Chapter 135
Mobilization and Containment: Criminals on the Loose!
After the harrowing Invasion perpetrated by the Sand and Sound Village, which obliterated homes and business and claimed the lives of countless civilians and shinobi alike, the people of the Hidden Leaf Village once again found a peaceful routine, a sort of cadence of movement and life, consistent in its graceful tempo.
The repetitive drumming of hammers on nails took on the form of the metronome, the rhythm of saws cutting through wood was measured in combinations of quarter and eighth notes, the solo of a squeaking wheelbarrows wheel rolling across the street was distinct, and finally the foreman, their conductors, oversaw the whole orchestra, including the chorus of curses from the workers who had the misfortune of smashing their fingers.
All of it became a part of their new normal. It was a peaceful normal. Not without grief, not without visible scars. But the Villagers and shinobi were a hardy people.
The Invasion wasn't their first encounter with death and destruction.
It wouldn't be their last.
On that winter evening, where the sun came down from its precipice, sharpening the chill in the air, where a few scattered ribbons of clouds drifted gently across the sky, nothing was out of the ordinary for the Leaf.
The bakeries and restaurants were open, from which the warm and delicious aroma of fresh bread, ramen, barbecued meats, grilled chicken and freshly cooked fish—salmon, cod, tilapia—wafted into the streets.
Taverns and bars opened their doors to off-duty shinobi, workers and civilians alike, who slowly, steadily, began to populate the businesses. The curfew limited their time to savor the offered spirits—beer, wine, whiskey, gin, sake, cocktails—and the lowered inhibitions and companionship of comrades, friends or strangers.
Elsewhere, children played with their friends at playgrounds while their parents watched over them. They swung on the swings. Slid down the slides. Giggled joyfully as they chased each other in games of tag. And screeched like banshees when they fell and scraped their knees. They kicked rubber balls, passing them back and forth.
At the hospital, the doctors, nurses and medic-nin read their charts, diagnosed patient illnesses, occupied the operating theaters, performed the mundanity of paperwork and, at times, collapsed in the break rooms in the midst of yet another long shift.
The patrolling shinobi stationed on the walls were at alert, watching vigilantly for the escaped prisoners. Crows concealed themselves in the shadows, or wheeled in the sky like vultures in search of carrion.
The daily routine and peace went untouched. People smiled and greeted one another in the street. Young Genin performed tedious D-rank missions, and none were exceptionally happy about it. Academy students worked on their homework, reluctantly.
Beneath the calm, shinobi of the Leaf Village were taking action.
Hana Inuzuka and the Haimaru Brothers, Kimiko Hyūga, and Team Eight worked beyond the walls to track and hunt the escaped prisoners.
Meanwhile, Shizune was on standby, waiting for the Crow's newest report regarding the escapees locations. Specifically Mizuki and his entourage.
Elsewhere, as silent and imperceptible as ghostly specters, a squad of masked shinobi led by a kunoichi beneath a cat-motif mask with three red stripes raced towards their destination. Her long purple hair rose and fell with every powerful leap through the forests, up the mountain towards the barren island of stone where comrades were locked in a life or death battle against numerous rogue shinobi and murderers.
These actions, like a passing shadow, went unnoticed by the uninformed and the untrained. The peace was maintained. People went about their daily lives, shopping for groceries, buying flowers from the Yamanaka Flower Shop, stopping in the street to discuss the change of weather with friends. All was well.
The peace met its end as it usually does: In a sudden explosion of fire few were prepared for.
The shockwave of the explosion ruptured through the Village, ending all conversations abruptly. It halted all games played by children, it set off-duty shinobi on alert and acquired the rapt and horrified attention of every citizen.
Parents rushed to their children's sides. Friends stood closer together, whispering in fear of what the cause might be.
The tower of flames rose above the buildings. From a residential area.
Shinobi took to the rooftops to examine the situation. To seek out potential intruders and determine whether to call for an evacuation among the civilians populating their present area, or see if the situation was already on the verge of containment.
Of those shinobi, separated by buildings but united by their shared dread of another attack, were several pairs and individuals of the next generation.
Neji Hyūga, alongside Hiashi Hyūga, Hanabi Hyūga, Kō Hyūga and the collective members of their Clan observed the trails of smoke and flame like tongues rising above the buildings from the Hyūga Compound.
The Head of the Clan, aware of the situation, scanned the area with his Byakugan, searching for the threats who penetrated their walls and launched a brazen attack. And who their target might be.
On the roof of a bookstore they happened to be passing at the time were Shikamaru Nara and Chōji Akimichi. The expression of the Nara was grim, the Akimichi deeply concerned and anxious.
Ino Yamanaka, dressed in casual clothes and an apron, saw the flames reach their maximum height from the roof of her family's Flower Shop. On a tea house were Mimi Inuzuka, Aoko and Tenten, at the ready to command an evacuation to the civilians below.
Rock Lee, previously preparing a test for his eternal rival alongside Might Guy, was suddenly left chasing the trail of his teacher across the rooftops, for Guy had an immediate sense of who was under attack, given the direction and location.
As did his Eternal Rival, Kakashi Hatake, who was also flashing across the rooftops straight for the source.
Finally, Naruto Uzumaki, Sasuke Uchiha and Sakura Haruno caught sight of the orange flames as they began to dissipate from the rooftops of their homes.
Each and every young shinobi spent a moment trying to discern what was in the direction of the attack and what might be the target, believing it to be an attack against a structural weakness or a priority target, not a single individual.
However, the answer hit Team Seven, Shikamaru, Chōji, Ino, Mimi, Tenten and Aoko much like the explosion—horrifyingly violent, rupturing the peace they held but a moment ago.
Unbeknownst to the young shinobi, they each launched across the rooftops in near unison.
From the Hokage Tower window, Tsunade watched the smoke rise from the residential area, arms crossed over her belly and a knot formed between her brow. She watched Crows swarm the area, and knew immediately the target of the attack.
So, she realized, that's who they're after, then.
Amaririsu Yūhi.
It was less than two minutes from the time of the explosion to the time Kakashi arrived at the Yūhi household. Yet he was too late.
The battle was over. The damage was done. And the scars were as plain to see as the tower of fire that had ignited it.
He detected the grotesque odor of charred flesh on the air. Thicker was the scent of smoke and burnt wood, which rose in thick ribbons from the Yūhi household's roof and carried off with the biting air.
His keen sense of smell picked up the faint scent of his student within it, obvious by the fragrance of cocoa butter and vanilla. She'd showered and freshened up before the attack, it told him. She meant to relax after a rough and productive training session.
And then she was attacked.
Below, on the street, he found the burnt remains of a blanket. Some manner of water, doubtlessly a Water Nature ninjutsu, had spared it a complete death, but there was no salvaging it.
Scattered in the dirt and on the roof, discarded and abandoned like an old child's toy, were a handful of ninja tools; deflected, he deduced, likely by Tenzō. Before the flames. He was certain of that fact, for the residue of smoke and ash was visible on the blades, clear to his Sharingan eye.
Kakashi scanned every detail of the abandoned battlefield. Every scar. He was trying to reconstruct the incident in his mind's eye to learn what had happened, how it happened, why it happened, and most importantly, what condition his student was in presently. He wanted information before other shinobi arrived and contaminated the scene.
The burnt blanket. The opened window leading into Amari's room. The fire and scorch marks over the rooftop. The discarded ninja tools. They all told a story.
He slipped in through the window carefully, silently, so as not to disturb the personal photos and mementos on Amari's desk. Not that his effort mattered. A few pictures were already lying flat on their face or back. The action figure of the strangely bulky man with blond hair was flexing while laying on his side. Haku's crystalized flower was unharmed. Kaito's cage was undisturbed and empty.
Otherwise Amari's room was exactly how he expected it. Immaculate in its organization and cleanliness.
The explosion must have knocked over her personal effects, Kakashi theorized.
Scanning the room, he carefully checked her desk drawers, found her journals, and quickly sealed them away in a scroll; with shinobi soon to be snooping around the crime scene, he didn't want any potential spy for the Foundation discovering them, or a curious fool attempting to flip through it.
Amari's shinobi gear, he noticed, was missing. Her headband was, too.
Exiting her room, which required him to use the knuckles of his fingers to open a gap in the door big enough for him to slip through, he made a quick trip through the house looking for anything that was disturbed.
In the living area he found a fuchsia top, thrown and discarded in a haphazard bundle. He didn't immediately suspect the worst.
There was a carefully hidden shogi piece marked with the Flying Raijin nearby.
Checking the door, he found that her sandals were missing. In the laundry room he found the clothes she trained in, still damp with sweat, joined with a towel inside a laundry basket.
Returning upstairs to her room, he quickly checked her closet, where he found an empty hanger caught at vertical angle between other shirts. Amari was too organized to leave anything at such a skewed angle, that is unless she was in a rush.
Kakashi exited Amari's room through the window after fixing her personal effects, shutting the window behind him. He hoped it discouraged snooping. If not, he suspected the Crows themselves would.
Either way, he had the most important documents secured.
On the roof he crouched next to the body responsible for the pungent stench of charred flesh. The individual, a man, bore severe burns on his back along a lengthy cut, which was slashed from his right shoulder to his left hip. The wound was cauterized, so there was minimal blood.
They hadn't had a chance to dodge the attack.
The man wore the grey tunic and pants of the Maximum Security Prison, the back of it distinctly labeled with the number twenty-seven. His two most distinguishing features were his red hair, colored like dancing flames, and the scar cut around the base of his neck.
The man was familiar.
And alive. He was breathing heavily. Groaning at times.
Distinctly, his face was frozen in terror. Eyes wide. Mouth agape. He looked like a frozen fish in an ice box.
He looked ready to die.
"I remember you. You're Ryo Miura, the infamous Red Death, right?" Kakashi asked coldly. "You went rogue around the time I made Jōnin. Of all the lousy turncoats, you were one of the worst. You gave up key information to the Stone to fill your pockets, and because of you countless comrades of ours lost their lives. All for your petty greed."
Ryu Miura blinked but said nothing. He wheezed and stared into oblivion.
"You were captured twelve years ago after your so-called comrades decided you weren't worth keeping around. They slit your throat and left you for dead; seems their greed was even greater than yours.
"Fate seemed to smile on you, though, didn't it? You survived. A passing merchant and his son found you crawling in a ditch. Not knowing who you were, not knowing the kind of scum they'd found, and because they were kind, good-hearted people, they went out of their way to save your worthless life. They kept you alive and hauled you to the closest hospital—ours. Quite ironic, wouldn't you say?"
Ryo Miura didn't seem to even hear him. His bottom lip, Kakashi noticed, was quivering.
It added another piece to the puzzle. A very intimate piece.
"Kakashi!"
Kakashi didn't need to look up to recognize the voice. Guy's bellowing tenor was unmistakable.
The Copy Ninja raised his gaze. There was another body close by. Another adult male, captured, bound and unconscious inside an intricate maze of Wood. Quick, efficient. He expected as much from Tenzō.
Perched on the wood, as though they were harbingers of a bad omen, were Crows. And though the man was unconscious, his expression was permanently stricken by horror.
Guy landed beside him, taking in the scene with a stony expression.
"Wood Style? Was it that boy? Did he manage to infiltrate the Leaf?"
"No," replied Kakashi calmly. "Look there," he added with a gesture of his chin towards the point of impact of the powerful Fire Jutsu.
"A…dome?"
"Based on the scorch patterns, I'd say that's where Amari was at the moment of the attack. Given everything else I've found, I think I know exactly how this battle played out."
The wall of flames was exquisite. Frightening. There was no time to move or curse. The blazing orange reflected in her crimson and hardened lavender eyes. The rush of heat brushed harshly against her face.
Then the jutsu collided. Tremors shook the foundations of her home, the explosion roared through the quiet Village, and a tower of flames rose into the sky like an ancient kingdoms obelisk rising out of the earth after a millennium.
What occurred in an imperceptible matter of seconds was witnessed in full clarity by the wielder of dōjutsu, however. There'd been no time to move; she was taken entirely off guard by the sudden and brazen attack at her home. What little movement she did make threw her blanket off of her body, as though it might shield her from the scorching inferno set to engulf her.
However, the flames did not harm her.
She saw the Wood Jutsu sprout rapidly out of the roof of her home, saw the blazing flames vanish behind the dome as it sealed shut around her, sinking her in darkness where only the light of her Sharingan glowed. She felt the tremors of the explosion, felt the heat of the flames through the Wood Dome, smelled the scent of burnt wood.
Wood Style? But how?
There was no time to question it. The shinobi within filed the bewildered questions away and refocused on the important matter: Someone was attacking her inside the Leaf, at her very home no less.
Foundation? Rogue shinobi?
She couldn't say. Not yet. But she swore to herself that she was going to squeeze the answers out of them.
Thunk. Thunk. Thunk!
Even without the Byakugan, the pattern of strikes against the dome made it clear someone was trying to cut through it like they were wielding a hatchet.
Creating the Seal of Confrontation, Amari shut her eyes and focused entirely on the Flying Raijin. It took a moment, as it always did.
The mental door opened, and she leapt through, vanishing soundlessly from the dome in a purple flash no one witnessed.
She reappeared seated on the floor in the living room of her home. In an instant she was on her feet, pulling her fuchsia top up and over her head, discarding it in a heap before Body Flickering up the stairs, charging through her door—causing it to bounce off the wall and begin to shut behind her—to her closet, where she hastily yanked her blue long sleeve off its hanger.
The long-sleeve was on quicker than she'd ever dressed before. Her harness and tantō were equipped in extraordinary time.
Amari scanned the rooftop with her Byakugan while rushing to her window, ignoring how the attack disrupted her team photo, her photo with her mother, Princess Koyuki's photo, All Might's figure and Yukiko's amazing picture of them, and the spark of fury it ignited within her that any of them may be permanently damaged.
Two enemies. Two enemies were attacking her and now found themselves in combat against Mr. Anbu—the man who apparently wielded Wood Style—and a legion of Crows. Flames rose from the roof of her home.
Fifteen seconds hadn't even passed since their initial attack.
I was feeling good before. Now…
The Uchiha unsheathed her tantō and channeled chakra into the blade.
The two attackers had their backs turned to her window.
Now I am absolutely furious!
Amari exited out her window, scaled the side of her home and landed on the roof. It was cold against the bare soles of her feet, but her movements were silent, and that meant the end for her enemies.
Flames ignited along the tantō. Whether because he caught the sight of the flickering orange in his peripherals, or sensed the sudden surge of chakra and killing intent, the man with red hair and the number twenty-seven printed on the back of his tunic turned his head away from Mr. Anbu and the Crows to look back at her.
There was no time to move or curse. Amari was already upon him, exiting a Body Flicker, slashing her flame covered blade diagonally across his back from shoulder to hip. He let out a cry of pain and began to collapse.
One down. One to go.
The kunoichi landed and spun gracefully around his falling body like a dancer, realigning herself with the second enemy, who had foolishly whirled around and leapt straight at her with greedy eyes.
She didn't get the chance to attack. For the legion of Crows swarmed the poor fool in a sea of black feathers, fearsome cawing and horrifying beaks and claws; his moment of deviated attention was all that was necessary to claim him.
The Anbu agent clapped his palms together. Once more Wood sprouted from the roof, ensnaring and restraining the man in a twisting and winding maze of branches. It helped, she supposed. When the Crows dispersed, however, she knew that he wouldn't have gone anywhere regardless.
The terrified expression stricken on his unconscious face was all she needed to see to be grateful the Crows were her allies and not her enemy.
The kunoichi didn't eye the Anbu agent warily. His kekkei genkai was a secret for a reason, she'd bet. Just like her own. Later, she promised herself, there would be time to ask questions.
Instead, her searing gaze landed upon the man at her feet, who had set the roof of her home on fire, who was struggling to rise again while clawing at her feet.
Amari showed no mercy. She kicked his inner elbow, causing him to flop chest first harshly onto the roof. She crouched down, grabbed him by his red hair and forced him to gaze into her furious eyes.
It was only then, beneath the crimson glow of the Sharingan, burning with fury, did he feel fear instead of greed. It was only then he realized the gravity of his mistake.
"You're going to tell me everything I want to know."
It was not a question, nor a threat. It was a violent promise that sent a shudder through his body.
Mr. Anbu, preoccupied with dousing the flames, would never know what she did to the man known as Ryo Miura, The Red Death, within her Sharingan genjutsu. He never heard his screams as he was faced with the black-scaled dragon and its demonic presence. He did not see the infamous turncoat plead for mercy, for forgiveness, or how he was shown neither.
He wouldn't know how Ryo was torn apart, eaten, reformed, and then tormented all over again. Repeatedly. Ceaselessly. Until the answers were squeezed out him like freshly squeezed orange juice.
He wouldn't know how mercilessly and cold the kunoichi was within the genjutsu because Ryo had set her home, her sanctuary, the place where she found love and family again, on fire. Or how the kunoichi recognized the general cause of the attack, and how it infuriated her beyond what her composure revealed.
In the end, there was only one thing Mr. Anbu did know with absolute certainty, one undeniable truth as real and scientifically proven as the existence of gravity.
Ryo Miura told her everything she wanted to know.
Just as she promised.
"So Amaririsu and her guard then…" Guy wondered out loud.
"They've likely taken one of two actions," replied Kakashi. "He's either brought her to a discreet and secure area until the situation is contained. Or…"
The silver-haired Jōnin glanced towards the walls surrounding the Leaf.
He knew what Amari would want to do as the target of the attack. What she would feel duty bound to do.
"But now I've made myself a target. And a good shiny object shines brightly."
Would Tenzō listen? Would he trust the young kunoichi? Or would he simply force her to bunker down somewhere until it all blew over?
Guy followed his gaze to the walls. He hummed deep in his chest, flattening his lips together.
"Yes, I suspect Amaririsu would choose a path such as that. It isn't in her nature to sit still when a crisis is at hand."
"No. It isn't."
She wasn't the type to sit still normally. In a crisis? When she was the target? No. He couldn't see her sitting still, quietly obeying Tenzō's orders like an obedient rookie frightened by the reality of shinobi life. Not when the Village was threatened.
Kakashi bound Ryo Miura's hands and legs together. The rogue shinobi did not offer a fight or squirm, scream, curse or swear vengeance upon him or his student. Wordless groans broke out from his chapped lips. His whole upper body heaved with heavy, laborious breaths. His bottom lip was still quivering and his eyes…
"There is a reason the Uchiha Clan is known by all, and feared by all," Kakashi said coldly. "You learned it the hard way, Ryo Miura. You were too eager. Too greedy. And now look at you. Oh well," he sighed without any heart in it, rising up to his full height. "Pity is wasted on a lousy turncoat like you."
Ryo said nothing. He likely heard nothing.
Ryo Miura had a thousand yard stare akin to a shell-shocked shinobi, lost in the oblivion of suffering Amari imparted onto him.
It couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.
"Guy-sensei! Oh, and Kakashi-sensei, too!"
Rock Lee arrived on the roof attired in a matching outfit to his teacher, as always.
"This is Amaririsu's house, is it not? And that must be the Wood Style I have heard so much about," Lee said. Turning his head back and forth, he took on a suspicious and determined expression. "Does that mean Kasai is here? Has he infiltrated the Leaf? Has Amaririsu engaged him in combat? If so, then I will rally to her position with haste! Just point me in the direction and I will go!"
"Wait, Lee," Guy calmed the hot-blooded boy. "This wasn't Kasai's doing. He isn't here."
"He…isn't?" Lee titled his head. "But, then, who is responsible, Guy-sensei?"
"Kakashi-sensei!"
Naruto's shout cut Guy off. Kakashi pulled his headband back over his Sharingan eye and sighed.
The scent of smoke was thick, it would be for some time. The Crows perched on the wooden prison cawed. Other formations wheeled in the sky around the Village and beyond the walls. Ryo groaned pitifully.
Naruto wasn't alone. Nearly all the Rookies and Team Guy arrived within moments of each other; Neji and the members of Team Eight were the only ones missing, but he suspected there was a perfectly reasonable reason for their absence. A mission, doubtlessly. Possibly even revolving around the freed prisoners of the Maximum Security Prison.
The rest, caught off guard by the explosion during their day to day activities, equally unaware of the prison break as he and Guy had been, pieced together the target of the attack on sight alone and rushed straight towards the attack. They didn't hesitate.
They're not inexperienced rookies anymore, Kakashi observed. They've seen combat. Seen the reality of our shinobi world. They've faced death. They know hesitation will only lead to death. Either theirs, or that of a comrade.
"Wood Style?" Sakura gasped.
"Looks like we were too late," Shikamaru observed calmly.
"We ran the whole way as fast as we could," Tenten said, looking around. "It can't be more than a few minutes since the initial explosion."
"At least the fire was put out," Chōji kept a positive outlook. "Besides, I doubt Kakashi-sensei and Guy-sensei or the Crows would be standing around if Amari was still in danger."
"True."
"But still," Ino spoke up, "who are these weirdos? How did they get into the Leaf? And why did they attack Amari out of the blue?"
"Amari took out the red-headed one," said Mimi, examining the bodies. "You can tell by the wound on his back. And the look in his eyes." She glanced over to the other captured prisoner. "I've seen that face before. The Crows took care of him."
"Who cares about these guys! We have bigger concerns! Like why the hell is there Wood Style ninjutsu here?" Naruto jabbed his finger at the displays of Wood Style. "How did Kasai get so far into the Leaf?! And how did he even know where she lived?!"
"Easy, Naruto," Kakashi spoke up. "While I understand why you believe Kasai is responsible, he isn't the only one who wields Wood Style. There is one other. Fortunately, he's an ally and a friend. So calm down."
"An ally?" Naruto repeated, confused.
"Huh, so that's why he was assigned to guard us," Sasuke figured it out.
"Wait, that Anbu guy wields Wood Style?" Shikamaru asked. "How? Is he also a descendent of the Senju? Like Kasai?"
"How isn't important right now. Our focus needs to be on securing the Leaf," Kakashi evaded smoothly. "These two are from the Maximum Security Facility," he added with a gesture to the two captured shinobi. "They shouldn't have any knowledge of Amari, her eyes or where she lives. Both were locked up when you kids were still babies. Yet they're here, and undoubtedly targeted her for the power she wields. Which can only mean there are prisoners who escaped, prisoners who have encountered Amari, who spread those secrets."
"This may only be the first attack," the Nara realized. "What a drag."
"Don't whine, Shikamaru. Kakashi is right. We need to secure the Leaf."
The familiar voice came from within Kakashi's mind, and by the bewildered expressions of the young shinobi's faces and Guy's, he wasn't alone in hearing Shikaku Nara.
"Huh? Dad? How are you…"
"I'm speaking to all of you through Inoichi's Mind Transmission Jutsu. Please, all of you, listen closely and don't interrupt. All of the prisoners from the Maximum Security Facility have broken free. At this very moment, Kurenai and Asuma are there, fighting for their lives."
"Asuma-sensei?" Chōji gasped.
"And Kurenai-sensei, too?" Shikamaru followed.
"Yes."
"What about Amari? Is she all right?" Naruto questioned.
Kakashi shut his eye. Shikaku, he directed his thoughts to their Commander, is Amari secure? Do Kurenai and Asuma need reinforcements? You know these kids won't calm down until you reassure them.
"'Risu has Osamu and her guard with her. They know what they need to do. Kurenai and Asuma are presently reinforced by Atsuko's agents. Another squad is already on the way to reinforce them."
A mental image was imparted onto the Copy Ninja. A woman hidden behind a cat mask with long purple hair. He nodded to himself. He was certain his former subordinate and her team were fully equipped to aid Asuma and Kurenai.
As for Amari, the reassurance was purposefully vague, he sensed. An effort to keep a reckless Naruto from seeking her out, no doubt. Kakashi, on the other hand, could read through his double-speak.
Amari, Tenzō, and Osamu had a mission of their own to complete. Something the kids were all better off not knowing.
"Now listen closely. And don't interrupt me again. We're in a combat situation and time is of the essence. We must contain this incident before it spirals off into several more attacks. We cannot allow the Stone to learn of this. Understood?"
Silence was the appropriate answer.
"Good. Here's the situation: Shinobi from the Maximum Security Facility are presently racing to the Leaf, drawn by a bounty placed on 'Risu's head. The leader of this prison break has promised substantial wealth and security to the individual who claims her head. Gifted to them by Orochimaru, no less."
"Orochimaru? You're jok—"
"Quiet!" Shikaku cut off Naruto. "It's an old relationship. Why else would they call for 'Risu's death? We know Orochimaru wants to capture her and Sasuke alive, which means he likely isn't directly involved in this incident. At least for now.
"We've already mobilized squads to hunt these shinobi down and cast nets to capture the escaped prisoners. However, as you can see, some are still slipping through. We must seal the most vulnerable gaps in our defenses and ensure the fighting remains outside of the walls. This attack on Kurenai's home must be the only direct damage we sustain.
"To that end, Shikamaru, you, Ino and Chōji will gather your shinobi gear and head to quadrant 2, subsection 5. Hayama Shirakumo, one of ourJōnin, will be expecting you three. What are you three still doing standing there? Get going!"
"Uh, right!" Ino stammered.
"Let's go, Chōji."
"Mimi, Aoko, Tenten, Lee, you're to report to the main wall in quadrant 3. You'll be in Anko Mitarashi's care; she asked for your team by name so don't disappoint her."
"Never! We will show her our youthful spirit and bring in all of these criminals! That's a promise!" Lee declared passionately.
"Heh heh!" Guy chuckled. "That's the spirit, Lee!"
"Does Neji know?" Tenten asked.
"I've already spoken to him and Lord Hiashi. He will meet you there."
"Then let's not keep Sir Superiority waiting. Lee, Tenten, Aoko, let's go!"
"Naruto, Sakura, Sasuke—"
"Are we going after Amari?" Naruto asked.
"No."
"What? Why not?!"
"Because at the moment she is in the least amount of danger. I need you to focus, Naruto. 'Risu will be fine. I have a more pressing mission for you three. It involves the ringleader and his closest supporters. Gather your gear and report to the main gate. Iruka will be waiting for you. Also, Kakashi, summon Pakkun. I suspect his tracking abilities will be necessary."
"Got it." Kakashi bit his thumb and swiped the newly drawn beads blood across his gloved palm, weaving the handseals in quick succession. "Summoning Jutsu!"
"What about us, Shikaku?" Guy asked.
"I have a list of targets who I can only trust the two of you to take care of. Inoichi will guide you to them."
"Hey, Kakashi," Pakkun greeted. "Where's the fire?"
"Pakkun, I've got a mission for you. You'll be going with Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke this time. Meet with Iruka at the main gate and help them track the ringleaders of our recent prison break."
"You got it, Kakashi." The ninken turned to look at the trio. "Well, what are we waiting for? The ringleaders aren't going to catch themselves."
Team Seven and Pakkun were the last of the young squads to depart. Kakashi and Guy followed after receiving their orders from Shikaku, vanishing from the rooftop of the Yūhi household, where ribbons of smoke continued to rise.
Since their graduation from the Academy, Iruka did his best to monitor the progress of all of his former students as they experienced the shinobi world, not through historical lessons, educational descriptions or sheltered and closely monitored training, but through an unfiltered lens that offered no comfort, no safety, no straight textbook definitions or picturesque perfection.
Shinobi life was hard. It wasn't like the controlled environment of a classroom, where the greatest tragedies were broken crayons for the youngest children, and detentions and behavioral lectures for the troublemakers. The world beyond the secure walls of the Leaf wasn't full of shining examples of virtue, honor and morality.
There were good folk, of course. Goodness wasn't constrained to the Leaf Village; they weren't an island of virtue in a sea of immorality. But for every good town, for every decent and hardworking person that existed, just as many rogues, criminals, bandits and thugs inhabited the continent.
Beyond the walls were slavers who relished in their cruelty, treating people not even as animals, but something even further beneath a lame mule or a chipped tool.
Beyond the walls were heartless thugs who tormented innocent folk, killed them for money, for entertainment, or to stake claim over land that did not belong to them.
Rogue shinobi were beyond the walls, traitors and turncoats who used their power to achieve ill gains.
They were only the surface layer of scum his former students would encounter. Worse existed. Purely evil individuals were out there committing misdeeds he dared not consider at a time like this.
All of his former students would eventually encounter the darkness, or they would hear of it, or witness the effects in a comrade. They would leave the controlled shelter of the Academy and plunge into the shinobi world, into fierce combat and—unfortunately—war, experiencing it the only way it could be—with one's own body and spirit.
Real combat was nothing like sparring. It didn't end when one student was knocked out of the ring or found themselves pinned down by their opponent, no one called time if it went on too long, and there were no grades or points to be allotted. It didn't end when a single opponent was defeated, and defeat wasn't strictly defined in war.
Iruka consciously recognized he wasn't the most experienced. He hadn't participated in the same intense battles and wars that the likes of the Third Hokage, the Legendary Sannin or Kakashi Hatake had. But he'd seen enough. Experienced enough to know what the children he taught would one day see with their own eyes.
He worried over them. He didn't want to send them out the door, out of their shelter and sanctuary into the fires that waited beyond. But he had to. And he did.
And he watched them ever since. He worried. He tried to protect them at times, for he still saw them as the children he taught, the troublemakers who skipped class, the studious students who hadn't seen the fire yet, the quiet and shy boys and girls who struggled to make friends, the lazy fools, and everyone in-between.
Kakashi set him straight during the Chūnin Exams. Like a misbehaving student throwing paper in class, truly. Still he monitored his former students. And when they found themselves at the center of major conflicts, like the Akatsuki Incident, or the recent Recovery Mission, he found himself worrying again.
It was the natural response. No matter how old they got or accomplished, he would always care for them.
However, as he stood at the main gate, joined by Kakashi's faithful summoning— Pakkun—sitting beside his foot, observing the three Genin standing at attention before him, Iruka realized once more the truth of Kakashi's words.
These weren't his students anymore.
Naruto, Sasuke and Sakura had all changed.
The little knucklehead that had given him headache after headache with his idiotic and disruptive pranks, who goofed off every chance he could, who slept through lessons and skipped class, who even went so far to graffiti the Great Stone Faces of the Hokage in successful effort to force them to acknowledge his existence, even if it meant constant scoldings and, in Iruka's experience, shouting over the boy until his head and voice felt ten times larger than normal, was as serious as a disciplinary action by the Hokage.
Our shinobi world, and his own circumstances, has forced him to mature, noted Iruka. He's still a bit of a knucklehead; I doubt that will ever change. But he's finally growing up. Little by little.
Then there was Sakura. Academically speaking, she was always one of his star students, and that hadn't changed for her as a shinobi from the reports he read. Sakura was still sharp as a tack. However, her changes were perhaps the most notable of the trio.
In the Academy she was petite, thin—frail, even. She was smart, no one would challenge that, but her physical build and strength were distinct weaknesses. As was her obsession—nearly all of his female students obsessions—with beauty over practical shinobi skills.
The kunoichi standing at attention before him was nothing like that girl. She was no longer thin to the point of frailness. In the days since she graduated she had built up her body, building muscle, sculpting it, and in the process building up her physical strength. Her hair was shortened to shoulder-length, and her eyes fierce.
Sasuke was as cool-headed as ever. Beyond the lengthening of his hair and the growth in his abilities, the most noticeable change in him was his eyes. The hatred that once tainted them, obscuring his vision with a skewed filter, and the dark circles beneath his eyes were gone. He was almost a stranger to Iruka.
Their changes blossomed from the experiences, the trials, battles and death they each encountered. He didn't need to see a physical scar or hear them detail their missions; the evidence was plain to see in their eyes and body language, as though written in white chalk on a blackboard.
They wore their experience, however little it was in the grander scheme of their shinobi careers, like invisible winter cloaks.
They weren't the students he taught anymore. They were shinobi now.
"Now that everyone is here," Iruka began, "I will go over the details of our mission. We have been assigned the duty of tracking down the ringleader of the prison break, who was recently sighted by the Crows with his entourage traveling on the outskirts of the Village. When we do locate them, we will then act as a support unit for the team sent ahead of us.
"Before that, though, first we'll need to pick up the trail from their last known location. However, tracking them after that will be up to us.
"The Crows main priority is keeping the other escapees from reaching the border and to prevent them from attacking neighboring towns. Those who seek escape and refuge, or seek to gather money, equipment or rations from the citizens of our Nation, are primary targets. Those who are targeting the Leaf, or intend to hide within the Land of Fire to wait out their real target—Amari, as you know—are being left to us and our comrades."
"Who's even behind this, Iruka-sensei? Do we even know who this ringleader actually is?" Naruto asked.
"Yes, we do. Reports suggest the ringleader is a former Chūnin of the Leaf. He was involved in an incident where he manipulated a certain young Academy student into stealing the Scroll of Seals."
Naruto recoiled. "Whoa, hold up! You don't mean—"
"I do," Iruka interrupted his student in a grave voice, nodding once. "The man behind this whole incident is none other than Mizuki."
"Then I can't wait to pound his stupid, double-crossing face in all over again!" growled Naruto, punching his fist into his palm. "I'll make him regret ever crawling out of that prison."
"Easy, Naruto. Getting upset will only endanger yourself and your comrades."
"I don't know about that," Sasuke commented. "If this brain-dead idiot defeated Mizuki when he graduated, I don't think any of us will have any trouble with him."
"Jerk."
"I doubt he's improved." Sasuke added with a casual shrug. "Not unless they've started holding training sessions for prisoners."
"Don't get ahead of yourselves," Iruka scolded the Genin's. "Strength alone does not dictate the fate of a battle. Yes, you've all grown significantly since graduation. And it's true you've faced enemies of greater skill and strength than Mizuki and survived to tell the tale. But even a shinobi of less talent, less strength and less experience can defeat a talented and experienced enemy. Naruto and Amari proved that when they defeated Mizuki.
"The moment you let your guard down and underestimate an enemy could be the last mistake you ever make," he lectured. "Besides, you've forgotten that I mentioned he was in the company of other shinobi. Even if Mizuki wasn't a threat, which he is, the additional shinobi will complicate our mission."
"How many shinobi are we talking, Iruka?" Pakkun asked.
"Including Mizuki there are eight total. We haven't been able to confirm their identities just yet; the report of Mizuki's involvement only came in a short while ago. Just before the attack. It also came with troubling news. He seems to be in possession of a Curse Mark."
The news took all of his former students by surprise. Sasuke in particular brought his hand to his left shoulder.
Truthfully, Iruka wasn't sure what to make of the news. Mizuki had once been a friend. Someone who helped make the loneliness after his parent's death more bearable. When he manipulated Naruto and betrayed the Village, it was like he'd taken a knife and stabbed him in the back, too.
To learn he was in possession of a Curse Mark, that his attempt to steal the Scroll of Seals was apparently performed in the name of Orochimaru, and now he was on the loose again, setting a bounty on Amari's head of all things…
What happened to his friend? How had he fallen so far?
How hadn't he seen it? Why wasn't he able to stop it?
"That is why we must be careful," Iruka said to his subordinates. "We'll pick up the trail and determine who his allies are and the best way to apprehend them."
"Right," the trio agreed.
In the end, I guess how and why Mizuki ended up this way doesn't matter. He's our enemy now. I can't let him hurt anyone else.
"Let's go," Iruka ordered.
It was just as Mizuki said: Fate deigned to favor them on this profound day of freedom.
Nearly two decades Hachiro spent locked away in the Leaf's cage for the defiling of a nobody farm girl and subsequent murder of her entire family. In that time he had dug many, many holes into the soil until, eventually, he'd gotten used to the life behind bars.
It wasn't the greatest life. It was dull, uninspiring. Harsh, in its own way. However, he came to believe there were worse fates.
To breathe the fresh air without shackles, to be free of the cold stone enclosing him in darkness and see splendorous leaves of yellow and orange swaying and falling to the grassy floor in the last gasps of autumn before winter swept control of the entire Nation, it was enough to rekindle the man he used to be.
No longer was he to be a slave of the Leaf, laboring day in and day out for no conceivable purpose, wasting his precious life. A new chapter was at his feet. A glorious chapter of renewed freedom! And he was going to jumpstart that chapter with the wealth and security he was promised.
Attired in the clothes of their former guards and equipped with their gear, Hachiro and his new comrades set off for the Leaf where their prize awaited them. They nearly arrived, too, when the object of Mizuki's vengeance and his new meal ticket zipped through the trees above their formation.
"That's the one!" one of his comrades shouted, whirling around to follow her trail.
Indeed, it was. Mizuki had described her so vividly, he could've picked the child out of a crowd of strangers without fail. The long wild blue hair, the purple bandana, her short stature, the scar on her face; this was their target, and she was quite the prize, indeed.
Hachiro licked his lips and grinned wickedly.
Quite the prize. All they needed was her head and eyes for the real reward, but there were other rewards to be taken first. Someone so small, so young, had plenty to learn from a superior; he had many lessons to teach her, and once they had her they wouldn't need to rush at all.
A gentleman was meant to take his time. And he was nothing if not a gentleman.
The team of criminals—a team of five in total—turned to give chase.
It was at that moment they heard the branches above them snapping beneath a massive weight. Of the five, three—including Hachiro—had the sense to evade, leaping aside. The object crashed against their previous position, throwing dirt and dust up in a large plume.
Hachiro skidded along the grass on his heels. Before he could stop, the plume whipped and whirled with movement.
He saw something green in his perisperhal vision. And then the mass smashed into his right arm and side, snapping his humerus, shattering his scapula and clavicle, and breaking his ribs. He was thrown through the air like he was a pristinely crafted paper plane.
His spine cracked against the trunk of a tree, and then there was nothing from his neck down. He was aware of himself flopping chest first against the grassy floor, but he couldn't move, twitch—nothing.
His eyes wide, his breathing becoming erratic, he lay in the grass as the air vibrated and his ears thrummed beneath the thundering roar of a beast he couldn't name.
Lifting his head, the only thing left in his control, he sucked in a sharp breath, then failed to breathe entirely. For a mythical beast straight out of legends had two of his comrades pinned beneath its hind feet, clutched in its talons; they could feel it, evident by their groaning and screaming, and then their silence when it leapt forward at his remaining comrades, squashing the poor bastards against the earth itself.
They peeled off the beast's feet like bubble gum being pulled off the bottom of a shoe.
"Dragon!" wailed a surviving comrade, throwing kunai at the mythical beast.
The blades bounced uselessly off the dragon's immaculate and glimmering green scales.
And then, at the end of the dragon's leap, it snapped his comrade up in its sharp teeth, which punctured through his flak jacket and flesh with all the ease of a needle through flesh. He, too, screamed, as the dragon shook its head wildly, whipping him around until finally throwing him aside. Out of Hachiro's sight.
The man was as good as dead, he knew. The teeth had doubtlessly punctured internal organs.
Hachiro did not see what happened to his final comrade, for he was out of his line of sight, but he was not felled by the dragon.
After dispatching the four of them, the dragon dispersed into a cloud of smoke, from which their target emerged gracefully with a Crow on her shoulder.
What…is she? What kind of monster is she?!
The crimson eye fell upon his paralyzed form.
Inside the prison Hachiro was safe. It hadn't been the best life, but it was a better life than most. He came to believe there were worse fates.
Inside the genjutsu world, Amaririsu Yūhi proved him right.
Later, when the Leaf shinobi would recover Hachiro and his fallen comrades, they would find the paralyzed criminal still screaming, tears streaming down his face. They would never know Amaririsu was responsible or that she had seen within his mind his evil intentions for her.
But the fifth criminal, a man named Takuya who was responsible for selling secrets during the last war, did know. He was found locked in a cage of Wood fashioned after a minnow trap, hugging his arms around his knees, pacified and prepared to return to his cell.
When asked what had happened, he merely replied,
"Dragon."
The strange and confusing answer was the talk of gossip for the following days.
Mizuki exited the home of his fiancé freshly clothed in a sleeveless jacket left unbuttoned, displaying his built and chiseled upper body, and dark pants.
He paused for a moment, inhaling a deep breath of free and fresh air, exhaling the frustration he just endured while ignoring the muffled, emotionally broken sobs from within. And the stinging pain burning on his palm.
"What a touching reunion."
The snide remark didn't bother Mizuki one bit.
"Tsubaki has allowed the Leaf to poison her mind. But she'll come around once I have Orochimaru's gift."
"So you say. Meanwhile, two of our 'allies' have departed to hunt down that little pest, and we've wasted our time feeding these dimwits."
"Aoi, Aoi," Mizuki placated, lips twisting into a smug expression.. "Don't worry so much. Everything is going according to plan."
The tall shinobi bearing a nasty scar on his forehead glared at him.
"Is that so?"
"Of course." He oozed with conceit. "We've gathered supplies. My 'brothers' have the beginning of their gourmet meal, and right now the Leaf is fielding off an entire mob of prisoners. It's true those two ran off; I expected as much, though I will admit it happened quicker than I anticipated. Clearly they believe that roar belongs to Amaririsu."
"You expected them to leave?" Aoi asked skeptically.
"I did," he smiled arrogantly at the former Rain shinobi. "You know how people from that Nation are; they just can't help themselves when power is on the table. And besides, capturing her eyes is the only way they'll recover their lost 'honor' and be accepted back into their Village. They had no interest in the gifts Orochimaru will give us."
"So why did you let them go?"
"It's simple, really." Mizuki walked past his ally. "Haven't you heard the old adage, Aoi?"
"Which one?"
"Fools rush in."
"Hmph. So, you're using them as tools to weaken their defenses."
"Do you disapprove?" he asked mockingly.
Aoi snorted. "Not at all. To use and be used is the way of our world. Who better to take the fall than those fools?"
"Exactly."
One step at a time, he was drawing closer to his goal. Months of meticulous plotting was finally coming to fruition. And so far, everything was going according to plan.
Fate was smiling on him, he could feel it.
"Looks like their tracks end here."
Shino said nothing. He observed Kiba crouching at the end of the trail beside Akamaru, who sniffed around the impressions in the blades of grass and fallen leaves left behind by the feet of their three targets, where a rip in the fabric of space and time seemed to swallow them whole given their miraculous disappearance.
Hinata was beside their teammate, Byakugan activated, scanning the immediate area thoroughly—a dense forest at the mercy of the changing seasons. Plenty of shadows to hide in, but none which would hide the former shinobis from the penetrative gaze of the Byakugan.
Beneath the dark lens of his glasses, Shino watched a thin cloud of smoke delicately glide through the orange, green and yellow canopy.
"I can't smell them, either. There's some kind of tangy scent all over this area. What about you, Hinata? Can you see anything?" Kiba asked.
"No. It's… It's like they've vanished."
One of Shino's insects—a male—crawled along his cheek. The Insect Tamer trusted it implicitly.
"Quite the trick, don't you think?" Shino spoke up, hands in his pockets. He kept his distance from his trusted comrades, at least a distance of four long strides. "They've found a way to slip past the Inuzuka's famed senses and the Byakugan, and their tracks end abruptly. Almost like they've vanished. Or so they would like us to believe."
His teammates turned to give him their undivided attention.
"What are you getting at, Shino?" Kiba's brusque impatience was a natural counterweight to his patient and intellectual dissections.
"These three criminals fled and abandoned their fellow prisoners when it became clear our ambush would successfully end in all of their capture. They're cowards, of course. Criminal scum who are unworthy of admiration and, frankly, they are even beneath scorn and pity. They are the lowest of the low, more insignificant than the smallest and frailest of insects. They will be fortunate to be a fleeting anecdote in the memories of their former comrades."
"Shino…" Hinata's kindness and compassion naturally countered his cold calculation.
"Objectively speaking, they're weak. This trick of theirs? It's amateurish. All they've done is walk backwards over their own footprints, then cut off in another direction." Shino looked directly at his trusted comrades, brought his hand up and adjusted his glasses. "All we really have to do is look up in the canopy. It's simple."
Kiba squinted at him. Hinata furrowed her brow. Akamaru tilted his furry head curiously.
Their personality traits made for a strange combination, one that, if you were to look at it from the outside, was bound to be full of conflict.
Some days that was true, at least between him and Kiba. Predominantly when he was trying his best to help his teammate. It was his "strange way of wording things," as Kiba often called it, that came between him and actually helping.
Then Hinata would inevitably step in to calm their impulsive teammate down and breakdown his point in kinder and softer words. And Kiba would ask why he hadn't just said that, when in fact he did, but his trusted comrade didn't catch it.
Still, though their personalities seemed too disparate for them to work together, they, like their special abilities, complimented each other well. He knew he could trust them to cover his weak spots. And though there were few enemies who could trick their senses, they could rely on him to cover their weaknesses. Without fail.
That's what trusted comrades did, after all.
Shino pivoted, looking away from his comrades, his expression hidden behind the high-collar of his jacket and his eyes concealed behind his black sunglasses.
"Frankly, I think they're pathetic. Why? Because: They believe this little trick will throw us off permanently."
At that moment, an invisible blade suddenly slashed across the throat of the Bug Tamer. Hand slapping over his throat, Shino's body collapsed forward into his invisible attacker, who stabbed their blade into his abdomen.
"The talkative types are always the first to fall," the criminal hissed in a hideous whisper.
He yanked the blade from his abdomen, and…
Insects poured out of the wound, spraying from it like a fountain of blood, pouring over the invisible criminal en masse. The man gasped in horror, then let out a horrible scream.
"I suppose it's fortunate then I'm not the talkative type," Shino said as he appeared behind the man, who was steadily being consumed by a sea of black insects courtesy of his Insect Clone.
"Do you know of the Antlion? Among the two-thousand specimens, there is a kind of larvae that dig traps in the sand, pits which they then wait in for their prey to enter.
"Once its prey does enter, however, it will clutch it within its mandibles and use the sharp points along them to drain the life out whatever unfortunate insect has fallen inside. The prey, of course, will try to escape. It will try to climb the hill before it can be captured. But the Antlion will counter this by pelting it aggressively with grains of sand until, eventually, it falls back into its grasps. The prey is then clamped between the mandibles of the Antlion and dragged beneath the dirt."
The whole body of the criminal could be seen grabbing at his head beneath the swarm of his insects. He was screaming, and eating a mouthful of insects for his trouble.
Shino watched without emotion. His precious insects were feasting on the criminals chakra.
"Your jutsu is unique and dangerous," Shino said. "It must've been useful for assassination if it can hide you from my comrades impeccable senses. However, my insects aren't fooled so easily. I knew you were here the whole time. So I taunted you. I made myself a target to draw you into my trap. And like an unaware ant driven by a fragile ego, you fell right into the pit of a hungry Antlion. Now you will be consumed for your mistake.
"Kiba—"
Two spiraling drills raced at his front, then whipped around his sides, throwing orange, yellow and brown leaves through the air with their momentum. The Inuzuka duo drilled into the body of the second criminal, the failing invisibility granted to him by the first making him appear as a ghostly silhouette.
"Fang over Fang!" shouted his teammate.
"Yes, that was exactly what I had in mind," Shino commented.
The first criminal collapsed to the grass in silence. When his insects returned to him, it revealed his horror stricken face, which matched the hideousness of his whisper.
The leaves thrown into the air by Kiba and Akamaru quivered and rolled as they fell back towards the forest floor. Some landed on the steadily reappearing body of the third criminal, who was leaping down from the trees straight at the Insect Tamer; he wielded two kunais.
His jaw was tight. His teeth were grinding noisily against one another. Beads of perspiration were visible on his paling face. Worst of all, the criminal could see his own nervous expression in the reflection of Shino's black glasses.
"I won't go back! I won't!" shrieked the criminal.
With a cry, he threw the kunai in his right hand at the Insect Tamer.
"You're right. You won't," Shino replied coldly.
Hinata suddenly slid in front of Shino, palms held up in the Gentle Fist style. The blade was a mere second from impaling her instead; the Insect Tamer did not panic or stiffen, knowing and trusting that Hinata could and would handle herself without his intervention.
All in the same motion, gracefully, with practice and precision, she made a single motion with her left palm how one might wipe a window clean. Trailing behind the hand like the trails of a sparkler was a visible stream of blue chakra.
The blade and chakra met, and defying the criminal's expectations, it was the blade which bounced harmlessly away.
There was little time to contemplate the feat. For the criminal spun his second kunai into a reverse grip, lifted it above his head, clutched it in both hands and struck with all of his nerves and fear and desperation to remain free at the kunoichi in his path.
Hinata, once again proving the significance of composure and technique, evaded the strike with a quick step back.
Senses dulled by imprisonment and desperation, the criminal was at the mercy of the kunoichi. First his forearms met the stinging bite of the Gentle Fist, then, as his arms fell to his sides, a stiff palm crashed into the center of his chest.
The criminal flew back, flecks of blood flying from his lips as the nervous expression twisted into the pain of mortality. He bounced harshly against the forest floor in a heap and shower of fallen leaves.
"It's over now."
In the aftermath of the battle, all three criminals lay amid the fallen autumn leaves scattered along the forest floor. Their hopes for lavish freedom and wealth was a grandiose story depicted upon stained glass windows, a story which they believed concluded with them attired in the ostentatious robes of a Feudal Lord walking among other men of wealth and power.
It did not. The colorful glass panels lied to them, and in the final moments where it revealed the true conclusion to the tale, they could only gape in horror as the shadow a large boulder fired from a trebuchet fell over their glass house.
And then it all shattered around them, trapping them beneath broken glass and heavy stone.
Their chance at freedom was torn from their trembling fingers by Team Eight, who left them groaning, wheezing or still and stiff as stone. It was a shame. For the criminals, at least. They overestimated the strength of their jutsu, and underestimated the ability of the young shinobi, which was the fatal flaw of many shinobi, it seemed.
It doesn't matter how small or insignificant an insect appears, I'll never underestimate it, Shino thought. More than that, I will show no mercy to anyone who targets my comrades.
Why?
Because: There was only one thing more precious to a Leaf shinobi than their comrades.
Their friends.
"Hinata, Kiba, let's move. There are more criminals out there threatening our Village. And Amari."
"Right," Hinata said, nodding sharply.
"We're gonna make them regret ever thinking about attacking the Leaf or Amari. Right, Akamaru?" Kiba declared.
Akamaru barked in agreement.
Team Eight set off once more on their mission.
Sei Okada, the former Leaf shinobi and infamous Grim Ripper who terrorized the Land of Fire fifteen years ago during a six month string of serial murders, where he tortured and gutted his helpless victims like deer before inevitably being apprehended, had only experienced a certainty of death twice in his life.
First was with the woman who apprehended him fifteen years ago—Miyako Nara, the Leaf's Mistress of Shadows. Oh, what a time it had been! Their game of cat-and-mouse was exhilarating, brilliant, terrifying; at first he thought it was the rush of killing that drove him on, but no, after the first four kills it was rather boring—routine, even. Disappointing.
Their screams provided no joy. Their deaths left him feeling hollow. Even the nickname of the Grim Ripper and gossip around the Leaf did little for him. That is until she became involved. Once the Mistress of Shadows was on his tail, then and only then did he find purpose in his deeds. Then and only then did he begin weaving his web of mystery for the Mistress to unravel.
Every day was a joy and a terror. Would he awaken from sleep in her custody? Would he not wake at all? Oh, the exhilaration of being hunted, of knowing you and you alone have the undivided attention of someone so revered and feared, and knowing your clues and hints and patterns were at times frustrating her, or being unwound and disrobed like a festival gown at this very moment…
Those six months were doubtlessly the best time of his life. His only regret was she caught him so soon; it would've been a joyous life to be hunted by the Mistress of Shadows for far longer.
And that day she cornered him was the day he felt another thrill and terror unlike any other—the certainty of death. He'd never felt fear akin to when he was at the mercy of Miyako Nara.
In the moment, beneath the icy gaze which froze his blood, he felt a mischief rats racing through his intestines, biting, tearing and digging in search of freedom.
The stitching scars she carved into his face, chest, arms and legs with her Shadow tendrils was a painful memory of a better time. The limp he carried himself with fifteen years later was the gift she left him.
He'd been certain he was to die at her hand. Yet it was that certainty which thwarted the conclusion he sought for their rousing game. He hadn't begged for mercy, he hadn't shed tears as she stitched his skin and broke his bones out of regret or guilt for killing all of those people, for there was no regret or guilt in his heart.
Couldn't she see that they were merely pawns for their grander game? Couldn't she see they were meaningless in this intimate connection they had formed?
Couldn't she see that even though she had learned his identity and cornered him that he was still the winner of their game? She was going to end their game the way he planned for her to end it!
He won!
He had been defeated. Completely. Miyako Nara had inflicted suffering onto him, crippled him. She remained a nightmare he awoke from in sweats. But worst of all, she stole his victory by refusing to kill him, for the simple reason it was what he wanted. And she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of dying at her hands.
The punishment was pure torture. It wasn't the back-breaking labor and permanent solitary confinement which broke his spirit, but Miyako Nara's refusal to finish their game; it was something she knew would break him, he felt, and that feeling shattered his spirit for fifteen years.
Then he was freed by a stranger, set loose into the Land of Fire where he intended to resume their game with all of his vigor. He was so close, too. He'd made it to a small, rural town which hadn't existed fifteen years ago alongside three prisoners who had chosen to follow him.
Three new pawns to their new game.
A game which would never fully begin, unfortunately.
Of the prisoners, Sei Okada was the last man standing. The three bodies of his new pawns were lying limp in the town street, dispatched and discarded with fierce grace rivaled only by the fierce grace and regality which Miyako Nara possessed.
Approaching him cautiously but confidently step by unnerving step was a lithe woman who stood just short of six feet, who's cascade of gingerbread brown hair flowed down to her waist.
Bulging veins led away from her lavender eyes along her temples, intensifying her fierce expression. However, it was the emotionless, penetrating gaze of the Byakugan that made his blood run cold.
The rats were running his intestines again, biting, tearing and digging at the sensitive tissues to break through his flesh and see the light again. He could feel their furry bodies scampering about, wiggling around, climbing over one another, nibbling and clawing at his organs.
The kunoichi continued to approach. He slid his heel back, but knew it was useless to run. He could feel death approaching. Could see it, and it had taken the form of a kunoichi of the Hyūga Clan who he did not know.
This was the end. But he did not want this conclusion. It wasn't the end of the game he had crafted; it was just an end. And that wouldn't do. That wasn't fair.
"No… No, no, no." He took another step back. The kunoichi stepped closer. "This isn't right. This isn't fair. You're not the one who is meant to kill me. You aren't worthy! Only she is worthy!"
The kunoichi said nothing. She stepped closer, and closer, and closer, her stride never breaking. With every step closer the rats scampering through and digging at his intestines intensified their efforts. Her cold, unblinking gaze was unrelenting.
"Stop looking at me like that! Stop! Stay away! You aren't worthy!"
She was almost in arms distance. Clenching his teeth, he equipped a kunai and leapt at the woman.
"Unworthy woman, I said stay awa—"
Her counter was too fast to perceive. The movements performed confidently, gracefully, and with decisive finality.
A palm struck his weapon hand at the wrist with the force of a thrown brick. Before his arm could recoil, another palm struck his chest in the center.
His eyes went wide. Immediately his heart palpitated, then stopped, chest tightening beneath a vice grip long before he crashed against the street.
Sei hacked up blood. He wheezed, vision blurring, then darkening.
"This…isn't right," he gasped, turning onto his side. With what little strength he had left, he began to kick and crawl at the dirt. "I can't…die here. You aren't worthy. You aren't… You aren't… I can't…"
"Miyako Nara has a final message for you," the kunoichi spoke in an emotionless voice. "She said, 'I win.'"
Sei choked on a gasp. His fingers curled into the dirt, then fell limp.
In a rural town that hadn't existed fifteen years ago, at the hands of a kunoichi who he never knew the name of, Sei Okada, the Grim Ripper, died face down in the street.
He died never knowing that Miyako Nara was slain years ago. He died never knowing it was Shikaku Nara who asked Kimiko Hyūga to eliminate him and deliver that final message as a personal favor.
Regardless of what he did not know, there was one fact he died certain of:
He was completely and utterly defeated by Miyako Nara.
"We're being followed."
"Yes, it seems the Leaf have finally picked up our trail," Mizuki replied smoothly.
He had sensed the squad, too. Though he was grateful his other two allies were proving their worth. Aoi and the two buffoons hadn't noticed it—the two buffoons still didn't notice with it explicitly stated.
They had a different use, though. In fact, given the circumstance, they were going to have yet another chance to prove their worth.
"Is this still going to plan?" Aoi sneered.
"Of course," he smiled over his shoulder at his ally. "Come now, Aoi, do you think so lowly of our former comrades to believe they wouldn't track us at all? It was inevitable. That's why I've brought insurance."
"And what insurance is that?"
Mizuki dropped down from the trees to the forest floor. His allies followed. Turning to the two giant oafs, who were holding a bag of their 'gourmet' treats, he found himself smiling with the slickness and slime of a slug.
"Fūjin, Raijin, my dear brothers. I think it's time we prepare a surprise."
"A surprise?" gasped in joy Raijin.
"What kind of surprise, Big Brother?"
Aoi sneered at the buffoons. Their other two allies, who recognized the value of the fools, chuckled darkly beneath their breaths.
"You see, my brothers, there's a group of individuals who at this very moment want to ruin the gourmet feast I've spent all this time preparing for you two."
The dumb grins fell. Terrible and frightening snarls took over the two buffoons faces. Killing intent rolled off the pair.
"What did you just say?" Fūjin demanded. "Are you telling me there are people who would ruin your hard work, Big Brother?!"
"They would destroy the gourmet feast you spent months preparing for us?!" Raijin followed.
"This…power," Aoi awed beneath his breath. A nervous grin broke on his face. "Well, well, so they have more uses than opening our cells."
"Yes," grinned Mizuki. "These people want to ruin everything. But we won't let them. We'll prepare a little surprise for them. And tear them apart!"
The Leaf shinobi on their tail had no idea the agony awaiting them. But they would learn.
Mizuki's grin transformed and revealed all of his malice.
Yes, their lesson in pain and humiliation would be extremely intimate.
A/N: Hey everyone, quick apology for the sudden and unexplained disappearance last week. I caught a bad head cold that knocked me down and out for a ten count. Feeling back at a hundred percent now, though, so there shouldn't be any interruptions to my usual schedule. Sorry for the inconvenience.
Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope everyone enjoys the new chapter!