Chapter 37

New Trainer, Older Friend: A Shadow from the Past Revealed!

Shikaku sat quietly at his living room table, a glass of warm, jasmine herbal tea Yoshino made for him in hand. The scent of the jasmine flowers mixed together with green tea leaves mellowed out the laid back man. He sipped from the glass, humming in satisfaction; Yoshino truly had no match when it came to tea. Perhaps because she made it with love?

Setting the glass back on the porcelain coaster, Shikaku returned his attention to the old picture sitting on the table in front of him. He picked up the frame, feeling nostalgic happiness and sorrow combine together in perfect synchronicity like a Nara, Yamanaka and Akimichi combination technique as he scratched lightly at the rough hairs of his dark goatee. Man, where had the time gone? Had he really ever been so young?

The elder Nara chuckled quietly and shut his eyes, smiling in amusement at the sudden conclusion he reached. "I've become an old man. How quaint." He opened his eyes again, his gaze softening at the two young kids from a different time smiling back at him. "Though, I suppose compared to you I was always an old man, huh, 'Yako."

Shikaku took another sip from his tea, savoring the taste and the scent. Honestly, as pleasing as the jasmine tea was, staring at this old picture made him wish his current refreshment was a glass of sake instead, that the scent of jasmine flowers was replaced by the more fruity scented alcohol, but it wasn't even noon yet and his great-niece's arrival was inevitable. Being drunk would be troublesome for them both—mostly him, though.

In all likelihood, if he were to be inebriated beyond all sense at such an early hour, especially with 'Risu on her way over, Yoshino's tea of love and the gentleness she shared with him this morning would be replaced by explosive anger, and more than likely end in his death. Actually, that wasn't fair to Yoshino. His wife wouldn't kill him; she would make him experience a fate worse than death for being drunk around 'Risu.

Talk about a drag.

Shaking his head, he set the picture frame down, exhaling deeply through his nose for an innumerable time. Five years. Five years he mourned Miyako. Shikaku still hadn't gotten past it, if he were honest. Miyako was more of a sister than a distant niece; from their youth to adulthood they stuck together. Losing her…it was a blow he couldn't have ever been prepared for. Someone may as well have severed him from his shadow.

Her death came out of the blue, like a sudden meteor crashing to the surface of his entire world and setting it back to prehistoric times. Miyako hadn't died in the line of duty while protecting the Leaf from one of the many threats they faced, nor had she died from natural causes, such as an incurable disease. While he and his family slept peacefully, feeling safe behind the walls of their home, Miyako, her husband and innocent Haya were heartlessly murdered by a fellow Leaf shinobi.

The shocking and horrible news ensnared Shikaku in the Shadow Paralysis Jutsu then proceeded to strangle the life from him via the Shadow Strangle Jutsu. Personal loss, the parasitic grief it attached to you, it wasn't easy for anyone to get past—not even shinobi. Whether you were the Hokage or an old, hardened shinobi like Shikaku, who witnessed his fair share of death and loss, losing a person you cherished couldn't be shrugged off nonchalantly.

It followed you everywhere. Even the small things—especially the small things—tore off the scab without remorse. An extra seat at the dining table gathering dust from visits he'd never get again, the smell of her favorite meal bringing forth memories of old gatherings, shared friends sharing in the grief as they reminisced about her…unique sense of humor and other wonderfully painful memories.

What was in the hands of the mourners was finding ways to keep functional, because life paused for no man or woman. The breeze carried the cloud known as life onwards. If you didn't find a way to stay functional, well, it wasn't pretty. Most became old, rotten trees, absent of all life as they stood in solitude, watching the clouds pass them by until eventually they either learned to live again or crumbled into ash.

Shikaku didn't carry many regrets. Fate, he supposed, had been kind to him in that regard; he wasn't without regrets, though. Chief among them, the worst one he would bear to his final breath, was allowing the internal strife between the Uchiha Clan and the higher-ups stop him from visiting her as often as he should have. He just didn't want to cause Miyako and her family more trouble. Most of the hardliners thought her and Haya were spies plotting their downfall.

"My presence there would only create more tension, 'Yako. From what I've heard, Haya has enough problems without me adding onto it."

Then the Uchiha Massacre happened. Two emotions dominated his mind in the aftermath: Crippling guilt for being so stupid to let others stop him from spending time with Miyako and her family, and intense hatred for the boy who stole their lives from him.

Itachi had ripped something from Shikaku he never believed could be taken. He ripped Miyako Nara, his niece, his sister and the strongest Nara of their generation from this life far too soon. Not only her, but her little shadow and husband too. Miyako had opened her arms to that kid, let him be close to her family, and he murdered them in cold blood.

Disbelief consumed Shikaku in the wake of the news. The boy had been a prodigy wielding the Sharingan, but Shikaku couldn't believe he stood a chance against Miyako and her husband. Unless he used their trust to get in close, having them lower their guard so he could slip his blade in their backs, Itachi wouldn't have been able to kill them. Prodigious talent and Sharingan only went so far.

None of it had ever made sense. Still didn't. The puzzle picture assembled didn't look right to his eyes. Pieces were missing or backwards, painted to appear as the correct piece to hide its incorrect placement. But everyone was so certain of Itachi's betrayal and ability to kill his entire Clan; hearing it so much from everyone coaxed Shikaku to believe it. Grief was probably clouding his judgement. Maybe he should let others not emotionally invested figure it out.

So he did, but the questions always gnawed at his mind like Chōza gnawing on prime ribs. He never went back to it, though. What sense was there anyways? Miyako was dead. Her family was dead. There was nothing he could do now to change that. No amount of puzzle solving could change their deaths. Revenge wouldn't bring them back. Miyako wouldn't want it anyways.

"Revenge is a young man's game, Shika," she would have said, her lips curling into a teasing smirk. "You're too old. You'll end up throwing out your back and embarrassing me if you go hunting."

Troublesome woman. He wasn't that old yet.

Still, age aside, what Miyako would want most in the aftermath of her death wasn't revenge or to hang onto his grief forever; she'd want him to keep moving forward, for her. To focus all of his attention on being a good father to Shikamaru and being a good husband to Yoshino, as well as keep the Village safe for the next generation to inherit so he could retire and become the old man she always teased him for being.

Shikaku did his best, mourning silently while Inoichi and Chōza stuck by his sides like true friends. Yoshino had been his gentle rock during the hardest parts of the grieving process, but then, she too felt the pain of their deaths; Miyako had been one of her closest friends. Those two went through the wonders of pregnancy together, Haya being born just a month before Shikamaru, and boy had that been fun. Sheesh, he thought his wife was scary normally, but no, he hadn't known true fear until Shikamaru was born. It was still the scariest, craziest and greatest day of his life.

Eventually the pain dulled, but it never left. Pain like that never truly did.

Three years went by, then the most painful and magnificent surprise dropped in his lap.

"Shikaku, I would like to introduce you to Amaririsu. Amaririsu." The single onyx eye rose from her toes to meet his. Shikaku felt his heart skip a beat and his breathing halt. It couldn't…It couldn't be. This child, she was… "This is the Head of the Nara Clan, Shikaku Nara."

Haya…you…you're alive.

The purple bandana covered forehead fell in a nervous bow. "Sir."

There was no mistake. He wanted to be cautious, to doubt the reality before him in case this was some cruel imitation, but that wild mess of blue hair, the obsession with purple, her facial structure and her eye. Kami, it was just like her parents.

"Amaririsu, huh?" He chuckled shortly, meant to be only amused by the choice of name, but strained pain worked its way into his voice. Good pain, if there was such a thing. This child he mourned, the daughter of his niece was alive. Miyako's little shadow, her pride and joy, was standing on his doorstep, far too skinny and missing an eye from the look of it too, but very much alive. "A fitting name for a shy flower like yourself."

His great-niece had returned.

When the Hokage joined him in his home, he confirmed her identity with a level of conviction that made Yoshino cry and embrace her husband. Shikaku shut his eyes and held his tears in as he embraced his sobbing wife tightly in his arms, too afraid to open his eyes on the chance he might wake up from what he feared was a dream.

It hadn't been a dream.

They learned of her amnesia regarding who she once had been soon after. It hadn't bothered them. Maybe she would remember. Maybe she wouldn't. Whether she was known as Haya or 'Risu didn't change the fact she was their great-niece; three years he believed her dead, to be caught up on a semantic of a name change was illogical.

Miyako's little shadow survived and they would not lose her again.

Her motivation and ability to grow so quickly reminded him of the old days when training with Miyako. His niece trained as hard as her daughter, always asking him to wait so she could have one more try to get it right when he tried to coax her home, tired from the spar she somehow found a way to talk him into, again. For one reason or another he never argued when she asked to have another shot when her initial try didn't work. Amari had to get past her doubts first to get there, but she did and continued to do so.

It wasn't until after Amari was stuck within her own mind that he pulled Kakashi, Kurenai, Asuma and Guy aside privately to speak on her parents. Her growth and the persistent mystery behind her past life enticed their curiosity like a field of butterflies enticing a child to try to catch at least one. When Kakashi gained a lead to follow it became necessary to address the issue of her mother and father. Searching around for it could draw attention from unwanted sources, shinobi who would prefer Sasuke to be the only Uchiha left standing in the Leaf.

He wanted to tell Amari about her family, about everything the genjutsu hid from her, but he couldn't. She wasn't ready to simultaneously remember and lose her loving family. The genjutsu raised the dangers even higher.

The genjutsu itself continued to prod at his mind, as did the mysterious circumstances of Amari's disappearance from the Leaf. From what he could tell Itachi had…saved her? Spared her? Was it one and the same or different altogether? Regardless, his decision kept her hidden for three years. From an enemy, perhaps? And then he locked away her memories so anyone trying to forcefully or coyly pull the information from her reached a dead end. It seemed like protection. But from who? It was the question left in Shikaku's lap.

In no way did he forgive the boy for killing Miyako, yet Shikaku could not deny that something wasn't adding up correctly about that night. Thoughts he had during his grief about Itachi working with another no longer seemed unlikely. The old puzzle board returned in the same condition he left it in, only now he was certain the pieces did not create the right picture.

Blaming Itachi alone was the easiest conclusion, just as it was easy for the Hokage to declare the decree over the Nine-Tailed Fox. They were told Itachi was the merciless killer who slaughtered his entire Clan while they slept, save for Sasuke, so that was the story they believed. But Haya complicated the narrative; she was a piece of evidence someone had hid for one reason or another. Could be noble reasons. Could be for evil purposes.

Itachi no longer slaughtered an entire Clan. He missed two children, both personally tied to him to varying degrees. The story they had been fed became flawed, leaving behind questions regarding Itachi's intentions, and even his survival, Shikaku wanted answers to. By the Nara's estimations, even if the kid was a prodigy, even if he used stealth and deceit to attack Miyako and her husband, Itachi should be dead. A deceitful stealth attack may have fatally injured one of them, but not both. Miyako knew the secrets of the Sharingan well, learning from spars against her husband—a man who wielded a highly coveted set of Mangekyō Sharingan abilities, as well as visual prowess to outmatch Itachi's own by leagues, among other great abilities.

These two powerful and intelligent shinobi—shinobi who had fought against incredible enemies in the war and earned the fear and respect behind their reputations—were bested by a kid? No, something was wrong here. At a distance the picture seemed unflawed, but the closer he looked, the more he could see the missing pieces.

I still don't have the pieces that fit, though. Shikaku hummed and frowned. For now he would file those thoughts away. With them temporarily set off to the side, his thoughts returned to the surprise visit from Jiraiya late last night.

"Oh, Master Jiraiya! You've returned."

"It's been a while, Shikaku. How is Yoshino?"

"She's well. What brings you here? Would you like to come in and sit?"

"I'd rather not, sit I mean. It'll be a while before I can without pain." Shikaku arced an eyebrow up at that. The look led to the Toad Sage turning to show him a bloodstain over his rump. "A parting gift from your great-niece over a…misunderstanding of words. It's safe to say she inherited Miyako's sense of humor."

Shikaku sighed heavily and shut his eyes. "'Risu," he chided the air. Then he breathed out a chuckle, amused by the situation despite himself. "Heh, I suppose we all need to start watching our steps if she has 'Yako's sense of humor."

The two older shinobi's discussed everything about Amari. How much she knew of her past, why no one told her, what Inoichi said of the genjutsu, general questions of her skills and growth.

It was Jiraiya's parting statement that left Shikaku staring at the picture of his younger self and young Miyako. "From what you say, there isn't much you can tell her yet about her past, but don't you think you should let her know you are her family? It would give her an even greater foundation to stand on as a kunoichi of the Leaf."

"Troublesome," Shikaku muttered.

Jiraiya was right. Over the years Shikaku considered telling Amari plenty of times that she was his great-niece for the same reasons. He struggled to find the appropriate time. When was she ready to know she had family without forcing it on her? When was he ready to even talk about it? He had hidden this old picture of her mother and him away because of it becoming too painful to look at. But this wasn't about him anymore; this was about 'Risu. She deserved to know that, despite losing her parents and cousin, she still had family left who cared greatly for her.

Shikaku looked to the clock to see it was five minutes to noon. Knowing 'Risu she will be here right exactly at noon. He smirked and looked back to the picture. "You definitely passed on your punctuality to your daughter, 'Yako."

In the picture they were Chūnin but not even teenagers yet. He hadn't received his scars either, but other than that his style of clothing hadn't changed much. Miyako wore a sleeveless, midnight blue kimono-styled blouse tied closed by a black sash. The long sash, tied off on her left side, reached down to the bottom of her knee. She wore her headband around her forehead and had her black hair tied up in the usual Nara fashion, though it's longer length caused the strands to brush against the back of her neck. They also had the hoop earrings given to them upon becoming Chūnin.

For bottoms she wore knee-length black shorts with matching midnight blue fishnet leggings and black ninja sandals. Neither wore their flak jackets for the picture. He couldn't recall Miyako ever wearing hers, if he were honest. By age thirteen she was already a Captain in the Anbu Black Ops, and during her time in the Anbu she reached the rank of Jōnin.

Troublesome woman was a damn workaholic.

In the picture she had her arm slung around his shoulder. His hands were sunken into his pockets and his eyes were closed as he smirked and snorted at the joke she made before the picture snapped.

Miss you, 'Yako. But don't worry, I'll keep your daughter safe.

Shikaku rose from his seat and brought the picture back to his and Yoshino's room where he sat it on the nightstand next to the bed. It wasn't as painful to look at anymore; 'Risu made it easier.

As he exited the room, a light knock came from the door. When he neared the front door, he found Yoshino already ushering in Amari, sharing a smile with the child as they exchanged pleasantries and a hug. His great-niece still wore her sling and knee brace, thankfully. It'd have been a drag to force her to put them back on.

"Right on time, 'Risu," Shikaku greeted.

She relinquished her one armed grip on Yoshino and gave him a small smirk. "I don't like being late." Despite the upwards twitch of her lips and familiar words, he could see troubled thoughts crashing around in her onyx eye, but he decided to leave them be for now. There would be time later to talk after some light training.

"Are you prepared to train?"

"I'm ready when you are, Uncle Shikaku."

He gestured her to follow him with a nod of his head and sauntered towards the doors leading into the backyard, where the shadows at this hour would be good for training. He opened the door for her and, before he exited, noticed Yoshino give him a look he easily read. It was time for them to talk about her mother and let her know she still had family left.

Shikaku gave his wife a nod before following Amari out the door casually.

They stopped in the middle of the yard. "The technique I am going to teach you is called Ninja Art: Shadow Strangle Jutsu. Before we train, there are two things we have to go over. First is the technique itself. As you have undoubtedly figured out, the Shadow Strangle Jutsu is an offensive technique that can inflict physical damage—unlike the Shadow Possession and Shadow Paralysis Jutsu.

"As the name suggests you can use it to strangle your enemies using your shadow. This is what it is meant to do, but it can also be used for other purposes where killing is an unwanted end. I will go over the specifics of how this works in a moment."

She nodded. "Okay."

"The final thing I wish to speak to you about is the use of your Ninja Art: Shadow Dragons."

"Is it forbidden?" Amari queried.

"No, not forbidden. I want you to show me the technique. From what Kakashi told me it might be possible you have already unknowingly learned the fundamentals of the Shadow Strangle Jutsu." And if what Kakashi had told him was true, it was possible it was the same technique Miyako used.

Amari created a clone adjacent to them then moved her hands into Dragon and then Rat. The same handseals 'Yako used and the same for Shadow Strangle, without using Tiger after Dragon. Her shadow formed into two tendrils, shaping itself into two four-horned dragons before shooting forward, wrapping around her clone's legs but not sinking their teeth in them.

"Troublesome," the clone muttered as she tried to move her legs to no avail.

Shikaku gave a nod for her to release the jutsu. "Impressive," he congratulated genuinely. The Ninja Art: Shadow Dragons is an advanced Shadow technique, created by 'Yako, combining both the ability to restrain an enemy and physical harm them. It's like a rope you can't cut snatching a limb, and then turning into a constrictor snake to crush or bite the caught limb. The down side 'Yako said is how chakra intensive it is to perform. It decreases our Shadow's strength with every failure to a greater extent than a mere Shadow Possession and Shadow Paralysis. Yet its cost is worth its strengths.

To have such control over her Shadow Technique at this age…'Yako, she's walking in your footsteps. It was well-known that most Nara's were lazy geniuses, yet if they were to split the Nara into Branches the same way the Hyūga did, then it could be said there were two distinct branches: Those of Shikaku's branch, the lazy geniuses, and those of who were born with a stronger connection to their spiritual energy, allowing them to innovate new uses of their infamous Shadow Techniques.

It wasn't as cut and dry as that. The Nara Clan didn't separate their people into branches; branches were complicated and troublesome to deal with, more so than the elders of the Clan. Regardless, both Miyako and Amari belonged to the innovative Nara Clan family tree.

"I can get them to come off the ground as well but that takes more of a toll on my chakra right now," Amari explained.

He gave a silent nod then proceeded to explain how to use Shadow Strangle Jutsu. The handseals for this short to mid-range jutsu were Dragon, Tiger then Rat. Like she did with her Shadow Dragons, the user transformed and moved their shadow, endowed with physical power, to attack body parts or strangle their opponent. There was a pro and a con to using the jutsu, as there was with every jutsu. The closer you were to your target, the greater the power of your shadow, but using it for an extended amount of time seriously took its toll on the user.

Shadow Techniques in general were like trying to hold onto the edge of cliff; the longer you held on, the weaker your grip strength became. Shadow Strangle and Shadow Dragons added the problem of someone stepping on your fingers.

In short, one needed to use it wisely for it to be fully effective.

Within the two hours of training Amari managed to perform the technique. Although he expected her to get it down quickly, he still found himself pleasantly surprised by her ability to learn it so fast. Her naturally larger chakra reserves and chakra control allowed her to use it a total of four times without interference. Of course in combat factors such as the shadows on the battlefield or the chakra she expended throughout the fight would play a role in her ability to use the technique, but that wasn't anything 'Risu didn't already realize.

Not wanting to push her any further when she was still recovering from her injuries, Shikaku ushered her back into the house for a late lunch and a game of shogi. This was a comfort area for them both, making it just a slight bit easier to bring up her mother. He waited for the game to really begin before speaking.

"'Risu, there's something I need to talk to you about." Blunt and to the point. Dancing around the subject required too much mental work when he was already focused on this game.

"About my mother?" she asked as she analyzed what her next move would be.

He kept his face neutral despite his shock. "Yes. How did you know?"

"When I was teaching Naruto yesterday, Master Jiraiya tried spying on us. I watched him with my Byakugan, trying to discern his intentions. No offense to him, but my encounter with Orochi-jackass—"

"Language, Amari!" Yoshino scolded from the kitchen.

She flinched. "Sorry, Aunt Yoshino. Um, after my encounter with Orochimaru and his minions, I didn't want to throw caution to the wind," she corrected.

"Wise, but not needed. Master Jiraiya is steadfast in his loyalty to Konoha."

Amari nodded. "As I watched him, he kept staring at me like he knew me or had seen me before." She turned a thoughtful expression to the ceiling. "You had a similar look in your eyes when we first met. I thought it was recognition, but I wasn't sure back then. And during my preliminary fight I…heard a memory from my past, of Cousin, Mama and Papa."

Shikaku let his shock show that time.

"I can't see their faces and I don't know their names, but I could hear them, feel their love and…Anyway, when Master Jiraiya decided to end his training short with Naruto to go talk to someone, I kind of inferred it was you or Kakashi-sensei to learn more about me." After a few moments of silence she finally made her decision and moved a piece forward.

"She was my niece," he stated.

Amari nodded then smiled at him. "I guess I was right to call you my uncle then, although I guess you are technically my great-uncle, but that's a mouthful and too troublesome to say all the time. So you two are still Uncle Shikaku and Aunt Yoshino to me."

"Mm. You'll hear no arguments from me or Yoshino."

There were questions at the tip of her tongue but she did not ask anything. She understands that learning anything could be dangerous. Shikaku let out a sigh, moving his own piece and taking one of his great-niece's. He wished it were different.

She furrowed her brow in thought as she began to plan her next move. "How long did you know and who else knows?"

"The day we met, as did Lord Third. I finally told Kakashi, Kurenai, Asuma and Guy after your mission to the Land of Waves."

"Lord Third knew her?" she questioned.

He nodded. "Yes. She was a part of his guard and Lord Fourth's before him." When his great-niece's jaw dropped, he couldn't help but smirk humorously. "Your mother was the strongest Nara of our generation. Intelligent and powerful. It was only natural for her to become a Hokage Guard."

"…Wow. I…I never would have guessed that." She paused, letting her gaze fall back on the board before moving a piece. "What was she like? That you can tell me about I mean."

"Hmm. Well, as I said before, your mother was an intelligent and powerful kunoichi, far stronger than me in the same way you're stronger than Shikamaru. Beautiful and outgoing too, but she never grew arrogant or looked down on others." He chuckled. "One thing everyone who had the privilege of knowing her will agree to is her very unique sense of humor. Master Jiraiya informs me you have inherited it." Amari giggled softly. "Like you she worked hard and enjoyed training to overcome her limits."

"Did she ever beat you in shogi?" Amari asked, a hopeful smile on her lips.

Shikaku smirked at her. "Once."

The answer popped her balloon of hope instantly. His great-niece groaned and her shoulders sagged in despair. "Now I know I'm never going to beat you guys. What a drag."

Throughout the rest of their game he would tell her small things about her mother, never mentioning her name or anything revolving around her after she gave birth to Amari. He did not wish to trigger any memories she had locked away. One day they would, just not yet.

"Troublesome," Amari muttered when he won the game. "One day I'm going to win this game against you Uncle Shikaku. Though at this rate it's going to take years."

He shook his head, smirking fondly at her. "You sound just like her." She gave him a smile then looked back down at the board, examining it carefully. "Why did you appear to be troubled when you arrived today?"

The question made her sigh. "I met Lord Hiashi Hyūga today."

"Oh. Troublesome." That certainly explained it. He hoped to prevent the meeting for as long as possible, but it seemed fate had other plans.

"Nothing bad happened. But…I had an anxiety attack afterwards, out of his line of sight at least. Still haven't gotten it out of my head."

"I see. You were worried he would take your eye or both," he stated instead of questioned. After a second, Amari gave a small nod. "Don't worry yourself about that. If he were to try to require you to remove it, he would first have to go through the Hokage, not to mention myself, Yoshino, Kakashi and Kurenai; none of us would let him have an easy fight. To attack you and steal it by force wouldn't end well for him either."

"I know…I just really hope that's the last I ever see him."

As did Shikaku, but he wouldn't let his guard down, not when Hiashi had known her father well. The Hyūga Head was no fool. If his thoughts were clear and concise, he wouldn't miss Amari's strong resemblance to her parents. I should prepare for an inevitable visit from Lord Hiashi.

A knock at the door broke the elder Nara from his thoughts. Looking to the sound, he saw his wife already there to open it, greeting the senbon chewing shinobi who would begin training 'Risu.

His wife directed him to the two Nara's sitting on the floor then moved to take her seat on the couch. Amari hadn't looked up from the shogi board yet, still too focused on going over every move she made to figure out where she went wrong.

"Sorry I'm late, Shikaku. I got caught up talking to Guy. He hasn't been the same since the end of the preliminary fights," the man greeted.

Shikaku waved him off. He wasn't extremely late and it provided him and his great-niece time to talk over a game of shogi. "It's no problem. Really."

The sound of the new voice lifted Amari's gaze from the board to look back at the source. It took a moment of eye contact, but genuine shock tugged onto the shinobi's face. "You…You're really her. I thought you were just trying to pull my leg, Shikaku, but…it's really you, Haya."

Shikaku couldn't see 'Risu's face, but he could sense the overwhelming confusion. "Um…hi. Do we know each other?"

"Heh." The brown-haired ninja chuckled and shut his eyes, schooling his features back to neutral. "You wouldn't remember even without your amnesia, but yeah, we've met." His lips tugged into a casual smirk as he opened his eyes. "Last time I saw you in person you were just a tiny baby drooling all over yourself. You're still pretty tiny, so I guess that hasn't changed."

Uh-oh. Shikaku grimaced. Height was a bit of a sore subject for 'Risu, as Genma was about to find out.

Whatever look his great-niece gave Genma caused him to laugh nervously and shift his foot back in retreat. "I've seen that look before. You have a few diabolical plans prepared to cause me pain for that comment."

"Maybe. You won't know unless I try anything," she teased.

The man grinned, flicking the senbon to point skyward as he did. "You're her daughter all right. I'll have to keep my guard up around you."

"We all will. Come sit, Genma," Shikaku invited the man to sit.

It was time to introduce Amari to the man to train her for the next month and one of her mother's closest friends.

Later that Same Day

Zabuza exited his large, winter tent wrapping a grey wool scarf around the lower half of his face. Over his body, to fight the bone chilling temperatures around him, was an ankle-length heavy black cloak that kept him mostly warm. Mostly, not completely. Winters in the mountainous regions of the Land of Water weren't even this bad.

Beneath his feet compacted white snow crunched with every step. As his eyes scanned over the uninhabited white hills, seeking out any suspicious activity, light snow fell ahead of him, beyond the large cliff overhang his camp was settled under. He chose this place specifically for its tactical advantages. No enemies could attack them from behind, the overhang mostly protected them from the harsh weather—mostly, not completely—and from this position, as well as the top of the cliff, he could see any activity for miles around him.

He and Haku were off the map, hidden away in some forgotten area of the Land of Snow where no civilians or shinobi ever trekked. They were as far from Kiri and the Land of Waves as possible without entering one of the Five Great Shinobi Nations, which comforted and disappointed the former Mist shinobi. Out here they were safe, for now anyways. He covered their tracks as best he could, but he knew better than to underestimate the Tracker Unit. It was only a matter of time before they followed them here, and Zabuza planned to be long gone by then.

Still, although they were safe out here, Zabuza wanted to return to the Mist. Despite the turmoil within it, despite what the bloodshed turned him into, Kiri was his home. Always would be. He only had a single regret about leaving: He failed to bring an end to the Fourth Mizukage. He failed to kill the person responsible for so much pointless death and the systematic self-destruction of Mist shinobi.

All hail the great and powerful Fourth Mizukage. Zabuza chuckled sadistically. Hmph, so great and powerful Kiri became a shadow of its former glory. He's lucky Kiri is even considered a Great Shinobi Nation still.

Blood Mist Village had fractured their military might. No, not just their military might, but their people as well. The internal wars waged, the sudden fights breaking out in the streets, leaving shinobi corpses and blood everywhere, all out of paranoia, grabs for power and rogue shinobi sick of being told to kill their comrades; every single decision made by the Fourth Mizukage and his ilk left them a broken people and nation.

No one under Blood Mist knew what others called normal. Their normal was a cruel and sad life. Attachments to others, you may as well spread your arms out and ask for someone to run their blade through you. And from this cruelty, from the betrayal and bloodshed, a Demon arose.

Zabuza couldn't remember much of his childhood or what made him finally snap. What had made him so angry to kill all those kids training to be a shinobi? Reasons, he supposed, didn't matter. He killed every last one of them in a violent, blinding rage he couldn't control at that age; they weren't men or women, they weren't even shinobi yet, they were just kids like him.

What he did that day, it woke people up from their haze of everyday life. It wasn't for some noble cause, much as he wished it could be. No, Zabuza hadn't had a cause to fight for or a noble desire to end Blood Mist. He was just so angry. Ironically, the Fourth Mizukage's test ended because his desire for cold, emotionless shinobi created a merciless Demon who slaughtered his best candidates. What the rest of the Nations didn't know, however, was the effects of Blood Mist didn't end just because the test disappeared.

It lingered like a bad flu no one had an antidote for.

As the Demon grew older, his anger had been fueled in different directions by his superiors. Eventually Zabuza's anger found its true source: He couldn't stand the pointless death, the lies and deceit to their own people or the sick enjoyment others began to have in slaying their comrades. How could Mist ever grow and become anything if they kept putting knives in each other's backs?

Kids like Haku, adults with powerful kekkei genkais used to fight wars, were being scattered from the Village or outright murdered. Those were powers and abilities they should have been nurturing the growth of, not hunting down out of misplaced fear. There were even non-native Clans to the Land of Water who had sought refuge, who could have become powerful allies under better leadership. Instead they killed them, tried to steal their secrets and ran them off as well.

Backstabbing and bloodshed led to nothing except more backstabbing and bloodshed. The blood continued to grease the wheel to keep the cycle spinning indefinitely. They were killing themselves off at a steady pace. The people of his nation, civilian and shinobi alike, had accepted it as normalcy, becoming too mentally and emotionally exhausted to bother fighting against it. What point was there? No one had hope. No one could see an end or a way to bring it about.

In this darkness, the Demon festered and grew, clinging tight to his ambition to be rid of the Fourth Mizukage. He wasn't a righteous freedom fighter. His ambition was far from hopeful speeches and promises of less bloodshed. Zabuza saw himself as a flame to purge the corruption from top to bottom through the only means he knew how: Death and destruction.

What would his success bring about? Looking at it now through new eyes, he could see clearly his ambition would have continued the cycle he despised so much.

Zabuza the Demon was just another tyrant.

Tilting his head up, Zabuza took note of the star covered canvas in the distance—the first stars he had seen since the blizzard passed through. The sky seemed clearer than before, as if the storm had cleaned and polished the sky and stars. He thought of the misty skyline of Kiri, the mountains surrounding their Village; all natural defenses protecting their home from enemy shinobi, yet also trapping them with the traitors who cared nothing for Kiri's future.

I would have been just like the Fourth Mizukage. Cold honesty. Zabuza wouldn't pretend he was some hero. Heroes, villains, the terms were subjective anyway. Every shinobi was the hero of their own story; their reasons for decisions always righteous, as if ordered by some kind of god. Zabuza would have felt the same way had he succeeded. But even when darkness permeated and hung over Kiri, there were still lights among them. Too many were snuffed out, whether by fellow Mist shinobi or those from the Stone. When he left, he only knew of one who still lived.

They would have been a good replacement.

He wondered if they still lived.

His failed coup attempt brought the eyes of his home and those of the other Nations to him and his few remaining loyal men. That shinobi would have seen an opportunity to conceal their group's movements and build their forces while the Fourth Mizukage's eyes were looking elsewhere. In the shadows they could grow until fully prepared for the fight of their lives.

Intel out of Kiri was scarce. They were so reclusive; it was almost as if the mist hovering around their Village placed them in another dimension. As far as the world knew the Fourth Mizukage still lived and had plenty of spies at his disposal. Before the Land of Waves, Zabuza planned to gather enough money and support to try to eliminate the Fourth Mizukage; try one last time to burn the plague down to its roots of darkness and hope something could be salvaged from the mess.

Salvaged? Zabuza snorted. A younger Demon had no intention of salvaging anything. Burn it all down and good riddance. Maybe he had grown soft after running for so long. Or maybe seeing another impoverished land under the thumb of a merciless thug made his human side resurface.

Who could say?

Meeting Kakashi and his brats shifted the world around him completely. At first, all he could think of was his anger at actually being outsmarted by such little brats. They were standing between him and his job; a job which would pay him handsomely upon completion.

Revenge was all his mind was focused on, but then…

Different colored eyes—one onyx the other lavender—widened in shock as lightning crackled behind her, tearing through her mesh sleeve and across her skin like knives. Agony replaced shock. The sound of lightning faded, but in its absence, the echo of her cry rang in his ears.

Haku stood in front of him, ready to sacrifice his life for him. Instead they all stood under the paralytic astonishment of this blue-haired child's selfless and foolish action. Crimson blood plopped on the cement bridge beneath their feet alongside tears; tears the pain of fighting Haku caused and the pain of this powerful ninjutsu she stood in front of to save her enemies.

To save herself from becoming them.

What the hell was he even doing anymore? After all the pain and suffering he witnessed in Kiri, he was here taking orders from some short, fat slob of a thug to keep this land in an all too familiar state.

"Haku lives for you, you heartless bastard!" The single shout causes him to flinch as her words pierce through his armor and embed their sharpened blade into the vacant place his heart was meant to be. "Have you ever even considered his feelings?! Or how much pain you've caused him?! This boy has sacrificed everything for you! Everything! His life, his dreams, they belong to you! Would it kill you to let him know he matters?!" The way her voice becomes a broken sob twists the blade further in. "That his existence is more important than your stupid ambition?! That if he died, someone in this vast world would miss him? Is that so hard to do? To let him know someone cares about his life." Her sniffles and sobs are that of a broken child, and the vacant area hurts more. "It's so wrong, so damn wrong it makes my heart ache."

Zabuza had become what he despised. He had broken an innocent child because of his cruelty, not to her, but to a complete stranger she hardly knew. A stranger who had devoted his life, his dreams and sacrificed his heart time and again for someone who only treated him as a tool? Why? Because, as the little girl pointed out, in this vast shinobi world, to be alone, existing without reason was worse than being a tool. Even as Haku's heart tore apart by fighting this girl who he felt deeply connected to, he still was willing to sacrifice his life in exchange for his master.

"Haku—"

"Don't, Zabuza," Haku's soft and stern voice halts his words from forming. "…Please, do not ask me to hurt her any more than I already have. If that means I am useless to you, I understand. But nothing you do will cut me as deep as her words have."

"Haku…"

But even Haku had limits to how much pain his heart could endure. This child—Amaririsu Yūhi—was that limit. Haku never disobeyed an order or questioned Zabuza in all the time they knew each other. This was the first time. That gave him pause. When he noticed the tears falling from his student, Zabuza felt the knife drive all the way through him.

"She saved your worthless lives." Kakashi's voice pulled the knife out and stabbed it back in.

Yeah, she had. Haku would have died for him without her, and that would have been the beginning of the Demon's end.

But the girl saved their lives, worthless as they were.

The way the blond one carried Amaririsu away, away from the battle, away from the pain he caused Haku and her, tears running down his cheeks, how the pink-haired one clutched onto the dead boy, Haku and Amaririsu's pain; they were all suffering because of him. This, this right here, was everything he had hated in Kiri. The suffering of children who had no choice but to wade in the bloodshed of older men and their deceitful games had been what he wanted to end.

Yet, in the end, he only continued the cycle. Starting with Haku, he used him as a tool, forcing him to sacrifice his heart again and again for his ambition, never once showing him a shred of gratitude. And he was grateful. Without Amaririsu's intervention, Haku would have died along with what was left of his human side.

Maybe he had a chance to get back on the right path. Maybe…

Zabuza exhaled a heavy sigh.

Meeting Team Seven changed him. Woke him up. Anger and ambition blinded him to the mistakes he was repeating. Without Amaririsu's foolishness, he may have never changed.

Reckless little girl. If she hadn't used a clone, she would have died.

Still, Zabuza was in her debt, and he repaid his debts. By saving their lives, she provided an opportunity to walk a different path, one away from repeating the mistakes of his home. Of course they were still rogue ninjas. That didn't change because she jumped in front of the Lightning Blade.

For now they had to hide until he could figure out a new plan of action.

The cold isolation of the Land of Snow aided their safety, but it was not impossible for an enemy to find them. Eventually, though, he would need to find shinobi work so they wouldn't go hungry. From what information he managed to acquire, some sort of rebellion was going on here; it was guaranteed work for him and Haku.

Long term he would need to think more on. What did he want to do? Was Kiri anywhere in his calculations or did he need to leave it behind? Zabuza closed his eyes for a brief moment. Finding an answer would come in time.

The sound of the tent opening again brought the rogue ninja from his thoughts to face his partner. Haku wore a similar black cloak with a brown scarf covering his mouth and nose from the chilling temperatures. One pale hand hung out of the front of the cloak, holding a bird cage with a medium sized hawk, though neither the boy nor the bird seemed cold. Zabuza attributed his partner's resilience to the cold to his kekkei genkai abilities. Never had he shown any sort of problem with the freezing cold air, whether it was actual weather or caused by his jutsu.

Another tactical advantage to this land was the snow around them; it all but made Haku unstoppable. A body of water greatly aided a Water Style user; here, where all this damn snow and ice stretched on for miles, Haku was in his element.

"Finally ready?" he asked the boy.

"Yes. It appears the storm has finally passed without another anywhere on the horizon."

"A first for everything it seems," he chuckled.

Haku hummed lightly in agreement then used both hands to open the cage. This breed of hawk were specifically bred for shinobi purposes, far superior in intelligence than the average bird with the ability to attune to the chakras of two individuals so it could find them anywhere in the world, no matter how far apart.

Obviously, they were lacking the second person to attune the chakra to, which meant they had to fall back on the hawk's secondary ability: face recognition. Haku pulled out a newspaper clipping they snatched before coming to the Land of Snow. He showed it to the bird, who moved its beak closer to the image of the girl on it.

"Will you be able to find her?" Haku asked softly. The bird made a noise Zabuza considered close to a scoff. "You'll be heading south from here, over the ocean back to the Land of Fire and to the Hidden Leaf Village."

The hawk dipped its head in a nod and hopped out of the cage. Once settled on the snow, the hawk allowed Haku to equip it with a small carrying pack containing a letter for the intended kunoichi. Once finished, the hawk let out a cry and took off for Konoha.

"Do you think he will find her before the finals take place?" Haku asked curiously as they watched it fly away.

Zabuza gave a low chuckle and rested his hand on the young ninja's head, ruffling his hair a little. "I'm sure it will, Haku."

Rumors about the Chūnin Exams whirled about the continent like thrown shuriken, mentions of the three rookie Leaf shinobi teams taking part being one of the main points of gossip. Before leaving the mainland Zabuza caught the sight of a newspaper advertising the final tournament listings revealing the faces of all those taking part. Imagine his surprise to see three out of the four Leaf brats faces.

He bought the newspaper and cut out the picture of Amaririsu's face for this specific purpose. Since leaving the Land of Waves he knew he wanted to create some line of communication between Haku and the little girl; seeing the picture only helped him piece together a way to do so. Haku had never been allowed to have friends or talk to anyone near his age, and Zabuza knew he wasn't very pleasant company for all these years. Giving him a chance to stay in contact with the girl was important, and it also gave the older Mist Ninja something to get a rise out of his partner when they trained.

An irritated Haku was a lethally focused Haku.

They started a fire and used the newspaper as kindling. As they sat on logs, listening to the crackles of fire, the two elite shinobi snapped to attention at a distant and unnatural poof. Quickly they moved back to back, Haku holding two senbon in his hands at the ready and Zabuza with a kunai in one hand.

Silence followed but he was no fool. Someone had carelessly used a Clone Jutsu for scouting. He scanned the area, finding nothing except snow as far as his eyes could see. They caught onto us sooner than I anticipated. No matter, he was prepared for a quick exit and a fight. If they were lucky it'd only be a single Tracker Unit, which they could eliminate before word was sent back to the Mist.

"Think you can create a thick blizzard, Haku?"

"Yes." Haku brought his hands together and began going through handseals in quick succession. "Brace yourself, Zabuza. The temperature is about to drop rapidly." Zabuza grunted in acknowledgement and kept his arms inside his cloak, yet at the ready for defense. "Secret Jutsu: Bone Cold Blizzard."

Rapidly was an understatement. The change was near on instantaneous. Wind swirled around them, grabbing every bit of snow on the ground it could as the blizzard picked up from nowhere, expanding from their center to encompass several meters in all directions. An involuntary shiver made its way down Zabuza's spine as the warmth of his cloak dissipated. Cold air cut straight through to his body as if cutting a thin wire.

Visibility dropped and the fire vanished. It's so damn cold, my hands are shaking! This wool wasn't enough to protect from this jutsu. He felt shirtless. An aptly named jutsu! Haku did not appear bothered by the cold.

Regardless of his own complaints, Zabuza and Haku quickly broke down their camp, grabbing all of the essential supplies, on the move within minutes of sensing danger.

The blizzard should shield us and cover our tracks. If the cold doesn't kill me first.

For what felt like hours in the below freezing temperatures they trudged through the artificial blizzard with surprising haste. When he began to believe they lost their pursuers, a familiar female voice cut through the winds.

"Darling, could you please stop this incessant blizzard! It is very impressive, I must say, but altogether not needed."

Zabuza felt his eyes bulge in shock. That voice…it can't be. Once again the two rogue ninjas were back to back, searching the area for the person the voice belonged to. He saw no one. "Haku, end the blizzard. Now," he ordered.

If they were to make it out of this alive they were going to have to play by her rules. It was the only way. Without a word the blizzard dissipated, and with it the temperatures rose to a warmer chill.

"My my, Zabuza Momochi, you have not aged a day since I last saw you," the smooth and sensual voice called to him.

He could not see her anywhere, yet she could see him clear as day. This wasn't good. "Haku, listen to me closely. If I tell you to run, then you run and don't look back. Follow our escape route, head to Konoha and find Kakashi," Zabuza spoke in a whisper.

"What?" his partner hissed back.

"It's not up for debate. You have a long life ahead of you. I know Kakashi will do everything in his power to keep you safe. If this turns into a fight, I will stay behind to buy you as much time as possible. It's not a fight we can win."

"Zabuza…"

He chuckled darkly. "Don't sound so surprised. You've lived to protect me for years. If I must die to protect you, so be it. I will be content." When Haku didn't speak Zabuza decided that was the closest he would get to agreement. "All right, you can come out now. If you wanted me dead you would have killed me already."

"You humble me, old friend." Out of the shadows of the nearby trees and lightly falling snow, a tall slender woman with ankle-length auburn hair appeared. Her hair hung in a top-knot tied by a dark blue band while two short and two long bangs escaped its restraint. One of the shorter bangs covered her right eye from sight while the two longer bangs crossed over her cloak covered bust.

One singular green eye watched him as she sauntered towards him, unafraid and confident—rightly so. Even if she did not have the other shinobis he could now see hiding amongst the trees, her power outmatched his and Haku's by leagues.

"You haven't aged a day either," he commented.

"Oh, you flatter me." There was a silky smile in her voice and likely on her face, but just like them she had a scarf protecting her face. "It appears you have misplaced Kubikiribōchō."

"Not misplaced. I left it behind."

Her eye was that of genuine curiosity as she stopped within range of her own jutsu's and safely out of theirs. Intelligent, as always.

"Left it behind?"

"It was a truce to the ninjas we faced as well as decoy for the Tracking Unit." His guard was not lowered in the slightest. He gripped his kunai tightly in his hand and kept his leg muscles prepared to dodge at a moments notice. This woman was the definition of dangerous power. Haku remained on guard as well, carefully watching the conversation and the shinobi in the distance for any violent intentions. "There were some unpleasant memories with that sword that I wished to leave behind as well."

"I see. I had heard whispered rumors from the good people in Wave about the rogue ninja who helped them, but I did not know if I should believe them or not."

Whispered rumors were to be expected. Zabuza wasn't sure how those rumors led them here, but so far this was going well. How did he know it was going well? They weren't dead. The kunoichi also didn't carry an aggressive air around her. When a shinobi of her level wanted to fight, an experienced shinobi like himself would have felt it without a single word spared.

What was she after then?

"So Mei, is this a courtesy visit or should I prepare for a fight to the death?"

"I do not wish to fight you, Zabuza. I have merely sought to find you."

Part of his guard began to lower—only part, no shinobi worth their salt ever lowered it fully. Mei had always been a peacemaker when she could be; it was why her group would have been a better replacement for the Fourth Mizukage, and why they weren't as infamous as him.

"For what purpose?"

"I have a proposition for the two of you that I think this new you will find most interesting." She motioned him to follow with a nod of her head. "Come, we will talk somewhere warmer. Fear not, I hold no allegiance to the Fourth Mizukage or his Tracker Unit. The shinobi gathered here are loyal to me. We've been looking for you since I heard of your presence in the Land of Waves." She smiled in her eye. "You haven't lost your touch, old friend. I doubt even the great Fourth Mizukage's Tracker Unit would have picked up your trail."

Her fervent disdain for the Fourth remained unchanged, he could hear it underneath the smooth and sensual cadence she always spoke with. Not that he was surprised. What she lost to Blood Mist couldn't be replaced. Still… "How'd you find us, Mei?"

"Oh, that would be telling, old friend, and a woman never reveals her secrets," she teased. He grunted. She really hadn't changed one bit. Flirtatious as ever, but only fools let it sway their judgement. "Don't be so tense, Zabuza. If I wanted a fight I wouldn't spend all this time luring you into a trap." Her emerald eye hardened; the eye of a survivor of Blood Mist, the eye of a true shinobi who suffered loss. "I'd simply melt you where you stand."

A chill not from the weather shot down the Demon's spine. No, she hadn't changed one bit. That deadly air she carried with her, the air of a shinobi forged by Blood Mist, it permeated all around her like the very mist their home was known for. He could feel Haku tense behind him as he too felt it.

As if carried by a breeze, the killing intent disappeared, but the firmness of Mei's voice remained. "I hope it doesn't have to come to that. As I said, I have a proposition for the two of you I think you'll find it far better than staying on this freezing island."

"If I hear you out and we do not take this proposition, will you let us go unharmed?"

Mei nodded. "Of course. I told you, I do not wish to fight you and I do not wish to kill you." She was also a woman of her word, unlike how he had once been. "Follow me you two."

"Zabuza?" Haku's voice was full of uncertainty.

"We'll be fine. She was always a woman of her word."

"Okay."

They would listen to her proposition then consider their options.

Hopefully Mei Terumī was still a woman of her word.