Chapter 134

Bring Me Her Head: The Bounty on Amaririsu Yūhi!

Beyond the walls of the Leaf Village, centered in isolation high above a tremendous, impassable chasm was an island of stone sculpted into the shape of a kunai blade. On this island rested the Leaf Village Maximum Security Prison.

The tile roofed prison was a four-story castle-like facility, a traditional shinobi fortress constructed of wood and stone with three concentric defensive baileys built into the kunai-shaped island. Housed inside its bleak and barren stone walls, locked behind iron bars, was a Who's Who of murderers, traitors, and other perpetrators of violent crimes apprehended over the years by the Leaf Village, both foreign and domestic.

While the facility was a stone's throw away from the Village itself, its specific whereabouts was best described by one of its veteran guards, who cheerfully, if not sarcastically, greeted newcomers by saying, "Welcome to the ass end of nowhere!"

The mountainous region concealed the prison's location. The arid environment offered little to survive off of, if one could actually manage to escape beyond the chasm. And the seasons, whether a dry spring, a scorching summer or a bitter winter, aided their imprisonment.

In the winter, for instance, the mountainous region was known for its dense snow and hellish blizzards which made routes nearly impassable even to trained shinobi. Any prisoner who dared escape without commandeering winter equipment was doomed to die.

In the end, though, the season didn't truly matter. The facility was purposefully centered in the middle of a seemingly bottomless chasm, accessible only by two separate drawbridges—one at the precipice of the chasm at the watch-house, the other connecting to it from the kunai shaped island of stone.

Without those drawbridges, escape was impossible. Even for a shinobi. The chasm was too deep, the distance across too wide for a single jump from even the strongest and most capable of shinobi.

The drawbridges were the only way in. And the only way out.

Any shinobi dreaming of gourmet food, a comfy bed, murder, mischief and mayhem, or raw intimacy with a willing stranger—or victim, depending on the prisoner—knew that gaining control of the drawbridges was the key to a successful escape, and thus the reclaimant of their stolen freedom and all the joys and entertainment available to a rogue shinobi.

So the prisoner continued his meticulous plotting.

He had time.

In truth, life as a prisoner was capable of driving a man insane. Every day brought relatively the same series of events, give or take a few unforeseen changes to the schedule. It was all very militaristic. And incredibly boring.

The order and routine inevitably dulled the prisoners, who fell into the sequence of events and acclimatized to the new life like kennel-trained dogs learning when and where to defecate. Some even enjoyed the structure and order provided.

There were no fights between prisoners. No brawls to cut loose or sharpen their skills. The ever watchful guards did not tolerate misbehavior or violent deviations from the orderly routine, and on the rare occasions a prisoner did act out violently—usually at the beginning of their imprisonment—they were met with one of two things: violence or a Paralysis Jutsu.

It depended on the guard. Were they soft-hearted? Were they in a bad mood? Did the scuffle threaten security or have the potential to coax a rebellion? It was up to the guards discretion how to tame the beasts locked inside their kennels.

But violence was, to the prisoner, the only logical conclusion. In fact, were he in charge, the prison wouldn't have nearly as many prisoners as it did presently. Why waste precious time, resources and money on prisoners, after all. If they ended up here, they weren't going to reform their ways. No. They were here for a reason. They were no longer apart of upstanding society.

They were beasts. Monsters. Turncoats. Rogues.

Violence was the only way to treat them, in his experienced opinion. There wasn't a single soul in the prison who wasn't a trained killer. They were all soldiers bred to kill, to fulfill their mission and use whatever tools they could to accomplish it.

To treat them as anything less than enemy shinobi, or a hungry predator waiting to pounce, wouldn't be foolish; no, it would be the final fatal error no decent shinobi would make.

On those rare occasions where fights did break out, after the dust settled, the aggressor would be sent to solitary. Alone in a cramped stone room, bathed in darkness and separated from the world, it was enough to drive you over the edge into true, inescapable madness.

The prisoner hated solitary. At first. He was vengeful and aggressive for many, many months, and for many more months he was left in that warm, isolated darkness. Eventually he, too, stopped his aggression. But only because he had attuned to the darkness, mastered it, he believed.

Escape wasn't possible in solitary. Exercise wasn't either. He needed to return to the sun and build up his strength, which meant joining his fellow prisoners in the exercise yard for "rehabilitation" as the guards called it. Rehabilitation was nothing more than shoveling soil in the daylight until the guards decided they were done.

They called it "character building." Oh, if they only knew the kind of character he decided to build.

Prisoners were here to work off their debt to society; that's what the guards told him countless times when he argued and struggled and fought against their systems.

When he was finally let out of solitary for the final time, the prisoner picked up his shovel to work. He worked through the harsh summer. Through the fall. He worked harder than anyone else, for they saw no purpose or sense in the activity. They couldn't see what they could build in their pointless, monotonous digging.

He did. So he kept at it. Building up his strength, his body, and his spirit through the months. Eyes set on his goal.

Escape. And then…

The prisoner smirked.

Vengeance.

Fate, the prisoner felt, had quite the amusing sense of humor.

Every few months someone new seemed to find themselves shackled in the prison. Alone it was nothing new or surprising. It was an eventuality for new faces to appear here. He paid no mind to it, at first. Until he began overhearing little bits of gossip from the guards as the newcomers struggled against their systems.

The gossip hooked him. He just had to hear the full story. So he sought them out, prodded them with his slimy smile and hints of knowledge he picked up until they finally spilled their guts.

Funnily enough, the stories for how they had fallen so low to be captured and imprisoned, while different in events and details, ended identically.

Everything was going to plan. And then she showed up.

She dismantled their grand schemes. She aided their capture. She humiliated them. And they all swore vengeance.

Just as he had.

Fate was quite amusing, indeed.

It was another day in the prison. Another day of digging soil out in the exercise yard in search of character. The air was cold. Work kept the prisoner warm, movement kept his blood flowing in his ill-suited attire for the recent cold fronts. But there had yet to be a snowfall.

He hoped to leave before the winter swept in and buried all chances of escape until spring. Before the passages were blanketed in mounds of impassable freezing snow and before hypothermia was a existential threat. Otherwise it would be several more months of character building and solitude inside his cell.

Some time later the shrill call of a whistle halted all work. The guards called them back in, and so they returned in a single file line, like obedient ducklings, placing their shovels in the designated box before the check-in desk.

One by one they were counted and checked over for injuries or potential weapons hidden up their sleeves. They were shinobi, after all. It was only wise to check them over.

It was as he neared the check-in desk that opportunity presented itself. Two oafs, two behemoths posing as men wielding, perhaps, a single cell of intelligence between their collective brains loudly, raucously, with little care to who was listening, ranted and raved about their favorite time of all…

"Chow time!" the dimwits yelled in unison.

"I gotta get my hands on some grub, right, Bro!"

"My stomach is growling! I can hardly wait to eat!"

The Leaf shinobi sitting at the desk turned away from the prisoner, drawn by the ranting, aware that, should the oafs lose themselves to hunger, their herculean strength would be turned against their guards.

And no one could stop them.

"Hey, knock it off you two!" he called after them. "Fūjin, Raijin, if you don't shut up you're going to starve tonight!"

The threat pacified the dimwits.

The prisoner eyed the desk. He saw pliers. A screwdriver. A sickle-like tool.

Opportunity had presented itself to him. He palmed the screwdriver noiselessly while the guard was distracted and slipped it up his sleeve; they had already checked him.

Our obedience has dulled all of your senses, the prisoner thought, smirking triumphantly to himself.

"Those guys are such a headache," the Leaf shinobi commented, smiling in amusement at the idiots the way people watching zoo monkeys throw poop at one another did. He turned to look at the prisoner again. "Keep it moving."

He kept his head bowed and obeyed. He took a step. Another.

"Hey," the guard at the desk suddenly grabbed his bicep. "Stop right there."

The prisoner tensed. Had he seen the missing screwdriver? Had he been the fool with dulled senses after all of this meticulous planning?

"Looks like you have an injury," the guard said, eying the tear on his left shirt sleeve. "Get that checked out at the infirmary."

The guard released him. He exhaled the breath he was holding.

"…Yeah," he muttered and stalked off.

"Okay, who's next?"

The prisoner smiled wickedly beneath the shadow cast by his long hair.

And you call yourself a shinobi? Tch, pitiful.

I'm so close now. But there's one final role that needs to be filled.

He lifted his eyes to the wide backs of the oafs.

And you two will make the perfect pawns.

The cells they were kept in were old. Very old. For that reason, when he utilized the screwdriver to pick the lock to his door, he was successful.

The truth was, despite its grand name, the Maximum Security Facility had faced serious downsizing over the years. Once a grand and large compound with a forgotten name in a forgotten location, the fall of crime and betrayal since the last war made maintaining the previous facility rather pointless.

So it was moved. And the prisoners, though murderers and rogues, had become accustomed to life as a prisoner. In some ways it was easier than life as a shinobi. In some ways it was equally harsh. But no one had tried to escape in years, and so the security measures were pulled back for primarily economic purposes.

The prisoner moved noiselessly through the dark halls. His eyes had grown used to the dark, his ears perfectly attuned to the silent stone they were imprisoned within. He went by his allies cells collecting the necessary tools to achieve escape, unlocking their cells as he did, but demanding they wait for his signal.

They listened bearing arrogant sneers.

Finally he returned to his cell and set the trap. It didn't take long for the two oafs, Fūjin and Raijin, to come running to his cell, pulling the bars apart to fit their bulbous bodies through, all while chanting,

"Food, food, food, food!"

Such was a normal occurrence in the prison. The guards thought nothing of it. Wanted nothing to do with it. For it was well-known what crime the infamous Idiot Brothers committed.

The story went that while on a mission, the Idiot Brothers, in a sudden rage, killed their comrades without mercy. All over a meal they wanted to eat.

The shinobi team to eventually restrain them struggled what some might call valiantly. Many were critically injured. A handful were killed.

Yet, after their hunger settled, the two buffoons allowed themselves to be taken to prison with dumb grins on their faces on the promise of daily meals, which was quite the enticing idea to the Idiot Brothers who had all but forgotten their comrades and the fact they could have likely eaten wherever they wanted if they only thought about it.

They hadn't. So here they were, looking at his collected "feast" his allies helped him gather.

The prisoner grinned. "Go on. Dig in. It's my treat."

"Food!" they buffoons cheered.

He let them chow down for quite some time, watching with a self-satisfied smirk while resting his chin on the back of his right hand. Eventually he spoke up again.

"Tell me, is it all to your liking?" They ate noisily. Disgustingly. Like hogs at a feeding trough. It was disturbing, but he smiled anyway. "I'll take that as a yes. There's plenty more, you know."

The eldest of the buffoons, Fūjin, notable by the goatee on his round and fat chin, looked at him with a stupid grin.

"I should've known this delicious smell was coming from your cell, Big Brother."

"Yeah, yeah! 'Cause somehow you always figure out how to get the tastiest food for us," said Raijin dumbly.

"It took a lot of sneaking around, but it was definitely worth it," replied the prisoner.

It was almost charming how stupid they were.

"I'd feel absolutely terrible if my brothers had to go hungry."

Their eyes all but glistened when they looked at him with their oafish grins.

"You're the best!" they declared in unison. Then proceeded to lower themselves onto all-fours and crawl around the cell.

"Look, look!" said Raijin.

"We're lizards!" Fūjin declared.

The prisoner let out a laugh. It was mocking, of course, and yet the brothers took it as genuine.

"You are too funny!" he said with menace. "But even so," he stood up, "you must still be hungry. What would you say if I told you I could get you even more gourmet food."

They hummed simultaneously and looked at him with their dumb grins seemingly permanently formed on their faces. Then began to look around quickly.

"What? Food? Where?! Gimme!" Raijin said excitedly.

"Hmhm. I know a place where we can go visit an old friend of mine. There you can taste cuisine that's even more scrumptious than this. Hmhmhm!"

"An old friend of yours?" asked Fūjin. "Is this the same fella you told us about a long time ago?"

"Yeah!" agreed Raijin. "His name was, uh, O! O! O! O!"

The prisoner looked down at them with a smile.

"That's right! Lord Orochimaru."

"Let's go! Let's go!"

"Now, now. Before we do, it would be a shame not to bring all of our friends, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah, yeah! More people means more food!"

"Exactly. Now, let's go gather our friends."

His plan had taken time. But it had finally all come together.

Stepping out through the hole made by the two oafs, the prisoner grinned wickedly.

Now it's time for the next step. Soon we will be free.

Soon the games will begin!

Down the hall from the Hokage's office was a quiet lounge. Smaller than the main office and secured for the Hokage's personal business and leisure, the room was expensively furnished, host to lush chairs and couches, who's cushions you could simply melt into after a long day of work, and the coffee table they were centered around, presently absent of coffee mugs or tea cups. Ahead of the couch was a wall, upon which four portrait photos hung of the four previous Hokage's.

In photo form they were immortalized, watching over the room much like the Great Stone Faces. In that way it transformed the room into a place of reflection.

On that early morning, Tsunade was seated comfortably on the couch with her left leg delicately crossed over her right and her left arm drawn along the back of the furniture, brown eyes gazing up to the photos. She alternated between tapping her left fingers and drawing them gently along the cushion, a pensive expression on her young features.

If only I could ask you why, the Fifth Hokage pondered, eyes flicking between the Second and Third Hokage—her granduncle Tobirama and her teacher.

Though her youthful features could fool anyone, it was always her eyes which broke the illusion. Old, jaded and cold, her pensive gaze fell first upon her granduncle.

Why, Second Hokage, did you commit treachery? To what end?

To what end? The question itself was the problem, she reflected. For in those three simple words there was almost a silent insinuation that an end great enough would absolve his actions. That as long as there was something worthwhile achieved by his actions, treachery was justifiable and no longer immoral, but righteous and reasonable.

Were you motivated by revenge? Tsunade wondered. You can't have honestly believed in handing over a weapon like the Sharingan to the Stone. More than that, I can't believe you would hand his daughter over so callously, so thoughtlessly. Morally, it repulses me. But from a practical standpoint…

She glared hard at her granduncle's photo.

By gifting the Stone his child, you gifted them everything they needed to replicate the Sharingan by ill means. They would've turned his daughter into their prized horse. A tool to breed potential new shinobi from, with not only the potential for the Sharingan, but Madara's power and ability in every child she conceived. Power and ability you saw in person.

Madara's daughter would've had her entire life stolen from her. She would've been a slave, a slave to men who only cared about what children she could produce, because that's all she would've been good for in their eyes. That all she would've been to the Stone—a set of reproductive organs they could use and abuse at their own sick pleasure for their own twisted purposes.

Her revulsion intensified, curling her lip in a snarl.

I can see what you were really up to. You wouldn't endanger the Leaf by gifting the Stone the Sharingan or desired an entire new line of Uchiha Clan to form. You were too cold and calculating for something so shortsighted. It was all a part of your grander game, one the Stone didn't even see coming.

She could see it all clearly now.

You knew Madara would reclaim Yua's eyes and his daughter. You knew he would ignore Grandfather's pleas for negotiation and set off to unleash a one-man war on the Stone Village. And you knew he would be successful, even if it cost him his life. Because that's how much he loved his daughter and his wife.

Love and grief, that's what Madara was driven by. And that love was twisted into hatred because of you.

Then, because of his act of war against the Stone, and because he was twisted by his grief and hatred, he became the enemy you likely "warned" Grandfather of. His decisions endangered the Leaf. With Madara out of the picture, the Uchiha Clan were in the palm of your hand, because they rejected the idea of continuing war and leaving the peace they found.

And the seat of Hokage was practically yours for the taking.

Why did you do it, Second Hokage? Were you unable to move forward from the Warring States Period and all of its tragedies? Or did you seek to destabilize the Uchiha Clan so that, one day, we would be here? Down to a handful. All but eradicated.

His silent photo offered no answers. Her gaze flicked to her teacher's photo.

Sarutobi-sensei… Its your actions—and lack thereof—I struggle to understand the most. You taught Jiraiya, Orochimaru and I about the Will of Fire. You taught us the importance of raising and protecting the next generation, how it isn't the Hokage as a single pillar which holds up our Village, but every shinobi, every person who inhabits it that makes the Leaf Village strong.

So why, why didn't you stop the Foundation? Why did you show him leniency time and again when you knew, you knew, he sought to claim the title of Hokage. No matter the cost. Was his attempted assassinations not enough to prove that? What would he have had to do for you to finally take action against him? Massacring a Clan wasn't enough, clearly. Assassination attempts weren't enough. What then, Sarutobi-sensei, would it have taken for you to act?

Or was there simply nothing. You let him go unpunished for trying to kill you. You let him go unpunished for the Uchiha Massacre. And had he successfully killed you, what then? Did you ever consider that?

Tsunade sighed deeply through her nose.

I want to believe you held no prejudice against the Uchiha Clan, Sarutobi-sensei, I do. But your inaction and indecisiveness speaks on your behalf.

Did my granduncle poison your mind, too? Did you see them as acceptable losses? Was it okay if the Uchiha Clan was wiped out simply because they were Uchiha? Or did you give your Council too much influence, too much leeway, and too much power over decisions to stop them?

She wished to ask them both. To sit them down and demand answers for their actions and what it had wrought.

Jiraiya, she knew, had similar questions. Similar desires. They'd both listened to Atsuko detail the events of Madara Uchiha's fall from grace and the Second Hokage's role in it, enraptured by the forgotten tale and, if nothing else, disappointed to learn it was true.

Tsunade couldn't say she was especially close with her granduncle; in truth, she had few memories of the taciturn and distant man that didn't involve him staring at his brother with annoyance. Even her memories of her grandfather were foggy on a good day. Childhood seemed a distant thing now. A different life almost.

To learn of this betrayal from within the Leaf, from her own family, no less, troubled her. It made her question her predecessors and eye them with more scrutiny than she might have otherwise.

Was it all for revenge against the Uchiha Clan? Or were you after the title of Hokage, Uncle? Did you facilitate the murder of Yua Uchiha to ensure anyone bearing the name of Uchiha would never lead our Village?

And you, Sarutobi-sensei, why didn't you step down sooner? In the immediate aftermath of Minato's death, I understand why you took charge. Stability was needed. You were a familiar face and presence which the people could look towards for leadership. But the Village would have accepted Kiyoshi at any given time. Even after the Nine-Tails attack.

So why?

"I doubt I'd like either of your answers," she said aloud, frowning.

Now that she was Hokage, inheriting a Village in disrepair and at risk of war, she understood the burden of leading and protecting the whole Leaf Village better than ever before. She understood there was nuance to decision-making, that nothing was ever cut and dry; it wasn't an easy job.

More than that, she understood losing loved ones, just as the Second Hokage did. Nawaki and Dan, her precious little brother and her lost lover, war stole them from her. Enemy shinobi of the other Great Nations took their lives. Mercilessly. Callously.

She held her grudges. She blamed those shinobi for it all, hated them for stealing her loved ones from her arms. But, in the end, as she got older, she realized the truth.

The real blame was war itself. War stole Nawaki and Dan from her. The shinobi to deal the final blows were fulfilling their duty no different than her, defending or seizing objectives to gain the advantage for their Village and bring an end to the war.

After all, how many loved one's had she slain? How many parents, siblings or lovers did she send to early graves? Her hands weren't clean. Far from it.

With her Sensei, she also understood the difficulty he faced when it came to punishing his comrade. Orochimaru's defection and subsequent crimes affected her and Jiraiya. He was once a comrade. A friend who she had spent her childhood training with. Through some of the toughest of battles she ever faced they had fought together, through the hell of war she had Jiraiya and Orochimaru. Together they fought and nearly died at the hands of Hanzō of the Salamander.

She understood her Sensei's conflicted feelings. She felt them, too, to a degree. But she also knew how it felt to have a brother-in-arms twist her feelings, her grief and use her weakness against her in search of his own gains. She knew how it felt for that same man to attempt to take her life, and that of a trusted and beloved—if not frustrating—friend.

Whatever bond they had, whatever conflict she felt, Orochimaru was their enemy now. His goal was to destroy the Village they spent their childhood and adulthood together in, and in the process kill all of its people. His twisted gaze was locked onto Sasuke and Amaririsu, driven to kidnap and take over the bodies with his twisted jutsu, in essence slaying them both to gain their strong bodies and powerful dōjutsu.

Tsunade drew her pointer finger gently along the top of the cushions, lowering her eyes to her lap.

She wished Orochimaru wouldn't have changed. That he would still be a steadfast ally and comrade. Worst of all conflicted feelings was her doubts.

Had he changed? Or had she simply never known the man she shed blood beside?

I doubt I'd like your answer, either, Orochimaru. There is one thing I know for certain, however…

She tightened her hand into a fist.

Should we ever meet on a battlefield again, I won't hesitate to end your life.

The man—monster—who had experimented on children, who had killed their teacher, who sought to steal the bodies of Leaf shinobi, was not her comrade. The man she had known was dead. Perhaps the man she had known never even existed in the first place.

Anyone who committed such heinous, immoral and inhumane crimes would be shown no mercy by her. Nor would anyone who threatened her fellow Leaf shinobi.

I won't make the same mistake as Sarutobi-sensei.

Tsunade shut her eyes and exhaled a long breath. No matter how well she understood the difficulty of the job, the tragedy of war and the hatred it cause, or the harsh demand of dealing with a comrade who had fallen from the righteous path, the mistakes of her predecessors were stark.

Now their sins and the consequences had fallen onto her shoulders. Hers, and Amaririsu's.

Drumming her fingers along the cushion, the Fifth Hokage hummed and frowned.

How would the Stone react when news a descendent of Madara Uchiha was in the Leaf reached their ears?

Would the Stone use that as an excuse to launch the first attack?

Possibly. She couldn't rule out the possibility.

What about the Foundation? What would their reaction be should the truth of her lineage reach them?

I can't rule anything out, Tsunade thought clearly. Especially if they used Mimi's parents to catalyze skirmishes.

The whole situation was messy. And now that Sasuke and Amaririsu were cleared for training, she knew it was only a matter of time before the balancing act they were currently in the midst of would be tested.

There has to be some way to navigate this without forcing Amaririsu and Sasuke into the same position as Itachi and Aimi. She bit her thumbnail. We have to protect them from the Foundation and the Masked Man. And now that Mimi is also a target, and doubtlessly has spoken to them about what she learned, those three are bound to stick together. We need to figure something out before the next incident. Before they do something incredibly foolish and reckless.

"Being the Hokage sure isn't easy," she muttered. "But I'll figure this out. I won't let the mistakes of the past ruin their future."

That was the duty of a Hokage, after all.

Working in conjunction with Shizune, Tsunade attacked the folders and booklets of paperwork stacked on either side of her desk one important document at a time.

It wasn't a glamorous or action-packed life for a Hokage, that was for sure. But she preferred it this way.

While it wasn't glamorous work, and often days it was more tiresome and tedious than listening to an academic lecture, the fragile state of peace they currently inhabited was better than the future alternative.

In the end, this peace, she knew in her old and scarred heart, was only temporary. It gave her more reason to maintain steadfast vigilance, for this calm, cold day was one of the remaining few before the eye of the hurricane passed over their Village, bringing the terrible and destructive eye wall of war back to their doorstep.

Their present, fragile peace was on limited supply. To throw caution to the wind and pretend the Stone wouldn't act—which seemed more inevitable by the day—was a naïve mistake she couldn't afford. It was a mistake that would be paid by her fellow Leaf shinobi and, in the worst case, the civilians who called the Leaf home.

She wouldn't be able to save everyone. She was too old, too battle-worn and experienced to believe she could. Nor could she spare the next generation from the horrors of war.

However, she could prepare them. She could fortify their defenses. She could rely on the Crows of the Leaf and Jiraiya's networks to monitor the Stone's movements and the tactical genius of Shikaku Nara to outmaneuver the enemy, mitigating the number of casualties they would inevitably sustain. She could gather allies and sharpen the next generation before flames of war were ignited.

That was what she could do right now. What was in her power to control and act upon.

Providing her official seal of approval to one such project, Tsunade handed the document off to Shizune and turned her attention to a thin booklet on top of a stack of four thick folders.

This desk is going to see even more paperwork if my correspondence with the Fifth Mizukage goes well.

Never did she imagine the Mist would get its act together. Definitely not in her lifetime. Nor did she imagine they would actively seek out an Alliance with the Leaf in search of peace; that seemed even more ludicrous than the end of the Fourth Mizukage's reign of terror.

Yet here they were.

Mei Terumī was clearly a formidable warrior, a cunning strategist and a charismatic leader to mount a successful coup d'état against the Fourth Mizukage and his entourage. For her to impress the Head of the Crows in their limited interaction was quite the feat.

For Kakashi to believe in her intentions was possibly an even greater one, given his history.

"My history is what it is," she recalled Kakashi's words. "I explained to my students in the Land of Snow that the bad blood caused by the previous wars has created grudges and distrust, which has prevented peace from being attained in our lifetime. And now theirs.

"If I bear my grudge against the Fifth Mizukage despite her clear attempts to change their Nation, if I dismiss her attempts at peace because of my history, what example am I setting for my students?"

The little brat had grown up since those dark days.

"They're all looking for ways to change this world, to improve it. They've set their sights on building a future for the Leaf and beyond. They reach out to others with open hands and open arms, regardless of Nation, willing to look past the bad blood and grudges of the past for the sake of the future. Isn't that something we should aspire to do, too, if we truly seek peace?"

Or, maybe, it was the influence of the little snots under his tutelage who helped show him the way.

"This line of communication is open because of a bond that formed between two shinobi meant to be enemies. It was built on the sacrifice, heartbreak, pain and compassion shared between Amari and Haku. Their bond has gifted us an opportunity to stand by our values and principals and prove to the next generation we are capable of more than bearing grudges and declaring wars."

The bond between Amaririsu and the boy named Haku, it gave them the outline of a bridge of peace to build between their Nations, turning a page on decades of bloodshed and attempted sabotage.

Two shinobi from opposing Nations had come together, neither interested in old grudges or war, instead united by their willingness to share their compassion with one another. It was almost a fairytale story. All that was missing was corny title written with a red string of fate.

Except, unlike a fairytale story, this was real. She'd seen it with her own eyes. Read the correspondence between Kakashi and the Fifth Mizukage, and knew those two kids were also exchanging letters.

Before meeting Naruto, she would have scoffed bitterly at such a fantasy. Before meeting Amaririsu she would have called her a little fool.

In fact, she recalled, she had called her a little fool before meeting her. At times the foolishness remained, of course. She was stubborn and reckless with her own life. But there was something about that girl, about Naruto, that made a person willing to place all of their bets on them.

Like she had with Naruto. And how Kakashi had with Amaririsu.

It wasn't something tangible. It wasn't something physical someone could grab hold of and take for themselves; it wasn't a transferable kekkei genkai. She couldn't point at it or describe it in words. It was more of a…feeling. A presence and aura they carried with them and imparted onto others that had reached through to the hearts of a closed-off and cold shinobi like Kakashi and an old and jaded scrooge like her.

Those two, they possessed something inherently special in their hearts. Something that, she believed, could very well change the world.

"One day the three of us will be gone, and if the world is kind we will die before them," she recalled Kakashi's words. "If the world is kind, they will outlive us and rise to become the guardians we all believe they will become. They will one day inherit this world."

Yes, if the world was kind, that would be how the future would play out. She would grow old and die, hopefully peacefully, and rejoin Nawaki and Dan. As would Kakashi and the rest of the old generation to rejoin their lost loved ones and comrades. And the next generation, they would outlive them and rise to the occasion.

That would be a kind world. A good world. One where they wouldn't have to bury the young long before their time.

"Until then, it's our duty to nurture their growth. I believe this generation has a chance at ending this cycle of war and violence we've lived within. But they'll only have a chance if we help them end it."

Tsunade picked up the small booklet first. Carried by the movement, a loose, weathered piece of paper with more creases and abrasions than a old bank note swept out from beneath its back, floating daintily onto her desk face down.

Humming, surprised to see a paper so worn down, the Fifth Hokage tilted her head and set the booklet down. It was peculiar. Shizune never left loose papers out. There was a file and place for everything, which likely meant this was stack was likely organized by someone else before she became Hokage.

Curious, she picked up the paper gingerly between her pointer and middle finger. The sheet was creased by previous folds, creating three by three rows of rectangles along it. The edges were ripped, tattered, nearly torn across over the ink written upon it.

Shizune, inquisitive by nature, peered over the desk to read it.

These notes…

"Huh, that's strange," Shizune said. "It appears to be a formula for a potion…though I can't say what it would create. The contents are strange. As are the proportions."

"What formula is this?" Tsunade scrutinized the contents.

I've seen it before. Or something similar. But where? Why is it so familiar…

Realization struck the Fifth Hokage with the same sharpness and suddenness one felt when stubbing their toe.

Her authoritative gaze snapped straight to Shizune, the illusion of youth within her brown eyes betrayed and cut down by the battle-worn warrior beneath the illusion.

"Get me Kurenai and Asuma. Immediately," she commanded.

Her assistant blinked.

"Really?"

"Now, Shizune!"

"Uh, ri- right!"

Startled, Shizune spun on her heel and ran out the door. The command and harsh shift of tone must have seemed unreasonable over a simple piece of paper. Why, it was an innocent anomaly by all appearances. But appearances, as the Fifth Hokage's Transformation Jutsu proved, were deceiving.

Tsunade drew her eyes back to the formula.

"He was experimenting on human subjects. Mutating them," she recalled Jiraiya's debrief. "I can't say what he was after. Not yet. But those people were twisted into nightmarish hybrids of human and animal. Snake scales, gills, hooves, tails, horns, and other such mutations took form on them. None survived. None I saw, anyway. No matter how fickle his attention is, we can't rule out the possibility he is still interested in this abhorrent experiment. It's very likely we'll find more nightmares like these elsewhere."

You weren't wrong, Jiraiya, she thought. But who was in possession of this formula? Why wasn't it researched further?

Looking to the thin booklet, labeled with Leaf Maximum Security Roster, the Fifth Hokage set the formula down and began her search for answers.

Searching for who the formula was confiscated from and when it occurred didn't take the Fifth Hokage long. The roster provided a name and a face, which led her to the somewhat vague records of the incident that ended in the arrest of the prisoner in question and the eventual confiscation of the formula.

It'd all been swept under the rug, forgotten until happenstance rolled the rug up and revealed all the dirt and empty wrappers hidden beneath it. There was a trail of ants, too. One which led to and from the Viper's Nest, unfortunately.

The formula itself, and what it would do, were still a mystery. She couldn't say what would happen to the person who drank the potion it created, or if it would do anything at all. If the proportions were wrong by even a slight margin it could render the whole potion ineffective, essentially transforming it into a stomach churning drink with no health benefits or ill side effects. Or it could very well kill the drinker.

There was no way to know. Not with the limited information currently at her disposal.

Given Orochimaru's involvement, and the pawn he gave it to, she had a few theories on what her former comrade's goal might have been at the time. None of it boded well.

With the same speed and efficiency as her scouring for information, Shizune was quick in summoning Kurenai and Asuma to her office.

The two Jōnin entered shadowing Shizune. Her assistant maneuvered around the desk to stand once more beside the seated Hokage. Kurenai and Asuma approached and halted at the front of Tsunade's desk.

Of the two, Kurenai's posture and presence were the most formal and immaculate. Shoulders back, spine straight, she carried herself with the confidence of an elite shinobi but without undue arrogance. Her red eyes were alert, attentive, but her body language indicated repose. She wore black thermal leggings in addition to her shinobi gear.

Opposite of her was Asuma, who presented himself casually, hands stuffed in his pockets and shoulders slouched. The air of nonchalance, even mild annoyance, resembled Shikamaru's; formalities were obviously a drag. Frankly, she couldn't tell who was rubbing off on who. By smell alone she could tell he had recently been smoking a cigarette.

"What's the matter?" Asuma cut straight to the point.

"I'll need you two to retrieve a prisoner from the Leaf Maximum Security Prison," Tsunade met his question with a straight answer. She guided the formula sheet forward across the desk, closer to two shinobi. "New evidence has revealed itself to us. I need to know how he came into possession of this formula and what he believes it will do."

Asuma picked up the small sheet. His expression when he scrutinized it matched that of a novice medic-nin asked to craft an antidote for a rare poison. He didn't have the faintest clue what he was looking at

Kurenai didn't, either. She eyed it warily, then looked to the Hokage.

"It doesn't appear like any fūinjutsu, Curse Sealing, or Technique Formula I've ever seen."

"It's for a potion of some description. What that potion does, however, that is what I want to find out."

"I'm impressed any prisoner could hide something like this from the Torture and Interrogation Unit. Ibiki, Inoichi and Anko are painstakingly thorough," said Asuma.

"From what I've learned, they weren't given the appropriate time to investigate the prisoner." Tsunade rested her elbows on her desk and interlaced her fingers. "It happened nearly a year ago. There was an incident with an Academy teacher going rogue, do you remember?"

Kurenai furrowed her brow, recognizing it immediately. Asuma set the formula down.

"I remember," Asuma replied. "It was Mizuki. He manipulated Naruto into stealing the Scroll of Sealing. As I recall," he scratched at his beard, glancing over to Kurenai, "Amari wound up caught in that mess, too."

The kunoichi nodded. "She did. Amari stumbled upon Mizuki's plot while searching for Naruto. There was a battle. A skirmish, I suppose would be more accurate, during which Iruka was injured protecting Naruto. Amari exhausted herself. In the end, Naruto's mastery of the Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu allowed him to defeat Mizuki. He was black and blue when I arrived, so I administered a genjutsu on Mizuki to keep him pacified.

"According to the final report," she continued, "Mizuki acted alone. He was punished and the case was closed, wasn't it?"

"That's right," confirmed Tsunade. "But I'm not sure he was acting alone. Due to Naruto's and Amaririsu's involvement in the incident, the Third Hokage wanted a quick resolution, likely to keep the shinobi and the Villagers from despising Naruto more than they already did. He had plenty to deal with because of the Nine-Tails. "

"The longer the case was open, the more scrutiny and discussion there would be around Naruto's role in stealing the Scroll, and his learning of the Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu.

"Manipulated or not, it's a serious crime he committed. The shinobi and Villagers of the Leaf already despised him for the Nine-Tails. You two were there that night. How many shinobi called for extreme punishments? How many swore he was a traitor? How many said he had gone one line too far? How many claimed that the Nine-Tails had finally taken control? Or that he was simply the Nine-Tails itself."

The rhetorical nature of the question was met by silent frowns. It said plenty.

This is just another cycle in our world. One you began, Grandfather, Tsunade thought. The pain and suffering of those we call jinchūriki, it has been this way since the first Tailed-Beast was sealed away inside of a person. Naruto should be considered a hero for bearing that burden. Yet he was an outcast. He was treated as a monster and pushed away time and again.

That's how it is for all who are made jinchūriki. Few, I'd bet, have ever been given a choice in the matter. Some Villages frame it as an honor. Even ours. But those old enough to have met previous jinchūriki know the truth: it's more of a curse than a blessing. Because no matter who you were before, the majority of people treat you differently after.

My Grandmother bore that burden. As did Kushina. And now Naruto. It's not something we can ever understand. Few ever try to. However, just as Naruto and Gaara have learned, there are those who see beyond it. Who see them as people rather than weapons or monsters.

But they're the lucky ones. That's what makes the Akatsuki even more dangerous. They understand how jinchūriki are perceived, and they're going to use that to their advantage.

"There was also Amaririsu's involvement to consider. Beyond disobeying the signals to return home immediately," she continued aloud. "Despite Naruto defeating Mizuki in the end, and Iruka's involvement, Amaririsu became the centerpiece of the incident. A freshly graduated Genin 'defeated' the traitor Chūnin, with some support. All eyes were on her. I'm sure you had plenty of questions to answer, Kurenai."

"Mm," Kurenai nodded softly. "If you can think it, someone asked it. Men, in particular, had…rather enlightening questions," she added awkwardly.

"I can only imagine," Asuma rolled his eyes.

"There will never be a shortage of fools, regardless of generation," Tsunade said. "Anyway, every moment the case was left open, every moment the details were up for discussion risked Amaririsu's eyes becoming common knowledge. A shinobi considering betrayal would be incentivized by the prize of claiming even a single dōjutsu. Especially from a child with her lineage."

Greed and power were potent motivators. Even before the Uchiha Massacre the Sharingan was considered a trophy. Now that there were a handful left, the Sharingan was worth more than a jackpot sum to shinobi.

Tsunade tapped the tips of her fingers against her knuckles.

"Since the Scroll was returned and the perpetrator captured, and preliminary investigations suggested he was working alone, it was case-closed. That is, until now.

"When Mizuki was first locked up at the Maximum Security Prison the guards found him concealing that paper," she gestured to the formula. "At the time, they just assumed it was an innocent doodling and filed it away as nothing more."

Peace, in its own way, was to blame. Peace made their guards relax, and as a consequence they became complacent. Another issue was the complexity of the formula. Few would recognize it as anything except gibberish, a gardening list for plants and tonics he had no hope of finding at the prison, and which didn't make any type of known poison.

Garbage, in other words.

"Lady Tsunade, what is this formula for?" Shizune asked.

"I'm not certain," she admitted. "However, the writing resembles a document confiscated by Jiraiya at Orochimaru's compound where he was…experimenting on humans."

Kurenai's eyes went wide. "Wait, are you saying Orochimaru is behind this?"

"That possibility does exist. Think about it. If a lone, inexperienced Chūnin stole the Scroll of Sealing, he wouldn't actually be able to do anything with it. He lacks the power. Whereas Naruto was overflowing with more power than he ever consciously realized.

"But Mizuki? No," she shook her head. "It'd only make sense if Orochimaru was involved, supporting him, pulling his strings."

Were Orochimaru to have claimed the Scroll of Sealing… Tsunade didn't want to imagine what other Forbidden Jutsus he would have unleashed during the Invasion. Reanimating her grandfather and granduncle to battle the Third Hokage was bad enough.

"Kurenai, Asuma," Tsunade looked at them both. "Retrieve Mizuki from the Maximum Security Prison. Bring him to me."

The two Jōnin nodded and vanished from her office.

Be careful, you two, Tsunade thought, glancing to a small lottery ticket sticking out of a nearby folder. I've got a bad feeling.

She had won the small jackpot.

She never won.

The Maximum Security Prison was far too quiet. Even across the vast chasm at the watch-house, where there normally would have been little by way of noise discernible from the isolated island of stone, the silence and utter lack of movement set Kurenai on edge.

The mountain was silent. Deathly still. Like the entrance of an abandoned town where the inhabitants vanished in the middle of their daily lives.

The drawbridge was raised, barring any potential escape. She had sensed no one on their journey here. The watch-house was occupied by a single Leaf guard, who Asuma was presently speaking to.

Yet, although it all appeared normal, something was off here.

It was in the mountain air—the presence of evil. Oppressive as a desert sun, vile as a field of corpses chewed up by vultures, their insides torn apart and leftovers left to rot in the open. It didn't merely touch her senses, it groped them with greasy, prodding fingers, bathed them in mucilaginous slime.

This feeling…

A gust of wind, icily crisp, whistled and howled through the chasm. It rushed past the kunoichi, stinging her face, rustling her white cloak and hair.

Kurenai squinted at the prison island, then turned away to approach and enter the watch-house. Inside she found Asuma and the guard—a man around their age with dark hair and nose which had visibly been broken in past battle, a Chūnin she'd guess—discussing what the guard called a "communication error" with the other watch-house. It rendered passage impossible, he claimed.

"A communication error?" Asuma repeated in disbelief.

"It happens more than you think," the guard shrugged. "We put in a requisition for new equipment at the start of the year. All we've gotten so far are these short-range communicators, which were old and worn down when we first received them. Now they're barely holding together. See?"

He showed them the equipment. Kurenai had seen broken plates in better condition.

"All right," sighed Asuma, visibly annoyed. "So how do you communicate when the radios break down?"

"At night we'll use flashlight signals. During the day we'll adjust the drawbridge ever so slightly to get each other's attention. Then we'll lower the bridge and meet in the middle. We don't get visitors and there hasn't been an attempted escape in over a year. More than that, actually."

The guard scratched his head. "Most of the time when we lower the bridge, it's to share a smoke break and talk. There aren't many prisoner transfers anymore."

"And when someone doesn't respond to either?"

"That's…actually never happened before."

"Until now," Kurenai stated.

"Well, yes," he admitted reluctantly.

"Great. You can lower this side of the bridge, right?" Asuma questioned.

"I can."

"Do it, then. That'll get us close enough to jump."

"O- okay. If you're sure. I'm not sure what the rush is, but I suppose it isn't my business. I'll try to get the radio working."

"Right."

Asuma turned to leave. Kurenai began to follow, but stopped halfway.

"As soon as we're on the other side," she said, looking at the guard, "raise the bridge."

"Ma'am?"

"I sense something foul. Remember, as soon as we are across, raise the bridge."

"Yes, ma'am."

When half of the drawbridge finally lowered, the two Leaf shinobi quickly crossed to the very edge of it.

"You said you sensed something foul. Any idea what we're going to find?" Asuma asked.

"Best case scenario? We'll find the guards playing cards and drinking on the job."

"They're waiting for us, aren't they?" he asked after a moment.

Kurenai nodded once. "I believe they are."

He looked at her with a charming grin. "Let's not disappoint them, then."

"Right," Kurenai smiled.

With a powerful, chakra infused leap they crossed the chasm and vaulted over the top of the retracted bridge, running down its opposite side to the sound of cranking and clunking gears as the guard raised the bridge.

The opposing watch-house was abandoned, they learned upon investigation. And the door to the bridge controls refused to budge, locked up tight from the other side.

"There's a trail of blood leading to the door. And it looks like someone's bloody fingers wrapped around the handle," Asuma noted.

"I can't sense any signs of life inside."

"Damn." Asuma tested the door with a firm thrust of his shoulder. He grunted. "I doubt anyone except Lady Tsunade will be able to break this down. Maybe a Wind Style Jutsu…"

"Wait, Asuma. Whoever blockaded the door spent their last moments ensuring no one could enter. Their killer is still on the loose somewhere in this prison."

"Yeah." Asuma stepped away from the door. "And I doubt they're excited to stay. If the guard stationed here was killed, though… What happened to the other guards?"

"Let's go find them."

From the watch-house, guided by Kurenai's sensory abilities, they swept the grounds of the small island fortress in search of signs of battle. There was nothing. Those who should've been on vigilant patrol were gone. As if taken and transferred to another world without a sound just as her daughter was.

The presence of evil did not diminish; in fact, it's oppressive and vile nature intensified. The searing desert sun was accompanied by suffocating humidity. The field of corpses was attacked by thousands upon thousands of maggots crawling over each other, poking out of flesh, feasting on the dead carcasses.

The greasy, prodding fingers groped her senses more vigorously, more revoltingly; the mucilaginous slime was mixed with gore, organs and body parts of humans and animals, pouring over her in an endless foul waterfall of evil and killing intent.

"Are you all right?" Asuma noticed her tension as they investigated the grounds.

They knew they wouldn't find survivors. Not out here. They were searching for casualties. Before they entered the trap waiting to snap around their necks.

Kurenai scanned the exercise grounds. All the soil and dirt would the perfect place to hide a body.

"The collective Will of the prisoners is…overwhelming," she answered his question after a long pause. "Whoever has rallied them, they've stirred the evil in the hearts of their fellow prisoners. It's reached a boiling point. Agitation, hatred, impatience, vengeance, a thirst for blood and death, they're consumed by it."

"I suppose its good we're here, then."

There were signs of recent digging. Nothing large enough to hide a body. Or several.

We may be dealing with a hostage situation, Kurenai considered. Or they corralled all of our comrades inside the prison to kill them. Out of sight of the other watch-house.

No matter how she looked at it, the situation was grim. Either their comrades were at the mercy of murderers, traitors and rogues, or they were all dead. And the other guard-house hadn't the faintest idea because of faulty equipment.

But who had rallied the prisoners in rebellion? How had they freed themselves and taken complete control over the facility without a noticeable struggle?

Together in silence the Leaf shinobi approached the entrance. The mountain air was cold. The wind howled through the chasm.

The entrance was wide open.

It should have been shut.

The attack came from above. It came without warning as they neared the doors. And it came in the form of two giants, like meteors, slamming into the natural stone the fortress grounds were carved from. Debris pelted through the air. Light tan dust hung in the air.

The images of Asuma and Kurenai continued to walk through the entrance undamaged.

"Hey Bro, what happened? I landed on her, but she wasn't there. Are they like ghosts or something?"

"Don't be silly, Raijin. They aren't ghosts. Ghosts are scaredy cats. That's why they hide beneath sheets."

"Ohhhh! So that's why they do it. You're so smart, Fūjin!"

A loud crack of two hands clapping together echoed from inside the shadows of the entrance. Then another. And another. The applause maintained its slow, sarcastic tempo and was joined by a sardonic chuckle.

"That was quite the trick. I should've expected it when I saw you here, Kurenai."

Concealed behind a wall enclosing the castle, Kurenai peered up the path at their would-be attackers, keeping as much of herself physically hidden from potential long-range attacks.

The two giants were bulbous, their hair tied back in ponytails. The easiest way to distinguish them was the goatee and shorter stature of the one named Fūjin, who was the eldest from what she remembered.

"The Legendary Idiot Brothers," Kurenai muttered. "This is bad."

"Mizuki must have tricked those idiots," Asuma replied, taking cover behind the wall across from her. "Not that it would take much. Those buffoons make Academy kids look like they're on the same intellectual plain as Nara's."

Pouring out of the shattered hole in the wall the Idiot Brothers created were the other prisoners. From her count, their numbers totaled at one hundred and seven.

From a purely prison standpoint it was a surprisingly low number. From the perspective of a battlefield, two eliteJōnin against over a hundred enemy shinobi and murderers was quite the challenge.

"This proves it beyond any shadow of a doubt. Fate is smiling on us! To think you would be the one to show up on our glorious day of freedom!"

Mizuki stalked out of the shadows. He was nothing like she remembered him. Before he had been a plain and average teacher, in decent condition for a shinobi, but nothing out of the ordinary.

The man at the top of the stairs had used his time in prison to build his body. His chest was wider, his shoulders and arms thicker, the muscles were more defined. He displayed his new physique arrogantly, keeping his prisoner uniform unbuttoned to reveal a chiseled upper body despite the weather.

In the time since they last met his white hair had grown out to the middle of his back. And he appeared to have a black skull tattoo on his right forearm.

Kurenai could sense the evil within him, evil which matched by the crazed glint in his eyes. There were five shadows behind him, none of whom she recognized by chakra signature alone. But there was no doubt they shared the same intense desire for vengeance.

"Prison has certainly changed Mizuki," Asuma commented. "And not for the better."

"No. He's become more deranged and obsessed. His chakra signature is much like…"

Kurenai's eyes widened suddenly. It couldn't be.

Yet it was. The vile chakra she was sensing within him, there was no mistake about its origin.

"Much like what, Kurenai?"

"A Curse Mark," she exhaled in shock. "He has a Curse Mark!"

"What?" gasped Asuma.

How on earth could he have gotten one? When? Before his betrayal? After? Is that what the formula was used for?

"There's no doubt about it," she brushed aside her own questions. "That mark on his arm, it's another one of Orochimaru's Curse Marks. It's intensifying his chakra, intensifying the evil within his heart."

"Then that must mean Lady Tsunade's hunch was right. He's another of Orochimaru's pawns."

"Mizuki," Kurenai raised her voice to be heard, "I suggest you tell all of your fellow prisoners to return to their cells. There is nothing waiting for you beyond these walls. Nothing you've tricked them into believing."

"Tricked them? Oh, Kurenai. Don't be so harsh. I haven't tricked anyone. In fact, I know without any shadow of a doubt that what we're searching for is beyond that chasm. Fate has deigned to favor us."

"This isn't fate."

"Oh, but it is! You see," he smiled wickedly, "fate has delivered a prize right to our doorstep. You."

Kurenai furrowed her brow but said nothing.

Am I his target? Or…

"What are you talking about, you diseased maniac?" Asuma demanded.

"I'll tell you. My friends!" Mizuki directed to his fellow prisoners. "Today we have reclaimed our freedom! Soon my brothers and I will lower the bridge and the world will once more be ours to roam! No more dark cells. No more pointless labor. We will be free!

"But before you leave and seize the world for yourselves, I present one final gift to you!"

All of the prisoners were listening intently. Kurenai and Asuma listened with trepidation. She felt her hand wrapping tightly around the hilt of a kunai.

"The location I spoke of which rests inside the Leaf, if you wish for unimaginable wealth and safety, all you must do is go there… And kill Amaririsu Yūhi!"

Kurenai felt her stomach drop. And then a fierce fire scorch through her veins.

"Bring me the head of Amaririsu Yūhi and Lord Orochimaru will reward you with the wealth to live happily and comfortably for the rest of your lives! Why, you might ask yourselves. Well," his smile became wickeder, viler, "she is in possession of the Sharingan and the Byakugan, of course! Bring her eyes and head to me intact, and you will be richly rewarded!"

Prisoners had already begun scrambling down the staircase. Two suddenly halted, however, grabbing their heads and letting out a wails of terror before collapsing.

Kurenai flashed out from behind the corner and slashing another prisoner across the chest and beneath his armpit as she dashed around him, attacking the next by breaking his nose with the blunt pommel, then his knee with a kick before cutting down a third former shinobi.

Arcs of blood sprayed over the stone staircase. It splattered against her white cloak and splashed a few beads of crimson on her face. All three prisoners collapsed, either injured, wailing over their broken bones or dead.

Cold red eyes glared up at the remaining shinobi, daring them to move. Some hesitated. Others grinned.

Blood dripped off her blade. Killing intent poured off the Mother Bear.

"You will not lay a finger on my daughter," she hissed.

Mizuki, with his vile grin and his vile chakra, jabbed his fingers down at the kunoichi.

"And a bonus to whoever brings me her mother's head! Now, let the games begin!"

The island of stone seethed into combat.

"A prison break?" Tsunade repeated, bewildered by the report.

The Head of the Crows, perched in the open window, dipped her beak down.

"Lady Kurenai and Asuma are presently in combat against the inmates. However, my agents are reporting that, after breaching the guard-house and lowering half of the bridge, many have escaped the facility entirely and are part of one of two factions. Either they are fleeing for the border; my agents have prioritized their immediate capture, as well as the defense of Lady Kurenai and Asuma."

"Good," Tsunade nodded. "And the other?"

"They are heading straight for the Leaf."

"The Leaf?" Tsunade was taken aback by the information. "What would they have to gain by returning here? They're more liable to end up killed or imprisoned again."

"I wish I knew their motive," Atsuko hummed, disquieted by the situation. "Reports are coming in slowly. For now, our priority must be containing this situation. The Stone cannot be allowed to learn of this. Otherwise I fear they will finally see an opportunity to strike. For if we cannot keep our own prisoners in check, what chance do we have of holding them back?"

It was an unnerving truth.

"Thank you for your report, Atsuko. I'll mobilize reinforcements for Kurenai and Asuma immediately. Keep me updated on any new developments."

"Of course, Lady Hokage."

Atsuko took flight from the window and vanished from sight. At the same time, Tsunade turned on her heel, pushing aside her thoughts on the formula for the new headache at her feet.

Kurenai and Asuma would need backup. She needed to get the shinobi stationed on the walls on alert, and she would need a few tracking units to capture the escaped prisoners.

"Shizune, summon Team Eight, Hana Inuzuka, Kimiko Hyūga…"

She paused and knotted her brows together.

"Milady?" Shizune blinked, waiting for the rest of her orders.

I was going to summon Tenzō, too, to send as backup to Kurenai and Asuma. But he's still assigned to Amaririsu and Sasuke as guard detail. Given that this all started with a formula from Orochimaru, and a jackpot win, I don't want to take any chances.

Mentally flipping through all of her Anbu for Sensory Types and expert trackers, and those presently available, she struck upon an idea.

"Get me Uzuki's squad," Tsunade said. "Afterwards, prepare your shinobi gear. I'll be assigning you a team as well."

"Of course, milady."

Shizune departed without another word to complete her tasks. Tsunade didn't waste any time either.

She sent word to Inoichi Yamanaka requesting the aid of the Intelligence Division's Tonbo Tobitake; he could help her search for information on the formula. She sent warnings to the walls to prepare them for intruders. Then, after those preparations were made, she began forming squads for the upcoming missions.

All the while she couldn't wrap her head around one question.

What do we have in the Leaf that they seek more than freedom?

She hoped to learn that before it was too late.

Team training went about as Amari expected it would.

She ended up sweaty, sore, out of breath, seated on her butt with blades of grass sticking to her sweat slicked skin and soaked hair. There was also the black and blue ego she was sporting.

It was everything she asked for from Sakura, Naruto and Kakashi.

"Don't hold back. Don't coddle me. Show me all of my weaknesses," she demanded.

They did not disappoint.

For a month she'd been physically inactive outside of physical therapy and walks around the Village. It showed. She felt her diminished stamina in every winded, heaving breath, and though she had regained her mobility and movement in her injured ankle, her movements weren't nearly as sharp.

Her eyes could see more than ever, but it didn't matter. Her body was out of practice. There was rust gathered on her, rust which a few good spars—and beatings—would work off.

Likewise, Sasuke demanded the same ego-bruising beating as she had. His areas of weakness were similar and different. Stamina, of course, had a hatchet taken to it. But his physical strength had taken a heftier blow due to his shoulder injury.

In the end, after collapsing in a heap of sweat and bruises at Kakashi's call to end the spar, he bore the same annoyed but determined expression she had.

They'd lost hard-gained ground. All the while their teammates had progressed. They both saw it. Felt it, too. Sakura and Naruto hadn't stopped growing. There was more fire in them since they returned from the Land of Sound, more determination, more drive to become stronger after what they experienced. They had gained more experience, while she and Sasuke had spent a month recovering.

But that was fine. Really. Recovery was the first step after their experience against the Sound Four, Kimimaro and Kasai. Now that they were finally cleared to train, it was time to kick into higher gear and reclaim their lost strength, then ascend to new heights.

"Remember to take it one day at a time," Kakashi reminded the two Uchiha. "You're both very fortunate to be on this training field today. Your injuries could have just as easily ended your shinobi careers, so don't be too frustrated. You did well today. Honestly, you did better than I expected. And I saw no signs of lingering damage from your injuries. All in all, today was a success. So stay focused, all right?"

"Right," Sasuke replied, nodding once.

"We will, Kakashi-sensei," said Amari.

Focus was easier now that they could train again. Soon, though, she hoped to work off the rest of the rust and get back to missions. In her current condition, there was no way Anbu was feasible. At best they would shoo her off. At worst they'd laugh while doing it.

After fond farewells and promises to meet up later at Ichiraku, the Nara headed home to bathe; she'd almost forgotten how it felt to be sweaty and gross, a condition worsened by the cold weather. Her clothes were sticking to her skin. Even a mild breeze was like a cold knife cutting through her.

Once home, after slipping out of her sandals at the door, she first stopped in her bedroom to remove her shinobi gear, unbuckling her tantō, her ninja tool box and removing her pouch, placing them all on her bed to clean and organize after her shower.

She picked out freshly clean clothes and undergarments, grabbed a towel and disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

When the pleasantly warm water poured over her head, Amari exhaled a sigh of relief. She shut her eyes, hugged her arms around her belly and tilted her head back, decompressing beneath the massage of warmth over her tired body.

Today was productive, she thought. It feels good to actually train again. I've had all this pent up energy and anxiety for the last month. Admittedly, I still have a little anxiety left. I haven't brought up Anbu to Kakashi-sensei, Mom or Uncle Shikaku yet. And Atsuko hasn't had time to talk to me since I told her.

The Head of the Crows supported the plan, she knew. But the others… She hadn't found the courage to tell them. The Anbu was a Black Ops unit—an assassination unit that worked in the shadows and darkness so the regular forces and civilians could live in the light.

Even if they understood why she believed it was the best option, that didn't mean they would like it. Or agree to it.

The danger of being shaped by the darkness was there. No matter how brightly her Will of Fire burned, she wasn't immune to the pull of darkness or the hatred within her heart. She'd felt it take root in her heart before. She would've been swallowed whole without Shisui. And it was frightening to know how easily it happened, and how blind she was to seeing it.

After all of her recent experiences, Amari wasn't arrogant enough anymore to believe she understood what the true darkness of the shinobi world entailed. The loss and suffering she experienced wouldn't fully prepare her for the Anbu and all it entailed.

It'll test me, Amari thought, eyes shut, feeling the warm water cascade off her head, down her face, neck and body. Steam rose and fogged the mirror. I'll be faced with darkness like the Crimson Flowers. I'll be faced with missions which require me to eliminate targets. But I won't be alone. I'll have Sasuke, Mimi, Aoko, Atsuko and Osamu at my side. And I'll still have Kakashi-sensei, Mom, Uncle Shikaku and all the other people I hold precious. I'll always have Shisui with me.

As long as I have them, no matter what darkness I face… She clutched her right hand over her scarred bicep. She thought of the scar on her face and the scar on her back, both gifted to her by Kasai. No matter what scars I'm given, I'll find a path forward. I won't lose my way.

The warm water relaxed her sore muscles. It loosened up the stress and anxiety she still held. By the end she was feeling a little more like her old self again. Before the month of captivity and looming questions of how to accomplish her grand goals.

After her shower she moisturized her skin and took care of her wild mess of blue hair. She exited the bathroom dressed in her mesh long sleeve undershirt, fuchsia top, black shorts and purple leggings.

Her clan crest pendent hung beneath the two sizes two large top, her purple bandana was tied securely around her wrist. She carried her headband in hand, which she placed in her bedroom.

Once her gear was in order, Amari acquired a blanket, opened her window and slipped out onto the roof, where she proceeded to lay with the blanket over her lower half—mainly to protect her bare feet from the cold—and watch the few clouds trail lazily across the sky.

After a long day of serious training, it felt good to relax.

Exhaling a quiet sigh, she shut her eyes and disposed of thoughts regarding the future. She couldn't spend every moment worrying. That'd just be a drag.

It was the whistle on the air and sudden sharp clang of metal against metal that snapped her upright. By then it was already too late.

Her eyes, crimson and hardened lavender, saw the wall of flames in exquisite and frightening detail. There was no time to move or curse. She saw the fire jutsu. Felt the rush of heat against her face.

Then the jutsu collided. A tower of flames rose from the Yūhi household that could be seen from all directions, the tremors shook the foundations of the home, the explosion of flames roared through the quiet Village.

The blanket floated off the rooftop.

It was burning.