War-torn
A/N: From here on, the arcs draw inspiration from several sources. In this arc, Seven Samurai.
This update is considered early by my standards, but half of this was done last month, so...
The hermit told her he could bring her back fifteen years into the past. The hermit actually brings her back fifty-five.
All she wanted was to find a sword.
It's not really a wonder that they've found themselves at the aid of this village. And it's no surprise at all that they're on the front lines. Inari no Sato is far from being a village with military forces of its own and the farmers can only do so much against their aggressors. She supposes her guide is indebted to Tatsumaki. Perhaps they were teammates or partners before. Perhaps they were even friends. She supposes he's acting out of this debt, perhaps Tatsumaki saved his life before and doing this would be more than enough of a payment.
"You would trust us at the front lines, Tatsumaki?"
"Nothing less for a man of your caliber, Tobirama-sama."
She stands behind them, still a stranger.
Perhaps Tastumaki idolized her guide.
Perhaps she is wrong about her guide being an unimportant shinobi.
But there is no time to dwell on those thoughts. The signal bell rings again. The bandits are closer now.
"Twenty-six. All approaching from the north."
She thinks that if they were an actual unit, twenty-six would be a small number. There's only eleven of them, them and the eight volunteers. She can't blame any of the people for being afraid. They've only survived up until this point. Farmers don't really stand a chance against vagrants from the war, former shinobi and former samurai alike who have banded together to take back what was lost from them.
Her guide glances at her then, wary and cautious as he is still suspicious of her.
Three days have passed on this journey.
"Don't keep me waiting."
Three days is far too long.
Murai.
She remembers the sword from her childhood. The mystical blade carved straight from a dragon's fang. Located on an island protected by the dragon itself. The gift of said dragon to mankind, a gift that only the worthy can claim. She doesn't know how many have ventured in search of this sword, doesn't know how long ago its legend started to spread, doesn't know how exactly she can get the sword, doesn't know if–
"It's half a day's journey southwest."
Well, she won't have to ask him anything if he spews out answers on his own. He's become more like a real guide now, quite like those wise spirits who tell the hero what to do and where to go.
"Far from port, even farther from Kaminari no Kuni."
She knows his displeasure. They should have made their way as fast as they can, make it to Kaminari in three days, take a boat to Hakuryou Island, hike up the mountain, and–
Would the hermit be present then?
But now is not the time to be thinking such things, not when she's off to the opposite side of the world, not when she's supposed to be off to fulfill some promise she made to a civilian just like before.
"Inari no Sato is still ways away."
His curt tone and rigid posture make him feel more like a hurrying adult waiting for a yet-to-be-dressed child.
"Hurry."
He's standing a few yards away and above her, standing on a larger branch, whilst she leans against the trunk as she catches her breath. She's not used to running up in the trees and they both know that. There's no need for her to tell him anything.
"Go on." She tells him.
He glances down at her before rushing forward, still in the trees.
Inari no Sato is a small village, an agricultural village surrounded by rice paddies, easily accessible with seven paths cutting through the forest beyond the village borders. The council hall is situated in the center, a large, wooden longhouse, and is surrounded by several small buildings, shops and residences alike. The village's people are a hardy people, having gone through storm after storm after storm...
And yet she cannot help but notice the wary glances directed at them. She'd like to think they're directed at her, but most eyes were trained on him.
Whether it is in fear or in awe, she does not know.
"We're looking for Tatsumaki." He asks a passing villager.
And the villager darts away, hurrying out of their sight. He goes to ask another, but the nearby woman scurries away as quick as the previous man. An idea comes to her suddenly. Perhaps these people fear the shinobi, that perhaps this village had been terrorized or mistreated by such people.
Perhaps even the samurai had abused them.
She wants to ask, but remembers their deal and stands quietly behind him.
"How obedient. But you aren't the type to stand idle."
She doesn't hear the voice, instead she listens to her guide.
"Now, do you see?"
His question is heavy in the silence. She supposes he is always like this, always questioning, always quick to assume that the answer he seeks is obvious.
"They're afraid." She says.
And it's seen not only in the wary stares and how the two villagers were quick to get away, but also in the way everyone is suddenly in a hurry. She doesn't want to think it's because of him or his village specifically, but in something more common, more real.
Shinobi.
Samurai.
War.
She wonders if this is just an automatic reaction. She also wonders why, if the war did pass through this area, the village still looks prosperous and peaceful.
And she doesn't have to ask, of course, because he tells her anyway.
"Tatsumaki is a prisoner here."
Well, that wasn't the answer she expected.
And what he meant by prisoner was that Tatsumaki cannot will himself to leave the village.
They found him by a smithy, talking voraciously with an older man, perhaps the village chief. Upon seeing them, the older man immediately excuses himself and Tatsumaki frowns. It's obvious that Tatsumaki knows Tobirama. It's possible that he's gone through this scenario before, someone from his hometown is looking for him, but whether it is with Tobirama or some other shinobi, she doesn't know. She feels inclined to know, and yet thinks she is not welcome to.
And she is right in thinking that, because Tobirama raises his arm in a clear sign that she should stay out of whatever is to happen between him and Tatsumaki.
"Tobirama-sama." He greets monotonously.
"Tatsumaki." And Tobirama greets him in the same tone.
He takes the small satchel from his waist and hands it over quietly. Tatsumaki takes it hesitantly and his frown deepens.
"I cannot return." He is quick to say, "Not until I am sure."
And Tobirama's reply is automatic. "You are first a shinobi of Konoha, not these people."
"Yet who do these people serve?"
There's a pause, the slightest amount of hesitation before Tobirama answers in a hushed tone, "I ask you the same thing."
The silence hangs in the air, like a noose around their necks. Tatsumaki was a formidable shinobi, with sinewy arms and a hardened stare, now his hair is starting to turn gray and his face has started to look fuller. Perhaps it is difficult to think that he is happier here, that perhaps he has decided to stay here, even years after the war, because it is so.
But Tobirama refuses to accept this.
"The woman," Tatsumaki suddenly asks, quick to sense the uncomfortable atmosphere, "who is she?"
And he asks that out of fear. She is a stranger, a potential threat to the semblance of peace he has created in this village.
"She is none of your concern." Tobirama grounds out.
"She is a samurai."
And suddenly Tatsumaki is curious. His mind starts working out a plan. His mind starts asking questions. Why would Senju Tobirama be in the company of a samurai? Why would a samurai be in the company of a shinobi?
"What is happening in Konohagakure?"
Tobirama thinks he can use Tatsumaki's concern to bring him back for good, but decides against it. He isn't so low to resort to such means.
If he were any younger, he would have told him, "See for yourself." with all the bitterness and sarcasm he could fit in his young body. But he is older now, the wars have changed him, the wars have changed all of them.
And the absence of his answer prompts Tatsumaki to say, "These people are being threatened."
He thinks to sway Tobirama and garner his sympathy.
"There are bandits, ronin, vagrants from the war."
The way Tobirama's expression stiffens tells him he has a chance of success.
"They take as they please. They take what they want. These people live in fear."
He knows the Senju Clan knows all too well about such things.
"These people need protection. If we could offer it to them in exchange for-"
Tobirama silences him. "For what? For supplies? Did you forget who these people served in the war?"
Inari no Sato is near to both Konohagakure and Konohagakure's enemies, placing it in a position of both power and vulnerability. It is likely by sheer luck that it still stands today.
Tatsumaki. "We've all made amends, Tobirama-sama."
"Our enemies will strike in our blindness."
And with that line, Tobirama leaves.
"Go."
His abrupt command forces her upright.
She did not hear their conversation, which is why she thinks they've merely had a disagreement when she sees him walk past her. His steps are heavier, his shoulders are stiffened. He wants to leave this place immediately.
Of course, we've wasted enough time already.
It will take them another half-day before they get back to the original route. She does not like traveling at night. The darkness is more traitorous than it is advantageous, but she is not trained in the art of stealth anyway. She only manages to get by with light feet and quiet breathing, and her profession rarely ever tasks her with such a thing.
Traveling at night is unfavorable, but not impossible.
And if she wants to gain even a semblance of his trust, she should remember that she is in no position to complain.
A bell rings in the distance. It's like a signal, an alarm. And she knows it is so because the people suddenly stiffen, bolt upright, and look towards the direction of the sound before scurrying in a manner that's almost systematic. It's as if this has happened several times before.
"They're coming from the east!"
"Hurry, bring the children inside!"
"Hide beneath the floorboards!"
Everything happens around them in a panic. They're caught in the middle of it and they cannot get away, not without feeling guilt and remorse. At least, that is what she thinks. She could only suppose that his pensive expression means the same thing.
"Tastumaki-dono!"
The man emerges from the smithy and walks past them with a determined, yet frightened, air.
"It's them! They've come again!"
They're caught in the chaos, standing idle and itching to move. She knows as well as he does that they ought to do something, but what could they do? What should they do? Strangers are better off not meddling, but... They are not mere strangers, are they?
"Oh, how good you have become."
She doesn't hear these thoughts amidst the noise, but hears her guide speak instead.
"Tatsumaki."
Tobirama knows this. He knows this situation all too well. This is something he's used to, something he knows through and through. He knows a way out of this. He likes to think he knows all the possible ways out of this. His father heralded him as a genius. His youth was spent more on the battlefield than indoors. He spent more time in his youth fighting and training than he did sleeping and eating. He knows what to do in this situation.
In the event of an enemy ambush, there are only two possible actions. A retreat or a full-blown attack. No surrender. Never a surrender.
But he is in an unfamiliar position. He is in another's territory. He is likely in the enemy's territory. He is a stranger. Though he has an ally, he is unsure where his ally's loyalty stands. And then there is the samurai, the stranger from a strange time.
He thinks this might be an ambush, an elaborate ploy of some sort. Perhaps Tatsumaki has already betrayed them. Perhaps this had been set up long ago. Perhaps the samurai is in on it as well. Perhaps Madara–
No. He doesn't think the Uchiha would resort to such ignoble means. If they meant to eliminate their enemies, they would do it outright. No need for this sort of grand scheme.
He hears people cry out. Some give orders. Some relay messages. Some respond. It's all too reminiscent of wartime. They're all thrown into a panic, all frantic and scared. Perhaps he had misjudged the people. Perhaps, years after the war, they had begun to live a life of their own, no longer bound by to those they had served in the war.
"These people are being threatened."
Perhaps they have made amends.
But he can't think about this thoroughly enough, not when the people's oppressors are about to attack.
"There are only thirteen of them."
And only thirteen.
If he had the luxury of time, he wouldn't be calling Tatsumaki so suddenly with already a plan in mind.
If Tatsumaki had been given the opportunity to choose who to fight alongside with during the war years before, his answer would be the same as any shinobi.
The Senju.
Or the Uchiha.
It was an either-or kind of situation. There weren't many notable shinobi, none nearly at the same level as those two clans. Even now, he still doubts if any clan had gotten closer to their level.
But Senju Tobirama stands before him now, the very image of command and order, stating that there are thirteen of the vagrants coming to attack. Tatsumaki is shocked, delighted, and terrifyingly awestruck that he cannot form a proper response.
"Only?" His mind is stuck on that idea.
Surely Senju Tobirama is a shinobi more than capable of disposing of these–well, "dispose" might be too strong of a term. "Deal with" might be a better choice.
In any case, Senju Tobirama is strong enough to deal with those vagrants by himself. The fact that he's informing him of the number is, quite frankly, a sign of acknowledgement. And Tatsumaki considers it a fever dream to be acknowledged by one of the strongest shinobi of the age.
But more than that, this means that Inari no Sato might have a fighting chance.
"Who are the enemy?"
When that is asked of any shinobi, the answer should be automatic.
"Fighters who have banded together after the war, samurai, shinobi, bandits. Their leader is unknown. They come at irregular intervals, but so far no civilian has been harmed. But they're sending more now, taking more."
It's everything Tatsumaki knows and everything Tobirama should know. If they had more time, they could plan this better, help the people better.
"Tatsumaki-dono!"
But they don't.
Thirteen is a big number compared to the seven they've sent before. Tatsumaki doesn't think this is a normal raid, it can't be. They're going after more things. They might even go after the people.
"Stay inside. We'll handle this."
It's an order he hasn't given before, an order he had only imagined him saying, and yet...
"Tatsumaki–"
"Tobirama-sama." He didn't imagine himself to cut off a Senju, and yet he continues, "This number is far greater than the last. I cannot put people in harm's way."
Energetic and determined they may be, a single shinobi or samurai is enough to defeat at least three of them. Tatsumaki could handle six to seven with relative ease, but thirteen?
He may finally get to see the legendary Senju in action.
"Good." Tobirama nodded.
Tatsumaki had never been commended like that before.
So he presents himself with a greater sense of determination.
"They're all coming from the same direction. I shall take the front line."
Tobirama nodded and stepped aside, deciding to stand behind him.
Tatsumaki's eyes wandered over to the samurai who was standing quiet and aloof. She was gripping the hilt of her sword, but has her eyes downcast as if debating over something. He has a number of questions for her, primarily how she found herself in the company of a shinobi. Was she some sort of diplomat or representative? Why is she accompanied by none other than a Senju? Or why was she accompanying a Senju? Why were they here in the first place? Surely Tobirama wouldn't go out of his way just to deliver a token.
The samurai looks at Tobirama then, a questioning look on her face as if asking for permission.
"Do what you must."
Tobirama's reply is curt, simple, an order.
And she nods quite like an obedient servant.
Tatsumaki decides that he will find out exactly what is behind all this.
The bell rings for the final time. The villagers are hiding. The enemy is only yards away now, they can perfectly execute a long-range attack from the trees, or catch them off guard with a bomb. He readies his kunai, sees Tobirama from his periphery in a fighting stance, hears the faint sound of a sword being drawn.
There are only thirteen.
Surely the three of them can handle this with relative ease.
And then he sees it.
That dangerous color.
The Sharingan.
A/N: Well. That was... a lot.
Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.