Genma met the kid's unwavering blue eyes.
When Miho's memories first entered his head, he thought that her love for Uzumaki Naruto rivaled her love for her own brother. It certainly overtook her love for Konoha. Her devotion to him was probably unhealthy, when Genma really considered it. And he recognized that it was a protective side of him that thought that. Because, ultimately, if Miho died, it would be because of Naruto. Even where she was now, it was because of Uzumaki Naruto.
And, despite everything he knew, Genma understood.
He knew Kushina. He knew Minato. He knew how magnetic they were, and, strangely enough, their son inherited that same magnetism. He drew people in without realizing.
So much so that Miho was fully willing, even at her young age, to lay down her life for his. An almost-thirteen-year-old martyr.
She likely was doing just that—dying for him, wherever she was.
Genma fisted his hand out of the kid's sight, rolling the senbon between his teeth.
But frankly, he didn't want to deal with Naruto at the moment. As much as Genma tried to believe otherwise, more often than not, Naruto had to be dealt with. On so many levels. He gritted his teeth until his jaw popped. Kakashi was an idiot. Even if the damn Uchiha was still in the village, with Orochimaru "dead" and "gone," Naruto was desperate for some kind of stability.
And the kid was looking for it in people outside of his team.
It was with a vague, tired sort of irritation that Genma swore petty vengeance of Hatake Kakashi— because the dog-faced prick was a damned idiot. Didn't the guy realize that kids needed support structures? Did he realize that his kids needed help coping?
Well, no, strike that. Kakashi would never realize something like that.
Genma sighed. Damn it.
"Whatcha doin' here, Short Stuff?"
Naruto grimaced and shifted, scuffing a sandal at a black mark on the linoleum. His eyes fell to the floor and he seemed to think through his words. A lot more caution than Genma had come to expect out of him. Miho had told him, shown him, time and again, that Naruto was not the hellion he appeared to be. It seemed the kid was going to drop the act. Finally, the blond lifted his head, determination in his eyes.
"We'll get her back, Genma-sensei. I'll make sure we do. Believe it."
Caught a little off-guard, Genma pulled the senbon from his lips and frowned. The kid didn't know what he was saying. He didn't know how many shinobi were trying to get her back already. How many S-rank ninja were trying to come up with some kind of feasible plan. A plan that may doom the village in the process. "It's not that easy, kid. We don't even know where she is or if she's alive."
Both of those things were lies.
She was in Danzō's base.
They knew where that was.
They'd known for days.
The Fifth Hokage had to tread lightly, carefully. Genma forced the tenor of anger that echoed around his heart.
And his student was probably alive— because she was more useful alive.
"What happens when resources run out?"
At least, that was what Genma hoped.
In the back of his mind, though, he also hoped she was dead. He'd seen what torture did to people. He watched first hand when friends returned from captivity in Iwagakure. How their eyes were vacant, how they lost touch with reality. How shattered they were. She had the bracelet. He wondered if he'd given her something to ease the pain. Some respite. He wondered if he'd already helped her escape. Just, maybe, in a way that was more...permanent. Did she still have it?
Naruto took two steps forward, filled with a sort of righteousness that any other person might've felt either chastised or swayed. Genma just looked on, tiredly watching the show. "She's alive! I know she's alive! I would know if she was dead. And she's not! Miho is the strongest! She's the strongest. And I told her I'd— I told her I'd—" Genma let out a breath, watching as the kid struggled to say it.
Naruto had promised to protect her.
She'd told her team that, with that easy smile she wore when she was content or humored. She knew she'd be protecting him more than he could ever protect her. At least for a while. Until the kid came into his own.
Sighing, Genma shook his head. "Kid, you've got other things to worry about."
Namely, his impending departure with the Toad Sage.
Namely, Itachi's sure-to-come torture of his teammate.
Namely, Uchiha Sasuke's impending break from reality.
Naruto's jaw obviously clenched and, jōnin or no, Genma shivered at the rush of raw chakra that rippled in the room. A shiver ran down his spine. It was only intensive ANBU training that kept him from going on-guard. Instead, his expression hardened.
"Get it together, Uzumaki Naruto. This isn't the time for a tantrum."
The chakra exploded and then subsided just ask quickly as it'd come, settling back down as Naruto's shoulders rounded and his head lowered. With practiced ease, Genma stood and busied himself in straightening out Tetsuya's sheets, ignoring the way Naruto's shoulders were shaking and the smallest sobs that tore at the silence of that damn hospital room.
"I'm— I'm sorry, Genma-sensei."
He lifted his head, looking at the blond that Miho was willing to die for. The blonde that her brother was avoiding like the plague. The blonde that had saved Konoha from a fellow jinchuriki. All of the fight, all of the anger, flooded from Genma and he eased himself down into the chair by Tetsuya's bedside.
"It's not your fault, Naruto. None of this is your fault."
It was the Third's fault.
Danzō's fault.
It was Chōza's fault.
Damn it, it was Chōza's fault.
Hell, Genma thought. It's my fault.
"She's alive. I kn-know she is."
Genma bit the inside of his cheek, settling the senbon at the corner of his lips. He looked down to Tetsuya's pale face, ignoring how desperately he wanted to believe the kid's words. "Ok, Naruto. Ok."
Shikamaru heaved in a breath and watched his father move the piece.
As tired as he was, he couldn't shake the feeling. The feeling that his father was withholding information. Like it was sitting on the tip of his father's tongue. As much as he wanted to ignore it, he couldn't. It was an irritating, niggling feeling that pricked underneath his skin. Sighing, he slid the pawn forward, sacrificing it to his father's general. He stared at the piece, at the reddish undertone of the wood.
It reminded him a little too much of that scarf she wore.
"Are you going to make my friend a pawn?"
His father didn't answer, leaning forward to push forward another pawn. And that only confirmed what Shikamaru had already guessed. His father knew something. Something related to Miho's abduction. He was consciously not taking the pawn Shikamaru had sacrificed. He was consciously not destroying the 'Miho-pawn.'
Damn it.
"She already is a pawn. Isn't she?"
His father cut him a look.
Miho'd been a pawn her whole life. He knew that. What was likely worse...She knew that. Her knowledge made her more of a pawn than a player. She was smart, but not smart enough to out-maneuver anyone. Instead, she relied on him. Shikamaru felt the irritation bubbling under his skin. Miho was a pawn and he was a player. He moved a castle.
Ino had been unbearable for weeks. While her rage— and it was rage— was justified, it was also tiresome. Day-in and day-out, she threw herself further and further into her training. Shikamaru kinda wondered if she'd ever emerge from her training again, even if Miho somehow survived. As if being able to disrupt an enemy's mind chakra would've made a difference. As if being able to possess an enemy from two feet closer… Shikamaru sighed.
Who was he kidding? Two feet closer could make all the difference.
He knew that better than anyone.
Just like how his father was trying to lead him into a trap.
Two traps.
Three traps.
"Inoichi told me." His father's voice was controlled, careful. Shikamaru resisted the urge to roll his eyes, moving another piece. The gravity in his voice was grating. "Trees cannot grow without roots."
A sick feeling roiled in Shikamaru's gut. He raised his eyes from the board to stare at his father's haggard face. The vest that sat over his shoulders felt heavier somehow. Were they trying to somehow justify Root's existence? Shikamaru blinked slowly, steadying his bearings. He tried not to look down at the reddish pawn. "Yeah, but if the roots are rotten, the tree will die anyway."
His father nodded and something uncoiled in his chest. Good. So, they weren't trying to justify. "Inoichi's knowledge only goes so far regarding trees. We all know he's more of a flower boy." We have prisoners in T&I. Inoichi's been working them. "He says we can save some of the trees in the forest if we act quickly to change the conditions of the soil." Shikamaru let out a breath at the coded message, looking out at the lawn and, beyond, at the Nara Forest. "He and I are discussing it with the Akimichi tonight, since they provide our planting soil."
Chōji had been quiet, withdrawn, convinced it was entirely his fault. To some degree, it probably was. While no one blamed him, his best friend blamed himself. And his father. And, to some degree, Naruto. Shikamaru hadn't visited the Akimichi estate in days, not quite willing to deal with the heavy air that lingered around the compound there. An air of grief and anger.
Miho wasn't even dead yet.
It'd be stupid to kill her.
No, Shikamaru was pretty sure Akimichi Miho was still alive.
"Considering the Akimichi control the soil..." Shikamaru watched his father's expression for any sign that his guess was correct. So, he was right. The ramped-up imports following the Invasion were part of an Akimichi political maneuver. More resources were flooding in from outlying Akimichi-run farms.
If the Akimichi decided to stop importing, then Konoha would be in famine.
The Akimichi Clan Head was making veiled threats.
Those threats would never work. Danzō would never care for the people of the village.
"That would be why we're talking to them."
"Yeah? Sounds like a drag. Do I gotta go?"
"Yeah. Yeah, you do."
Shikamaru sighed, lowering his head into his hands. "Chōji and Ino gotta go too?"
"Yeah." His father's eyes cut toward the edge of the lawn, to the treetops. Shikamaru kept his response carefully concealed. They were being watched. His father was making it very obvious that he saw it. "It's a lot of boring talk, but as the heir, you need to know how to care for the forest."
Shikamaru lifted his head and moved his piece, a smirk pulling at his lips.
For the rest of the game, the reddish pawn piece stayed in place. It never moved once.
She had no weapons. No tools. Nothing that would be useful in escaping. Even her fat stores were nearly consumed, too busy keeping her alive for weeks with minimal caloric intake. Even after two pills, she had just enough to survive. Just enough not to outright kill her. Supplemented by Danzō's goons. Miho wondered, during what must've been her second week of captivity, whether Danzō was now trying to starve her into submission.
He underestimated her stubbornness.
And Ino's skills.
And her fat stores.
Still, she knew that none of those things would last much longer.
Danzō was a man with a long game. Miho knew she'd lose that game eventually.
She was guarded at all times, but one. Each time. Whenever Yamanaka Fu left her alone, a Root operative was positioned at the door of the cell, a silent ghost-like presence. But they wouldn't arrive for another two minutes after Yamanaka Fu left. She often wondered if a pale artist was somewhere in the base. She could remember him, from the Images. Sai. She could remember so much more than she ever could before. Her mind, while locking down upon itself, was unraveling.
Her mind was no longer constellations of stories.
That was simplistic.
Her mind was now a galaxy. So many stars and stories that she could barely distinguish one from the next. They overlapped, melded together in some sort of cosmic mix-up.
Her body was bruised. Her knee was damaged beyond repair. Miho figured there was no real hope of rescue. For the Hokage— Third or Fifth, it didn't really matter— to stage a rescue, Danzō would need to be removed first or they'd risk all-out war. No Root agent could directly disobey Danzō's orders. Nor could they speak of his atrocities.
Not to mention all the political power that Danzō wielded.
A rescue wasn't likely. Wasn't possible.
There was no Chōji coming to save her.
No clan. No father.
No Shikamaru.
No Ino.
No Team Five.
No Genma-sensei.
No Naruto.
"You will succumb to me. Soon. Very soon."
At nearly three weeks into captivity, as Yamanaka Fu walked from her cell and her body fell onto the rough cot that had been given to her, Miho recognized a single fact:
If she wanted to survive, she'd have to save herself.
When she'd been hanging upside down in that car on the side of K-10, her chest punctured by the steering column and wind swirling, she hadn't been able to save herself. She didn't even have the strength to press the button for help. She'd just dangled there, waiting for the end. Her arms had gone numb and then her legs and her chest and then everything.
But, in this life, she still felt.
She could feel the buzz of energy just underneath her skin.
She could try.
Her fingers rolled the beads on her bracelet. Remarkably, they didn't take it. And it rested on her dirty skin like a vice. An easy death was an option. Lack of pain was an option. But, Miho couldn't commit to either. She'd made a promise to Team Five to avoid using the suicide pill at all costs, and all of her options weren't yet gone.
She'd been thinking of this for days.
Or a week. Miho wasn't sure.
Time was irrelevant in that cell.
Miho didn't have enough for an expansion or for any other heavy-hitting battle techniques. None of those techniques would work. She'd never make it out. Never make it to the surface.A summon usually cost at least half of her chakra reserve.
All that was left was the blood in her veins, the weight she had left, and a Hail Mary choice.
(She remembered game days. Things were floating to the surface, as if they'd been held under water for so long. Decayed bits of leaves and memories. She went to games when she was young— bright colors and bands and loud celebrations. Her father loved them. A team with feathers.)
She had no conception of time in that cell. All notion of time was taken from her. Miho lived in other worlds with other times, day and night existed at the same time. In that cell, she was both alive and dead. Schrodinger's kunoichi. She shouldn't remember obscure theories when she couldn't even remember her own name or the name of her mother there. Or her father's name, there. Still, she was alive and dead.
The other lives...
And she was desperate.
And she saw a way out.
Pushing herself upright, Miho lowered herself down to the floor, careful not to bend her right leg. It would never be the same. She knew that. It never would and she never would, if she survived. Which wasn't likely. Like a lot of things. Survival was a far off hope.
And Miho wanted to survive.
She wanted to see so much. Do so much. Experience so much that she'd missed in other lives. Other places. Other times. Other worlds. She still had a life to live. Together, with her friends. Her team. Her family.
Miho would give it her best shot, and have nothing to regret otherwise.
Lifting her right hand, she bit into her thumb and watched the blood swell and fall to her dirty palm. The grit of dirt mixed the copper of her blood in her mouth and she squeezed her eyes shut, saying a silent prayer. Because she had to believe in something.
Like the hope that her father and mother, both sets from both places, were watching her. Her grandparents, from both worlds. All of the worlds. Guarding her. Helping her. Giving her strength.
"Make it count, honey."
She rocked onto her good knee and slammed her hand into the floor. Her breath rattled in her chest as her chakra stores shrank to next-to-nothing. Every muscle ached and the strangest pull tore through her chest as she fell back into the edge of the cot as the smoke cleared. Her remaining fat stores shriveled. She could hear, somewhere in the distance, the tip-tap of approaching footsteps. It seemed to echo. It seemed louder, somehow.
"Lady Miho!"
Delicacy. Patience. Miho shook, handing a bit of metal over to the tiny bear cub that stared up at her. The little one's claw scratched at her palm as he took it. The footsteps were nearly to the cell. "Go."
"But you're—"
"Go. Now."
The cub puffed into smoke and Miho let out a quivering breath, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as the gate to the cell was drawn open. Despite how tired she was, Miho found the energy to smile a bit. Her arms felt numb. The same sensations she'd felt before. So many times before. And Miho knew what was coming. But still, she just smiled as Yamanaka Fu entered the cell, towering over her as her chest rattled.
"You…wanted to know…what happened to your…friend." Miho forced it out as he knelt down, hands glowing green over her chest as he pushed chakra into her coils. She felt it burn. She jerked a hand up and grabbed his wrist. Weeks, he'd been in her head. Weeks, he'd been forcing her to stay alive, pumping her full of chakra. She knew him now. More than he ever wanted her to know him. He knew her, more than she ever wanted to...
"He dies before you. He dies."
Just as the dark was pushing into her eyes, she felt a pull in her stomach.
Ki—the Great Bear, the Thunder Bear, the Bear of the Center Mountain— hurried forward. His deep blue robes swung about behind him like a storm. His youngest cub had gone to their summoner after a long time of silence, only to find her near death. She'd given his littlest one a small plate of metal with a message etched crudely into the surface. Metal on metal. Carefully scratched kanji.
So, the Great Bear summoned Okuda Keisuke's daughter to the Center Mountain.
She appeared there in the reception hall, emaciated and thin like a scarecrow. She was just barely breathing, chest rattling with death. Okuda Miho— Little Akimichi Miho— was nearly translucent as her glazed eyes stared up at him. For a moment, he saw her mother. He saw the sweet Chisato, belly round with child, and Keisuke's giddy smile. The girl collapsed as if she were a marionette with her strings severed. Ki bounded forward.
"Summon Ha now!" Drawing the Little One into his forepaws, he rushed from the reception hall and into the bright green and gold writ town on the Center Mountain. His clan members paused in their tasks, looking to him in surprise. He was never a fast bear if he did not have to be. "Tsuyoi, call Shinrin to the Healers Den at once!" The bulking form of his nephew disappeared, quick as shadow.
He wondered, as every great protector might, what led to the girl's condition. Captivity, certainly. Torture, most likely. Her skin was falling in flaps, fat drained at too quick a pace. Her chakra was nearly gone, the smallest wisp keeping her alive. Even that may not sustain her long. Ki bounded into the Healers Den, settling the girl on the wooden table of Healer Ha, who ambled up, brushing gray fur out of his old eyes.
"What have we here? What have we here? A human?"
Ha's eyes narrowed before he looked up to Ki's enormous height.
Before his grandfather, he was as a cub once more. He lowered his mighty head, pressing a paw to the girl's left shoulder. She showed no signs of consciousness. "She sent us a note. Used the last of her chakra to summon Fuwa."
The Grandfather of the Bears lent down, pressing his snout to her chest before blowing out a rush of air. His hackles rose. "The girl is Keisuke's daughter." Before Ki could confirm his words, Ha flew into action, raising both gnarled forepaws to rest over the girl's form. They glowed a pale green with the chakra Ha pushed into her system. "Her coils are damaged." When Ki saw the flash of anger in his grandfather's ancient eyes, the Thunder Bear wondered what the girl had endured.
"Damaged coils?"
"Foreign chakra has burned her coils." Healer Ha growled, fanning both paws over her. "She's been sustained this way for at least a week, perhaps more. By an ignorant field medic. They did not plan for her to survive. Merely, to survive long enough." The Bear Grandfather let loose a frustrated and angered breath as his paws traveled to linger over her head and her knees. "He knee is irreparable and..." After a moment, the Great Healer Ha let out a roar.
Despite himself, Ki jolted at the sudden yell. "What-?"
"Father, what is... My Lady!"
Shinrin bounded into the room, arriving to the summoner's other side. Ki ignored his daughter's whimpering and worrying, instead focusing on the way his grandfather's green-lit paws came to rest over the girl's head. His thick, bushy brows furrowed in concentration even as his snout drew back in a snarl.
"Father-"
"This girl has been tortured. To within a mere wisp of her life. We shall discuss more later." The snarl faded and the old bear's shoulders sagged. "She needs a chakra infusion or she will not make it through the next moon."
Shinrin, his lovely daughter, his first cub, a protector in her own right who had lost her own charges once before, stepped forward. Her long teeth were bared and she dipped her great head forward. "Take my chakra, Grandfather Ha."
Healer Ha turned to Lord Ki and the Great Bear felt his hackles rise. To give a human such chakra was against the Old Ways that many summons prided themselves in following. However, Lord Ki had seen many human millennia. He'd watched as the Old Ways passed away. To give Okuda Miho such chakra would be to make her part of the Bear Clan. She would become a Bear in energy, a wardeness of the Center Mountain, as true as any full-furred relative. It would bring her hardships; it would bring her pain. His dark eyes cut over to Shinrin's desperate stare. Her claws tapped on the beaded belt she wore.
And he remembered: Keisuke kneeling before him. Keisuke taking up the last remnants of the Okuda legacy. Keisuke, so very happy to be expecting a cub of his own. Keisuke, with that Akimichi girl. Keisuke, with the cub's den decorated in little bears.
Keisuke, who was no longer able to protect his cub.
Lord Ki felt the weight of centuries and traditions weigh his shoulders down.
"Do it. Just do it, Healer Ha."
"The ramifications will be-"
"It matters not. Give her the energy of Center Mountain." Lord Ki moved to set himself at the edge of the healing chamber, watching as his cub lay her head on the opposite table. It was a delicate process, a careful and intricate technique. It would take hours. It would take days. "Let this not be a mistake." The Great Bear hoped that, somewhere in the human spirit world, that Keisuke was listening.
A/N: It's been a long time, huh? I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I'm writing as I have time and enjoying the fun of writing whenever I can. I hope you all have a wonderful week!