokage had ultimately sacrificed himself to kill it, but Utakata knew he could discount that as a rumor. Thanks to the Rokubi, the bubble-user had access to information other people didn't.
For a start, a Bijū could not simply be killed by a mere human. Aside from harnessing the power of the Bijū for mankind's own purpose, it was the main reason Jinchūriki had come into existence in the first place, and one of the chief reasons the Bijū were commonly taken from their older hosts and resealed into younger ones. Unless some masterful strides in sealing techniques had come about over a decade ago, or some convoluted geopolitics were at play, there was only one possible conclusion.
Konoha had a Jinchūriki, a jail for the Nine-Tailed Demon Fox it didn't want the rest of the world to know about.
He took a moment to muse over that revelation. If the Hidden Mist, Leaf, and Cloud Villages all had Jinchūriki, it was probably safe to assume that the other two Five Great Shinobi Nations – the Hidden Rock and Sand – had at least one Jinchūriki as well. It wouldn't do for three of the five Great Nations to have a Tailed Beast and the other two to not. Besides, with the One-, Four-, Five-, and Seven-Tails unaccounted for, Utakata was almost guaranteed to find at least one of them within Iwa or Suna.
Still, the Hidden Leaf was closer and rumored to be more tolerant than any of the other villages, not to mention that the Kyūbi, with the most tails, was likely to prove most beneficial to his cause.
His decision was made. To Konoha it is.
-l-l-l-
Why do things never seem to work for me? Utakata thought with an annoyed scowl as a stream of water popped his Drifting Bubble Technique. His former life in Kirigakure was proof of that.
Though his mother had died in childbirth, his father's status as one of the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen meant that Utakata was a child of interest to the Hidden Mist's hierarchy. Unfortunately, that status, and his father's death, had made him ripe for consideration when the first Rokubi Jinchūriki had sustained a lethal injury in the Sanbi's assault on Kiri.
The brown-haired boy had long ago accepted that, logically, the decision had been a sound one, though it hadn't stopped him from growing up disillusioned with his role in the Hidden Mist. He'd possessed such potential, the legacy to become another of Kiri's kenjutsu masters in his blood…
But becoming a Jinchūriki had stripped him of that opportunity, and Utakata had instead received the distinct impression that he didn't belong. When he'd eventually brought up the bubble-users' strange treatment of him with Saiken, the slug had spoken of their deference for the original Rokubi Jinchūriki, further confusing the brunet. Their contrasting distaste of him had only isolated him further in a village already disinclined to form attachments.
Utakata could understand their reverence for the man who had started and inspired an entire sect of shinobi. He could appreciate it better if he'd been granted even a modicum of the same decorum. Scorn, he had learned from life experience, was not unfamiliar to Jinchūriki.
Of course, it probably hadn't helped that it had taken a number of years to understand and control Saiken's unwanted 'gift', with interactions in the interim having…interesting results. That he'd been stuck wearing the man's specially-made clothes to help contain said gift probably didn't endear them to him either, painting him as a wolf in sheep's clothes.
As a child, a small part of Utakata had always hoped that the bubble-users would eventually accept him, but when it became apparent that his master Harusame was the only one who would give him the time of day, that hope faded with his youth. Their apathy was marginally better than the slanted looks and snide whispers the rest of the Hidden Mist's population graced him with; the Sanbi's attack had, unsurprisingly, left an unfavorable impression of the Bijū and those associated with them.
The one saving grace of his life had been his early friendship with Yagura…
Not that he thought he deserved that anymore. A better friend would have found a way to stop the mistakes of his fellow demon container: the Bloodline Purges and divisive civil war, the fragmentation of the Seven Shinobi Swordsmen, the continuation of the barbaric Academy graduation ceremony…
And now Utakata knew why everything had gone so terribly wrong, why their friendship had faded upon the younger boy's ascension to Mizukage: Yagura was being manipulated. The uncharacteristic, merciless orders Yagura had given while acting as the Yondaime had been in stark contrast to the quiet, gentle child the brunet had befriended.
Now that he knew Yagura hadn't really been behind any of those orders, it felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest. His friend hadn't really changed at all. The knowledge didn't assuage the guilt he felt at letting his friend be manipulated – his inability to get close to the Mizukage notwithstanding – but now he had a chance to rectify his mistakes and change both their futures.
His friend was in trouble, and the bubble-user would do everything he could to protect him, no matter how difficult the situation he got himself into turned out to be.
Which brought Utakata back to his original thought that things never really worked out for him.
He fell gracefully through the Land of Fire's canopy, noting the quartet of hunter-nin arrayed below him. It's only been a day, he groused. Yagura – or the mysterious man controlling him – had (unsurprisingly) dispatched the oinin to track him down and subdue him.
They likely hoped the fall would debilitate him, but Utakata reacted quickly, pulling out his bamboo bubble blower and unleashing a stream of bubbles he used as stepping stones to reach the forest floor, kimono billowing out at his back. Suiton: Hōmatsu no Jutsu! he thought upon landing, twisting on the balls of his feet. Innumerable bubbles flowed from the bamboo weapon, creating a wall of translucent spheres between him and the Mist shinobi. With a snap of his fingers, the bubbles exploded into a thick smokescreen that pervaded the immediate vicinity. Time to make my escape.
A whip of water lashed around his wrist, and golden eyes went wide. Stupid! Of course they'd bring a sensor! You're distracted. He focused on the joint, releasing the chakra there that he'd trained to act as a second skin.
The thin whip touching his wrist disintegrated, his skin's natural acidity dissolving the fluid restraint enough to wrench his limb free. Unrestrained, Utakata immediately brought his blower to his lips again and expelled another slew of bubbles. They popped under an incoming hail of senbon, bursting into sticky green slime that captured the needles and gummed up the surrounding forest.
Utakata took advantage of the momentary respite and fled on foot, no destination in mind except away.
The Jinchūriki's mind raced as fast as his body, every move performed automatically to give him freedom to think. Whatever sensor they'd brought along was likely to pose a significant problem for his escape.
If the oinin followed him, they would know that his destination was Konoha. He'd have to switch strategies, at least temporarily, and simply make it look like he was putting as much distance between himself and the Land of Water as possible instead of having a specific destination in mind. Once he was sure he'd lost them, he could double back to the Hidden Leaf.
He angled northwest into the Land of Fire, hindered slightly by the unfamiliar terrain. It would only get worse as he kept moving, and a ninja wasn't good unless he could adapt.
He was dead otherwise.
-l-l-l-
"Nnn…"
Consciousness returned slowly, though not without consequence. A painful throbbing boomed in his head.
"Oh, Tonbee, I think he's waking up!"
Golden eyes snapped open, and Utakata sat up, the sheet pulled over him crumpling at his waist. His back ached, and when his hand instinctively flew to soothe it, a sharper pain flared in his shoulder. Shit…
"Please, you shouldn't move too much."
The Jinchūriki focused on the girl kneeling beside him, wavy blonde hair framing concerned green eyes. In the doorway behind her stood an older gentleman in his sixties, by the brunet's guess. "What—" he tried, but the remaining words seemed stuck in his throat, dry from disuse.
"Here's some water," the girl offered.
Utakata gulped the liquid down. The older man, Tonbee, stepped into the room and over to the brunet. He looked as if he wanted to push the Jōnin down into the futon, but something was stopping him. "You should rest. You'll be safe here. It's the least I can promise for rescuing Hotaru-sama from those shinobi."
Rescue…her? A frown settled over Utakata's lips as he reclined, his initial panic assuaged. That didn't sound like him, especially given his fugitive status. What happened? he wondered as his eyes closed.
"Suiton: Suiryūdan no Jutsu!"
Utakata's yelp of commingled surprise and pain turned into a gurgle as the Water Dragon Bullet Technique slammed into him and drove him against a tree. A knot dug into his back, and a low branch pierced his right shoulder from the force of the attack.
With his dominant arm out of commission, the renegade fumbled for the bubble blower tucked into his waistband. Before he could reach it, a long length of wire spooled around him from behind, trapping him against the tree trunk. A mild electrical shock coursed along the metal, momentarily paralyzing him before he could move.
"Taichō, we've got him."
Utakata looked up at the shinobi who'd spoken, furious gold glaring at a porcelain mask. We'll see… he thought, preparing to release the chakra holding the Rokubi's gift at bay.
"Suiton: Mizurappa."
Utakata gagged on the Wild Water Wave, brown hair hanging lank in his eyes. "Keep him wet," ordered another oinin. "Otherwise he'll escape again before taichō gets here."
Someone knows what he's doing. Saiken?
One moment.
"What are you carrying?"
"Some girl. She was in the way when I was getting set up."
Utakata tilted his head to get a better look, finding the second oinin carrying someone with a head of blonde hair under his arm. The two Mist shinobi seemed distracted by their conversation, so the Jinchūriki again prompted, Saiken?
The Rokubi's red-orange chakra oozed from his pores, melting through the wire and the trunk at his back, eliciting surprised shouts from the pair of Kiri-nin. He fell backwards, dodging the water jutsu that flew in his direction. Bubbles dribbled off his chakra cloak and floated towards the hunters, each one carrying a greenish tinge. Both Mist shinobi countered with more water, and Utakata expelled his own sickly-looking Mizurappa. Where the two techniques collided, cascading droplets ate away at the forest floor's detritus.
More bubbles floated off his body, adding to the plethora surrounding the pair of Kiri-nin. They summoned a torrent of water that crashed into the Jinchūriki just as the brunet snapped his fingers. The bubbles exploded, acid spilling over the pair while the Great Waterfall Technique washed Utakata away, diluting the Six-Tails' acidic chakra.
Drained by the sudden loss of Saiken's strength, Utakata lay prone on the forest floor, distantly aware of a blonde-haired body beginning to get up from where it had been tossed away during his attack.
Then there was nothing but darkness.
Utakata awoke with a jolt, breathing shallow. He sat up slowly and brought a hand to his head, wincing as his shoulder protested the motion. Quiet snuffling nearby drew his attention to the now-familiar head of blonde hair, the girl – Hotaru, he recalled – asleep beside his bed.
Gingerly this time, he stretched his good arm across his body to check his wounded shoulder. Frayed pieces of bandages lingered around the area where the tree branch had pierced.
"We tried to wrap your injury—" Utakata started at the gruff voice, turning to see Tonbee walking through the doorway, "—but every time we tried, the bandages dissolved." When he was close enough, he presented his hands to the brunet, burn marks marring weathered skin.
"I'm sorry about that," he offered quietly. "My ability…it's not intentional. I can't control it when I'm unconscious. It should be safe now."
Tonbee knelt beside him, dipping a fresh towel in the bowl of water by his bed and using it to wash the blood from the Jinchūriki's back. Utakata flinched away from his touch. The older man furrowed his brow. "Does that hurt?"
Utakata decided that pain was a believable excuse. "…Yes…"
Tonbee nodded, as if understanding the teenager's reticence. "Ah, I see." There was a long pause before he continued, "I wish to offer you my sincerest gratitude for protecting Hotaru-sama. She is…precocious, and I cannot say what would have become of her had you not arrived in time."
Utakata didn't respond, watching Hotaru while the older man cleaned and bandaged his wound. It would be unwise to reveal to his hosts that the oinin had been after him, not her, the blonde a mere bystander caught in the crossfire. Since it seemed they didn't know who he was, bringing any unwanted attention that might reveal his identity was out of the question.
Hotaru stirred beneath his gaze, opening sleepy green eyes and staring blearily at the Jinchūriki. "Oh, you're awake. Thank you so much for saving my life…um…"
"Yagura," Utakata said. The name fell automatically from his lips, a reminder of who he was fighting for.
Green eyes sparkled with adoration, any sign of sleepiness dispelled. "Thank you, Yagura-sama! Um, if you don't mind…would you please teach me to fight like you?"
Utakata's brow furrowed in confusion, sharp eyes analyzing the girl bowing before him. He'd never been propositioned before (in any sense), given the propensity of others to avoid him (and vice versa), and the mere suggestion was baffling. Users of the bubble-line ninjutsu were rare in the Hidden Mist, and even among them, only he could manipulate the corrosivity of fluids.
That, useful or detrimental, was a talent all his own, granted to him by the Rokubi.
Mentally, he shook his head, even while his physical body continued to observe the prostrate form of the blonde with all the mobility of a statue. What could I teach her? he mused, a dark-humored sense of self-deprecation tinging the thought. And where would I even begin?
To say that he was uncomfortable with human interaction was an understatement. Despite the village's shortcomings, Kiri at least had prepared him well enough for a life as a weapon, not a person.
And besides, what use was some unskilled girl to his mission? Even trained by him, Hotaru wasn't a Jinchūriki, and certainly didn't appear to offer any sort of benefit to his cause. She'd apparently been caught completely unaware by the oinin, which, while not unexpected, didn't exactly inspire confidence.
No, there was nothing he could do for this girl. Still, the words that escaped his lips were, "Maybe when I've recovered." That, at least, wasn't guaranteeing anything, and would hopefully allow him the time to heal. In the meanwhile, there was no reason not to accept their hospitality. He offered Tonbee a thankful nod for his aid, sparing a glance for the clean wrap of bandages around his shoulder.
"Oh, thank you, Yagura-sama! Is there anything you need?"
"I'm fine, thanks." He closed his eyes once more and leaned back.
"Come, Hotaru-sama, we should allow him his rest."
Utakata allowed his tense muscles to relax into the futon when the pair's footsteps indicated their exit from the room. Subterfuge was not a talent of his, given his relative isolation in Kiri, and the mixture of lying, fleeing, and socializing was getting to him. How long he would last under Tonbee's watchful eye and Hotaru's inquisitive gaze was a crapshoot.
Eventually, those stressful thoughts faded to the background of his mind, and the Jinchūriki dropped into slumber.
-l-l-l-
Utakata cursed, dodging to avoid a stream of water and turning briefly to blow some bubbles at the pursuing oinin. A quick snap of his fingers exploded the floating spheres, and he used the momentary diversion to speed up, golden eyes scanning the landscape for a sign of anything that could aid his flight.
The vast emptiness of the dry Land of Earth greeted him, offering only the occasional boulder as respite. I was better off in the Land of Demons. At least that had some semblance of shelter and water.
Of course, anything he'd found in the territory west of the Elemental Nations had paled in comparison to the treatment he'd received on Mount Katsuragi, but after a week recuperating in the presence of Hotaru and Tonbee, he'd run out of excuses to delay training the blonde. Faced with the inevitable confrontation, he'd instead slipped out of their home late at night, silent words of gratitude and apology for the pair echoing in his thoughts.
Karma apparently existed, however, for he'd not only gotten lost in the dark, but another oinin squad had quickly picked up his trail and driven him from the forest to the desert. From there, he'd managed to disappear into the Land of Demons, shoulder still throbbing and only natural poultices to treat it.
That had been two months ago, and now, healed, and with almost four weeks of silence from the hunter-nin, he'd (foolishly) thought it safe to journey to Konoha.
A whistle of displaced air was the only warning he had to dodge before a long, thin sword – essentially a giant needle – with a line of wire tied around the eye at the end whizzed past him. The weapon looped through the air in complex patterns, its trailing wire creating an impassable, latticework web.
Utakata stared at the makeshift barrier, dread pooling in his stomach. They didn't…
The sound of his name spoken from behind by a high, reedy voice forced the brunet to turn and face his growing nightmare. Four Kiri-nin stood before him, the leader an abnormally tall shinobi with a mane of straw-colored hair surrounding the standard Mist oinin mask. Long, gangly limbs and a lithe body gave the hunter-nin an almost spider-like quality that was complemented by the coil of wire looped around one arm.
Kushimaru…
Kuriarare Kushimaru was the head of the oinin and the best capture-and-retrieval specialist the Hidden Mist had to offer, his title well-earned and aided by the legendary chōtō Nuibari. That a man of Kushimaru's caliber had been sent to bring him back meant that Kiri was done playing around.
"You're coming with us," Kushimaru announced. The aptly-named Sewing Needle returned to his hand. "You can come willingly…or we can have some fun." There was a hopeful lilt to his reedy voice, an ill-disguised wish for his prey to choose the latter option.
They planned this. They backed off to rendezvous with Kushimaru and lure me out. Golden eyes darted around, seeking an escape. None presented itself. Smart. Well, I'd hate to disappoint.
His bubble blower rose to his lips. As the first bubbles escaped, one of the Kiri-nin flanking Kushimaru flashed through hand seals, a thick mist springing into existence on the final one. A drizzle accompanied the haze, and the brunet's attack dissolved into individual water droplets. Kirisame…could this get any worse?
Kushimaru dashed forward then, Nuibari swiping at the Jinchūriki. Utakata barely blocked the attack with his blower, momentarily stunned by the blow, and the swordsman pressed his advantage, beginning an intricate series of slashes and jabs. With the man's taller frame and longer reach, Utakata could feel himself instinctively withdrawing from the fight when Kushimaru suddenly stopped his assault.
The Jinchūriki was only allowed a second of confusion before he felt wire tighten around him, binding arms to his side and legs together. He winced as the wire bit into his body deeper than necessary for restraining purposes before the swordsman announced, "Raiton: Jibashi."
"AHHH!"
The electricity coursing along the wires stopped after several seconds, and Utakata fell to his knees, gasping for breath. He unleashed another scream as Nuibari pierced his side and emerged out his back. "You chose poorly," Kushimaru informed him happily. "The Mizukage is tired of your insubordination." Another electric shock ran along the wires, eliciting more pained cries from the brunet, though that paled in comparison to the defeat weighing on him.
Yagura… The fact that the hunter-nin thought their orders were from the actual Mizukage rankled, but it was drowned out by a flood of guilt.
I…failed…
He struggled to summon the Rokubi's chakra to slip out of or dissolve the bindings keeping him in place – as Saiken's power typically allowed – but it merely flared and then dissipated. Kirisame, the Mist Rain, nullified most of his techniques, including the Biju's chakra, and the short fight with Kushimaru had sapped both his strength and hope. The months of hide-and-seek combined with the resonating internal mantra that he'd failed suddenly seemed to catch up to him, and he collapsed fully, body prostrate on the hard ground.
As his vision blurred and his eyes closed from a mixture of exhaustion, blood loss, and electrocution, Utakata thought he felt a faint rumbling from deep beneath the earth. Then there was rocky debris, a pillar of red liquid, a searing heat…
The last thing Utakata knew before blacking out was his bonds loosening as the Kiri-nin scrambled against some unknown force.
-l-l-l-
Author's Note: Welcome to my new story! I'll be taking some (minor) liberties with some of the characters, notably some ages (Yagura and Utakata, for instance), as well histories (Kisame and Kushimaru still being in Kiri/alive), but I'll also be utilizing as much of the canon traits of the Jinchūriki as I possibly can and twisting them into the story.
Hope this introduction was to your liking. If you leave a review, I only ask that you be respectful; I am a human being, I'm not perfect, and I do have feelings. Should you have any questions, I'll respond to the best of my ability in a PM.