Chapter 146
Traditions of Old: A Split Soul and the Fearsome Curry!
A brooding thunderstorm was gathering over Katabami Gold Mine.
Beneath the leaden curtains of nature's sorrow, as the distant echo of thunder rumbled gently down the terraced paths into the mining pit and its caverns, a tall figure stood absolutely motionless, their features and physique indistinguishable beneath the heavy water-resistant cloak they wore, appearing more like a grim reaper summoned by the storm than a man.
Only their dark, full lips and the very tip of their nose could be seen, for the rain cloak's hood was pulled over their brow, casting an obscuring shadow over their face. Even those two human qualities did not change its inhuman presence.
Although the figure was of staggering height and build, they appeared to possess a spine curved like one of the many rolling hills in the Land of Fire, creating the monstrous silhouette of a tall, strongly built hunchback.
They were, however, just a man. A tall man, certainly, cloaked by the leaden curtains of the coming thunderstorm and a cloak the color of darkness itself. But a man nonetheless.
He was no monster.
Standing outside of his quarters—a small but well-furnished cabin overlooking the miners and their quarters—he did not fixate his gaze upon the storm or the bitter gusts it whipped up, but the busy little bees below, who were working tirelessly to extract the ore.
The storm was not bothersome. It did not and could not frighten him, no matter how powerful it may be, no matter how harshly the wind lashed or how loud the thunder clapped.
Let it rain. Let it pour. Let lightning streak across the sky and strike with unbridled wrath upon the earth.
He preferred it this way. In fact, it was the perfect weather for a funeral.
The sky could weep with them as they reminisced on the good times, on the joyful memories of the departed soul, weeping until their souls could not weep any longer. Until the soul was cleansed of all of its sorrow.
Funerals were wonderful for that. They brought people together to remember only the best of a person. Even if that person was a horrible traitor, or had walked over others to gain favors and reputation, a funeral typically stripped away all of those terrible deeds, providing the grievers a more positive outlook on the departed.
I can still remember Kanpachi's smile as I told him who he loved was of no consequence to us, he reminisced, heart heavy in his chest. He was so happy! So was I. Love and companionship are wonderful gifts. In this awful and lonely world, finding a person who cures the loneliness and frees you is all any of us can hope for.
The hooded figure inhaled deeply, then exhaled a soft, sorrowful breath. I'll always remember that smile we shared before we threw him in the coffin.
"Are you okay, Raiga?"
The soft and soothing voice came from the other half of his soul.
Raiga Kurosuki sighed softly. "I was just thinking of Kanpachi and his smile," he admitted. "And how alone Rokusuke must feel right now. He must be heartbroken he missed Kanpachi's funeral. He didn't get to reminisce with us on all the good times they shared, like when they would sneak off on their breaks to spend time together. Kanpachi was taken from him—from all of us, really—far too soon. And now," he felt his voice break a little, "Rokusuke will be, too. It's tearing me up inside."
"Will you hold a funeral for him?"
"I will. It's the only way we can grieve his loss and remember Rokusuke as he was. I feel ashamed, truthfully. To think they felt so frightened, so terrified we would judge them for something as pure as love." He grit his teeth together in frustration and shame. "I should have made a decree when we first liberated the mine."
"You couldn't have known, Raiga."
"No. I should have. Those with kekkei genkai suffered the same fear in the Land of Water. The same chest-tightening terror that someone—anyone—might learn their secret, and then seek to eliminate them like disease-ridden rats. We saw it so many times. So many…" He growled. "People who are so quick to judge and hate make me sick."
It brought to mind the innumerable pointless murders he committed on behalf of that purpose deprived and utterly depraved Village. It brought to mind faces he never wanted to see again, and names he would sooner erase than ever grant the decency of a funeral.
A funeral would not bring forth any good memories of a Hound or a Scourge. There would be no joy reminiscing of Heartless Pairs or Helmet Splitters. And there would certainly be no fondness for the Mizukage.
Thinking of the fear Rokusuke and Kanpachi suffered reminded him too much of the Land of Water's irrational fear and pointless hatred of kekkei genkais.
It reminded him too much of how the other half of his soul was treated. How it was hated and feared and left to starve and die alone. How he nearly lost the other half of his soul because of heartless monsters like those who hated and ostracized Rokusuke and Kanpachi.
"I expected better of people outside of the Land of Water," said Raiga. "But wherever we go, they always end up disappointing me. I should have known love would be treated the same way."
"…I don't understand, Raiga," his other half said softly. "Was their love so strange?"
"Strange?" he repeated the word, rolling it around in his thoughts.
Raiga could admit he wasn't the smartest or the most eloquent man. He was trained to kill—nothing more, nothing less. He was designed to be little more than a beast sent to assassinate "spies" and "traitors" of the gracious Fourth Mizukage.
All while his soul cried.
"I suppose you could say it is," he said after a moment.
Below, the members of his loyal family were walking among the workers, helping them along, motivating them when spirits fell. It pleased him.
"Clearly this Nation has a certain…norm they seek to uphold," he began. "A tradition, maybe. Anything that deviates from that is then considered strange. Anything that doesn't conform to their norm is then abnormal."
"Like a kekkei genkai?"
"Exactly!" He nodded, happy for how quick and smart his other half was. Unlike him.
"But who defines what is normal and what is strange? If those without a kekkei genkai decide on their own, how can they understand those of us who wield them?" his other half asked.
"They don't care to, I'm afraid. Understanding isn't important to them," he explained patiently. "By deciding what is normal and acceptable, and what is strange and frightening, they control the people and their feelings. They can turn men like Kanpachi and Rokusuke into monsters to fear, and then frame their fear mongering as righteous."
"Like it was back home."
"We're home now. When we're together, you and I, that's where home is," he stated firmly but kindly. "The Land of Water is just a place. It has no hold over us. We're free from them."
"Yes, you're right."
"It was the same back then," Raiga said after a brief pause. "Blood Mist had its own traditions and tenets to follow. It created and glorified its monsters," he added in a low voice. "And that upstart organization was its inevitable conclusion. A Land of no rules, no bonds, no love, where the strong kill the weak without consequence, and the weak are used as entertainment."
Weak like the other half of his soul. The mere thought of that upstart organization left him clutching his hands into fists and gnashing his teeth together.
"Did Rokusuke and Kanpachi seem like monsters to you?" his other half asked.
"No," he answered resolutely. "I've seen true monsters. A monster cannot love as they did." He paused. "What about you? Did you think they were?"
"No. They were the same as the others."
"Because they were perfectly normal," he nodded. "Just like us."
Lightning flashed in the clouds. Thunder gently rumbled down the pit.
"The rain will be here soon," his other half said.
"Should we go inside?"
"Not yet. I'd like to stay a little while longer."
"Okay. Then we'll stay here together."
As the thunderstorm gathered to pour its sorrows over Katabami Gold Mine, the customers of the Curry of Life restaurant sat safe and warm beneath its old roof, seated at three separate tables and in three distinct groups.
At the table closest to the door were the natives of the Land of Rivers and clients of the Leaf shinobi—Sangorō, Hachidai, Rokusuke. The miners were still awaiting the arrival of their meal, freshly cooked by the owner and chef of the restaurant—an incredibly short, elderly woman everyone called Grandma Sanshō.
The owner and chef of the restaurant had three pots cooking. The smallest pot of the trio consisted of the mildest seasoning available for the customers among her shop with little to no tolerance for spice, specifically Mimi Inuzuka, Amaririsu Yūhi and Chōjūrō.
The second pot was of similar size to the first pot, considered the "normal" curry with a medium-hot seasoning, and colored a shade of red that seemed to irradiate a vibrant and unnatural glow; Haruhi, Tenten, Hachidai and Sangorō were the lucky four testing it.
At present, only Haruhi had eaten it. Her reaction, or complete lack thereof, calmed the nerves of those without an enhanced sense of smell.
Mimi, who did possess an enhanced sense of smell, had desperately tried to convince Tenten to order the mild curry. Instead, her teammate decided to tease her for "being afraid of a little spice."
The Inuzuka had been sulking in defeat ever since.
The final pot was the specialty of the old granny, and where the restaurant had gotten its name from—it was the famous Curry of Life.
Natives of the Land of Rivers claimed it was the spiciest meal within the entire Nation, and rumors suggested it could be the spiciest sauce on the shinobi continent, but the non-natives and the miners present knew nothing of that particular rumor.
They only had Lee's adamant assurances it was extraordinary curry. He even confidently asserted it had saved his life.
To say they were skeptical was like saying Master Jiraiya was a pervert. It was true, but it didn't provide enough detail or nuance to accurately depict the whole picture.
Instead, it only detail enough for them to scratch their heads while they examined a crude stick figure sketch, trying to figure out if that was blood coming out of the non-existent nose of one of the figures or a potato plant growing upside down, and if those strangely drawn shapes were supposed to be nude breasts or if the artist ran out of room and drew a stick figure over a previous failed attempt at sketching cartoonish eyes.
Lee wasn't a liar. In fact, Mimi was certain he couldn't lie, and if he ever tried, he would be so horrible at it that it'd be mortifying for everyone involved.
But saved his life? Really? Sometimes she worried he took one too many blows to the head while training with Guy.
Regardless, somehow, without genjutsu or classical hypnosis, Lee coerced—pestered—Neji and Rokusuke into eating the Curry of Life with him.
All Mimi knew was the stench was awful. She imagined what she was feeling was how snorting capsicum directly up her nose would feel like.
Team Guy occupied the middle table in the Curry of Life. Lee and Neji sat with their backs to the wall while Mimi and Tenten had their backs to the kitchenette. Aoko stretched out on the floor beside her companion.
Somewhere, Mimi knew, there was a shadow hidden within or outside of the curry shop, though she couldn't for the life of her pinpoint where Amari's guard was.
She hadn't heard a single creaking floor board, a quiet clap of her sandals on the floor, a sneeze, cough or sigh, let alone a heartbeat or shifting of ninja tools. She hadn't seen a single shadow move. And with the distinct and, at times, painful spices clogging the air, sniffing out the guard was impossible.
Sasuke was right, she thought. This lady is on a different level than us.
Glancing over to Amari's table, the farthest table from the entrance, the Inuzuka eyed the two Mist shinobi carefully.
For what was doubtlessly the first time since the last Five Kage Summit, but hopefully not the last, shinobi of the Mist and Leaf were now sitting together, peacefully eating from their plates of rice and curry as they conducted themselves politely and kindly, without the enmity or distrust their Nations had shown one another in years past.
Presently, they were discussing their Village's individual missions—objectives, gathered Intel, etc.
Of the two Mist shinobi, Chōjūrō had spoken the most since Amari finished bridging the divide. Haruhi quietly listened as she ate, speaking only when necessary.
Like the Anbu agent, these two are different from us. More years of experience, obviously. But there's a presence about them. It reminds me of a veteran shinobi, actually. Then again, given the conditions they've endured and what they've seen, I can't say I'm surprised.
She looked away, staring at an empty space on the table.
They didn't grow up in peace like us. They grew up like Dad, or in similar conditions, anyway. Life was a constant fight for survival. Poverty, bloodshed, betrayal, it was everywhere they looked. They were at war. These two specifically were apart of the Fifth's revolution.
For us, the Invasion was a nasty wake-up call, but that's all it was. A hand shaking us awake to a harsh reality these Mist shinobi have lived through for years.
We've got to acclimatize to it. And fast, the Inuzuka thought, narrowing her eyes at the table. It's only gonna get worse from here on out.
Given what little they knew of Raiga Kurosuki, she was willing to bet the sanctity of Hinata's virtue they would glimpse more of the current world's cruelty on this mission. Like what they'd seen in the Land of Sound. Like what the Mist shinobi witnessed in the mines and "Flower Shops" they'd found.
"And now we stand at a critical junction in our world's history."
Amari was right. They were at a critical junction in the world's history that would shake its very foundations. And this junction would be defined by the same event as every previous junction before it.
A war. A Great Ninja War.
Got one hell of a storm coming our way.
"Seems like everything is going smoothly," Tenten said as they waited for Grandma Sanshō to return.
The older woman's chant of, "One and two, and one and two, and one and two," echoed from the kitchen as she stirred the Curry of Life pot.
"Of course it has, Tenten!" Lee declared enthusiastically. "There was never a doubt in my mind that Amaririsu's passionate heart would reach our new allies from the Mist."
"Calling us 'allies' is still a stretch, presently," Neji noted academically, arms crossed over his chest and eyes shut, as though meditating. Or preparing himself for the curry. "We may share similar ideals for the future. However, that doesn't change the fact our missions remain in opposition of one another.
"Unless that changes, or unless they come to an agreement of cooperation, we are neither allies nor enemies. We are merely shinobi without direct enmity with one another."
"I am certain Amaririsu will keep her promise. She has not let us down before, she will not let us down here."
Neji didn't reply. He didn't chastise Lee for believing in Amari, either, which told Mimi he was likely of the same mind.
"Amaririsu certainly has a way with words," Tenten admitted. "Shikamaru does, too, strange as that is to say."
"That's right," Mimi had a sudden realization, looking to her fellow kunoichi. "You've spent more time around Slacker than Amari."
"Sort of." Tenten glanced up the ceiling in thought and placed her pointer finger to the tip of her chin. "I've probably worked longer in a squad alongside Shikamaru, if we break it down into actual time spent. Amaririsu tends to be at her limit or running off to the next fight whenever I'm around. Girl has some serious bad luck. You'd think she spends her free time walking under ladders, catching black cats and…"
"And?" Aoko rumbled, head perking up.
"And what?" Mimi asked.
"Well," Tenten smiled, cheeks flushing pink as she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, "I was going to say looking for crows, but then I remembered who she summons. Hehe!"
The Inuzuka snorted and grinned. "I wouldn't call the Crows a bad luck charm. You might find them outside your window."
"Hush you!" Tenten shoved her shoulder playfully. "Anyway, when I do end up in a squad with Shikamaru or Amaririsu, the other isn't far behind. Usually because we're stuck in the middle of one of the bigger messes.
"And you're usually there, too. The Forest of Death, the Invasion, the recent two incidents, you three somehow always find yourselves at the center of the missions, leading us."
"Can't leave Broody, Kiba or Naruto in charge. Think of the property damage," she smirked. "Need a few responsible adults to keep you munchkins in check."
"Hmph," Neji snorted dismissively.
"Since when were you responsible?" Tenten asked.
"Since always! You'd all get lost without me. No sense of direction, I tell you. Right, Aoko?"
"We do find all the good fights. And without us poor Tenten would be stuck juggling Lee, Guy-sensei and Neji on her own. Sounds dreadfully dull."
"Exactly. We're lifesavers."
"More like troublemakers," Tenten refuted, rolling her eyes. "If anyone here is the responsible one, it's me."
"Well, who am I to deny that?" the Inuzuka grinned. "You are our resident mother-hen. You can't go a minute without fussing over us."
"Because you're troublemakers," she emphasized. "Without me you would all be lost causes."
"Then this lost cause humbly bows before your greatness. I must ask, humbly, of course, for a loud and jovial toast from my fellow lost causes to the one and only Tenten the Great."
Initially, Tenten decided on an eye roll, the slightest upward curl of her lips and an abrupt chuckle. Yet, with the speed of a lightning bolt, her eyes went wide, her expression morphed into horror, and the chuckle became something between choking and a panicked cry when she saw Mimi grab her cup and raise it.
She couldn't form words quick enough to stop the Inuzuka, unable to process that her teammate, her best friend, was actually about to do it. She was literally going to perform a toast in her name.
Mimi could see the clashing waves of panic, embarrassment and desperation playing out on Tenten's face. And she couldn't stop grinning. Especially when Lee grabbed his cup, rose to his knees and lifted the cup to the ceiling.
"Yes, let us toast to Tenten! Let us all say what we appreciate most about Team Guy's very own ninja tool specialist! "
"What? No! Lee!" Tenten cried, cheeks flushed a bright shade of pink.
"I, for one, have always appreciated Tenten's hard work ethic," Lee continued undeterred in his sincerity. "Even when the paths she sought to follow seemed to shut their doors to her, Tenten kept searching to find a new path until she finally found her very own speciality. I have always been inspired by her determination. I am proud to call her my teammate and friend!"
As Tenten ducked her head and tried to cover her blushing face, while simultaneously sending very threatening glares Mimi's way—flustered Tenten was adorable—Lee shoved his free hand out to give her a thumbs up and a proud grin.
"I know you will become the Leaf's very first legendary ninja tool master. To Tenten!"
"There's no disputing her hard work," Neji commented without opening his eyes. "I'm sure she has the power to carve her own destiny."
"Neji! Not you, too!" Tenten sounded and looked utterly betrayed.
He hummed, the slightest of amused smiles forming on his lips. But he said nothing more.
Seeing her moment, Mimi went in for the kill.
"What more can I, someone so ill-mannered, add that wouldn't merely repeat their glowing feelings?"
"Ughhh. Please stop."
"Oh, I know!" Mimi grinned.
"Kill me now," Tenten slumped deeper into despair.
"We lost causes all prostrate ourselves before, oh noble and disciplined hero of Team Guy. We consider ourselves blessed to sit beside the enchanting Weapons Mistress of the Leaf, the charming Beauty of Blades, the majestic Paragon of Pole-arms and the seductively Sassy Sage of Swords."
Tenten was as red as a chili pepper. Groaning, she buried her face in her hands and, by Mimi's observations, was hoping to disappear.
As her friend, the Inuzuka decided to finish her off. It was the merciful thing to do.
"To Tenten the Great!" she cheered.
"To Tenten!" Lee joined in.
Aoko let out a howl and Neji, despite his better manners, grabbed his cup and raised it with poise.
Tenten groaned even louder.
"Hear, hear," Grandma Sanshō said as she approached their table with a wide platter she held in her small and wrinkled hands.
The platter had an assortment of curry plates on it, but it was the two plates of black-colored curry that nearly choked Mimi. Aoko, too.
Upon smelling the spices in close proximity, her ninken let out a terrible whine then scampered into Mimi's lap to bury her head beneath the Inuzuka's shirt. Her cold nose pressed against the mesh armor she wore beneath—anything to drown out the smell.
Wide-eyed, Mimi stared and, out of politeness, tried not to cover her nose and mouth while the old woman passed out the plates. She couldn't stifle the cough.
It's so much worse up close. My nose… Oh god, it's like someone stuffed a lit match up my nose.
Lee was also wide-eyed, but his was not horror; his eyes were wide in absolute joy, cheeks flushing as if the curry he'd seen was Sakura dressed in a beautiful gown for the winter festival.
Neji tried to keep a neutral expression. Manners like his were drilled into the Hyūga Clan members. She could see his eyebrow twitching in annoyance, though, and hear his pulse raise in apprehension. It picked up pace when the plates of black curry found themselves in front of him and Lee.
The red curry which seemed to glow ended up in front of an equally red Tenten, who was jabbing her finger into the Inuzuka's side.
"Never again," she warned through grit teeth.
She managed a small smirk against her burning nose and glistening eyes.
"You loved it."
"I'll destroy you."
"Ooh, feisty." She grinned, then coughed.
"Bon appétit!" Grandma Sanshō said cheerfully before moving to deliver the remaining plates to Rokusuke, Hachidai and Sangorō.
Rokusuke, like Neji and Mimi, could only stare at the plate in absolute horror, heart pounding at what appeared to be a bubbling tar pit on top of his rice.
"This is the Curry of Life!" Lee said excitedly. He spread his arms out above his head. "Now, Grandma Sanshō went to the trouble making us all this curry, so let us dig in!" He slapped his palms together in a prayer gesture, beaming. "I cannot wait!"
"Is this…edible?" Neji asked quietly so only Mimi could hear him.
Before she could give him a proper diagnosis—no, absolutely not, it is not edible for humans or animals—Lee grabbed his spoon, scooped a spoonful of the curry and stuck it into his mouth without an inkling of hesitation.
Aw crap, the medic-nin panicked. I'm gonna need to pump his stomach or something! He can't actually—
"Delicioussssss!" Lee's wild cry of absolute joy startled everyone, even the shadow who no one could see, smell or hear.
One bite caused his skin to flush a shade of hot pink before becoming entirely red. Sweat was already beading on his face.
Like a starving beast, he began scooping it down the curry and talking between chomps of food with no consideration for proper etiquette.
Mimi could only stare in horror.
How is he still eating it? How is he even alive?
"This is just…Mm! This is so delectable! A myriad of flavors! The spices are blended to perfection! Plus whatever these hard chunks are, they are amazing!"
"He has no tastebuds," Aoko whined. "That is the only explanation."
Left speechless and horrified, Mimi was unable to stop Neji and Rokusuke from taking small, cautionary spoonfuls of the inedible spice into their mouths.
Simultaneously, Tenten, Hachidai and Sangorō took bigger scoops from their curry, happy they had decided on the regular curry now that they had seen and smelled the Curry of Life.
Every single one of the fools took a bite of their meals…
At that moment, perched on the roof of the Curry of Life shop, the Crow was observing the surrounding landscape and the gathering storm off over Katabami Gold Mine, scanning for movement among the rustling trees and the dark shadows the overcast sky created.
It was then its peaceful observation was broken.
"Wahhhhhhhhh!"
Haruhi tilted her head at the curious sudden chorus of screams, wails and shrieks rumbling through the foundations of the curry shop.
Chōjūrō stiffened and yelped at the startling noise. Amaririsu whipped her head around, ponytail swishing through the air.
Across the restaurant they all saw the strangest of sights. The three Land of River natives, in addition to the Hyūga boy and the kunoichi recently teased by the Inuzuka, were all in various states of agony. Faces the color of freshly spilled blood, sweat poured off their flushed skin.
The one called Rokusuke was laying face down on the table, a streak of black sauce dripping from the corner of his lips; he appeared to be dead.
Conversely, Hachidai was desperately chugging his glass of water, alive, but tears were streaming down his face. Sangorō was face first in his plate, also looking to have died.
At the Leaf shinobi's table, the Hyūga boy was frozen stiff as though under the influence of a Paralysis Jutsu. His Byakugan was activated and his mouth was left open to catch whatever might fly in. Strangely, the pain etched on his face reminded her of the Hound's grotesque expression when they had cut his arms off.
The kunoichi at the table was slamming down her glass of water and stealing the Inuzuka's glass, sweat and tears pouring down her face.
Mimi Inuzuka merely stared at their states of pseudo-death and agony and visibly seemed to question if she should help, laugh, or risk taking a bite out of her own curry.
"What on earth happened?" Chōjūrō questioned.
"I…think the curry was too spicy," Amaririsu considered. "The black stuff I can understand. But isn't the other kind what Haruhi had?"
"Yea- yeah. I think so." Chōjūrō and Amaririsu both looked at her, concern and apprehension in their gazes. Haruhi blinked. "Uh. Haruhi? Are you…all right?"
"I am fine, yes," she nodded. "It is adequately spiced. Would you like to try some?"
"Um, uh, n- no, it's fine," her teammate nervously waved off the genuine question. "I'll take your word for it."
"Glad I was cautious," Amaririsu muttered beneath her breath. "That would've been a drag."
"Mimi, help me!" Tenten pleaded, grabbing ahold of the Inuzuka's flak jacket and shaking her lightly. "You know Medical Ninjutsu! Make it stop hurting!"
"There isn't exactly a Medical Ninjutsu for something like this."
Mimi was trying not to laugh. She was. But no one was making it easy for her.
"Please! It's so hot!"
"I tried to tell you," she snickered.
"Really? An 'I told you so' now of all times? I'm dying here!"
"I can get you more water."
"It's not helping!"
"What do you want me to do? Spray Water Style ninjutsu into your mouth?" she asked, chuckling as she gently peeled her friend's hands from her jacket.
"Will it help?" Tenten was clearly desperate. And out of her mind. It could be the only explanation for her asking that with a straight face.
"It'd be funny." Mimi shrugged. "For me, anyway."
"Not helping!"
"Grandma Sanshō, more water for our tables, please."
"Oh dear. Coming right up!"
Mimi scooped up a spoonful of plain rice and said, "Here, maybe this will help."
Throwing etiquette out the window, Tenten took the whole bowl of the spoon into her mouth and gobbled down the rice.
"More!" she demanded as soon as the spoon was free, tears streaming down her cheeks.
"So pushy," the Inuzuka quipped.
Several spoonfuls of rice and another whole glass of water later brought Tenten's mouth from an out of control wildfire to a smoldering campfire. Neji, however, remained frozen stiff, the veins around his eyes and along his temples bulging.
"Hang on, Neji," Tenten said as she procured two glasses of water for him.
Lee, apparently oblivious to the pain the Curry of Life caused the others, was on the last few spoonfuls when he spoke up.
"Oh, by the way, where is Karashi?" he asked Grandma Sanshō. "Is he out?"
"Oh, well, the boy was very moved by your work ethic and began attacking life with a brand new vigor," said Sanshō. For something that sounded so positive, she sounded utterly heartbroken. "So much, in fact, he left the shop and set out for town."
"Huh?"
"I shouldn't have pushed him so much. Always telling him to be strong. 'I'm going to be a man,' he said. 'I'm going to be apart of the Kurosuki Family!'"
"The Kurosuki Family?" Mimi turned halfway around to look at the old curry shop owner who's spices apparently doubled as a paralysis poison.
Sanshō did, in fact, look heartbroken. And disappointed, too, to know the kind of people her son had fallen in with. She nodded to confirm the Inuzuka had heard her right.
Lee's plate clattering noisily against the table brought her head back around. Guilt twisted his previously kind and excitable features. He braced his hands on the table.
"Oh, please," Sanshō begged. "You mustn't worry yourself, son. I'm not blaming you."
"Too late for that," Tenten muttered as she forced Neji to drink.
"I…I am responsible for this!" Lee's sheer guilt suddenly shifted as his spine straightened. His hand shot up as he looked Mimi straight in the eyes. "Mimi! Request to incorporate the rescue of Karashi into our mission! We will bring him back from this road of evil he has taken!"
A guy who's helped bury people alive? That's the kind of person you want to save? She wanted to ask him. But she knew nothing she'd say could change his mind.
In the end, it's not about the kind of person he is now or was before. It's because you're so damn pure that you want to save him. Because you believe in the best of people and that they are worthy of second chances.
It was one of the reasons she liked the little fool.
Flattening her lips together, Mimi cast one last glance to the old woman, and one glance to the Mist shinobi.
It'd be complicated. They still didn't know what the Mist shinobi would choose to do, but…
She exhaled a long sigh.
"All right."
Grandma Sanshō, with tears in her eyes, brought her palms together and bowed slightly in a gesture of gratitude.
"We'll use this curry shop as our base of operations," she said.
Neji, finally coming too from his paralysis, took the glass Tenten was slowly tilting and downed the entire thing in a few gulps. Before he finished slamming the first one down he had the second cup in hand, Byakugan unable to deactivate.
"After we scout the mine," she snickered, "we'll come up with a strategy and make our move."
"Roger!"
"With luck," she said, glancing to the Mist shinobis, "we'll have all hands on deck for this mission."
Until they could confirm that, though, they would just have to wait.
Chōjūrō nibbled gently on his bottom lip, careful not to drive his sharpened tooth too deep into his fragile flesh.
He had hoped… Well, he had hoped the rumors were exaggerated. He had hoped the Senior Swordsman wasn't deliberately taking part in horrible misdeeds, that the rumors were merely a grand story crafted off the fearful reputation which preceded Master Raiga.
Lady Mei will be so disappointed…
His troubled gaze was locked on his half-eaten plate of curry. Silence reigned as they digested the information Amaririsu provided on Master Raiga and the known activities of his so-called Kurosuki Family.
As always, Haruhi bore a neutral expression, all save the dangerous sharpening of her orange gaze.
She saw a tumor in need of removing. Truthfully, he couldn't blame her.
Who could ever condone live burials? Just the thought of all the poor souls who had suffocated beneath the cold dirt, alone, made his fingers curl into his pants.
"What do you want to do?" Amaririsu asked calmly.
"I'm not sure," he replied softly, slowly raising his eyes to meet her solitary eye. "Shouldn't you have a say? Master Raiga killed two of the Crows, right? Your clients hired you to eliminate his Family."
"It's true," Amaririsu nodded, her presence still as calming as ever. She really did remind him of Lady Mei. "Raiga is responsible for the deaths of two of Atsuko's agents. Were I to ask her or any other Crow what their thoughts and feelings were, they would likely deem him worthy of their full wrath. There is also the mission we were hired to accomplish to consider.
"We were hired to neutralize the threat. However, neutralize the threat isn't necessarily a kill command. It simply asks us to remove the problem. Were you to convince Raiga to leave behind the mine and return to the Mist as an ally, the problem is removed," she said with a delicate gesture of her hand. "All that would be left for us to do is handle his thugs. Win-win for both of our sides."
"You would still consider letting us recruit Master Raiga?" Chōjūrō asked, baffled.
"If that is the conclusion you seek, then yes."
"But he's…he's hurt the agents of the Crows. And all those people…"
"He has. And my heart aches for them. It tells me to rid this world of his darkness," she said seriously. "However, at the same time, I have to ask myself why I don't think the same of Zabuza. Or Haku, even.
"After all, how many innocent people did they hurt as rogue ninja? How many small Lands, like the Land of Waves, did they hand over to men like Gatō in their efforts to attain wealth to overthrow the Fourth Mizukage? How many people did they damn in their efforts to fulfill Zabuza's ambition?"
Amaririsu's eye fell to her left hand and the scars peeking out of the sleeve. He knew their origin. He knew how intimately those scars were connected to her battle against Haku and Master Zabuza, and how deeply scars like hers ran beneath the surface.
"Why do I forgive Zabuza for causing Haku so much pain, but I am quick to judge Raiga as unworthy of redemption?" she wondered. "Is it simply because of the impact they had on me? Is it my affinity to them?
"What Raiga has done is horrible. It's evil. And yet so was everything Zabuza did. He twisted Haku into a tool of his Will. He hurt countless people. He would've killed me and my teammates if Haku and I hadn't acted as we did."
Her hand found its way to her throat. For a moment her eye didn't seem to see them or their surroundings. Then, quick as her focus deviated, it returned. And when she began again, he realized the cause for the unconscious action, and felt his heart clench.
She swallowed roughly and lowered her hand. "He almost did."
She's seen it, he thought, feeling a sense of secondhand anxiety. She's seen Master Zabuza's Demon Chakra. And survived it.
"Yet I feel no enmity towards him," Amaririsu said. "I don't curse his name and call him an irredeemable monster. To say it of Raiga without ever meeting him, without knowing his mental state or the pain he suffered is pretty hypocritical. What if he needs someone to reach out to him? What if he's lost in darkness? Like Haku. Like Zabuza. Like Gaara."
Chōjūrō opened his mouth, then shut it. He wanted to say it was different…but was it really all that different?
Master Zabuza's fearsome reputation was well-earned. His moniker as a Demon cast a long, terrifying shadow over the Land of Water. It only intensified when he went rogue and started selling his strength to anyone who would pay him.
So why? Why did they grant the Demon of the Hidden Mist preferential treatment but thought of Master Raiga as irredeemable before even speaking a word to him?
"When I was a little girl," he recalled Natsumi's voice after Koshiro's attempted betrayal, "I despised this Land and all its people. I was an orphan. There are people in this very town I remember chasing me off, all because I wanted scraps of food, or an awning to sit beneath to get out of the snow.
"I hated them. I hated my situation. I hated the Fourth and those who sought to use me and my Sealing Jutsus. I hated this Land and all its bloodshed. My 'goal' I fooled myself into believing was to gain enough money to leave this Land behind.
"To do that, I started learning to gather information and sell it to whoever paid me the most. I sold out rogue shinobi to the Fourth's hunter-nins. I sold out Mist shinobi to rogues and bounty hunters. Anyone and anything was for sale as long as I was able to survive.
"In a way, I was no different than the people we're hunting down now. I never fooled myself into believing the information I sold didn't end with people dead. I just didn't care. I was callous and brash and arrogant and full of anger. Why should I care who was hurt? Why should their pain matter to me when this Land, it's people and this world only ever tossed me aside and hurt me time and again?"
Why did Natsumi get a second-chance? Master Raiga had lived through Blood Mist, he was a victim and survivor of that era, too, just as they were the students and survivors of its final clutches.
"I sold information on Lady Mei to hunter-nins. She survived their attack and came for me." He could see Natsumi's wry smile. "I tried to kill her, too. I refused to be taken prisoner or killed without a fight. I failed, though. And instead of killing me, she sat with me and listened to my story."
Lady Mei's act of compassion had changed Natsumi's entire life and its path.
"Amari's actions and her words, though they had cut deep, had changed us all irreversibly," he recalled Haku's words to Mika. "Zabuza and I owe her our very lives. She gifted me the chance to find a dream of my own." Haku's bashful smile came to mind. "Although I am still searching for it."
Amaririsu's act of compassion had granted Haku a second-chance. An opportunity to find a dream, to work alongside them in an effort to rebuild and reform the home that had caused him, his master and countless others so much pain.
Haku's act of merciful compassion provided Fuugetsu a chance at redemption. He could have killed the crazed Hōzuki and no one would have questioned it.
By his own admission, Fuugetsu had forced people into "a godless life" as victims of the Crimson Flowers; he didn't even see himself as worthy of redemption, seeking death by Haku's and the Hound's hands.
Yet Haku saw him as a victim of a horrible circumstance. He spared Fuugetsu and offered him a chance to no longer live as a slave to the Crimson Flowers.
Now the Hōzuki was…well, he was still strange. Still crazy. Truthfully, Chōjūrō wasn't sure if he was tormenting Haku as some sort of punishment or if it was his idea of friendship.
Still, the thought made him wonder if an act of compassion could grant Master Raiga the same chance.
Maybe he was committing horrible deeds, the likes of which could be called unforgivable. But they had no idea what his mental state was. They did not know if he was the same kind of monster as the Hound, or if he was another unwilling victim and product of the Dark Times.
Chōjūrō pondered on the thought in silence for a prolonged moment. He pondered on his feelings and on how he thought Lady Mei might react. And he wondered:
What is a world without redemption?
The answer seemed simple. It was a society without nuance. A world colored in black and white with no shades of grey, no place for shinobi—not even him or Haruhi.
It was a world where victims of circumstance were irredeemable monsters and those that killed them were righteous heroes.
"'Those of us who endured the Dark Times all bear demons. Even I do. Please, remember that,'" he repeated in a quiet voice. "Those were Lady Mei's words to us before we left for this mission. I think…"
Chōjūrō lifted his hands up, and for the slightest moment he saw the blood-soaked Hiramekarei in them, the chakra surrounding it the color of crimson death, swirling and pulsing viciously, hungry for blood.
"I'll turn this mine into your grave!"
He saw the wailing prisoners, emaciated and crazed, stumbling and falling over themselves to escape, scampering off or freezing on the spot in fear of the vengeful demon they'd seen.
He saw Gallows whipper impaled at his center, squirming and kicking as he lifted him higher into the air, eyes wide in fear of his own frail mortality. He saw the blood streaming—no, pouring from the whipper's helpless and quivering lips as it splattered over his glasses, joining the hot tears flowing from his eyes.
"Yer different than before, runt. I can tell. It's yer eyes. I can almost see a demon in ya."
He blinked and Hiramekarei was gone. He pursed his lips in discomfort as he stared at his palms.
There was no blood. None you could see just by looking at them. But it was there. It was always there…
"I think," he began again in an even quieter voice, "I think I have something like that in me, too. I know Master Raiga does. I wonder if Lady Mei was asking us to consider that before we made a rash judgement. I thought she was just warning us in case the rumors were true, but maybe…"
"Hm," Haruhi flattened her lips in consideration. "She did brief us on Raiga's service record."
"Would you be willing to tell me Raiga's history? It may be helpful."
"Okay. I'll do my best," Chōjūrō agreed. He rubbed his chin. "Where do I start? Well, after the premature death of Master Ameyuri Ringo, who died of an incurable disease at a young age, the Fourth Mizukage began researching a new Swordsman to wield the Kiba Blades.
"The man he would eventually choose was Master Raiga. However, before he became wielder of the infamous Thunderswords, he was assigned to the Anbu, where he hunted down traitors and spies who infiltrated the Land of Water. Except…"
"Who can say if they really were traitors or spies," Amaririsu deduced quickly.
"Yes," he admitted, nodding slightly. "Lady Mei has similar doubts. There are few records of his missions—or any similar missions from that era. Given what we now know of the Fourth Mizukage, it's possible those targets were meant only to cause the Land of Water, its people and the Mist itself pain. A sort of means to tear ourselves apart from the inside. Like the Crimson Flowers."
"Mm."
Steadily, or perhaps quickly, he explained as Lady Mei had explained it to them, the tenets of betrayal and bloodshed the Dark Era was known for eroded Master Raiga's loyalty to the Mist and the Fourth Mizukage. It burdened his heart and soul, darkened it, you could say, as it had with so many others.
Later he would go onto earn his place among the strongest era of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, even rising to a level of renown greater than his predecessor, who's fame and strength—despite her short tenure—was still highly regarded among Mist shinobi.
To this very day Master Ameyuri Ringo remained a figure of inspiration among young shinobi seeking to become a member of the Seven Swordsmen. Even he and Nen admired the fierce kunoichi known as The Huntress of the Mist, who was said to never have failed to catch her prey.
Master Raiga gained similar renown and fame. And his own terrifying moniker, too.
"Renown and fame didn't heal his heart, I suspect," Amaririsu said.
"Renown and fame cannot heal such pains," Haruhi stated. "Nor can wealth. A wounded soul cannot be healed by such frivolous and meaningless things."
Amaririsu nodded along in agreement and apologized for interrupting.
With a short glance to his teammate, Chōjūrō wondered not for the first time who Haruhi's previous master had been. He wasn't sure if he should ask, frankly.
He didn't want to open an old wound.
"You're right," he said, returning his attention to Amaririsu. "Master Raiga abandoned the Mist one day without warning. Unlike Master Zabuza and his coup attempt, he tried to vanish without incident. But… Well," Chōjūrō rubbed the back of his neck, "the Fourth's hunter-nins weren't just for show. They were the third strongest entity within the Mist, in terms of presence, fear and strength."
"Presence?" Amaririsu tilted her head.
"Yes. They were…like a secret police, I suppose you might equate it to. They answered directly to the Fourth Mizukage. They obeyed his orders without hesitation, killing whoever he deemed a traitor, a spy or an enemy."
"Their initial purpose was the result of the systemic corruption of the Fourth's reign," Haruhi explained. "In that respect, their purpose was perverted from the very beginning. They were little more than his personal assassins. They committed atrocities in his name. And their efforts to eliminate rogue shinobi and their secrets left our forces crippled and our Land swallowed by fear.
"For who could we trust if anyone could be a spy? Who could we trust when people sold their souls to keep food in their family's stomachs? When fear of kekkei genkai wielders and their power left those who did possess a kekkei genkai frightened for their very lives, what could anyone expect but mass exodus from our Land? When rewards were gifted to those who would betray the secrets of family members, friends, and strangers, what else could there be except anarchy and fear?"
"It sounds horrible," said Amaririsu, sadness for them and their people reflected in her onyx eye.
"It was."
"For all their strength and terror, though, the Fourth's hunter-nins were behind the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist in sheer strength and reputation," Chōjūrō continued. "The Seven Swordsmen are considered the strongest shinobi of the Mist. Be- behind the Mizukage, of course."
"And his hunter-nin learned that the hard way," Amaririsu said instead of asked.
"Yes," he answered anyway. "Lady Mei met with Master Raiga before he left the Land of Water. She hoped to recruit him to her cause, but he refused…"
The other half of his soul had sensed her silent approach.
Beneath the hood of his grey mantle, Raiga wore neither a frown nor a smile. He was indifferent to the kunoichi's approach, knowing by his other half's description she was no hunter-nin or ally of the Fourth Mizukage.
All the same, he kept his hands gripped around the hilts of the Kiba Blades, and the point of the blades buried in the earth.
Were she to even attempt to breathe steam or expel lava she wouldn't leave here alive.
From the dark hill he could see the vast and infinite scope of the spring night sky over the Land of Water, from the half moon to the sparkling stars glimmering and glinting like diamonds upon the dark canvas.
He sat on a log, leaning forward, the hunch of his back visibly protruding beneath his mantle. His large hands gripped the brown hilts of the mystical blades loosely—relaxed despite the dangerous woman approaching him.
"Tell me," he spoke in a low voice, "who is it that approaches me? Is it the infamous Sister Killer the Fourth tried to groom seeking my life? Or is it Mei Terumī?"
"I have no intention of fighting you, Raiga," the infamous Sister Killer replied calmly. She did not reveal herself, but the other half of his soul could sense her clearly in the darkness. "I am only here to talk, if you are willing to listen. You know I hold no love for the Fourth."
"I do. It's the only reason I did not kill you as you approached."
"May I join you?"
"As long as you make it quick. The Fourth's hunter-ninjas are roaming these parts."
Emerging from the shadows, a tall woman of graceful build appeared, her auburn-haired flowing to her waist in the back and a short set of bangs covering her right eye. The vivid green of her left was difficult to see in the darkness, but the silhouette her figure cut was as seductive as it was dangerous.
Form-clinging mesh armor and a blue halter top with an exceptional neckline, plunging nearly to her navel, made the upper half of her ensemble; he couldn't tell if she wore any makeup to accompany it, though he supposed it wouldn't be necessary for this famous beauty of the Mist.
Most men would have their eyes focused elsewhere anywhere—as was the intention. A mid-thigh length skirt, mesh leggings and high-heeled sandals finished off the rest.
Those long legs would certainly leave tongues wagging this summer.
Raiga, however, saw through it all. He didn't consider himself the smartest man to ever exist, but he knew a weapon when he saw one.
Kunoichi of the Mist, especially those of Blood Mist, wielded their femininity as a sharp blade, the kind which dull-witted men failed to see until the cold steel was slashing their throat, drowning them in a shower of their own blood. And the final image they would witness before the darkness closed in was a fair face splattered by crimson.
"What happened to your poor back?" she asked cautiously. "When I last saw you, you didn't—
"It's nothing," he replied sharply. "Didn't I tell you to make it quick? Don't waste my time with small talk."
"As you wish. I'd ask you to reconsider abandoning the Land of Water. There remain many places the Fourth has no sight over, locations where his hunter-ninjas will not find you."
"Let me guess. You can show me these places in exchange for my loyalty." He huffed. "You're not the first one to offer me shelter, Mei. I've had the Demon and the Hound make similar and, by their estimations, lucrative offers."
"Yet here you are. Alone in the wilds. I have to assume their offers involved money and power, and if so, those must not interest you."
"No. They don't. They only sought me to be their pawn. I'm not the sharpest blade, I know that, but even I can see Zabuza is on track to either become a spitting image of the Fourth. Or dead. It'd be better if we never saw each other again. And the Hound," he growled. "He's a poison as great as the Fourth."
"Mm. I see. And if I told you my dream is to rebuild this Nation of ours and reform it so these Dark Days will never be repeated, so the future children of this Nation will never be forced to kill their friends or their own blood as we were in exams meant to groom the strongest shinobi, so we may one day stand as a great and proud Nation no longer defined by our own self-inflicted wounds and bloodshed, what might you say then?"
Raiga said nothing at first. Then the scowl etched on his lips shifted slowly, lips curling into a strange smile.
"First I'd say 'Good luck.' And then 'Forget this rotten Nation, they aren't worthy of your passion or your energy.' But you wouldn't listen, would you?"
"No, I suppose I wouldn't."
"Then they truly are unworthy of you, Mei Terumī." With a sigh, Raiga rose to his feet, yanking his swords free of the dirt, flipping them in his hands and attaching them to his belt. "Yours is the best offer I've been given. But I politely refuse. And because I have nothing but respect for you, here is a warning I didn't give the other two: The Fourth has a second shadow."
"You mean the Three-Tails?"
"No," he replied, walking towards the kunoichi but truly off on his journey for new Lands. "This shadow is human. They're…connected somehow."
"Connected?"
"That's the only way we can describe it."
As he stopped beside her Raiga saw the baffled expression on her fair features. She truly was a rose amid this snowy hell he once called home.
"We?" she asked.
"All this time I've only possessed half of my soul. Recently I found the missing piece. We are finally one." He reached his hand out, smiling his strange smile, and brushed his calloused knuckles along her jawline. Mei leaned away. "I'll always remember your kind face. Try not to get killed."
He began to walk off.
"But if you do, don't worry, I'll hold a funeral for you," he added quietly. "And it'll be just as beautiful as you are."
As the rain began to fall over Katabami Gold Mine, Raiga exhaled a long sigh as he stared up at the overcast sky.
"What's wrong, Raiga?" the other half of his soul asked.
"Nothing is wrong. I was just…reminiscing about an old friend."
He wondered if she was ever given a proper funeral.
Or if she had cremated the Fourth beneath pools of lava.
"He found the missing piece of his soul?" Amaririsu brought her hand to her chin as she pondered the strange phrase.
Chōjūrō had wondered what Master Raiga could have possibly meant by it since embarking on this mission. Yet he couldn't come up with anything. Nothing sane, anyway.
There were other strange details Lady Mei mentioned, too, like the hunch of the rogue shinobi's spine, and his ability to sense whoever was controlling the Fourth Mizukage.
It took Lord Ao's Byakugan to see the Fourth Mizukage was under someone's influence. Without it, we never would've known that. So how did Master Raiga sense it?
Chōjūrō pursed his lips and tapped his pointer finger on his leg. As far as I know, he wasn't a Sensory Type. That isn't an ability the Kiba Blades grant, either. Did he acquire a Byakugan or Sharingan?
Lady Mei hadn't been able to see his face; his eyes were hidden by his hood and it was dark that night.
It wasn't impossible, though. The Sharingan hadn't been rendered nearly extinct all those years ago, nor was it impossible for him to have encountered a Main Branch Hyūga in his tenure as a member of the Seven Ninja Swordsman.
What could have possibly caused his spine to hunch so visibly that it stuck out to Lady Mei? And what did he mean by he finding the missing piece of his soul?
"I don't really know what to make of all that," Amaririsu echoed the same conclusion he reached, lowering her hand. "He sounds unwell. Claiming he'd only possessed half of his soul until recently, and that they were finally one…"
Amaririsu stared at them seriously. "He may have been suffering a break from reality. Or maybe a split personality disorder caused by the trauma of Blood Mist. If that is the case, his obsession with funerals may not be out of pure cold-hearted cruelty."
"What do you do for someone like that?" he asked.
"Personally? I would try to help however I can." She shook her head. "But that's easy to say. Nothing is ever that cut and dry. I can reach my hand out as far as humanly possible, but that doesn't guarantee the person I'm reaching to will ever take my hand. They may even reject it in spite.
"In this situation, Raiga is, by what you say, a man who possesses incredible power in addition to one of the famous mystical blades. He may also have a split personality or be suffering from some level of clinical psychosis."
Amaririsu shrugged. "No matter how you look at it, he's a present danger to the miners. And to you two. If you try to talk to him, you must also prepare for the potential of full-scale combat against a Seven Swordsman. Anything less would just be foolish."
"Yeah. You're right," he sighed, slouching.
"Nothing about our mission has truly changed, then," Haruhi stated. "We will approach with peaceful intentions, but we will not do so recklessly or ignorantly. We will approach ready to fight and kill Raiga. However, we will not be forced to fight him and his so-called 'Family' alone." His teammate paused. "So long as your extension of cooperation has not been rescinded by the threat we face," she added.
"It hasn't. We—" Amaririsu seemed to catch herself. "Or, actually, they," she gestured to her fellow Leaf shinobi, "will help you fight Raiga and the Kurosuki Family, assuming it comes down to a fight. I won't be able to join you this time."
"Huh? Why not?" Chōjūrō asked.
"I'm technically off the active duty roster at the moment; I was critically injured on a recent mission. I'm still sort of recovering. For that reason I've been forbidden from taking part in any battles on this mission. It's a real drag," she admitted, puffing out her right cheek in an unconscious pout.
It was sort of cute.
"What happened?" Haruhi asked.
"Ah, it's a long story," Amaririsu replied, scratching her cheek. "In short, ended up having my Achilles tendon severely damaged by a tree branch. I had to relearn to walk. I've been off duty for a while now, so even if I could fight, I wouldn't be at my best. And you need everyone at theirs. Luckily, Team Guy are not only my seniors, but they're almost as cool as my team."
"Almost my ass!" Mimi called from the other table.
"I was checking to see if you were eavesdropping. And you were, you eavesdropper!" Amaririsu retorted.
"Of course. Gotta look out for our dearest empress."
Mimi Inuzuka stood up and crossed the floor to stand beside Amaririsu. The sight of the younger kunoichi's exasperated eye roll brought a grin to her face.
"Anyway, if it turns into a fight, we'll be ready to help you kick some ass. And don't listen to this one," she said, ruffling Amaririsu's hair. "She's just jealous Aoko and I beat her in the Finals."
"I'm not jealous," Amaririsu swatted the Inuzuka's hand away. "You won fair and square. And next time I'll be the winner."
"Uh-huh." Mimi patted her on the head. "Keep telling yourself that and maybe one day you'll grow up to be a real—"
"Don't you dare go there," Amaririsu hissed, slapping her hand away again.
"Fine, fine," the Inuzuka relented, still grinning from ear to ear.
Her sapphire eyes flicked to Chōjūrō, and he felt himself swallow. She has intense eyes.
"I know I might be asking a lot, but would you be willing to strategize with my team? When it comes to Raiga's abilities and the abilities of the Kiba Blades we don't know a whole lot. I'm not asking for secrets. I just don't want us getting hurt or in your way because we had no idea who or what we were dealing with."
Chōjūrō offered a small nod. "No, you're right. We should strategize together. Master Raiga and the Kiba Blades aren't something any of us should take lightly. Even I as a Seven Swordsman, and Haruhi as a Seven Swordsman-trainee, will need to be at our bests to defeat Master Raiga."
And even then, he internalized, it will still be the toughest fight of our lives. Master Raiga was apart of the strongest generation of the Seven Ninja Swordsman, who are second only to the Mizukage in strength. If we cooperate with the Leaf, and they go in unprepared, they may die.
Then and there Chōjūrō promised himself to keep them all alive. For the sake of the mission and for the sake of the future.
"We also do not understand each other's abilities," Haruhi added. "To form better unit cohesion, knowing our limitations and our strengths is imperative."
"Agreed. Plus, with that storm out there…" Mimi Inuzuka said, glancing out the window to the overcast sky and impending rain. "Strategizing will give it time to pass so the battlefield doesn't put us at a disadvantage."
Chōjūrō and Haruhi both nodded.
"It seems to me we're all on the same page," Amaririsu said. "Once everyone is ready, we'll begin a strategy meeting."
With the permission of Grandma Sanshō, the Leaf and the Mist shinobi moved upstairs to a spare room to discuss their strategy to liberate Katabami Gold Mine from the grip of the Kurosuki Family.
Meanwhile, down below, Hachidai and Sangorō began to help the elderly woman clean the pots, plates and utensils as a way of repaying her kindness. It was as they worked that the rain started pattering lightly on the rooftop and the distant rumble of thunder drew nearer.
Rokusuke finally saw his moment. He'd waited for far too long, but there'd been no choice. Mimi Inuzuka had forced him to sit in the curry shop, she didn't even need to look his way for him to simply feel her watching his every move.
He hoped Kanpachi would forgive him.
While Hachidai, Sangorō and Sanshō had their backs turned, he slipped to the front door quick as a skittering squirrel, thankful the rain, their chatter and the clatter of pots and plates hid his footsteps. He slid the door open just wide enough to shimmy through, then slid it shut behind him.
Kanpachi, I'm going to save you.
Rokusuke began to turn to run, but as he moved he saw a figure among the gray haze. One that sent a shock through his body.
"Yo," Mimi Inuzuka greeted, voice and features neutral. She leaned against the wall beside the door, arms crossed, cocking an inquisitive and knowing eyebrow up at him. "Going somewhere?"
"O- oh, uh, Mimi," he stumbled over his words, taking a cautionary step back and out from beneath the shop's awning, as though moving to go around the back. Droplets of rain struck his head and shoulders. "Grandma Sanshō asked me to throw out the trash."
How had she heard him? Wasn't she supposed to be sitting in a strategy meeting?
"And yet there isn't a trash bag in your hand," she said. "I can hear your heart hammering, too. Pretty strange, wouldn't you say? Unless you're afraid there's going to be a sewer monster among the garbage."
He swallowed roughly and took another step away.
"I'll give you one chance to go back inside on your own."
"Do- don't try to stop me."
"Go back inside, Rokusuke."
"No! I won't!"
He turned on his heel suddenly and lunged across the street. Or he tried to, but the collar of his shirt seemed to snag on something.
It took him an extra second to realize a woman's hand was snatching him by the collar, a woman with long purple hair and a cat-mask.
"I'm sorry," was all she said, voice soft and sincere.
And then his world went black.
The Shadow Clone of Mimi took the weight of Rokusuke's unconscious body onto her shoulder from the Anbu kunoichi, sighing in mild exasperation as she turned to leave.
When she remembered her manners, she turned back and said, "Thank—"
The kunoichi was gone. Only the patter of rain, the wet mud and the old, weather-worn walls of the shop kept her company.
"—you?" The Shadow Clone blinked.
Had she not seen the whole scene play out she would have thought she imagined the kunoichi into existence.
Inside the warmth of his cabin, Raiga sat nursing a peaceful cup of hot chocolate with the other half of his soul, thinking nothing of heartbreaking and beautiful funerals or the Mist and those few faces he still recalled from his time there.
He merely sat and smiled a warm and peaceful smile as the cold rain poured and the odd cascade of thunder rolled down the terraces.
He'd always found storms soothing, they were natures lullaby.
"Raiga," the other half of his soul spoke up. "There's a problem with one of the workers."
"Is there now?" he asked, setting his cup down. "Then we'll go settle it. Tell me everything."
"Come on. Stand up!" Karashi jeered at the balding, scrawny old man sitting on the floor, who looked at him in contempt. "I'll show you how much of a man I am!"
"You've already shown me the kind of 'man' you are," the old man replied, hand rubbing at his scraped knee. "How a child of a kind woman like Sanshō could be so callous escapes me."
"Ugh, shut up about her already," he growled. "All my life I had to hear 'Be a man, Karashi.' So that's what I'm doing. I'm being a man."
"If this is what your generation considers being a man, then you are a very disappointing excuse for one."
"Grr! I said shut up!"
Karashi leaned over and snatched the old man by his shirt, moving to yank him up to his feet, but he never managed it.
"Karashi. That's enough."
The deep, penetrative voice carried across the walls of the mining tunnel and sent a chill shooting up Karashi's spine. The old man's sunken in eyes went wide and his frail body immediately began to tremble.
Turning his head slightly, Karashi saw the hooded, hunched-back figure standing at the opening of the tunnel, streams of rain gliding down his water-resistant cloak and glinting in the light of the oil lanterns.
Oh man. It's the Boss. How did he…
Karashi stopped his dumb thought short. He'd almost forgotten about how the Boss had an All-seeing eye. It was sort of creepy, living knowing that at any moment, like a God, the Boss could be watching them.
Standing beside Raiga, pulling her hood down, was the Boss's second-in-command. She was tall for a woman, nearly standing shoulder to shoulder with her leader, with layers of muscle that, to his mind, made her seem pretty butch.
Weren't women supposed to stay small and dainty? That's what made them attractive to men.
It didn't help, in his young eyes, that she shaved her temples and the back of her head like a man, leaving only the crown of her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Even less helpful were the scars clawed through the right half of her face, making it look like she'd been mauled by a tiger. And somehow the tiger came out looking worse for wear.
It just didn't sit right with him. Women weren't supposed to be warriors. That was the duty of a man. Yet the Kurosuki Family had its fair share of women who opposed the natural order of things.
When he first joined the Kurosuki Family, he made the mistake of voicing his apprehension of women warriors, and the second-in-command's more butch appearance, since traditionally women were meant to be feminine and subservient. Men, he claimed, were meant to be strong warriors, battle-scarred and tough.
Among the men, he thought he'd find agreement.
Instead, the men of the Kurosuki Family had laughed at him. They'd laughed until they had tears streaming down their faces.
Then some of the women—some former kunoichis, some previously bandits—of the Kurosuki Family jeered him for his utter lack of all those qualities, calling him several emasculating nicknames, which had only made the men laugh harder.
Those same women then began to stalk around him like predators, shoving him, running their fingers along his jaw while pondering out loud if he'd ever been with 'a real woman.'
Their harsh laughs told him they likely suspected the truth.
Finally, the second-in-command, who had overheard the whole thing, barked at the other women to leave him alone. He quickly hid himself behind her to escape their bullying.
After thanking her, the woman who was hard to look at smiled a cruel smile, made all the more cruel and ugly by the pattern of scars on her face.
"Traditionally," she had begun in a mocking voice, "men like you are subservient to me. It's only natural, Cupcake."
The predatory purr sent a chill down his spine at the time. It was only then he realized then he was hiding—cowering—behind her, clutching onto her cloak like a lost child.
It left him flushed red. Hastily, he released his hold on her clothes.
"What's the matter? Afraid I might shatter your pelvis? Then again, with a small and scrawny body like yours, I actually might! Ha ha ha!" she laughed a coarse laugh.
Hastily, again, he had tried to remove himself from the situation entirely. Unfortunately, he felt the crack of her palm against his buttocks, causing him to yelp at a very embarrassing and very unmanly pitch.
"Swing by my quarters if you feel daring enough. I could use a new toy to play with," she jeered.
He was frightened she was serious. And frightened he might like it.
Now in the cave with the Boss and the second-in-command, to his embarrassment, he wished he could hide behind her again.
"Karashi, why are you menacing old man Ena?" Raiga asked in a slow, deliberate tone.
"Menacing? I wasn't—" Karashi checked himself and the location of his hands, still clutching Ena's shirt, then quickly let go. Perhaps too harshly, as it sent the old man collapsing to the stony earth. "It's not like that, Boss. I swear!"
Raiga only sighed. He stepped deeper into the tunnel, the light clap-clap-clap of his sandals reverberating up the walls and into all of their ears. Karashi could only gulp down his nerves.
I've got to think of something, he panicked. If I don't, he may start planning my funeral.
"Old man Ena started it!" he jabbed his finger at the old man, ignoring how childish the act was. "He was badmouthing the Kurosuki Family," he lied. "I couldn't just stand by and let that happen. A man doesn't stand idly by when his Family is insulted, right?"
Raiga said nothing. He ignored Karashi altogether and kneeled in front of Ena, who was trembling and quivering in fear of the tall hunchback.
"Is that right?" the Boss asked, his voice almost like he'd drank a bottle of whiskey after swallowing shards of glass. "He started it, huh?"
He reached his large hand towards the old man, and Karashi felt a wave of relief.
Score! He bought it!
"N- no, I swear, Lord Raiga! I said nothing of the sort!" Ena swore in fear.
The Boss's hand found old man Ena's knee and turned it gently, examining the wound. "I know you didn't. Mikki," he called to his second-in-command, "take old man Ena to the infirmary. Clean and bandage this scrape. I don't want him getting an infection."
"Aye aye."
Karashi's breath faltered. He felt his heart begin to hammer against his chest as the Boss helped Ena onto his feet and offered him a gentle pat on the back. Ena, too, seemed shocked.
"Take the rest of the day off, Ena. It's far too soon for your funeral."
"Uh- right. Thank you, Lord Raiga."
"Of course."
Ena limped off and, after Mikki covered him in her rain coat, she carried him off to the infirmary.
Leaving him alone with the Boss. Karashi couldn't remember the last time he felt so afraid. Or if he had ever felt this level of fear before.
He was suddenly aware of how full his bladder was.
"Lying isn't what a man does, Karashi," the Boss said, back turned to the young man and his voice low. "He takes responsibility for his actions, no matter how disgraceful they might be, and he accepts the consequences of those actions."
"Bo- boss, I can explain."
"You don't have to. I already know what happened." Raiga spread his arms out. "Old man Ena was working here as you patrolled. But you thought he was working too slowly, refusing to take into account his old age and how it might effect his productivity, so you began to menace him."
Karashi swallowed roughly. He felt his hands begin to tremble as he unconsciously stepped back to put a little distance between them. Again he wanted to ask how the Boss could possibly know that, but the answer hadn't changed.
"You shoved Ena, which led to him scraping his knee, and then you continued to try to provoke him. That's when he called you a disappointing excuse of a man."
Raiga lowered his arms and half-turned to look at Karashi. However their eyes couldn't meet; the cloaks hood covered the upper half of the Boss's face.
"And then you tried to blame him. You lied to me. Have I missed anything?"
"Boss, I swear, it's not—"
"Karashi, Karashi," Raiga sighed, turning fully and stepping towards the smaller, younger man. "Why must you keep lying? Have I not treated you well? Have I not tried to help you on the road to becoming a man?"
"Ju- just wait a minute, Boss. You've got the wrong idea."
Karashi stepped back with every step forward Raiga took. His heart jumped at the flash of lightning and roar of thunder that trembled the stone walls around them. Suddenly he felt his back press roughly against the stone wall.
"I let you into my Family. I was happy." He saw the Boss's lips curl into a smile. "You came to me, asking me to teach you how to become a man. I didn't know what to say. You looked at me like I was a father figure. And when I told you I would help, you were so excited. I can still remember your smile."
Karashi could feel his throat tightening. Anytime the Boss started reminiscing, a funeral wasn't far behind.
"And when Mikki told me about your…traditionalist values, I told her not to worry. I told her you would grow into a real man some day. A respectable man. One who wouldn't look down on his new sisters.
"She was…disappointed, to be perfectly honest. She likes men like you. She would prefer you to stay how you are. I told her that if you chose that path, I would support you both. But that it must be your choice, not hers. I believed you would find your way with a little guidance."
The smile morphed into a frown. He was barely three steps away. Yet he managed to close it in two.
"But now…"
Raiga placed his hand on the cold stone beside Karashi's head, and he felt the tingle of electricity or power or something else entirely make his hairs stand on end.
"Now I wonder if I should've taken a firmer approach. If I should've given you less carrot and more of the stick. You're straying from the path of a man. You're becoming no more than a petty thug. And I hate petty thugs," Raiga growled.
Karashi's voice was stuck in his throat. He was thankful for that, because his brain wanted to say that they were thugs. That was the whole appeal of the Kurosuki Family to him from the start. They were powerful—they were power. And power was what made a man.
Power was everything. Rock Lee's constant training, to the point of collapsing, taught him that.
And now, cornered by Raiga, feeling the power flooding off of him, he was even more confident in that conclusion.
With his heart racing, he hazard glancing up at the Boss, and felt himself yelp in fear at the searing eyes that saw everything glaring at him from beneath the shadow of the hood.
"I- I'm sorry, Boss. For lying. For everything!"
"How can I believe you now that you've lied. You've broken my trust, Karashi."
Raiga's heavy hand pressed firmly down on his shoulder and clutched it tightly. Karashi cried out and tried to wince away from the pain, but the tight grip did not give.
"It's still too soon for your funeral," Raiga said. "You're still so young and full of potential. And Kanpachi is still in my thoughts. But I can't let you continue as you are. I think a little punishment will straighten out your behavior. Think of it like a time-out."
"A time-out!" he shrieked. "Wha- ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!"
Harshly, Raiga began to drag him towards the entrance of the cave by his shoulder.
"Maybe laying inside of a coffin will help. Yes! That's what we'll do!" Raiga declared happily. "We'll put you inside a coffin and let you think about your recent behavior. And when you come out you'll be a new man! Like a caterpillar transforming into a beautiful butterfly!"
"What?!"
"Come, Karashi! This is the only way!"
"No! Noooooooooooo!"