Chapter 114
No One Escapes: The Mark of The Crimson Flower
When consciousness returned to Haruhi, she instantly became aware of the incessant numbness tingling through the length of her arms, both of which were cuffed tightly at the wrists and chained somewhere to the ceiling above her. The next sensation she sensed were the weighted balls cuffed to her ankles, pulling just enough on her hanging body to incense pain without yanking her arms out of their sockets.
Darkness surrounded her. But the light drip-drip-drip of liquid bouncing off stone somewhere behind her provided a general impression of the prison cells size.
Small, cramped. She speculated no more than a handful of people could fit inside this cell. And yet, in blinding darkness, her reliance on sight deluded her senses, creating a false, sprawling environment with towering ceilings and a grand floor spacious enough for royalty.
But Haruhi was not fooled. This was not a royal chamber hosting a garish masquerade ball, inhabited by ostentatiously attired guests, who horded wealth and sneered down at common folk behind their colorful masks as they sipped expensive wine and gossiped over latest trends.
The air was thin. And it reeked of the most unpleasant bodily functions.
Somewhere beyond the veil of darkness, she could hear a chorus of off-tempo pick axes tapping away at stone.
A mine, she realized calmly.
They had taken her somewhere deep underground, then. And by the nip of the air drawing its dull nails over her bare skin, the warden of this prison decided to strip her down to her small clothes. Likely to demoralize, or out of pure delight in shaming another human being.
Haruhi felt neither emotion. She was a Mist kunoichi. A soldier. And all Mist shinobi underwent mental training to prepare for the possibility of capture, torture and other abhorrent deeds at the hands of an enemy, including specialized training for demoralization and humiliation while imprisoned.
They may bend and break my physical shell, she thought with conviction, but they will never break my spirit.
Haruhi blinked through uncomfortable aches. Breathed in the rancid air. Then, with a calm heart, began to assess the damage done to her body in the second ambush.
Upon blinking, the crust of dried blood previously dripping down her forehead and over her right eye cracked and flaked. It was bothersome. But at least the wound had stopped bleeding.
Her hands, she analyzed, were cold and almost entirely numb from insignificant circulation as her heart battled to pump blood against gravity. In her condition, the numbness was somewhat of a relief; it made the broken bones in her right hand far less painful.
Travelling further down, she inhaled a deep, but cautious breath. She winced, losing her breath; a calculated test and a successful one. Her ribs were bruised, but not broken. And her lungs weren't punctured.
Good.
The pulsing, dull aches localized at her hips and the base of her spine coerced a short grunt out of her. She was fortunate. Had that mountain ogre masquerading as a man rag-dolled her around the hotel room any harder, her legs may have been rendered useless—permanently.
With a flex of her left foot, she was relieved to feel a short burst of pain settle into a steady throbbing alongside her heartbeat, for it meant the ogre hadn't paralyzed her. A throbbing minor fracture was tedious, but tolerable.
Beyond that, Haruhi sensed symptoms of blood loss. Weakness. Drowsiness. Fatigue. How much had she bled? Was she still bleeding anywhere? Haruhi couldn't feel it if she was, but that wasn't necessarily a good sign.
I'm alive. As long as I am alive I can escape this place.
The Mist kunoichi slowly tried to move her right leg, testing the restraints like someone dipping their toe in a mountain lake to test the temperature. The chains rattled only slightly. She hung there a moment in utter silence, waiting to see what—if anything—would happen.
Nothing occurred. She rotated her wrists. The brush of the chain against the back of her hand encouraged hope. Cautiously, she wrapped a single finger, then another, and another until her slender, cold hand was wrapped around the thick metal.
Haruhi strained to lift herself up, but the weighted balls cuffed to her ankles restricted movement.
The chains rattled. Again, nothing occurred.
No guards appeared to chastise or taunt her, nor did they barge through the cell door to discourage escape through a bloody beating. No special sealing tags electrocuted her for struggling to escape.
It hinted the kunoichi to two possibilities: Either her enemies were overconfident in their prison, or they were correctly confident there was no possible escape from this cell or their mines.
"Finally awake, stranger?" a weak voice of female origin asked from somewhere amidst impenetrable darkness.
Her location was indiscernible. Within the cramped darkness her voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, but that was another illusion created by their prison and Haruhi's absence of sight.
"Don't bother thrashing around or trying to break your chains. It won't work," the stranger continued. "They locked us in this rank smelling cell to die. I hope you ate recently, because I don't believe they will be feeding us. The only hope we have at surviving is to conserve our energy, and pray help arrives in time to find us."
"You seem certain there is no escape."
"No one leaves the mines."
There was resoluteness in the stranger's statement. A hopeless submission to a reality etched in stone by divine powers.
Haruhi hummed, pensive. The cramp in her shoulders was intrusive. And irritating.
"Those aren't your words," she dissected carefully. "They are words you have been fed by another. How long have you been trapped here, if I may ask?"
"Down here? It hasn't been long. Maybe a few hours before you showed up? It could be longer for all I know; time is strange in utter darkness. But I was one of their Flower Girls for the last decade."
"Flower Girls?" Haruhi repeated, squinting at the darkness.
"Heh," the stranger laughed bitterly, weakly. "I envy your ignorance. What did you do to be thrown down here? They don't usually send new girls to the mines at first, not when they can make money off of new merchandise."
Haruhi frowned. "New merchandise, huh?" she murmured.
So, it is as Lady Mizukage and Natsumi predicted.
The kunoichi shut her eyes, tried to adjust her arms in search of soothing the ache, but ultimately sighed when it persisted.
This organization is running a human trafficking operation. At least one portion of their business revolves around kidnapping individuals and forcing them to become these so-called "Flower Girls". Another portion is slave labor in this mining operation. This mine must be home to some manner of mineral or raw materials they are enriching themselves on.
She scrunched her nose after inhaling another breath.
And a place where they dispose bodies by the stench of death lingering in the air.
In a moment of clarity, the kunoichi realized her state of injury and imprisonment was a blessing disguised as a failure. This was the closest any Mist shinobi had come to infiltrating one of this organizations bases as of yet. More importantly, her captors had booked her a room with a well they had poured Intel in for the last decade.
Their mistake, her advantage. They were brazenly confident this cell would be her final resting place. And perhaps she would die at their hands, but Haruhi refused to wither away before her mission was complete.
"Hey, stranger. You didn't pass out on me, did you?"
"Haruhi."
"Huh?"
"My name is Haruhi."
"Chinami. So, why did they bring you to the mines first?"
"I aided a child who escaped their grasps."
"Mika!" Chinami gasped. "Did he escape? Did he find help?"
He? Haruhi furrowed her brow, silently readjusting her previous assumptions to fit reality. I see. The sister the child—Mika—mentioned must be Chinami. And since I mistook him as a girl, he was doubtlessly forced by this organization to be one of these "Flower Girls" as well. One of many children, no doubt.
What a horrible existence.
Haruhi swore then and there to free herself and complete her mission, regardless of injury or assumed permanent imprisonment. She would liberate herself and Chinami and reunite her with Mika, allowing the siblings to finally live a life free of enslavement and humiliation—scarred, certainly, but free.
Then she and her allies would purge their Nation of this scourge by bathing them in hellfire. Not a single soul who partook in this vileness would be spared.
"Haruhi! Did Mika escape? Do you know if he found help? Please, I need to know," Chinami begged, voice cracking.
"He escaped," Haruhi nodded slightly in the darkness. "He found help."
The kunoichi heard her cellmate's breath quiver. "Thank goodness."
If that mountain ogre was wrong, Haruhi internalized. If Chōjūrō survived an avalanche with Mika.
She shut her eyes against the despairing thought.
I have to believe he has. Chōjūrō is alive and has likely learned of my capture by now. I will need to apologize to him. But first, while he regroups with Lady Mizukage's reinforcements, I need to learn all I can from Chinami. I must begin planning our escape.
"Chinami?"
"I- I'm still here." She heard her cellmate sniffle. "Sorry, Haruhi. I didn't mean to worry you."
"What can you tell me of this organization? Of its operations? It's hierarchy of power?"
"Does it matter?"
"If you wish to escape this foul smelling cell, yes."
"No one leaves the mines. I told you, our only hope is to survive until help comes for us."
"We have no way of knowing when aid will arrive," she countered calmly. "It could be hours, it could be days. And our captors may decide to kill us before then. I have no intention of dying here, helpless. Do you?"
"...What you are asking is a long story."
"We have time."
Natsumi was the one to break the news to Haku; Chōjūrō couldn't bring himself to say anything.
Ridden with guilt, he averted his eyes in silence as his fellow shinobi's normally tranquil expression twisted into dismay. This was his fault. He left Haruhi alone in a state of injury, traveled with Natsumi and Haku to the underground base rather than entrusting the child to their care and returning straight to her, and now…
Now he had to save her, somehow. If he could.
How much of the blood in the hotel room belonged to Haruhi?
What if he didn't find her in time?
Their enemies wouldn't tend to her injuries. They wouldn't bandage her wounds or prevent infections. And according to the rogue shinobi Natsumi interrogated they had taken Haruhi to some place he called "the mines" which was somewhere underground—likely a labor camp of some kind.
Oh, this was a terrible mess. Haruhi was hurt—captured. She was in the hands of men like Sōma Akebino and he had no idea where to find her when every minute counted.
He had really screwed up. Lord Ao would chew him out for sure for causing this mess. Lady Mizukage probably wouldn't even want to look at him.
"Do we have any leads?" Haku asked at length.
"One. Apparently the boy has a map detailing their operations," Natsumi answered.
"A map? Are you certain?"
"I haven't met a single person who can lie while branded with my Sealing Arts: Helix Binding, so yeah, I'm certain."
"Helix Binding?"
"It's a unique type of Sealing Art. Closer to a Curse Seal than it is to normal fūinjutsu. Not that fūinjutsu is generally normal beyond the average techniques taught to shinobi."
Natsumi shrugged.
"Anyway, to put it in simple terms, it binds our chakra networks together while severing their access to it; anyone branded with the Helix Binding is essentially rendered a vegetable, fully at my mercy, or lack thereof.
"With our chakra networks bound together I can sense the natural fluctuations of chakra caused by lies, or sense when they're hiding information from me. That's where the other side of the Helix Binding comes into play, and where it resembles a Curse Seal more than normal fūinjutsu.
"Through the manipulation of chakra, I can directly manipulate their pain receptors to feel pain at any level I desire and wherever I desire, similar to how genjutsu manipulates the mind into believing it is succumbing to physical injury. But it has limits, naturally. I need time, focus and a physical connection to brand someone with it, which makes it almost impossible to use it in the heat of combat.
"And depending on the circumstance, I can remove the Seal or I can kill them with it. The man I interrogated deserved to die, so he's dead."
Haku digested the information with a short nod. "I see. Then our next step is to ask Mika for this map. It's our only lead now, and we cannot waste time."
"Mika? Is that his name?" Chōjūrō asked.
"Yes. However…" He glanced down the hall, towards the room where the child was resting. His eyes softened. "Please, do not attempt to touch him in any capacity."
"But why…"
Natsumi and Haku spared him silent, meaningful expressions. It was enough to communicate a whole conversation.
Chōjūrō slumped slightly. "Oh… Right. Sorry."
With Haruhi on his mind, he had almost forgotten the type of imprisonment Mika escaped. Now, though, he wondered if the boy had a home to return to, or if he was another of the unfortunate orphans townsfolk like those in Shinjuku callously offered up to the organization.
The thought swelled his anger, briefly. How could they justify their actions? They must've known the fates they doomed those children to. Yet they convinced others it was all the Mist's fault? They evaded punishment and guilt by pointing the finger at them; one of them even charged Natsumi with violent intentions.
Had they given up Haruhi to the organization? And that poor receptionist… Even if he hadn't been kind, even if he had all but robbed him, he didn't deserve to die.
How many others have died, Chōjūrō wondered.
How many more deaths were the townsfolk responsible for? How many had lost children or family members because their own people betrayed their trust?
In the end, anger wasn't an emotion Chōjūrō could maintain; it fizzled out as a resigned sigh.
Being angry won't save Haruhi or the others this organization has held captive. Blaming them won't solve our problems. The other townsfolk can pass judgement on them. As for us, I promised I would save the people still captured. I invoked Lady Mizukage's name when I did.
The Swordsman blanched, suddenly remembering his declaration.
What was I thinking? Now if I fail, it'll seem like Lady Mei failed them. No! I can't fail this now…or I hope I don't.
Without a word, Natsumi flicked his forehead. Hard.
Chōjūrō squawked, stumbling back a step. Grimacing, he placed his hand over the point of impact.
"Wha- What did I do?" asked the Swordsman.
"You're stressing yourself out. Stop it," Natsumi replied, placing her hands on her hips assertively. "Haruhi may be in enemy hands, but she isn't dead. She's tough, cunning and a survivor. So stop chasing your tail and focus on the task at hand."
"Ri- right. Sorry."
They followed Haku down the hall and into the room where Mika was sitting on a futon. The fireplace crackled, the tangy aroma of burning firewood strangely relaxing, reminding Chōjūrō somewhat of a barbeque shop. An orange glow illuminated the stone constructed room, upon whose walls flickering shadows danced in a master-less shadow Puppet Theater.
Chōjūrō was relieved to see the boy alive, safe. And yet an overwhelming sense of sorrow swarmed him at the same time.
The boy's emaciated frame was so frail and weak. All he'd likely ever known was the darkest side of humanity, its unforgiving cruelty and heartless evil inflicted upon him day in and day out.
Behind the veil of shadows, Chōjūrō couldn't see the bruises and scars he'd seen before, but they were still there. They always would be. And deeper beneath the surface were scars he would never escape, scars Chōjūrō knew had permanently damaged more than just the surface layer of flesh.
What a cruel world this was. In a room of orphans who became shinobi, it was the child among them who bore the worst scars, who was burdened with the greatest suffering. Somehow they were the fortunate ones.
It didn't feel good.
Mika observed their entrance with a guarded and uncomfortable expression. Chōjūrō couldn't blame him.
It was Haku who provided introductions for Mika, though knowing their names did not massage away his tension. Or his distrust, for that matter.
At Haku's guidance, they sat down in a row on the right side of the futon; no one wanted the child to feel trapped. Closest to his head was Haku, followed by Natsumi and then Chōjūrō.
"Where's the orange eyed girl?" Mika asked directly to Haku after they settled down. "Weren't they going to get her?"
Chōjūrō grimaced at the curious question. His shoulders hunched. His eyes fell to his lap, where he nervously wringed his hands.
Yes, they were. She should've been here with them, seated beside him with the attentive—always attentive—and unbreakable neutral expression she always wore, or lying down in this room or another to continue her recovery.
But she wasn't.
"Haruhi was captured by the organization you escaped," answered Haku calmly. "We know she is injured and they've taken her to a location known as 'the mines', a prison and labor camp somewhere underground."
"The mines are where they've taken my sister," Mika murmured.
"What are these mines for, Mika?" Natsumi asked gently.
"They're…where we are sent to die. I've never actually seen them before. I was a Flower Girl. A valuable…com…commodity? Children cost clients and members more, and I was…very popular, so I was never sent away." He averted his eyes in shame. "The master said I might be a Flower Girl forever, if I bloomed well."
Disgust and revulsion filled Chōjūrō's mouth with a vile taste, tensing his muscles throughout his body. He didn't feel the coursing anger. Rather, he felt his heart sink into murky water, slowly beginning to drown in a terrible feeling of hopelessness at the evil of the human heart.
Could they even defeat darkness like this? Or would it always persist in the darkest alleys of the world, numbering in the millions but cloaked in a thick, obscuring mist. Out of sight and out of mind.
"I've tried to bloom well. I work hard at it. Because if I don't I'll be sent to the mines," Mika continued in a dull, despairing voice. "If new merchandise cannot become a Flower Girl, or a Flower Girl cannot attract a suitable number of clients for the master, they are sent to the mines to work. And die. No one ever escapes the mines. Anyone sent there will work until their bodies break apart, and without our bodies we are useless, so they discard us.
"Chinami told me I couldn't die; I had to survive. Even though I wanted to die, she said I couldn't because she was planning an escape. We're going somewhere far away. Together. And if they stop us, we'll die together. That's what she said. But…we're both alone now."
Mika's fingers curled into his blanket. At the sight of glistening eyes reflecting the flickering, orange fire, Chōjūrō inhaled a sharp breath into his constricted lungs. He shifted, preparing to embrace the heartbroken and crying child.
He didn't get far. Natsumi's iron grip wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place without tearing her eyes away from Mika. Chōjūrō was bewildered, at first. Then grateful.
If I tried to hug him, it'd only make this worse, Chōjūrō realized solemnly.
He glanced to his fellow shinobi, who, like him, could only watch helplessly with sad frowns. They probably wanted to hold Mika, too. It was the natural reaction to another person's raw pain, especially a child's.
But we can't. How do you comfort someone whose only experience with physicality is abuse?
They sat in an uncomfortable, heartrending silence until Mika recovered, albeit with his face stained by trails of runny makeup. To his apologies, Haku reassured Mika he owed them none.
Crying, Haku explained, was a natural expression of grief and pain not to be ashamed of, as it was far unhealthier to bundle it all together in his heart, where it could fester like an untreated wound into something far more deadly.
With the boy settled, their conversation returned to the matter at hand.
"They must have located some sort of ore or precious gems to sell off," Natsumi ventured. "The mines are probably how their operation was born. A group found the mine, realized they could make a fortune if they kept it hidden and forced others to do the labor for them. So they began kidnapping innocent people. Once they had the capital and a taste for human trafficking, they expanded their business ventures into the sex trade.
"Based on our investigations I'd bet they have a stranglehold over the main towns and ports of the Land of Water. Mist Village, too. That's why we've only encountered dead ends. The right palms are greased."
"We need to end this," Chōjūrō said.
"Mika." The boy looked to Haku. "Do you still have the map you and your sister stole? We were led to believe it has the locations of this organization's bases of operations marked on it. With it, we can prepare a rescue operation that saves your sister, our comrade and all the others they've imprisoned across the Land of Water."
Mika's eyes lit up, hopeful. He brought a hand to his kimono, but hesitated. He grimaced.
"Will you save Chinami?"
"We will do everything in our power to rescue her," Haku promised.
"I…I can't pay you money. But…you can take your payment from me. Anything. I just want Chinami to be saved."
Chōjūrō's stomach swirled and flopped around unpleasantly; he felt sick. Natsumi scowled and averted her eyes, rage and disgust flashing in her turquoise orbs. Haku flattened his lips, frowning.
"Mika, I understand the desperation you feel to see your sister again. She is your precious person, the one who you live for. You would do anything for her. But please, never offer yourself as payment to us or anyone else ever again."
"It's okay. I—"
"The hell it is," Natsumi rasped, still not looking at Mika. "It's not okay. Your body isn't a means of payment. You're a person, dammit. A child. Not some object or currency others can use to satisfy themselves with at your expense. You shouldn't even know this side of the world exists."
Her hands clenched into fists.
"The people who run this operation and those who take part in it are monsters. Demented pieces of garbage. There is nothing human left in them. And should I find a list of their client's names, I will personally see to it that they all face judgement."
"We- we aren't anything like the people you've encountered," said Chōjūrō, nervous but passionate. "I…I know you've probably never really experienced compassion or honesty, beyond your sister of course. You have no reason to trust our words; we understand that. But we aren't asking for any type of payment to save your sister or the other people. We want to help because it's the right thing to do."
Mika stared blankly at them. Benevolence didn't exist in the world he'd been trapped in, the Swordsman realized. It didn't fit the mold of human behavior the demented pieces of garbage, as Natsumi so accurately called them, had chiseled into his psyche. Evil was his normal.
Their passionate words and reactions to his "offer" were strange, foreign and out of character, and knowing that only made Chōjūrō feel sadder.
"I'm sorry," Mika apologized quietly.
"It's okay. You're not to blame," Haku reassured. "Until recently you've had to survive and navigate a world of evil. However, you are no longer one of their Flower Girls, Mika."
Pulling slightly at his floral kimono, a wider expanse of his emaciated, bony and bare torso became visible as he reached inside. Chōjūrō gasped. Natsumi and Haku narrowed their eyes.
"What is that?" Haku asked calmly, and yet pointedly.
At the center of his chest, a flower the size of an adult fist was imprinted on his pale flesh, the outline consisting of faded red lines.
"It's how they mark us," Mika answered, as if it were normal. He looked down at the mark and drew his finger over it. "The Crimson Flower is proof we are their property."
"They brand you?" Natsumi hissed.
"Yes. It's their symbol. They print it on the banners in the Flower Shop. They stamp it on their letters. And all of the Flower Girls are branded with it."
"How horrible," Chōjūrō gasped.
"It doesn't hurt anymore," replied Mika.
"Tha- that isn't the point."
Haku said nothing. He stared at the brand with an intense expression, hands in his lap tightening into fists.
What kind of person can do that to someone? To a child! Chōjūrō shook his head vigorously. No. Not a person. Natsumi was right. These people don't have anything human left in them. Anyone who could do what these people have done to innocent men, women and children have lost their humanity or never had any to begin with. They're just monsters. Monsters we'll stop.
Mika handed the parchment scroll hidden inside his kimono to Haku, who handed it to Natsumi. The kunoichi leapt to her feet, unrolling it as she moved closer to the fireplace—towards better light.
She hummed. "They've written some of this in code."
"Can you break it?" Haku asked.
Natsumi scoffed, sounding insulted. "Does snow fall in the Land of Snow?"
"Before the generators were activated, yes. A great deal, actually. But it'll be known as the Land of Spring in the future."
"Land of Spri— Never mind," Natsumi shook her head. "Tell me about your girlfriend's information later."
Chōjūrō watched as Haku frowned in disapproval, smiling awkwardly at the strange exchange.
Natsumi sure likes to tease him about his letters with that Leaf kunoichi. I wonder if we'll ever meet. She sounds pretty nice, from what little I've heard.
"Give me a few minutes. I'll figure this out. Then we'll plan our operation."
While Natsumi deciphered the coded map alone in an adjacent room, Chōjūrō settled down closer to the fireplace with a roll of bandages and Hiramekarei. Without a scabbard of its own, wrapping the famed blade within bandages was the only means he had to protect it from the elements, specifically the snow and freezing temperatures he'd been exposing it to ever since he first engaged Sōma and his men.
Chōjūrō was confident he and Hiramekarei were bound to enter combat once again today. Or, well, he was pretty sure they would. Probably.
Regardless, he couldn't shirk maintaining his weapon or his gear. A shinobi who didn't maintain their gear was a liability to themselves and their comrades—dead weight. He wouldn't be a burden to Natsumi and Haku.
When it was finally time to rescue Haruhi, he wanted to be ready. He wanted to be someone his comrades could depend on.
"And what do you hope to do on yer own? You may wield Hiramekarei, but yer a pale imitation of the Seven Swordsmen. Yer no Demon or Scourge. Yer just a puny brat playin' shinobi."
Chōjūrō pursed his lips, frowning.
He isn't wrong, thought the Swordsman. All of the past Seven Swordsmen were amazingly gifted and powerful. Their names and their weapons were feared across the Great Nations. Some of them were hailed as heroes of the Mist. Compared to them, I am a pale imitation. A kid among Demons, Scourges, heroes, rogues and blood thirsty shinobi.
He continued to wrap the bandages with steady hands and meticulous movements.
But I'll keep fighting. I won't disgrace the name of the Seven Swordsmen or Hiramekarei. And we'll save Haruhi and stop The Crimson Flowers.
While he worked, Haku attentively engaged Mika; the child had questions. It seemed to be a continuation of a previous conversation, at least from Chōjūrō's perspective. Mika was asking what happened to Master Zabuza, strangely enough, and if the letter Haku had been reading at one time was from him.
Haku went on to explain the letter was from the Leaf kunoichi he'd met in battle while in the Land of Waves, which confused Mika. Leaf shinobi and Mist shinobi were enemies because of previous wars, the child pointed out. And if they engaged in battle, why would they exchange letters that made Haku smile?
Chōjūrō listened to his fellow Mist shinobi detail his battle with Amaririsu Yūhi. Until that moment he'd only ever known the basics of the situation: there was a battle, Amaririsu saved Haku's life and they eventually began exchanging friendly letters, which opened the line of communication to the Leaf for Lady Mizukage.
Oh, and Natsumi consistently referred to Amaririsu as Haku's girlfriend to tease him.
He hadn't known the emotional struggle Haku and Amaririsu were swept up in, or how Amaririsu saved Haku's life. It stunned him and Mika to learn she jumped in front of her teacher's assassination jutsu to save her enemy.
Amazing! Chōjūrō couldn't withhold his shock. Anyone who can survive the famed Lightning Blade, which is said to have cut through a literal bolt of lightning, has to possess an incredible strength of will.
"Before that moment," continued Haku, unaware of his eavesdropping, "I'd only ever seen myself as Zabuza's tool. I was an instrument of his Will. But with each passing mission my heart was chipped and cracked by my actions. Finally, it shattered in our battle with Team Seven. I could no longer fulfill Zabuza's wishes. I could not kill Amari, or Naruto and Sasuke for that matter, not even for Zabuza. At the time I believed the only way I could then make my existence be useful was to die for him, for his ambition.
"Amari saved me instead. I was meant to be her enemy; I had even convinced her I had slain her comrade. Yet she risked her life to save me all the same. She cried for me and my pain. She scorned Zabuza for all his selfish ambition had wrought. And she cursed this world of shinobi for the darkness and pain it inflicts on children like you and I.
"Eventually, after pouring her heart out to all of us, she collapsed, begging her cousin's spirit to take all the pain she was feeling away."
Haku paused, staring off at the dancing shadows as if they were reenacting his battle.
"Amari's actions and her words, though they had cut deep, had changed us all irreversibly," he began again a few moments later. "Zabuza and I owe her our very lives. She gifted me the chance to find a dream of my own." Haku smiled bashfully. "Although I am still searching for it."
"So now you're friends?" Mika asked, intrigued.
"Yes. Amari is someone very precious to me."
"Does…does that mean you're not broken anymore?"
Haku nodded, his smile becoming gentle. "Nothing is ever permanently broken; Amari taught me that. We can even fix this Nation and change the world if we try."
Chōjūrō was heartened by his comrade's words. They reminded him of Haruhi's determination to aid Lady Mizukage and confidence in a better tomorrow.
Yes, they could make this Land better. He believed in Lady Mei's vision and in her abilities to guide them down that path.
I'll do my very best to help her build a future for this Land. Starting by rescuing Haruhi.
Chōjūrō finished wrapping Hiramekarei soon after. He rose to his feet to place it on his harness again before standing by the fireplace, warming his hands as he waited for Natsumi to call them in.
The wait wasn't long. Natsumi emerged at the doorway, calling the two shinobi to join her in the other room to go over the operation.
Their improvised briefing room appeared to be a small mess hall, illuminated by a handful of lanterns Natsumi positioned strategically to reveal every inch of the map. The rest of the room was utterly dark.
Wisely, far more wisely than Chōjūrō, Haku shadowed Natsumi step for step. Meanwhile, Chōjūrō cautiously tried to follow. He yelped upon stubbing his toe on the leg of a chair or a table; he wasn't sure which. But he did apologize to the object before he could stop himself. Natsumi snorted.
"Striking the fragile furniture, Chōjūrō. You're pretty rude, you know."
"I- I didn't mean… Oh, you're teasing me."
"Uh-huh. You're a kind boy, Chōjūrō."
"Um…Thank you? I think."
"It was a compliment. The world could use more kindness," she added softly.
They made it to the table without further incidents.
Gathered and bathed in orange light, Chōjūrō and Haku flanked their kunoichi comrade to peer down at the map. Chōjūrō adjusted his glasses, squinting at the topographical map centered on the Land of Water.
The cartographer was on point, he noted. Every Mist shinobi was required to study maps of their Nation to know the lay of the mountainous regions and hilly terrain. With the obscuring mist that hovered around the mountains it was all too easy to lose your way without knowledge of the mountain passes.
Of course, a map made the world seem a lot smaller than it was. But Mist shinobi learned to traverse the mountains and valleys through training exercises closely monitored by veteran shinobi.
There was always a chance an enemy Nation might invade. Should that ever occur, the natural geography of their Land and the mist were their ultimate allies. For years it had kept Mist Village's location a secret.
With luck it would continue to conceal them for years to come.
"It is as you said: They have a stranglehold over our Nation and ports," Haku remarked academically.
"They have operations…in every major town, port; there's one in Mist Village, too!" Chōjūrō examined, horrified.
"Not all of those are active operations," Natsumi said. "And not all of them are human trafficking, thankfully. Some of it is importing and exporting illegal goods, like this one at Iwasaki Port." She placed her finger at the northwest port city.
"Others are just gambling and prostitution rackets, mostly legal and legitimate. Not to mention your average extortion and intimidation of regular townsfolk. Then there are the 'Flower Shops' and the mines."
Natsumi rested a hand on her hip. "They haven't completed their stranglehold, not yet. But if we don't pull them out at the roots now they'll control the Land of Water's criminal underground and its citizens. As far as power and control go, whoever their leader is will basically be an unelected Feudal Lord."
Chōjūrō swallowed. He'd thought there were only two targets—the nefarious Flower Shop and the mines. Together they could have handled two targets without reinforcements.
"They are quite organized," said Haku. "And spread out. To dismantle their entire organization will require more than we three alone can do in a day."
"Noticed that, huh?" Natsumi drummed her fingers over her hip. "Once we make a move on one of their operations our window of opportunity to crush the others, save their prisoners and gather Intel on all of their movements won't be open long. They'll slam it shut the moment they realize we're on their trail. Important documents will be burned. Dead weight will be cut off so they can escape into the shadows again. Then they'll rebuild."
The kunoichi shook her head. "We can't afford to charge in headfirst, screaming passionate war cries at the top of our lungs with no plan. We'll just trip and fall ass over teakettle, and a lot of innocent people will end up dead. And while we're eating dirt and snow, they will laugh themselves blue.
"Our best option is to coordinate a raid on all locations involving human trafficking and forced labor. Today. The gambling and extortion rackets can be dealt with afterwards."
Haku nodded. "I agree."
Chōjūrō adjusted his glasses again. "We have to eliminate the people behind the kidnappings. If we don't, they'll just replace those we've saved with new victims. Or they'll recapture them as soon as we're back in the Mist."
"That's why it needs to be a coordinated raid," Natsumi said. "A simultaneous assault on all of their trafficking and labor operations will catch them off guard. There won't be time to destroy Intel we can use to track and kill their leadership. And the more grunts we kill, the less manpower they have to maintain their operation.
"There's also a chance, with the criminals out of the way, we can turn their mining operation into a legitimate business for the people of the Land of Water and Mist Village. Pay the workers livable wages and tax the raw materials they sell or something to get more money flowing into the Mist. Puts money in the pockets of the workers, who will put it into shops, which will help our economy."
Natsumi shrugged. "Assuming what they're mining is actually worth our time. And assuming that's how economics works. It's not my specialty, but it sounds reasonable enough."
It did sound reasonable. But economics wasn't his specialty, either.
"What about the people we rescue?" Haku asked.
"What do you mean?" Chōjūrō tilted his head in confusion.
"If they are in conditions similar or worse than Mika's, they will need food, water, shelter and perhaps even doctors or medic-nins." He frowned. "During our investigations, the estimated number of 'disappearances' totaled in the triple digits. That means there are several dozen prisoners at each location, malnourished, injured or close to death. And that is assuming there isn't more we are unaware of.
"Presently, the Mist lacks the sizable Medical Corps required to tend to everyone in a reasonable time, and the resources to feed, water and shelter these prisoners."
"There wasn't enough food to go around!" Chōjūrō recalled the cry of one of the Shinjuku townsfolk.
"O- oh. Right. I…I didn't consider that."
"I did, unfortunately. It isn't pretty or comfortable to talk about, but it is part of making major decisions like this. Those cantankerous Councilors will oppose this entire operation, doubtlessly," Natsumi said, annoyance slipping into her voice. "They'll think it's inconvenient. A waste of our resources.
"Fortunately, Lady Mei won't, and frankly that's all that matters to me. There are ways to take care of these people," she said with passion.
"Those who still have family waiting for them can return home, hopefully. We can create temporary shelters for those without a place to go. Food and water can be rationed to them. It'll be luxurious compared to the hell they're living now. Some, though… Some aren't going to make it. Some won't want to make it," Natsumi emphasized. "That's a reality we have to accept."
Chōjūrō felt a knot in his stomach, but nodded nonetheless. It didn't feel good, but it was a realistic expectation they were better off accepting now.
"We will do our best to help them," Haku said. "That is all we can do."
"Right," he murmured in solemn agreement.
"As for our role in this operation," Natsumi continued after a brief stint of silence, "we'll go after Haruhi, Chinami and the people trapped in the mines first. Then, once we settle everything there, we'll take the 'Flower Shop' in Shinjuku.
"I'll need to send a coded message to Lady Mei before we make our move. The closest messenger bird station is in Shinjuku, so that'll be our first stop. Although considering our recent activities there and the 'Flower Shop' located within, it's safe to say our enemies will be watching it."
"They may have the workers at the station bribed or blackmailed," Haku pointed out.
"Don't worry. I have a plan for that."
Chōjūrō brought his hands together in front of his chest, rubbing his fingers nail plates nervously against one another. He was grateful Natsumi and Haku were so calm and composed. He wouldn't have known where to start planning or considered all these different angles of their mission if he'd been left alone, including possible consequences to their actions.
There's still a lot for me to learn, Chōjūrō thought. But I'll improve. Or, I'll try to anyway.
Natsumi exhaled deeply through her nose. "I just wish I had solid Intel on who we're up against and how many there are. There isn't time to gather more information, though. Haruhi and Chinami are prisoners, hostages. They're not workers. And Haruhi's clock is ticking. That's why we have to act now."
"I…I know one of the shinobi we're facing," Chōjūrō spoke up.
"Huh? You do?" Natsumi turned to him, her scarred eyebrow cocked up.
"His name is Sōma Akebino."
"The Hound of the Mist?" Natsumi probed, narrowing her eyes and furrowing her brow. "You're sure?"
"Yes," Chōjūrō nodded once, confidently. "He and his men were the ones I tried to bury in the avalanche. It was him."
"Who is this man? I'm afraid I've never heard of this 'Hound of the Mist'," Haku said.
"It's an older alias, from back during the era of Blood Mist," Natsumi explained patiently, eyes still narrowed. "But you do know him. He goes by the name 'Gold-toothed' Sōma now."
"Him? He's involved in this?" Haku's voice took on a dangerous tone.
"Fits his history like a glove." The Mizukage's assistant frowned. "I should've guessed he'd be involved in this. That complicates our mission."
Chōjūrō hummed in discomfort. "Those rogues at the hotel were a few of his followers. The one you interrogated mentioned his boss was the one to take Haruhi."
"In her condition she didn't have a chance against him. I get why you brought the mountain down now." Natsumi reached over and flicked him in the forehead. Chōjūrō yelped, grabbing at the offended area. "Next time start with that information."
"So- sorry!" He lowered his hands from his forehead. "But…I didn't think he survived the avalanche at the time. I wouldn't have survived without you two. Still, we're going against the distant cousin of Jinin Akebino, master of Kabutowari—one of the seven swords wielded by the Seven Swordsmen."
"Zabuza mentioned Kabutowari was missing, among others," said Haku.
Chōjūrō confirmed the information with a short nod.
"Among the missing blades are Kabutowari, The Kiba Blades and Samehada. Thankfully, Lady Mei was able to regain Nuibari and Kubikiribōchō. Haruhi and I actually recovered Shibuki from thieves on a previous mission.
"That leaves Samehada in the hands of Master Kisame Hoshigaki, who we now know is aligned with the Akatsuki. The Kiba Blades are currently in the possession Master Raiga Kurosuki, who took them when he defected. Until recently, Kabutowari was assumed to be lost. There's been no sight of it anywhere in the Land of Water. But…"
At the sight of his frown, Natsumi and Haku mirrored the expression.
"You believe Sōma wields it," Haku stated.
"I…I don't know. He wasn't carrying it when I saw him. Still, he's related to Master Jinin. Maybe he keeps it as a trophy. It's suspicious…" He rubbed his nail plates together, lowering his eyes. "Or am I just imagining it?"
"Won't know until we fight him," Natsumi said. "Regardless, with or without Kabutowari we'll need to be careful against The Hound. The stories I've heard from Lady Mei and other veterans paint him as some kind of invulnerable freak of nature that thrives on violence."
He'd heard similar stories. All of which left an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.
They memorized the two locations they would be raiding in this operation before Natsumi rolled the map shut, sealing it away into a special scroll designed for only Lady Mizukage or herself to unseal.
While she quickly wrote a letter detailing the plan and mission they were undertaking, and her recommendations for the Mizukage, Chōjūrō quietly brought up the matter of Mika.
Their mission would take them time; they would likely be gone for several hours, and they couldn't very well leave Mika here unattended.
Haku and Natsumi agreed. It was yet another wrinkle in their situation. They weren't exactly worried Mika would try to escape and chase after them, especially since he couldn't exit the base without one of them to open the secret passage.
He would be safe here. He could rest and recover while he waited. But…
"…I'm worried he'll hurt himself," Chōjūrō murmured.
The words tasted awful in his mouth. The thought and imagery of it was even more horrifying than Master Zabuza's Demon Chakra. Yet this time he wasn't alone in his anxiety. Natsumi paused while writing, exhaling through her nose a deep and solemn sigh. Haku's eyes fell.
"He might," Haku admitted.
"I'll take care of it," said Natsumi.
"What do you intend to do?"
"Use a basic genjutsu to put him to sleep. He'll enter a peaceful, dreamless slumber until we get back. And when he wakes up, his sister will be here."
"Okay."
Chōjūrō swallowed, but nodded. He was going to make it happen, no matter what. They would reunite Chinami and Mika, and rescue Haruhi, too. And the other prisoners. They would not fail. He would not fail, not this time.
Once Natsumi finished with her report she sealed it shut beneath a Mizukage seal and stuffed it into her pouch. They returned to Mika, with Haku kneeling next to the boy and Natsumi strolling behind him casually.
"Mika, we're heading out now to go rescue your sister and our comrade," Haku explained. "We'll return with Chinami as soon as we finish, okay?"
"…Can't I go? Isn't there some way I can help? I don't…I don't want to be alone."
Haku smiled. "You've helped us all tremendously already. It's because of your bravery and your willingness to ask us for aid that we can act."
Unbeknownst to the child, Natsumi finished her handseals.
"Now it is our turn to fulfill our promise. When we see each other next, your sister will be with us. Rest until then, little one."
Mika blinked three times. With each blink, the next was slower, heavier. His head and body rocked back and forth somewhat, until his eyes shut fully and his body began to collapse to the side. Haku caught the boy in his arms. He settled him down on his pillow and tucked him in. Natsumi crouched down and ruffled Mika's hair.
"Sleep well, Mika. We'll be back soon."
With that promise, the trio of Mist shinobi departed on their mission with determination in their hearts.
Haruhi, Chinami, we're coming.
Nen Murasame, a thirteen year old Mist Genin, squinted his features and bit on his lip as he stretched out his right arm, balancing precariously on the top of a four foot wooden ladder to shelve a document. Even then he couldn't quite reach it.
The young boy blew a puff of air upwards out of his mouth, knocking the bangs of his shoulder-length green hair out of his vision. He lowered his arm and tapped the rolled up document lightly against his left arm, held in a medical sling.
If I could just get a little closer…
Checking the door for witnesses, he smirked. Perfect. His boss, the taciturn Koshiro, wasn't anywhere in sight. Confident, Nen gently placed his foot on a lower shelf, testing its sturdiness first with a light application of pressure and weight. When it didn't creak or break he leaned on it harder and stretched for the out-of-reach shelf once more.
Almost have it…
He bit his lip, rising up onto the tips of his toes. The edge of the document breached the opening of the shelf; he slid and tapped it into its new home triumphantly.
Ha! I got it! Nen lowered off of his tiptoes and—
"Murasame!"
The boy let out a startled cry at the shout from the doorway. Panicked, he jolted back to get off the shelf. But he'd done so with too much gusto. The ladder titled and shook beneath him.
He reached out with one good arm and tried to reach out against the barrier holding his injured arm, struggling to balance himself. Then the sturdy surface beneath him vanished, flying off to the side. Simultaneously, his triumph became a fall from grace.
"Whoaaa—"
Nen fell. But he did not crash to the hard and unforgiving floor, for which he was grateful for. He landed safely in the arms of another.
Beautiful turquoise eyes stared at him from beneath crimson locks, glinting in amusement.
"Hehe, you should've seen the look on your face!" the kunoichi laughed warmly at his expense. "Like a snow rabbit caught red-handed by a wolf."
"Lady Natsumi!" Nen gasped, heart slamming against his chest from his close-encounter with gravity. And, admittedly, his close proximity to the Mizukage's assistant.
"Scared you pretty good, huh? Good thing I was here to catch you."
"I guess you could say I've really…fallen for you, Lady Natsumi," Nen replied, grinning boyishly.
The Mizukage's assistant cocked her scarred eyebrow, a cheeky grin forming on her lips.
"I think the doctors misdiagnosed your injury. Nonsense like that is a sign of a concussion, you big dope."
She helped him onto his feet. Then immediately flicked him in the forehead. He grunted and slapped his hand over the area.
"There's a reason you're not supposed to stand on the top of a ladder. Maybe ask for help next time, yeah?"
"It was all under control before you scared me," he retorted, puffing out his chest. She flicked him in the forehead again. "Heyyy!"
"Accidents are called accidents for a reason, too, you big dope. What if you fell and broke your arm again? Or landed on your head?"
"I'm a shinobi. I would've totally spun out of it!"
"Uh-huh. Before or after you were finished wailing."
Heat rushed to his cheeks. "I- I wasn't wailing!"
"Uh-huh. Sure Nen."
Natsumi grinned, appearing more and more like the enchantress who had cast her spell on him. Before he could say another word, she turned on her heel, cloak whirling with her movement.
"Try not to be a damsel while I'm gone. I can't always be around to rescue you, you know."
Nen trailed after her quickly. "Wait, where are you going? Are you here on a mission? Is there anything I can do to help?"
His eyes widened as he entered the main room of the messenger bird station, where none other than Haku and Chōjūrō were waiting for their comrade.
"Whoa, you're with Master Chōjūrō and Haku, too? Then this must be super important!"
"Mas- Master?" Chōjūrō stuttered. He waved his hands in front his body. "You- You don't have to call me that! I haven't fully earned the title yet!"
"But you're one of the Seven Swordsmen, wielder of Hiramekarei! It'd be improper to call you anything else," he replied stubbornly. "I totally wanted to be one of the Swordsmen when I was training to be a shinobi, but Hiramekarei was the only sword we had. And it was in good hands, too."
He clenched his good hand into a fist in front of his chest, grinning. "But I've heard rumors we've regained a few of the mystical swords. Once I'm one hundred percent again I'll jump straight into training. Maybe one day we'll be two of the new Seven Swordsmen together!"
"O- oh! Uh." Chōjūrō smiled and nodded, clenching both of his hands in front of his chest. "Ye- yeah!"
Nen turned back to Natsumi. "So, what's your mission? You three must be up to something big, right? This place is as dull as farm work."
"We're here to send an urgent message to Lady Mei, for her eyes only," Natsumi said, glancing strangely to the side, as if trying to see Koshiro sitting behind her. Her eyes didn't linger there long, returning to Nen. "It needs to be sent out immediately, but we can't sit on our hands to wait for her reply. There are people depending on us out there."
It was a tightlipped response, but he expected nothing less from the Mizukage's assistant. Especially since this sounded of the utmost importance.
"You can count on us then, Lady Natsumi!" Nen replied enthusiastically. "We'll get your message to Lady Mizukage, don't worry."
Natsumi smiled at him. "Good to hear." She turned to her comrades. "Chōjūrō, Haku, let's go."
"Right," Chōjūrō replied. Haku nodded silently.
They all turned to leave.
"Oh, and Nen?"
"Yes, Lady Natsumi?"
The Mizukage's assistant shot him a grin over her shoulder. "Try not to get into any more trouble."
He blushed, but nodded. "I'll do my best."
Nen watched the trio exit the messenger bird station, vanishing behind the shut door. He brought his hand to his sling, rubbing his injured limb gently.
Be careful, Lady Natsumi, he thought.
It'd been by her intervention that a broken arm was all he had to complain about. She'd swooped in from nowhere to save him, just as she had today. And just like the first time she was as charming and enchanting as ever.
Turning from the door, he opened his mouth to ask Koshiro if he could send the message, only to gasp and gape as he saw the veteran shinobi rolling the scroll open and preparing to read it.
"Mister Koshiro, you…you can't read that!" Nen stammered. "It's an urgent message for Lady Mizukage's eyes only. Didn't you hear Lady Natsu—"
"Don't be so naïve, kid. The new Mizukage doesn't have the slightest inclination of what it takes to maintain peace beyond the Village. You think people care about her idealism? Bah!"
He slammed his hand on the table. "Idealism is useless! Money, power and respect are all that matter. And out here, beyond the mountains secluding her from the Land of Water, the only way for anything to be accomplished is by working with those who hold the real power. And if that means selling a few secrets now and then to maintain order and peace, then that's what must be done!"
Nen was taken aback. Unable to find a retort. But in his heart he knew what Koshiro was doing was wrong. It went against everything Lady Mizukage stood for, what she had fought against.
So, as he was prone to do, he acted without considering the consequences. Nen rushed towards the desk.
"No! I won't let you! This is everything Lady Mizukage fought against!" He slammed his hands on top of the scroll, attempting to obscure its contents without tearing it. "We're supposed to stop criminals, not— Ahhh!"
Koshiro's strike sent him crashing to the floor, onto his good arm. A small grace. But Nen could feel blood dripping from his nose already.
"Grow up, kid. This is the real world you live in. Idealism is a great way to bring in followers for a revolution, but it doesn't work in politics. Out here, the Mizukage's title is meaningless. We're in The Crimson Flowers territory, and that means we play by their rules. Answer to their leader."
Nen rose slightly, rubbing the blood from his nose.
"You're wrong!" He shook his head vigorously.
"Do yourself a favor, kid .Stay down. Don't make me kill you." Koshiro placed his hand on the scroll to unseal its contents. Rashly, Nen threw himself onto his feet with a cry.
He never had the chance to attack. A hand clutched his shoulder and held him firmly in place. Nen turned his head rapidly to the source, and gasped.
"Lady Natsumi!"
The kunoichi wore a look of death, glaring at Koshiro. Behind her, Chōjūrō stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a disapproving and sad frown on his lips. Haku sat on the windowsill they had entered through, a knot formed between his brow.
"How did you…" Koshiro trailed off.
"Know? I didn't," said Natsumi. "I had hoped you weren't feeding Intel to our enemies. But here you are, selling us out for money, spitting on Lady Mei's vision and threatening to kill Nen. I'm disappointed, Koshiro. Not because you're a traitor; I'm grateful that I was able to pluck you out before you caused more damage. No, I'm disappointed by your low opinion of my intelligence and skills as a shinobi."
Koshiro's entire body went rigid. His eyes widened, drawn to the Seal. He visibly tried desperately to try to yank his arm free of the scroll.
"What…what is this?"
"Did you seriously think I'd just hand over an urgent message meant for Lady Mei without setting security precautions? Tsk, tsk, tsk. Koshiro. How disappointing. Be sure to give Lady Mei my regards when you see her."
Nen watched on in shock as Koshiro was absorbed into the scroll as if sucked in by a vacuum. He was gone within a handful of seconds. Only then did Natsumi's hand fall from his shoulder. She strutted to the desk with an enchanting air of power and mystique, dipped the ink brush into its ink well and wrote a message onto the scroll.
"You…you suspected there was a traitor here?" Nen finally found some words.
"You were right, Nen. We're handling a very important mission, one involving an organization that has stayed one step ahead of us since we first began investigating it," Natsumi explained patiently. "I had to assume the messenger bird station was compromised. When I saw you here, though, I was hopeful it wouldn't be. I trusted you. But I didn't trust Koshiro."
Nen felt…relieved and honored and warm to be trusted by Natsumi. He dipped his chin down as he blushed.
"Thank you, Lady Natsumi. For saving me again."
"It was reckless to attack him head-on, Nen," the kunoichi scolded. "You're young and eager to prove yourself, I get that. But if you keep rushing off without thinking, you'll only rush yourself into an early grave."
"I…I know," he muttered.
"But you were also very brave. Foolish, but brave."
Natsumi finished writing then blew on the ink to hasten its drying.
"…Was Koshiro right? Are we foolish to believe idealism can change this Land?" Nen asked quietly.
None of the shinobi answered him immediately. Once satisfied, Natsumi rolled the scroll shut and resealed it with a seal for the Mizukage.
"When I was a little girl," she began in a soft voice, "I despised this Land and all its people. I was an orphan. There are people in this very town I remember chasing me off, all because I wanted scraps of food, or an awning to sit beneath to get out of the snow.
"I hated them. I hated my situation. I hated the Fourth and those who sought to use me and my Sealing Jutsus. I hated this Land and all its bloodshed. My 'goal' I fooled myself into believing was to gain enough money to leave this Land behind.
"To do that, I started learning to gather information and sell it to whoever paid me the most. I sold out rogue shinobi to the Fourth's hunter-nins. I sold out Mist shinobi to rogues and bounty hunters. Anyone and anything was for sale as long as I was able to survive.
"In a way, I was no different than the people we're hunting down now. I never fooled myself into believing the information I sold didn't end with people dead. I just didn't care. I was callous and brash and arrogant and full of anger. Why should I care who was hurt? Why should their pain matter to me when this Land, its people and this world only ever tossed me aside and hurt me time and again?"
Natsumi turned away from the desk to face him. "Do you know how I met Lady Mei, Nen?"
"No- no. No, I don't."
"I sold information on her to hunter-nins. She survived their attack and came for me." The corner of her lips lifted in a wry smile. "I tried to kill her, too. I refused to be taken prisoner or killed without a fight. I failed, though. And instead of killing me, she sat with me and listened to my story. And when I finished she left me a bag of money to leave this Land, no strings attached.
"It was the first act of compassion any stranger had ever shown me. I was… I don't have the words for what I felt. Hope, maybe. Warmth. Sadness. I cried in joy. In anguish. Because I knew my goal was a lie. Because I'd sent people to kill her, and she still tried to help me. So I chased after her, tracked her into the mountains and begged her to take me with her. And she did.
"Before I met Lady Mei, I didn't believe in anything except survival. I was just another cynical Land of Water native who saw no future. Lady Mei made me believe. I owe her everything, and I'll do everything I can to make her dream come true.
"So, can idealism change this Land? Not on its own it can't. It's in our hands—the people's hands—to change ourselves and this Nation. We all have to put in the work, the time and the effort. And there will be plenty of course corrections when we inevitably screw something up."
Natsumi strutted over to him and placed her hand on his shoulder.
"You have a good heart, Nen. Koshiro was in it for himself, not the Mist or these people. And so what if idealism is naïve? There's nothing wrong with wanting to make the world a better, kinder place. Right?"
Nen nodded sharply, smiling and blushing. "You're right, Lady Natsumi. I'm going to work extra hard to catch up to all of you, that way we can all help build the future!"
"That's the spirit!" Natsumi clapped him on the shoulder. Then took his hand, opened it and placed the scroll in it. "You're in charge of the messenger bird station for now, Nen. Can I count on you to send this straight to Lady Mei? This is an urgent message. Lives depend on it arriving to her as soon as possible."
"You can count on me, Lady Natsumi!"
"Heh," she smiled and ruffled his hair. "Good. See you later, Nen."
The trio of shinobi departed out the window on their mission. Nen immediately began preparing to send the letter. Lady Natsumi trusted him to take care of this report.
He wouldn't let her down.
Haruhi had listened intently to Chinami's information. Though her arms were nearly completely numb and her shoulders aching, she kept a calm mind in the dark prison cell they were held captive in, plotting their escape.
Guards, she learned, were stationed beyond a door made of solid steel. Two, from her careful dissection. They slid open a panel to peer inside every twenty minutes, sometimes a minute or so before, sometimes a minute or so after. One of them was punctual, serious; the other couldn't be more lackadaisical or obnoxious if he tried.
The opening of the panel cast soft, artificial light into the chamber of darkness as they checked if she had escaped, doubtlessly. They recognized she was a shinobi, and so not entirely as defenseless as her state of nearly full undress and chains made her appear. Wise, if not ultimately unhelpful.
Two guards would not stop her escape. It was the unknown that lay beyond, her weakened state and the burden of rescuing Chinami as well that complicated the situation.
Escaping alone would be difficult, but not impossible. Escaping with a beaten and bloodied civilian would challenge even a veteran shinobi.
Waiting wasn't an option, unfortunately. At any moment their lives could be taken by their enemies. Waiting meant certain death.
I will complete my mission. I will not die in this darkness, helpless.
The panel on the door slid open. The serious guard's annoyed eyes peered inside. He scoffed. Then the panel slid shut again.
Haruhi narrowed her eyes.
It was time to act.