Sennin : The tale of the utterly gutsy shinobi

by Livehak-san

Hiruzen died during Kyūbi's attack on Konoha. Twenty years later, the butterfly effect of his demise has reached unimaginable proportions. But if the death of an aging man can change history that much, can the simple life of a young hermit bring it back into the right path? Sennin, the tale of the utterly gutsy shinobi.

2. Sleepless Night

Note : Hi, here is chapter two, I will try to translate chapter three for next week. I still don't have a beta reader, so I still haven't corrected the first chapter nor this one, although Cookie helped me to correct some mistakes, and I thank him for that. On that note, I hope the mistakes, because there are some, won't ruin your reading.

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Sleepless Night

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Strong nausea roused her from the sweet dream that had lulled her for most of the night. Gently, she opened her eyelids and stretched her body covered with bandages under the sheet. Her drowsy attention then settled on the faint light emitted by the full moon through the window.

Eight.

Obsessed by the perpetual movement of the branches through the glass, she tried to recall what she had just dreamed, in vain. Only reminiscences of crimson irises forced themselves on her thoughts and made her vigorously shake her head in order to chase them away. Accompanied by aches and pains that distorted her facial features, she pulled her body up slightly along the pillow, hoping to avoid giving in to the irrepressible urge to go back to sleep.

She had been in this room on the edge of a huge forest for eight days, and all she could do, apart from eating the food he brought her and waking up between what she suspected to be restless sleeps, was to wash herself when she felt like it. In the end, and after much reflection, apart from the last point nothing had changed.

She forcefully closed her eyelids and buried her head in the pillow.

Under her ringing covered ears, she managed, not without a horrible pain in the back of her neck, to chase away the horrible introspection as well.

She should not think of such things. Because when her conscience was plunged into such thoughts, those that brought back memories she wanted to forget, he reminded her that she had to rest. It had almost become a habit. She didn't know how he did it, how he managed to read her, but his phlegmatic voice rose every time she rambled.

Putting an end to her questioning under the silence of the room, her eyebrows frowned relentlessly. She had just thought of it and yet... he had said nothing.

She opened her eyes again and settled her bewildered gaze on the black chandelier hanging from the white ceiling above the bed. Delicately, she lifted her aching head and tried to meet his gaze, but met only darkness. The apprehension of being alone overwhelmed her heart rate almost immediately.

Finishing her questioning under the silence of the room, her eyebrows furrowed. She had just thought of it and yet... he hadn't said anything.

She opened her eyes again and looked up at the black chandelier hanging from the white ceiling above the bed. Delicately, she lifted her aching head and tried to meet his gaze, but all she met was darkness. The apprehension of being alone overwhelmed her heart rate almost immediately.

Breathless, she first looked at the brown leather chair in the corner of the room, the place he liked the most since he spent most of his time there. But, despite the fact that during the past eight days he had been sitting on it, this time the sofa was empty of any consideration.

The drumming of her heart inevitably reverberated in her eardrums and, swallowing painfully, she leaned more calmly on the mattress with the help of her elbows covered with a far too large black sweater.

She looked at the door of the bathroom, half-open and plunged in the darkness, from where no smell nor heat emanated. Realizing that he was not there either, she began to search the smallest corners of the room with a frightened look, again and again, faster and faster, without managing to fulfill her hopes.

The anguishing truth made her shiver with incomprehension. He was not there. For the first time since she had woken up in that room, she was alone. And as much as she tried not to think about it, she was doing nothing but that.

Alone.

A fear that she didn't want to acknowledge crept into her and her thoughts began an unhealthy ritual that involved the crazy imagination of a scenario that she knew had only one outcome. A conclusion that she had experienced so many times in the last three years that she had stopped counting, stopped fighting.

It was only a few seconds later, when fear forced her back under the sheet, that a comforting thought, among so many malicious ones, managed to calm her tremors.

Maybe he had been doing this all along. Maybe he was absent from time to time, she just hadn't realized it. After all, it was the first time she had woken up in the middle of the night.

Safe inside the warm bubble of the comforter, she didn't know how much time passed between her inopportune awakening, her thoughts as stupid as useless, and the barely audible click of the doorknob, but, as if she'd been waiting for that, the sound instinctively made her jump under the sheet.

At first stunned, she managed to slowly remove the comforting cloth from her field of vision before, once again, her analytical mind plunged her into torment.

The nausea was still there and the moon had not moved an inch in the starry sky... How long had passed?

She remained frozen on this last detail, but the noise of the closing of the door made her forget this strange sensation which ran through her body. It was in this moment of incomprehension that she realized it: no fresh air had spread in the room, contrary to all the times when the entrance had been opened.

As if her astonishment had been heard, a cool, delayed wind reached her and brought a strong damp smell that, accompanied by the footsteps of the entrance, instantly ended her breathing.

She stayed there, her eyes wide open and fixed on the doorway of the corridor, dimly lit by the moon and the street lamps lining the hotel, looking for something she did not want to see.

To her great relief, the recalcitrant footsteps faded away without their owner showing his nose. What, after realization, had no other effect than to make her even more terrified. The wandering replayed between two of her frightened thoughts, in a loop, hoping that at the end of each cycle, he would appear. But he didn't seem to want to reassure her.

Several seconds passed without the room emitting the slightest sound. The silence seemed unreal as her reasoning, continuing to imagine more and more traumatic things, was as loud as it was insistent.

In a reflex she didn't know she had, her body turned towards the window just before a flash of lightning lit up the room, followed closely by a deafening rumble that broke the calm that had just been restored. As she had imagined, rain fell on the windows of the room and completed the morbid picture.

The fear made her legs shake under the comforter and plastered her with force against the warm wall in her back. Then she observed successively the chair and the corridor while another rumbling muffled the noise of her panic.

Her breathing became jerky and shallow, almost inaudible, and she simply froze against the concrete wall. Her dilated pupils swept across her field of vision, before finally returning with hesitation to the bathroom where, in the half-open doorway, a form, bathed in darkness, was watching her.

The thunder rumbled again with displeasure, but this time she did not flinch at all.

Time froze, and only her chest, which kept rising under her static eyes, managed to indicate the opposite. Even her thoughts wouldn't bend to her supplications.

No, her issue was something else.

Her whole body had stopped responding to her. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth, and although she wanted to get away from here, she couldn't get off the bed.

She couldn't control anything anymore, all her body and mind could do was to stare at the shadowy figure who was watching her in the bathroom. And, to her greatest fear, this thing seemed to be satisfied with that formality.

The door began its slow opening in perfect silence as her muscles finally listened to her every thought.

She pulled herself off the cold wall as fast as she could and literally threw herself off the bed, falling heavily backwards onto the floor. In pain, she crawled with difficulty on the floor using her forearms. Trembling from head to toe, her back inevitably hit a second wall, just below the window that faced the hallway and the bathroom, as she watched the tall figure on the other side of the bed.

Walking along it and then along the dresser, in a slow, almost endless gait, the human-shaped shadow began to tap the wooden furniture with its gloved fingertips, accurately mimicking the beating of her heart pounding in her chest.

"I missed you."

That... voice...

Horrible, buried memories emerged in her mind, letting out a tear down her bruised cheek.

Behind the fear and apprehension she felt at that very moment, a hint of hope came to her mind and strangely put an end to the tapping. Her optimism turned to questioning as a gentle warmth engulfed the fingertips of her right hand brushing the floor.

She brought her hand to her face and watched, stoic and pale, the scarlet liquid flowing from her palm onto her forearm. Without being able to prevent it, her glance went up the burgundy flow in order to know the origin of it. As soon as she observed the brown armchair in the corner of the room, everything she was going through became irrelevant.

The incessant shaking of her legs covered with bandages dissipated, taking with them the fear that had threatened her until then.

She examined carefully the throat sliced under the golden hair streaked with hemoglobin. Then his azure, dilated eyes, wide open and frozen in time that observed her. The cascade of blood exiting his trachea flowed without a sound along his arm swinging against the armrest and managed to make its way to the floor.

Her breathing halted, her mouth dry and half-open, as was her gaze, she let herself go against the wall at her back that vibrated to the outside gusts.

"Did you really think you could do it?"

Her stunned gaze shifted towards the figure in order to observe the crimson weapon pointed in her direction.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?"

Motionless in front of the buzzing words, she contemplates with a satisfied air the warm liquid on her fingers without managing to understand a single word.

It was only when the gloved hand grabbed her wrist and took away the sight of blood that a howl of rage came out of her being and she began to struggle with all her strength. But, with a simple backhand against her jaw, all the adrenalin that had been pumping through her body went away and the grip on her forearm threw her onto the bed.

Lying on her back, a suffocating weight pressed her rib cage and immobilized her completely. Then, in a horrible caress the icy fingers moved her hair that hid her neck to let her hear a deep breath in the hollow of her ear.

"You smell good today. Did you take a shower?"

The hold on her body, keeping her still, loosened, but she did not move. She no longer had the strength, no longer had the will. Even stopping to reason, she just watched the white chandelier hanging from the black ceiling, inert, just like her.

Everything had been an illusion. A lie. They had played her, once again, and she had foolishly believed it. They had succeeded in reviving hope in her, in order to break her again. She just wanted it all to stop.

All.

Something pulled her ankles and, not trying to figure out what it was, she let herself be dragged to the edge of the bed. The grip grabbed her again, but this time it went for her throat and shifted her field of vision, forcing her to look at the chair in the corner of the room.

She said nothing, did nothing, and stared at the bloody face that was watching her in return, wherever she was, whatever was being done to her. She didn't know when her last breath of air came, but miraculously the grip on her windpipe prevented her from instinctively reaching for oxygen. Her eyelids closed and, spitting out the last molecules of air into her lungs, she felt herself leave. Far from this room, far from this suffering, far from this nightmare.

The pressure on her throat became less present, less real, until it completely disappeared, and it was at this precise moment that she realized that it had never existed.

Her body arched violently and possessed by a force she did not suspect she stood up in a gasp, panting and covered with sweat. Completely panicked, she examined the room but met only the darkness.

With her only free hand, she grabbed her wet hair and brushed her forehead to help her remember what had put her in this state. Hundreds of images, emotions, sensations came back in her memory, clashed, amalgamated, before disappearing completely. It left nothing behind except a face she wanted to forget the existence.

Her heart throbbing under her chest, she realized that she didn't remember it anymore.

The soft warmth enveloping her right hand, which she had not noticed until then, withdrew slowly and stole her an umpteenth impulse of panic. She raised her face and observed him, and the retreat of his hand.

It was her turn to emit one, but her retreat, caught off guard, was surlier. Contrary to the simple retreat of his arm, her retreat was marked by fear and was resumed by hitting the concrete wall in her back. This wall that she knew only too well and whose exact freshness made her a reminder of the fragility of her body.

"Sorry."

The calmness of his voice startled her slightly. Because even though she had been staring at him for a long time, she didn't expect him to speak at all. Like her, he rarely spoke. And she was grateful for that.

Nevertheless, she could not hide her surprise drawn on her face while she observed him, sitting on the bed, only a few centimeters from her feet under the comforter. Him who usually was satisfied with the armchair in the corner of the room.

Finding no rational answer to her questions, she stopped staring at him. Her curiosity then went down to the bandages that covered her right wrist, where a strange sensation continued to spread inside her body.

Frowning, she returned her gaze to the azure, the one who had not stopped watching her, and understood the reason for the delicate warmth that caressed her right arm: he had infused his chakra into her in order to wake her up from her sleep.

Had it been so agitated?

Another strange thing she noticed as she swallowed painfully was the lack of presence he emitted. She didn't feel that reassuring aura that was so characteristic of him. As if a part of him wasn't there, as if... something was missing.

"I had to go away."

Surprised, her lips slightly half-opened as he closed his own following his disclosure.

As impossible as it may seem, he had once again read her mind. Without making the slightest movement, the slightest sign, just by looking at her. It was simply unbelievable. It could only be a mirage. How could...

He sighed, which forced her to refocus on his faint presence.

"Why do you keep tormenting yourself like this?"

The calm in the tone of his voice had simply disappeared, replaced by a touch of annoyance, and it was understandable. If he could really read her, as he had just demonstrated once again, then he must surely be just as alienated as she was at this moment.

Why did she continue to torment herself like this? The answer was as simple as the question: because she wanted to.

The fear that all this was a lie terrified her enough to prevent her from making any attempt that would result in the exit of the illusion. She did not want this dream to end. Not to know if it was an illusion or pure reality comforted her enough to keep the little hope which remained to her. Because this simple feeling that indicated that there would be a tomorrow was all that she had. She knew very clearly what it felt like to lose it, and she didn't want that to happen to her again. So yes, if she had to choose, she would choose torment over despair.

He sighed a second time.

"We're leaving tomorrow, you'll realize soon enough that all of this is really happening to you."

Her curiosity increased and the fact that this was all a hallucination faded away for a moment.

Blaming him for not asking her if she wanted to move from this place didn't even cross her mind, no. All she wanted at that moment was to know where she would be tomorrow. Another room? A forest? A lake? A city? There were so many possibilities that she could not imagine them all.

Confronted to silence, although she had just been thinking about her desire to know, she raised an eyebrow and stared at him one more time.

Hadn't he heard her?

It was only when he shifted his attention to the window of the room and observed the half-light of the peaceful night that she understood.

She curled up her naked legs under the comforter and managed, for the first time, to reverse the roles and understand his every thought. This time, he would not guess her torments. This time, if she wanted to know the answer, she had to ask him in person.

She swallowed but said nothing, at this very moment, she hated him more than anyone. And the satisfied smile which took shape under the golden hair made her anger tenfold.

Taken of an irrepressible desire that she would regret if she did not fulfill it, she opened her mouth, attracting inevitably the azure glance, as curious as she was.

It had been a long time since she had heard her own voice, would she recognize it?

To her great dismay, despite the conviction she put into it, the words remained blocked in her throat and no sound came out from her lips. She believed, when the smile that he addressed to her suddenly faded, that she had disappointed him, but that wasn't exactly the case. The expression that he expressed had nothing to do with her failure.

The window on her right shattered and let pass a sharpened form which planted itself in the parquet floor with a thud.

Motionless, she observed the object, small, dark, looking strangely like a weapon she knew too well. She then examined the piece of paper hanging from it, crackling under the shards of glass that were shattering on the floor.

She did not try to find out who had sent it, or why, she already knew the answer to these questions. All her thoughts could tell her at that moment was: one, maybe two?

She had only one second left to live, here, now. The scroll was going to explode and take everything in its wake, the room, her, him... him. He had sensed the danger long before she did, long before the kunai burst into the room.

She moved her eyes up to the room as quickly as she could and landed clumsily on the spot of the bed he had occupied until then, only to realize that he was gone. A fleeting cloud of smoke was already spreading across the room at the exact spot where he had disappeared.

He had abandoned her. He had left her alone in a situation she could not control.

Watching in horror the flames on the parchment that would release the blast sealed inside, she closed her eyelids as tightly as possible and hoped to reduce the pain. She then listened melodiously to her last heartbeat, and waited.

A flash lit up her closed eyelids and she thought it was all over. A second passed, maybe two, without the pain reaching her.

So, death was not painful?

She opened one eye and, not seeing much, opened the second, only to shiver with incomprehension when the cool wind blew in her oversized sweater.

Only realizing that he was carrying her, she watched his expression both reassured and exasperated as he laid her against a rough wall. With a quick gesture, he removed the silk cloak that dressed him and laid it on her shaking, bare legs.

Not worried by the shock of temperature which she had just undergone, she surprised herself to examine the least of his gestures on the silk. With delicacy and taking care not to touch her, he covered the slightest inch of her skin in the open air, then, crouching at only thirty centimeters of her face, he raised his anxious glance on hers.

"Are you okay?"

His question remained in suspense for several seconds before, not without difficulty, since answering had become quite strange to her, she nodded.

Her movement made her lose the azure irises and made wander her admiration on the celestial vault which illuminated the starry sky. She hung there, for what seemed like an eternity, doing nothing but counting the twinkling stars, while he was satisfied in return to observe the reflection of her good health in her wondering eyes.

Her curiosity then drove her down along the top of a tree that partly covered the sky, and she realized that the rough wall behind her was not a wall at all, but the bark of a huge pine tree that overlooked a lush forest.

Back on solid ground, her attention settled on the worried expression that continued to spy on her, before lingering on his messy golden hair, as if he had just braved the most violent storm.

As she lowered her gaze a little more to the cloth he had laid over her, her eyes widened in astonishment.

Was it... snow?

As she was about to touch one of the many white flakes on the black cloak, the roar of an explosion that moved at the speed of sound miles from their positions made her flinch. She tried to turn towards the horizon but stopped halfway when she heard his voice.

"I won't be long."

She returned her gaze to the azure, but had no time to meet it. As soon as he had spoken, he had vanished, leaving nothing behind him except a cup at her feet, containing, according to the smell and the steam it gave off, a tea which had just been prepared.

---

Hanging on the shabby facade of an establishment, he observed the snow-covered sign that was swaying in the wind. An almost imperceptible whisper, relating the name of this one, escaped from his lips dried by the freezing cold of the full moon night.

"Ichidome."

He breathed out in a sparse white smoke the fatigue of the journey that had brought him to this remote place, and ventured through the snowy fluff that separated him from the entrance. He then pushed with the back of his hand the swinging and resilient doors of the tavern in order to rush inside in a relieved step.

The change in temperature, at first warm, but quickly becoming stifling, hit him so hard that he lost his thoughts for a fraction of a second, before his attention was drawn to the stone wall facing him, where, embedded in it, a chimney sparkled.

The double wooden doors that he had previously pushed closed with a bang behind his back and put a definitive end to all conversations that had been audible until then, plunging the suffocating room into an exemplary silence. A multitude of faces as disconcerted as surprised stared at him without embarrassment, making fun of his attire which, it went without saying, was not recommended to cross the region.

A thick black silk cloak without sleeves tied at the height of his chest and put on his shoulders as the only real protection against the cold, he was dressed with a light gray and thinner coat which, at the level of his neck, let appear a black collar covering half of his nape. His pants, also black, and only visible at the level of his shins, where the thick cloak that covered almost all of his body stopped, let appear bandages that wrapped the bottom of his legs and linked the whole to black shoes open on the extremity of his feet.

He walked over to the glowing fire and partially opened his coat under the watchful and condescending stares of most of the people present. Arching his arms towards the flames, he tried to forget even for a few seconds the icy wind that was shaking the shutters of the tavern.

"Can I help you, sir?" asked a voice behind his back, forcing him to take his eyes off the flames for a moment to observe the young woman who was smiling kindly at him. "We don't have any more rooms available, I'm sorry, but I can prepare you a delicious soup and a hot tea, which I'm sure will revitalize you until your next stopover."

"A tea will do, thank you."

This simple exchange, with what seemed to be the owner of the tavern, was enough to bring down the tension in the room. The conversations resumed their course, while the fresh breeze that had generated his entry was smothered by the intense heat of the fireplace.

He quickly examined the establishment and turned his attention to the reason of his presence in this place. Seated on his right at the back of the room, the man was enjoying the famous soup that the young waitress had just told him about.

He crossed the tavern with a light step and, not wanting to attract more attention than he already had, looked away from the haggard look of the two men leaning at the bar.

One hand resting on a stinking glass and the other on the pommel of their katana firmly attached to their belt and jacket, the two men were wearing the colors of their country.

Brown and red.

He pulled as quietly as possible the wooden chair stuck to the table, where the man he had spied earlier, approaching thirty and still not seeming to have noticed his presence, was enjoying his meal.

Dressed in a black sweater and black pants as well as a white scarf, contrasting perfectly with his brown hair, short, and his chocolate eyes, the man brought a spoon to his mouth, before finally raising his gaze and staring back at him.

"Only three days, eight hours, and forty-two minutes late." said the thirty-year-old, looking briefly at the watch hanging on his wrist. "I thought you were dead...to tell you the truth, I was about to start writing my speech for your funeral, if your body was ever found."

With a slight smile present on his face, he sat down on the wooden chair and, exhausted, let himself go against it, which creaked under his weight.

"I'm glad to see you too, Sakutarō."

Continuing until then to enjoy his hot soup, the named Sakutarō gently placed his spoon on the table. Then, a bit nervously, he wiped his mouth with a rag before staring at him.

"So? Is she alive?"

Not at all surprised by her question, as if he had seen it coming long before the man asked it, he did not answer immediately. His mood remained suspended on the formulation of the sentence.

"Yes, she is."

His answer, curter than he wanted it to be, made the eyebrows of the thirty-year-old man sitting in front of him raise a little, who, wearing a surprised expression, looked at him.

"Why should it matter? Even if I had told you, you would still have gone, wouldn't you?"

Faced with the silence that echoed on the question, showing by this fact that the man was right, the latter raised an umpteenth smile.

"In this case, there is no problem." he concludes by shrugging his shoulders, before pointing his spoon in his direction. "Besides, I'm sure she'll succeed... unless she's already refused to do it, which in this case has nothing to do with me. I mean, knowing about her existence was a tremendous feat in itself, but getting to know her mind, that's your domain. And I remind you that he didn't tell me it was a woman either, that's partly his fault."

A sigh he could not hold back escaped his being as Sakutarō smiled at him wider.

This man was definitely talking way too much.

"I haven't told him yet."

A half-focused, half-dissipated look on the tavern keeper's buttocks wiping the counter beside one of the two guards, his scattered interlocutor nodded successively, assimilating the information.

"So, what if she refuses?" he asked, returning his attention to the soup in order to finish it, with great regret. "After all, she was a leaf kunoichi. Maybe despite what she's been through, her principles are still embedded in her, maybe she'll refuse to help you. And, since one can't go without the other, who knows, maybe when she finds out who you are, she will try to kill you in your sleep."

He could not hold back a second sigh. Too much, way too much.

"She doesn't remember her old li..."

"Here is your tea sir." announced the manager of the tavern arrived near them.

Putting down the hot glass, the young woman hastened to recover the empty plate on the table before bringing back her attention on his person in a smile.

"Are you sure you don't want a soup? Your friend here can confirm that nobody does better in the region." she affirmed while continuing to smile at him, under the flabbergasted air of his so-called friend who... couldn't prevent himself from opening his mouth.

"Well, to tell the truth, I have already eaten better..."

"No, I thank you."

Smiling up to her ears, but nonetheless disappointed by his answer, she lowered herself slightly before walking away, leaving him alone with Sakutarō's bewildered look.

The silence that followed lasted only a few seconds.

"Sometimes, when I'm bored, but when I'm really bored, don't imagine that I think about you all the time, huh. Well, you see, I wonder how you do it." admitted the thirty-year-old, with a dreamy look. "You are the opposite of him, it's almost surreal. He who lived only for that, did not attract any, while you, who do not care at all, you attract them all. It's hard to understand."

With his left hand raised in promise, Sakutarō peered at the nearby tables to make sure they were not being overheard, then whispered:

"Tell me, I've been wondering for some time now, what is your secret? I won't tell anyone, you have my word."

He watched the man without saying anything, making the scene most awkward, before finally rubbing his eyes with his right hand.

He was raving.

"You know, I sometimes really wonder how you managed to be the head of one of the biggest spy networks in Tsuchi. It's really one of the few questions I can't think of an answer to."

The enigmatic spy couldn't hold back a chuckle as he pounded his fist on the wooden table, inevitably drawing the attention of the neighboring tables, as he recalled how it all happened.

"Ah, it's a very long story you know, but if you want, I can tell you? It does not bother me at all." assured the man while looking for the backside of the young tavern keeper in order to ask for a second meal.

"No, no it's okay, you can tell me about it another time... Do I need to remind you that you were the one who arranged this exchange?"

Stopping his prospecting against the pair of butts, the spy blinked several times before remembering what he was talking about.

"Oh yeah, that's right, I almost forgot." he admitted, rubbing the back of his head in denial.

"I'm listening, what did you mean in your message? Gamadengo couldn't give me any more information. Did you find him?"

The adrenalin having just been secreted inside his bloodstream had no time to be felt. Because the simple fact of crossing the glance of Sakutarō, however inexpressive, was enough for him to know the answer.

Waiting, again.

"No, of course not, do I have to remind you that I've only been on this case for a year? You don't just find this kind of person, it takes time... and luck."

He had been doing it for far too long.

"But you can imagine that I didn't bring you here for nothing. I did find a lead, a notary to be more precise. According to a reliable source, he manages part of the accounts of an important member of the organization, the person was not able to give me more information, but I am sure that the notary in question will give you much more once you have met him."

Not expressing anything at the reveal, he simply watched Sakutarō without saying a word, understanding the thirty-year-old that he could proceed.

"In the north of Fire, on the border with Iron Country, he owns the Buranketto establishment in the center of Natoma City. According to the same source, he left Tsuchi a few days ago and should be there within two weeks to celebrate the new year with his associates, which leaves you plenty of time to..."

Grabbing the tea in front of him that had been waiting to be drunk for several minutes now, he brought the still-warm liquid to his lips to take a sip and, exchanging a glance with Sakutarō, they went silent, joining the general muteness that had just spread through the tavern.

The recalcitrant footsteps came unsurprisingly to their table and, from the height of their six feet, stared at them one after the other.

"Stop Toku-kun, I beg you..." exclaimed the young tavern keeper behind her bar at the other end of the place with a pleading tone.

Raising his index finger in her direction without looking at her, thus making her understand to be quiet, a proud smile materialized on the face of the Earth guard in front of their table.

"Excuse me for interrupting, but, you see, I asked a question to my colleague sitting over there." said the one who caused the silence in the room, essentially caused by the uniform he was wearing, pointing his colleague leaning at the bar and dressed identically. "But, not having the infused science that you seem to have, he failed to give me an answer."

The silence had never been so perfect. It had gotten to the point where no one dared touch their cutlery for fear of making a sound that might attract attention.

The silence had never been so perfect. It had gotten to the point where no one dared touch their cutlery in fear of making a sound that might attract attention.

"So, if you could enlighten me, that would be very kind of you," he added, giving them a big, happy smile while placing the palm of his right hand on the handle of his weapon. "What can two strangers like you do in a place as isolated as this one?"

As soon as Toku had finished his sentence, a raucous, mocking laughter echoed through the room, and in an unprecedented way, chilled the blood of anyone who had ever witnessed a similar scene.

Stopping in his taunting, the man at the head of the nationwide spy network wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve in front of the crumpled guard.

"I'll ask you the same question, Toku-kun" replied Sakutaroo, pointing at the two men in turn. "What are two great men with a reputation like yours doing here? I mean, how is it possible that Iwa goes without your services in such tense times? Shouldn't you be in the high offices of the village making plans for the upcoming war?"

At first in shock at what he had just heard, the guard stood still and replayed Sakutarō's words in his thoughts. Given the fact that since he had joined the ranks of the Earth during the great recruitment campaign two years ago now, no one had ever talked to him this way, he did not know, at first, how to react. Before exploding with rage.

With a blow of his knee on the bottom of the table, the man made the cutlery bounce in an austere sound.

"Do you know who you're talking to, you little shit?!" he barked as he angrily looked around at the dozen or so people in the tavern, looking for any sign of hilarity, but they all avoided his gaze.

With a blow of his knee on the bottom of the table, the man made the cutlery bounce in an austere sound.

"Do you know who you're talking to, you little shit?!" he barked as he looked around at the dozens of people in the tavern, looking for the slightest sign of hilarity, but no one dared to make eye contact.

A second uncontrollable laugh arose.

"What, what's your problem? You didn't appreciate your girlfriend making goo-goo eyes at my friend?

The teeth clenched and the glance impregnated with hatred because of the public humiliation that was inflicting him the aforementioned little shit, the man placed his right hand more calmly on the pommel of his katana and took it slightly out of its sheath.

"I'm going to make you regret what you just said, you dog." he spat in a tone of voice that would make many people swoon.

Feigning a shudder, Sakutarō raised his hands in the air and put on a most apologetic face.

"Oh no, please, anything but that! I am still too young to receive a punishment of this magnitude!"

All the people in the tavern sank down a little more in their chairs, which had become strangely reassuring, and tried as best they could to escape from this situation that was getting worse and worse as the words were flying.

Toku's eyes widened in surprise and, filled with intense hatred, he drew his weapon.

"Consider yourself dead."

"Stop it immediately!" shouted the young tavern keeper who arrived at the center of the conflict and placed herself between the two men. "I don't want another fight in my establishment!"

The look that Toku gave her was so full of hatred that the confident air of the girl vanished as quickly as it had arrived. Having many times assisted to its excesses of anger, she understood, by seeing the hatred multiplied tenfold on the face of the man, that she would have done better not to interfere.

Taking a step backwards, the tavern owner didn't move fast enough to get out of the range of the guards that was aimed at her face.

"You, I told you to shut up!"

A hot breath swept through the young woman's blond hair while, a moment later, a sound and a howl of pain echoed in the tavern.

Shocked, the young woman observed Toku's hand only a few centimeters away from her face, stopped, before bringing her attention to the handsome stranger standing right behind her to whom she had served a tea a few minutes earlier.

Holding the guard's wrist with a firm hand, he turned it in an incongruous angle as a second lament spread through the tavern. The next second, the katana fell to the floor in several austere bounces before the Tsuchi representative landed on his knee.

Sighing for the third time since his arrival, he observed the smile present on Sakutarō's face.

For once he agreed on the nicknames, he had just been given. Little shit.

The second guard, dropping the wooden stool on which he had been standing until then and holding a katana in his hands, charged towards him with the sole purpose of freeing his colleague from his grip.

Not even bothering to look at him, even though the latter was only two strides away from him, he simply raised his hand, still holding the tea, in the direction of the frantic race, as the young woman at his side shouted in fear. To everyone's astonishment, a gust of wind swept away the man's supports and at the same time caused the flames in the fireplace to dance, which, appearing to be extinguished for a short time, started up again.

The guard returned to his original position and collided with the bar and wooden stools he had just left. With a thud, he fell unconscious on the stone floor of the tavern.

As a heavy silence followed the surreal scene, applause resounded, echoing the complaints of the guard, still in the grip of his iron fist.

"That was a magnificent rescue, bravo, almost as chivalrous as the one at the opening of Hissori when you came back with that girl in your arms." exclaimed the spy while continuing to applaud. "But not as spectacular as the time you beat up the entire crew of that merchant ship, where were we sailing again when things got out of hand? Mizu? Or had we not yet reached Nami?"

Without him knowing it yet, he sighed for the last time in this place.

This man was beyond repair. He didn't know how, but every time they met, the situation always ended that way. He seemed to do it on purpose. Luckily, he was a great help to him, otherwise he would have stopped interfering long a…

Turning his gaze sharply to the reminders of the wooden floor covering the room, his pupils dilated as he examined the scroll tied to the kunai stuck in the floor, crackling with the urge to blow everything up.

Without thinking for a second, he suddenly released his grip on the wrist of Tsuchi's guard, still on his knees, and swung his forearm into the void.

His vision blurred for a fraction of a second as the suffocating room was suddenly replaced by a soft, calm atmosphere plunged into darkness. His right arm, still searching for nothingness, clutched at the fall of her bandaged waist and, lifting her slightly, but nonetheless with a sudden gesture, he caught her at the level of her knees, which were completely tetanized on the bed.

At the exact moment that a glowing orange heat began to spread through the hotel room, his vision dimmed once again, allowing darkness to take over.

[...]

"What the hell is this?!" Toku shouted as he brought his right wrist against his chest, accompanied by a grin of pain on his face.

The applause, at first amused by the spectacle, quickly lost its flavor and faded away while the thirty-year-old at their origin observed the empty chair on the other side of the table. The irises still impregnated with the bright light that illuminated the room, he got up hurriedly from his chair.

"Well... I can explain absolutely everything." he articulated with difficulty.

Moving closer to the window in his back, he crossed the young tavern keeper utterly lost buttocks one last time, along with the guard's rage as he picked up his katana with his left hand. "But first I have to get to an urgent appointment in the south, I won't be long, only... two, maybe three decades."

As soon as he had finished his tirade, he rushed to the window without taking the time to open it.

Striking the glass weakened by the cold outside, he went through it with a loud crash before catching himself awkwardly in the thick down of snow that cushioned his fall. He got up as quickly as he could and left without looking back.

"I will come back to inform you of what just happened, you have my word!"

---

Landing on the rooftop of one of the many residences that lined the street, he put one foot on the roof's edge and shifted his attention to the sparse grayish smoke rising into the sky. This one, partially covering the full moon, was coming out of a hotel in flames at about twenty meters from his position.

He took his eyes off the barely visible celestial vault, masked by the light generated by the blaze, and jumped onto a terrace below before repeating his gesture and landing on solid ground. In one leap, he crossed the silent avenue and hid in the shadow of the alley partially lit by the fire of the southern facade.

"We need more water!" shouted a man, his clothes and face covered with anthracite material.

Picking up a bucket that a woman had just put down, already gone to fill another one, the man rushed, by following the steps of his companions, inside the burning building.

"Do you think it's a gas leak?" asked a mother cuddling her sobbing daughter and watching from a safe distance as men came and went to try to stop the spreading flames.

"No, that's impossible." answered another, firmly clutching her young son who was about ten years old, completely amazed by the spectacle that was being played out before his eyes. "You know very well the character and the regulations of Hosoka, it would even surprise me that there is gas in her property."

Jumping again to get above the crowd that was growing as the blaze reduced the architecture to ashes, he climbed onto the roof of the nearby residence, blackened by the thick smoke of the burning building.

With a deep breath, he glanced at the wounded, lying on the pavement across the street, before dropping into the smoke and inside the south facade.

Landing on the half-charred parquet of the second floor, at the edge of a gaping hole several meters in diameter where an explosion seemed to have occurred, he examined through the gap the old immaculate bed, having followed the collapse of the room, which was feeding the fire on the second floor. He then turned his attention to the only part of the room that the smoke appeared to be sparing, due to the fact that the opening in the wall was on the opposite side.

The features of his face contorted slightly, revealing a form of relief.

Being careful not to walk across the floor, which cracked under his weight as he walked around the gap, he made his way to the only intact dresser in the room. That one, half in the hole and covered with ash, was ready to join the hell on the lower level.

He placed the palm of his hand at the end of the cabinet to make sure it was stable, and opened one of the only two drawers. He then spread the few clothes still folded inside in order to catch the reason that had pushed him to go back.

In a backward salto, he dodged the metallic object which went deeply into the wooden drawer, closing it in a stark noise.

Catching himself in extremis on the partition of the bathroom, he positioned his forearms in front of his bust stuffed with oxygen in order to absorb the inquisitive fist of the white mask. The wall in his back absorbed most of the impact and did not offer the slightest resistance, sending him flying inside.

His ribs took most of the impact against the ceramic sink, which shattered into a thousand pieces, before his skull hit the tile floor in a cloud of ash.

Giving his mind a brief moment to recover from the assault, he rolled and dodged the projectiles that found their way through the hole he had created. He then executed a second backward somersault and caught one of the many kunais planted in the tiles in his rush. Using the bathtub as a support, he literally catapulted himself out of the bathroom.

His anticipation and speed were such that his assailant, having just landed in the breach, could only place his katana and his apprehension on his trajectory.

Crossing the ambient smoke which struggled to transcribe his movements, his kunai clashed with the sharp steel of the immaculate mask, generating several sparks that revealed the animal form of the latter.

A bird.

The force that he exerted at the friction of the two weapons swept away the support of the hawk who, surprised and firmly attached to the floor full of his chakra, carried away the parquet stuck to his feet which tore several muscles of his ankles and calves.

Abruptly striking the load-bearing wall of the chamber, the fledgling's breathing wavered briefly as he watched in fear the fist just inches from his face.

The blow was so violent that the concrete, having taken the first jet with ease, imploded this time under the impact and let the white mask waltz through the next room in an uncontrolled roll. The load-bearing wall of the next room, behind a cupboard that only slightly slowed the bird's trajectory, stopped it dead in a sinister crack.

Awkwardly seated on the boards of the defunct furniture, his clothes covered by the dust of his crossing, his arms flailing along his lifeless body, the breath of the immaculate mask had gone.

The air flow generated by the direct connection of the two rooms invigorated somewhat the fiery cloud of the lower floor which let escape several annoyed grumbles.

He observed for a moment the crevice beginning to form in the middle of the room on the second floor, giving a direct view on the first floor, and understood he was going to run out of time. He then started a movement in the direction of the dresser which miraculously did not move, but stopped again in his gesture in order to report his annoyance at the door in his back.

In a death rattle, this one broke away from its fixing and hit the ground without care, raising in its fall yet another cloud of ashes and dust.

He swung his torso around and, without taking his eyes off the smoke-veiled entrance, he avoided the projectile that brushed his shoulder and went straight out of the building.

Time, animated only by the crackling of the inferno under his feet, seemed to stretch without anything happening, before, with no surprise, a swarm of shurikens aiming his vital points rushed abruptly through the smoke behind him.

Letting his reflexes do the work once again, he ricocheted many of them onto the kunai he was still holding in his right hand, but resigned himself to the idea of continuing this little game when the sharp surge literally multiplied, generating a deadly and unstoppable wave.

With a simple impulse on his legs, he threw himself out and disappeared into the smoky hallway over the collapsed door.

Suddenly, a hundred shurikens burst onto the charred floor that he had just abandoned. The impact of the projectiles became more intense, giving, for anyone outside the scene, the strange impression that a fireworks show was taking place in the surroundings.

An abrupt burst, partially muffling the myriad of fireworks, roared its warning as several sections of concrete and wood that surrounded the huge chamber breach began to crumble, inexorably beginning their tumultuous falls into the first floor. The barrage of shurikens stopped immediately, and the charred room made a continuous cracking sound, before splitting open and collapsing completely on itself, taking what was left of the bathroom with it to the fire below.

The collapse of the south facade of the second floor along with the one of the first caused a deafening noise and shook the entire hotel, making the few brave people still looking for survivors to rush out.

A thick cloud of dust and debris spread to the middle of the street as people panicked and ran as far as possible from the dangerous sight.

A part of the floor and of the wall giving on the corridor of the second floor where he was located tore in their turn of their fixing in an almost unreal silence and, sucking in their decays a large quantity of the smoke present in the corridor, they joined the rubble and the remains of charcoal wood on the ground floor in a final crash.

The southeast side of the hotel had simply disappeared.

Motionless, his mood wavering, he contemplated for several seconds the emptiness at the exact place where the dresser should have been. An annoyed grin materialized irremediably on his lips which, in a sigh, released the little oxygen which remained in his lungs, thus putting an end to his apnea.

The cloud of dust settled, he maintained his immobility, causing a certain incomprehension in all the people watching him below, varying their attention on his incongruous presence on the second floor of a burning hotel, and the fire devastating the hotel.

"What is he doing up there?! We were told that there was no one left on the second floor!" shouted a man covered in ashes and struggling to catch his breath.

"Why isn't he moving?! He has to run away!" screamed a mother surrounded by her two daughters who were sobbing.

To everyone's surprise, because he wasn't worried about the disaster scenario playing out all around him, he began to walk slowly down the still-intact hallway and stopped in front of the last vending machine.

Several repeated explosions sounded under his feet, imploding a number of windows and shaking the building, but not paying any attention, he plunged his left hand into one of his back pockets to pull out two golden coins and inserted them with a nonchalant gesture into the machine's gap.

After several unsuccessful attempts, he realized that the door was out of service due to the lack of electricity. Sighing a second time, he grabbed the iron door with his fingertips and yanked the lock off, releasing the coolness that it housed.

"What the hell is this idiot doing? The smoke has gone to his head?!" shouted a man, stunned, under the general incomprehension.

Several voices rose to rescue this poor boy who was completely disoriented, to the indignation of several wives, certifying that, if he wished to die, he could do so without bringing fathers of families with him.

As the words flew and the tone went up a notch to determine if he should be saved, an old lady, about fifty meters from their position, emerged from the path that ran into the forest. Breathing heavily and hardly able to hold on to her wooden cane, she observed the half-destroyed hotel without being able to detach her distraught expression.

"Bring more water and more clothes, we're going to need them to get to the second floor!" shouted a man as he pulled on a thick water-soaked sweater as a fourth layer of protection.

"Don't do that, it's crazy!" cried a woman with her daughter clinging to her leg, towards the half-dozen men about to enter the building.

The forty or so people present agreed with the mother's words, but this did not stop the improvised rescuers from continuing their preparations.

"You won't be able to reach the second floor, it's suicide!"

Tightening the wet scarves just below their determined looks, they watched each other, aware of what they were about to do.

"No one is going back up there." said the old woman in an authoritative tone, as she reached the group armed with a bucket of water, putting an end to any arguments that might still be heard.

"Hosoka-san?!" said one of the young men who had volunteered, pulling the scarf down to his neck. "We've been looking for you since the fire broke out, where have you been?"

"Excuse me if I disrespect you, but it is not because it is your hotel that your word has more weight than another, we will not stay here without doing anything and watch this person die." exclaimed another man under the acquiescence of most of his companions covered with several layers of soaked clothes.

The hotel manager, still trying to catch her breath, sighed loudly before finally chattering her teeth under the silence of the crowd, understanding that all this had gone way too far.

"That man..." she articulated as she watched him on the second floor. "He's been wanted all over the country for several days."

Strangely, and as if he could hear them perfectly from where he was, he shifted his attention to the owner of the hotel, inevitably crossing her exacerbated face.

"What are you talking about?! All this is nonsense, it's not by telling a tissue of lies that you're going to prevent us from climbing these damn stairs!" yelled an umpteenth savior pointing at the dilapidated steps inside the building behind his back.

Sighing again, the owner grabbed a piece of paper from her jacket pocket and held it out to the man, who, with his eyebrows furrowed over the scarf covering half his face, took it.

"As a hotel manager, I received this notice this morning concerning him. I was the one who alerted the nearest authorities. And he is certainly the one who caused the fire."

Leaving the sketch that looked like the person on the highest floor of the burning hotel, the man stared at the old woman.

"Why didn't you evacuate the hotel then?! Do you know how many injured people there are?! he shouted, pointing out the many burned people, tourists for the most part, lying on the sidewalk along the street and crying out in pain.

The manager lowered her gaze, a look of incomprehension drawn on her face.

"I didn't think it would happen so quickly, I warned them only thirty minutes ago." she said, pointing to the flickering light of the city behind her, overlooking the forest several kilometers from their northern position.

Everyone who could hear the discussion watched in unison as the figure on the second floor, enjoying his can, continued to spy on them from his fiery perch.

What could he have done?

A silence settled and finally put an end to the anger of the men who had risked their lives as a shadow fell from the ceiling on the second floor. With a thud, it landed in the middle of the hallway overlooking the street, throwing the latter into a sort of confusion, a mixture of relief and fear.

Taking another sip of his sweet drink, he watched the women below, dragging their sons and daughters as far as possible from this situation, along the men, who were helping the wounded to get up and get away from this place that would soon become dangerous. Then he stared again at the old woman in the street, in the middle of it, as motionless as her jerky breathing could allow, staring back at him and not seeming frightened at all. What did not fail to tear him a smile.

She did not lack guts, he had to admit.

Leaving his gaze off her, he turned it back to the white bear mask that had just emerged from the ceiling in the exact spot where he had been a minute earlier. This one, arching his arm above his head, grabbed the pommel of his weapon raised above and delicately extracted it from its sheath in order to place it along his right leg.

"The prisoner three thousand two hundred and thirty-four, where is he?"

The sneer that he had maintained for a few seconds quickly turned into a long smile, until it even made him laugh, making him despite him bring back the sweet taste of the drink he had just ingested.

He had heard that somewhere before.

Glancing at the half-open window behind him, his attention wandered for a moment to one of the many blind spots in the staircase leading down to the second floor. This one, through the orange light of the flames dancing on the walls, let him observe the pareidolia of their human shadows as well as the suffocating anthracite smoke that was filling the second floor.

He looked for the second time at the man who was facing him - if he had to rely on the tone of his voice - and noticed, without being surprised, the involuntary tension that the man was exerting on the pommel of his katana.

With a slow gesture, he brought up the can which had become lukewarm and drank an umpteenth sip of the sweet nectar, before shaking it carelessly and without noise in front of his sheepish air.

Faced with his lack of reaction to his question, but especially to his presence, the white mask redoubled the frustration employed on his weapon, before pointing it with a threatening movement in his direction.

"Answer now, or your death will only be more painful..."

His right knee, curved and more than a meter and a half high, struck the chest of the bear who could not finish his sentence.

Placing his left hand methodically on the handle of the katana of the latter, he subtilized it from the suddenly feverish hold, before landing on the place that the mask had occupied until then.

It was with a feeling of disbelief frozen on the can starting its inevitable fall at the other end of the corridor, and a cut breath that even the ambient smoke did not seem to be able to infiltrate, that the man shot against what remained of the concrete wall of the room he had occupied until then. Pulverizing it in its trajectory, the bear found himself projected in the rubble below which could only heavily cushion his disarticulated fall.

With an impassive look anchored on his face and freshly armed with a brand-new weapon, he considered, from his perch and for the second time, the old lady in the middle of the deserted street facing the hotel. The can on the other side of the corridor finally hit the floor in several bounces of incomprehension, as, wide-eyed and breathless like the man sprawled on the flaming wreckage, she began, with the aid of her wooden cane, to run away as fast as she came.

Spinning the pommel of the katana in his hand in a circular motion, he positioned the narrow blade along his right forearm. His eyebrows rose as he turned his attention back to the gray smoke rushing briskly through the wide-open window on the other side of the hall.

The muscles in his legs were suddenly tingled with foreboding and he took a slight leap backwards as he placed his right forearm in front of his face, catching the sharp steel of his third assailant.

Followed by this one and sliding on several meters after his sparkling parade, he took support on the parquet floor where he injected his chakra. His action stopped him suddenly and let him sink into the wood on several inches. The steel of the katana still clinging to his forearm unexpectedly flashed with brightness and sliced through the immaculate lizard mask like butter, which, with its blade severed and unharmed, toppled against his sharp protection.

The thud that met the floor of the second floor was closely followed by two distinct tinkling sounds.

The hot, scarlet drops streamed down his face as he watched detachedly the white mask, with its reptilian shapes and crimson calligraphy, rolled just below his dripping weapon. The head rolled quickly beyond his reach and fell into the furnace of the first floor.

With a tremendous noise and following the increasingly noisy crackles above his head, a cloud of dust, taking in its wake a huge block of concrete and the disintegrated false ceiling, suddenly crossed the corridor and crushed the beverage machine about ten meters from his position.

The behemoth stone smashed through the concrete, which showed no sign of resistance, and in its momentum crossed the flaming corridor of the second floor before crashing violently into the middle of the hotel's main entrance, triggering what seemed to be the prelude to the complete collapse of the building.

With his breath taken away and his view completely obscured by the curtain of dust, he shifted his focus to the wall to his left that ran down the hallway and directly along the stairs to the second floor. This let him hear the arrival of a frenetic heartbeat.

Listening carefully to the sounds from the other side of the dust wall, he took a step back as the smoke lit up in a pale-yellow tone. Turning orange, the cloud of dust suddenly began to swirl frantically in his direction, trying everything to escape the now reddish luminescent heat.

Without thinking, he slammed the door of the room on his right and landed without difficulty inside it. A second later, an incandescent fireball, far too large to be contained in such an enclosed space, crossed the exact spot where he had been standing with an oppressive roar. It cracked the walls of the room and swept away all life in its path, leaving behind only sterile, charred matter. The explosion in the main street shook the building, making him realize that the technique had hit the building across the street.

He took a deep breath of oxygen just as the smoke from the hallway began its slow ascent into the heights of the room, carrying with it the scent of grilled chicken.

His gaze detached itself from the charred and decapitated body, visible from the room, to settle on the wall which faced him and which gave directly on the corridor. He stared without blinking at the wallpaper, burned in some places, before slightly squinting his eyelids when the same heartbeat that caused the fiery offensive reached him.

He gently pressed his right foot against the floor at his feet, and the wood emitted a cracking sound that, seemingly harmless, accelerated the pace of the organ plated on the other side of the wall, making him hear the inexperience his opponents had shown so far.

As he was about to move towards the partition, a movement to his right attracted his curiosity. The impassive expression drawn on his face did not reflect his astonishment.

Lying under the remains of a cupboard, her head awkwardly leaning against a blood-stained wall, a young woman, with brown hair covered in dust and ivory pupils dotted with hemoglobin, was coldly watching him.

A white mask in the shape of a bird firmly attached to the fingers of her right hand on the ground, she could not hold back a trickle of blood that escaped from her lips, barely able to find the oxygen that was becoming harder to find.

"Go... fuck..."

Trying as well as she could to not choke on the opaque liquid in her trachea, she put her left hand on the brown vest that protected her chest to seize the contents of one of her multiple pockets.

Understanding what was about to happen by looking at the nascent determination in the form of tears within the young woman's irises, he gathered his thoughts for a fraction of a second in order to locate his escape in the forest five kilometers south of his position, but had to stop abruptly in his search when the blade that had just infiltrated the room suddenly moved towards his face.

He pointed his katana in the direction of the offensive and was taken, for the first time since the beginning of the evening, off guard. The masked man, with his heart rate still as frantic as ever, dropped the weapon a few centimeters away from the shock, and literally threw himself on his weapon, perforating his abdomen with a raging grunt before clutching his gray coat with all his strength.

"Now!" the man shouted in a broken voice, clearly showing his pain, his fear, and his total improvisation. And it was this last factor that had prevented him from anticipating his moves.

With a quick glance, he observed from the corner of his eye the young woman, her fist closed over several dozen parchments firmly positioned below her face, where drops of salty water were raining down.

Closing her ivory eyes for the last time, she clenched her jaw with all her might.

A blinding light escaped from between her hands and instantly drained the room of every molecule of water, raising the temperature at lightning speed and charring her brown vest in an instant.

Releasing his weapon and grabbing the white mask, he moved the young man towards the epicenter of the explosion, before speaking for the first time since his arrival.

"Damn it..."

The trees and streetlights that were firmly anchored to the ground and bordering the hotel were literally torn from their places and let the shock wave pass through, which spread through the forest, waking up the wildlife as well as the town of Kossori.

A few moments later, a huge explosion lit up the sky for miles around.

---

She brought the intoxicating scent to the edge of her lips and took a sip of the amber liquid. She savored the moment and closed her eyelids as she pressed the cup against her chest, warming herself as best she could.

The fluid inflamed her body as she reopened her exhausted eyes and laid her curiosity on the tree branches that danced bewitchingly in the cool breeze. She then observed the white celestial body with its countless craters that adorned the skies and lit up the forest that welcomed her in silence.

The fresh wind infiltrated her black sweater and stole her shiver, forcing her to remove the only source of heat she had from her body in order to take an umpteenth sip.

With sadness, she placed the empty glass on the wilted needles near the roots of the huge pine tree that overhung her, and clutched the black silk that covered her legs to pull it towards the incessant chattering of her teeth. The chin and the nose settled on her knees curled up against her chest, she inhaled deeply the perfumed aromas of the silk.

It had been five minutes since he had left her alone in that forest, and the more time passed, the more the idea that he would not return became present. Despite her sometimes-venomous thoughts to herself, she could never have imagined a scenario like this. There was nothing holding her back or threatening her to stay here, absolutely nothing.

She could take any direction and run away, but yet there she sat, wisely, waiting for his return.

A light breath, marking a form of mockery, escaped from her nostrils continuing to be intoxicated by the smell that permeated the cloth.

Where could she be going anyway? She didn't even know which way they had come, or where she was.

A blink of the eye and the whole scene changed.

If someone had told her when she first woke up in that hotel room that she would find herself in the middle of a forest with only one desire in mind that he would come and get her, she would have tried to break the illusion. Because despite the thousands of mirages she had been through, she had never experienced one that was this real.

Moving her hands out of the comforting bubble of warmth the silk created, she grabbed one of the many pine needles on the ground and pricked her index finger with it. A drop of blood trickled down her finger.

For the first time, she had doubts.

Helping herself with the trunk in her back to stand up despite the aches and pains in her body that were screaming at her to sit down again, she scanned the darkness around her and shuddered with all her being when a second cool breeze came to venture over her bare feet.

The hand placed on the bark of the immense pine, her fingers dissipated somewhat on the grooves of this one, making her strangely much more shiver than the freshness of this night of full moon. A will that she had not been able to complete a few minutes earlier took hold of every muscle of her jaw while her mouth opened slightly.

"Tree."

A satisfied smile appeared on her face in perfect coordination with the tone of her voice that replayed in her eardrums.

She had succeeded and, without her realizing it, because this kind of desire had become natural for her, she wanted him to hear it.

Continuing this little game she was playing, she looked up at the sky and a second smile materialized under the reflection of the light in her eyes.

"Moon."

She prospected the surroundings in search of another target that could serve as a reminder and her curiosity suddenly stopped on a removable form about twenty feet above her dumbfounded air.

Perched on the top of one of the many fir trees and completely still, he observed her.

"Crow"

She stood there, for perhaps a good minute, staring at the ebony feathers moving in the wind, before finally jumping when the bird of prey, stopping to stare at her with its crimson gaze, suddenly spread its wings in a shrill croak.

Under the throbbing of her heart, she watched as the bird abandoned its perch and, continuing to scream its fear, hurriedly took flight in the opposite direction to what it had seen.

Venturing hesitantly out of the reassuring presence of the huge pine tree, she was forced to place the palm of her hand in the path of the blinding flaming evanescence that was lighting up the valley.

Her breathing quickened all at once and her arm slowly came down against her stunned being.

Was he the cause of it?

The artificial and taciturn aurora faded away in a sparkling flicker and let a charcoal black smoke rise in the starry sky.

She did not have time to ask herself more questions that a flash dazzled the half-light having just returned to the forest. Then the muffled sound of two bodies hitting the ground reached her eardrums.

Completely frightened, she turned around abruptly and her legs gave way to panic. Accompanied by a grimace of pain, she fell heavily against the roots of the pine.

Disoriented and with her vision blurred against the twisted wood, she painfully raised her upper body, clenching her teeth with all her might, in order to observe, a few steps away from her seated position, the pommel of the katana pointed towards the stars.

Her dumbfounded gaze slowly moved down the sharpened metal and examined with fascination the spasms of the badly burned mask. Forcefully spitting out the liquid that was rushing down his windpipe and staining the pine needles a scarlet color, the masked man let out a death rattle.

With his hands smoldering and intertwined on the blade embedded in his flesh, the mask inhaled sharply before blocking his breath and, in one swift movement, withdrew the weapon in a rush of hemoglobin. Slowly exhaling, a pool of blood began to form along his body and took away all his pain.

She listened to the last breath without really understanding what was happening and shifted her attention to the reassuring aura present near the burned body.

The azure irises were already spying on her.

Moving in her direction, he crouched for the second time in front of the drumming of her chest, while she began to observe in a sickly way the ashes deposited on her half-burned gray jacket and simply froze at the sight of the nets of blood present on his clothes and his face.

Was he hurt?

Copying her sitting position, he let himself fall while holding the floating ribs which tore him a grin of pain and blew away his momentary tiredness.

"Sorry."

His voice, however calm, was marked by a form of irritation, and the breathless movements that he manifested, concealing from her view the body in the middle of the forest, did not help to hide it.

While the desire to know the reason for his attire, but also for his unusual mood, burned her lips, her heart, still beating wildly, almost stopped when a roar in her back, much more powerful than the one that took place a few minutes earlier, generated a low-magnitude earthquake that shook the wooded area.

The tremors lasted for several seconds, scaring away the few remaining animals, before fading away, plunging the forest back into an unchanging silence, disturbed only by the echo of the explosion that reverberated in the mountain ranges for miles around.

Not having released him from her gaze in spite of the incommensurable din which had produced what she had identified as being, "the explosion of the hotel having accommodated her during more than one week," she had nevertheless difficulty in overcoming his glance, as this one, staring at her without any embarrassment, seemed to try to read in her thoughts. But, for the first time, it was his attention which moved away in order to concentrate on a very precise point in her back.

Awkwardly hiding a grimace of pain, a hand always put on his ribs, he seemed to think carefully.

"We have to go."

Understanding that he had felt something, she began in her turn to examine the surroundings, but seeing absolutely nothing, resigned herself to the idea of discovering what it was. She then brought back her attention on him by replaying in her mind the words that he had just expressed.

They were leaving.

The urge to know the next reminiscence she was going to experience was so strong that she couldn't stop the air from entering her lungs and, contemplating the dried traces of blood on the face that was facing her, she half-opened her mouth.

"Where?"

Not surprised to hear her speak, as if he had sensed it before she even had the idea, a simple smile appeared under his gaze as he continued to observe her.

A shock wave, bringing a hot wind as well as a smell of soot, crossed the zone without warning, making her long blond hair twirl and forcing her, in the only reflex she had in this moment of panic, to close her ocean eyes.

Reopening them painfully, she accused once again his eyes, even clearer than hers, before he stretched a hand in her direction.

"It's your choice."

For the fourth time in less than a quarter of an hour, the huge pine tree was dazzled by a bright light, leaving behind only an inanimate body and an empty glass.

---

Lifting the stone, Hosoka leaned on her cane and picked up the wooden object hidden under the dust. She then removed the pieces of glass still stuck to the wooden frame and pulled out the photo of the young couple to take a long look at the face of the man in the photograph. A sad look materialized on her face as she placed the piece of paper against her chest.

"Excuse me madam."

Putting away the photo inside her jacket at the very moment when the voice rose in the air, she looked at the man who had just spoken to her.

"You can't stay here, it's dangerous."

Wearing the headband of the hidden village by Rocks attached to his arm pointed at the rubble-strewn street, the man seemed to be trying to show her the path she should take. But, pretending she didn't understand, she began to examine the dozen or so other headbands on the scene that were searching the ruins of the building, before finally turning her attention back to the one still standing in front.
"How much more time are you going to waste searching the rubble exactly? It's clear he's not here."

The Iwa ninja, his teeth clenched in annoyance, shrank back from replying at the very moment that a shadow made its appearance in her back. And this one did not wait to express its presence.

"You may leave, shinobi-san."

She flinched briefly as she watched the ninja in front of her stoop before walking away in awe, leaving her alone with this strange presence. She turned around, hoping to put a face to the authoritative voice, but was surprised to see none. Only his short jet-black hair was visible behind his white mask.

"You must be Hosoka Maruyama."

An eyebrow raised over her crinkled eyes of suspicion, she leaned then positively on her wooden cane and looked at the immaculate mask.

"Herself." she answered under the lack of expression of her interlocutor. "And you, may I know who you are?"

Leaving the silence reigned following the question, the shadow simply took out a purse from the pocket of his black pants.

"Here is your bounty for the information you provided on the wanted suspect, Iwa thanks you for your help."

Catching on the fly the few coins enclosed in the fabric, she couldn't help but giggle.

"Here is a nice sum, I wonder what I will be able to buy as decoration for my hotel." she said with a sarcastic tone, while the mask turned around in front of her, offering her only an indifferent spine.

"According to the information you provided, they occupied room seventeen on the second floor."

After several seconds and not having any answer, he turned to her, letting a palpable tension arise which made Hosoka understand that if she didn't want to have any problem, she was going to have to answer in the second. However, she kept her silence.

If she had known how this would turn out, she wouldn't have wanted to help her nation.
Although she didn't feel like answering, her aged, glassy eyes crinkled slightly as she saw a scarlet glow through the mask's slits. But she didn't care much about that because something more important had just presented itself to her thoughts: the desire to answer this man's questions.

She absolutely wanted to answer them, it had become essential to her.

"Yes, they stayed for over a week. The young woman didn't go out once, at least I didn't see her. The man, on the other hand, the one you are looking for, has done only that. I would say that he went out more than thirty times. He is the one who came to rent the room ten days ago. In fact, he didn't occupy it for the first two days. They were not present at that time..."

She took a deep breath of air and wanted to continue on her way, but the mask turned back to the southern part of the ruins and the urge to speak went away as quickly as it had arrived.

What... what had just happened to her?

"Your collaboration was very useful, Iwa thanks you for your help."

She watched, with a confused expression imprinted on her face, as the Iwagakure Special Forces member walked away without a shred of emotion.

"Madam, we have to go now."

She raised her evil eyebrows at the shinobi who had spoken to her a few seconds earlier, as he stepped back and pointed out the way to go again with his fingertips.

The white mask, passing over the debris and being careful not to touch anything, stopped in front of what seemed to be the rooms of the second floor and the second amalgamated on the ground floor. He looked carefully at the rubble and, not moving for several seconds, examined the disarticulated body against the wall of concrete covered with blood, before being inevitably attracted by the kunai in front of it.

Approaching it, he withdrew the two enormous blocks of concrete which obstructed the passage to him and examined with attention the weapon planted in a chest of drawers in pitiful state.
Curious by the angle that the weapon took in the dislocated wood, showing very clearly the fact that it had been thrown with the only aim of closing it, he pulled delicately on the aforementioned drawer which broke between his gloved hands and let fall a pile of clothes.

He grabbed, in an indiscreet mood, the rectangular object between two T-shirts before sitting down directly on the dresser. A gloved hand posed on this one, he examined the ornament of the book which he maintained with his other hand.

"The tale of the utterly gutsy shinobi."

Observing the gilding, he remained as if frozen by what he had in front of him, before finally opening the book and leafing through it. Seconds passed, then minutes, and when he reached the last page, a strange rhythm, orchestrated by the tapping of his gloved fingers on the dead chest of drawers, sounded.

"Naruto."