Naruto: A Red Eye Hidden by Shadow

by Tatanka4Life

On the fateful night of the Uchiha Massacre, a girl of Uchiha and Nara blood is spared and left with no memories of her past. Now she must walk on the path left by her family to help her build a new future for herself. Her path will be hard, full of struggles and pain, but as long as she has her friends and family at her side she will keep forging ahead, even if it was a drag.

150. Chapter 149: The Thunder God of the Mist

Chapter 149

Fangs of Lightning: The Thunder God of the Mist and the Eyes of Providence!

Banshees had possessed Katabami Gold Mine.

Their demented shrieks wailed from atop the benches, the terrace-like steps built into sides of the mining pit in order to prevent calamitous rockslides, reverberating off the stone terrain for a thousand paces in every direction. They howled violently. With wickedness that evoked dreadful visions of macabre rituals of human sacrifice.

Their voices summoned gales of wind to churn the calm stream which flowed through the mine, unleashing the turbulent spite and resentment harbored in their desolate hearts upon the mortal beings responsible for the unnecessary conflicts and war waged through the eons.

A flash of light burst across the grey atmosphere. Following it was not a gentle rumble of distant thunder, but the terrible, ear-splitting rupture of earth.

For mere mortals it was the clamor of banshees tearing their bitter claws through the fabric of reality. Shredding the mystical barriers erected by benevolent gods to separate the land of the living from such monstrous underworld dens.

For the shinobi it was merely the sound of battle. Conflict. One piece of a larger composition, which included warm blood coursing intensely through their bodies, beating hearts pounding in their breasts, and the songs of their blades as they sang through the air.

At the bottom of the mining pit, workers cowered in the trembling caverns, where the ghoulish wails committed vindictive torture upon their anxious hearts.

They cowered beneath their cots, wishing the old magistrate, despite awful treatment and taxation, was never overthrown by the Kurosuki Family.

Some quaked in fear. Some cried. Some even laughed, tangled in a veritable web of hysteria.

Haruhi felt no hysteria, nor did she realize it was felt by the workers. Hysteria was purposeless. Hysteria, by definition, was an uncontrolled swell of emotion, generally referring to the masses when swept away by the tide of chaos.

Haruhi felt no such emotion. She could not afford to against this adversary. Her years of training were all she required.

Emotions were a distraction. Emotions could not be given air to breathe on the battlefield. They dulled her blades, blades she had sharpened to complete her mission.

Yes, she thought, there is only the mission. Duty and resolve. Duty and resolve. Duty and resolve.

Duty to Lady Mei's ideals. Resolve to see the mission to completion. Nothing else, not even the contempt she felt previously for the fool named Karashi, possessed her heart. She thought nothing of him.

Karashi did not exist.

There was nothing beyond the ferocious battle. Nothing beyond the flashing of mystical blades, their shrieking and mournful song of death ringing in her ears.

Sliding back on her heels, knocked away by Raiga's tremendous power, Haruhi observed how the Senior Swordsman's full lips split into a wild grin on their own accord as he flourished his lightning-coated sword, cutting the air purposelessly at first glance.

It was not without reason. Half a dozen orbs of lightning flared into existence around him, they suspended themselves in a circular pattern in front of Raiga. The air buzzed and hummed. The electrical charge surrounding the shinobi commanded hairs to stand erect.

Before she could fully halt, Raiga thrusted his sword through the center of the circle, causing lightning to spark and jump from his sword to the orbs, and vice versa.

"Die!" he commanded.

In a split-second decision, Haruhi pushed off the outside of her left foot, darting ahead at a right diagonal. At the same time, a skin tingly bolt of lightning flashed by.

Earth shattered in the distance. The ground rattled and rumbled beneath her feet, but it did not deter the kunoichi or give birth to hesitation.

The orbs, though slower than the sudden flash and strike of a bolt of lightning, darted at Haruhi like the quickest of serpents. Their movements were non-linear. They swirled, rose and fell, flying as if possessing a consciousness of their own, but nonetheless always charging ahead.

Haruhi's eyes flitted about, observing the orbs and their movements in quick succession. There was no discernible pattern. They were as unpredictable as their caster.

Were they attracted to the Kiba Blade in her hand? By the electrical charges coursing through her body? Or targeted and controlled by Raiga?

There was no time to wonder. The lightning orbs were upon her.

Slashing the Kiba Blade, presently sheathed in lightning, she dispersed the first orb in a scattering burst of bluish-white light. Another quick leap forward, this time at a left diagonal while gracefully pivoting her body to narrowly evade two more advancing orbs.

Haruhi skidded ahead for a foot, dispersed another orb with a quick upward cut, cleaving the humming star along a vertical axis. Then she locked eyes with Raiga. After a swift pivot she flickered away.

Another shriek screeched across Katabami Gold Mine.

The Kiba Blades shook against each other. Struggling for dominance like rutting hogs. Betraying their original purpose of cooperation for primal instincts.

Raiga's imposing, hunched frame towered over Haruhi. Their positioning resembled that of a petty rodent standing on its hind legs beneath the Land of Water's largest recorded brown bear, known to stand ten feet tall when standing on its hind legs.

She held no illusion of who the rodent here was. She could see it in how Raiga's eyes—even the blind one—sparkled in exhilaration. His thrilled expression cut down the illusion; it betrayed his view of her, which was that of a rodent to pierce his sharp talon through and swallow whole whenever he grew bored of playing with his food.

I will complete my mission, she thought, narrowing her eyes.

How unfortunate this conflict was.

Haruhi broke the deadlock, slashing once, twice, and then a third time with such speed the successive shrieks seemed to come from three separate voices, each drowning out the last until the final, crescendoing wail cried out for all to hear.

As she finished her third strike, lights and shadows flickered over her enemy; the sparkle of lightning reflecting off of Raiga's eyes warned Haruhi of their origin.

Haruhi leapt to the side, blocking Raiga's counter as she did, before twisting around to face the remaining four orbs she hadn't dispersed. They were drawn to her, drawn like lightning to a lightning rod.

Her eyes followed the orbs, tracked them and their caster as she retreated swiftly and gracefully on her toes.

Success via overpowering Raiga was impossible. Irresponsible. Foolish. She could no more overpower Raiga than she could grapple a hungry bear. It was an inefficient means of combat; she was not forged for crushing power like a war-hammer. She was a blade.

Truthfully, the best opportunity to achieve a decisive victory was already thwarted. He survived her ambush. But he did not do so alone.

The voice I heard, she pondered, it came from the growth on his back. It sensed my life force. It sensed my attack. It saved his life.

When the final orb was dispersed, made quick work of by the kunoichi, Raiga was upon Haruhi. For someone so immensely large and now half blind, the Swordsman was surprisingly quick and accurate.

Their blades shrieked again, and she felt her arm tremble beneath his power.

This violence… This language of violence was one she understood intimately, requiring no translation, risking no miscommunications; it was sincere and could not be mistaken in its meaning or its purpose.

She could hear Raiga's intentions distinctly, she could hear his purpose spoken to her in the language she was taught since childhood. Likewise, he could hear her intentions just as distinctly, he could hear her purpose spoken in their shared dialect.

This was her mother-tongue. Violence. Conflict. This medium of communication was hers—no, it was theirs. All of theirs.

This was the lingua franca of the shinobi world.

Raiga suddenly advanced, striking as he did. Their swords hissed, they sparked and shrieked in rapid and repetitious collisions.

Haruhi maintained a guard, retreating quickly on her toes to build as much space as she could against his powerful advance. She blocked and attempted to parry away his rapid strikes, flashes of lightning and red sparks reflecting in their eyes as the mystical blades swept, slashed, and met in a harsh chorus of conflict.

The kunoichi ducked beneath a slash. With incredible control over his body, Raiga halted the ascending slash and reversed it, driving the double-edged blade straight for the kunoichi's rising body.

Another shriek left the workers far below trembling.

Haruhi grunted. Her arms were quaking against Raiga's greater physical strength, now pressing down on her blade and, as a result of her block, pressing the sharp double-edge sword into her left shoulder.

Quickly glancing to her left, the stains of crimson spreading over her dress seized her attention; fresh blood, her blood, painted the edge of the Kiba Blade that was only pressing against her shoulder, and yet had cut through the mesh armor she wore as though it was wet paper.

This is why they are hailed as the sharpest blades in existence. If I hadn't stopped channeling my chakra into it…

"You have excellent instincts. Truly inspiring," Raiga complimented sincerely, smiling his manic smile. "Your form is decent. Your strikes bear the convictions required of a Swordsman. You wield a single Kiba Blade like its an extension of yourself. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were the reincarnation of the Huntress herself!"

The blades were so close Haruhi was able to discern the reflection of her grimacing face in the steel.

"Yes, training you to take your place among the Seven Ninja Swordsman would have truly been a pleasure," Raiga claimed enthusiastically. "But you haven't yet grasped the full potential of these blades. You haven't grasped your full potential. Now you never will!"

Haruhi felt her hairs stand on end. A moment later she felt the eruption of pain as lightning coursed through her entire body.

She could not scream. Her teeth and jaw were clenched together and on the verge of shattering, her vocal cords were constricted beneath an invisible noose, and her chest and lungs felt too tight to breathe. Had her tongue been in the path of her teeth, she knew she would have bitten it clean off.

Much like a stray bolt of lightning, Haruhi shot across the battlefield and cracked against the steep vertical wall of the terrace, rupturing tiny shards of stone from the larger shelf. A jagged fissure shot up the wall and down between her feet.

Haruhi collapsed to her knees. Before she could fall over, she stabbed the Kiba Blade into the cracked earth and gripped its hilt in both of her trembling hands. Coughing, and witnessing how flecks of blood sprayed from her lips, the kunoichi came to a definitive conclusion.

I cannot defeat him.

Through half-lidded eyes she watched the immense, blurred silhouette of the enemy striding towards her.

Over the numbness in her wounded shoulder, over the pins and needles sensation spreading across her skin, and the pain she was slowly acclimatizing to and compartmentalizing, she felt the heavy plop of a raindrop on top of her head.

It was going to rain, she realized. A new storm was beginning to form, and she guessed the source of it was the man nearing range to end her life.

I cannot defeat him.

She lowered her head, stifling a cough.

No. I cannot defeat Raiga in a duel or in physical strength. He is a greater Swordsman than I. He possesses physical strength I cannot hope to match. In a duel or a contest of strength, alone, I will always fail.

Lightning flashed in the clouds, and Raiga's towering shadow fell over the kunoichi.

Raiga Kurosuki cannot return to the Mist. He is unstable. He is a present danger to this Nation—to this world of ours. He threatens Chōjūrō's life. He threatens Lady Mei's vision. He threatens the world Amaririsu Yūhi seeks to build.

She clutched her hands tighter around the hilt of the sword.

My mission is not yet complete. You are a shade of the Dark Era, and those who refuse to reform…

"I wish you weren't making me do this," Raiga declared sincerely, lifting his sword.

Haruhi shut her eyes and calmed her heart.

"Get away!" the strange voice from Raiga's hump yelled.

At that moment, repelled off the earth by the chakra she released, Haruhi flew into a backflip. The tip of her blade was chased by a thin, arcing trail of blue lightning and flecks of blood as it passed a hair's breadth from Raiga's face, who had stepped and leaned back in the narrowest of evasions.

The flesh split all the same, opening a thin cut at the tip of his chin.

Haruhi landed upon the terrace, skidding along its surface with chakra humming from the soles of her sandals. Her intense gaze locked onto the Senior Swordsman, who stared up at her with a wild and dangerous gleam in his eye.

She'd finally acclimatized to the pain.

Haruhi plunged the Kiba Blade into jagged fissure formed in the terrace and channeled her chakra into the blade.

"Those who refuse to reform from darkness will be removed!"

Lightning plunged into the stone. Then there was a deafening eruption, a cataclysmic roar which trembled the earth from the ridge of the mining pit to its very bottom.

Streaks of blue lightning exploded across the vertical wall, shearing chunks of earth off the rock face, unfurling a tremendous wave of jagged, displaced stone.

The fissure which she plunged the Kiba Blade into expanded, diverging rapidly with such force it split the vertical wall she stood upon into two distinct and uneven halves, causing the narrow fissure on the terrace below to lengthen nearly to the benches edge. It deepened a full foot.

The benches of the mining pit would finally serve their purpose. Her manmade rockslide would be contained to their bench and theirs alone, endangering Raiga and the other half of his soul, but not Chōjūrō or the workers below.

Raiga immediately took to retreating. He slashed the jagged slabs apart that threatened to pierce or crush him, guided in his attacks and his steps by the voice which had saved his life one too many times in this battle.

It reads my movements. It senses my chakra fluctuate. There is no denying it possesses visual prowess like the Byakugan and Sharingan. It can sense life force as well.

Haruhi yanked the mystical blade free.

You anticipate my movements. But you need time to speak these commands. I cannot defeat Raiga in physical strength, but I do not need to. I need only overwhelm your eyes with too much stimuli, you who he calls the other half of his soul, and then you will both fall.

She spun one full revolution and whipped the blade at the Senior Swordsman down below.

Before the blade had left her hand, over the calamity she created, she heard the voice again.

"Raiga, move right and then back!"

The blade whirled like a tornado, cutting through any stone obstructing its path, buzzing with the ferocity of a buzzsaw, and in no more than a breath was upon her enemy.

As Raiga severed another falling stone in half, he hopped laterally into the direct path of another stone, and as he did he witnessed the whirling blade sing its bloodthirsty song past where his head had moments ago rested.

The blade impaled into the earth at an acute angle. Raiga hopped back to evade the falling stone; tiny pebbles and shards bounced harmlessly off his thick rain cloak.

"Back left," the voice commanded Raiga. "No, wait—"

Too late.

Raiga was already leaping towards the Kiba Blade.

As he turned his head, the Swordsman saw Haruhi emerge from behind a falling stone beside the blade, hand wrapping around its hilt. The momentum of propelling herself caused her sandals to grate against the stone, to skid as she yanked the blade free; she rotated, feet skating along the surface, to face the Swordsman.

She lifted the blade.

Raiga was already there, blade hissing as it cut through the air and prepared to cut the kunoichi from shoulder to hip.

"You were too reckless!" Raiga declared.

"Wait, Raiga!" the voice called desperately. "That isn't—"

His impulsive blade cut through the kunoichi with the ease of a bolt of lightning cutting through a tree branch. The determined face of Haruhi went blank, then the body of the kunoichi became sheathed in lightning.

Raiga's eyes went wide. Then he and the voice screamed out as the Lightning Clone dispersed, shocking its killer with the Lightning it was once constructed of.

The loose Kiba Blade, tossed by the Lightning Clone, whirled end over end for one revolution, a second, and then its hilt clapped against the palm of Haruhi.

Skidding along the ground, she flourished the blade into reverse grip, kneeled down and pierced the blade into the considerable crack her previous attack formed in the terrace, unleashing the Lightning of the Kiba Blades into it once more.

Another cataclysmic roar penetrated the Katabami Gold Mine, vibrating in the chests and rattling the skeletal structures of all those present; it left her ears ringing, but it was an acceptable pain and price.

Duty and resolve. Duty and resolve. Duty and resolve.

The very earth beneath them ruptured, as if the gravitational fields suddenly reversed and began to yank the foundations of the earth towards the sky shard by shard, slab by jagged slab.

The crack in the terrace, like the previous, diverged, splitting apart to form two distinct halves.

Haruhi flickered away, weaving through the hovering stones, then lunging at Raiga, who was still standing despite the shock. It was to be expected. Those who wielded the Kiba Blades as long as he had eventually built a mild resilience to Lightning Nature attacks.

"Are you all right?" she heard him ask.

"I will be. She's coming, Raiga."

The shriek of their colliding blades cried over the battlefield. Lightning leapt from the Kiba Blades, shattering two nearby stones, pelting both shinobi with dust and debris.

Haruhi did not linger. She zipped past him, whipped around a stone at the peak of its ascension, and kicked it. The stone hurtled at Raiga.

Haruhi kept running, faster, quicker, kicking another stone, and then another, before darting in amid the rising debris, trailed by a thin blue light.

Raiga cut the first stone long ways. He hopped out of the range of the second, commanded by the voice, but the cramped confines of the hovering stones and the voice's attempt to track the real threat was too much stimuli. As expected.

Slamming shoulder first into a slab of stone, Raiga grunted in annoyance as the third stone crashed into his torso, knocking him back—directly in the path of Haruhi.

His exposed back, specifically its hump, was her target. The hump was the source of Raiga's insight, she confidently concluded. Remove it and he would inevitably fall.

She charged in with sword drawn back, legs carrying her closer stride by stride. Closer. Rain was drizzling upon the battlefield.

Three strides away.

Raiga turned his head, grimacing and seething at the sight of her. He, too, realized her true target.

Two strides.

Above, lightning flashed. Suddenly the grimace faded for a satisfied smile.

One.

"Come, Lightning!"

At his command, multiple bolts of cloud to ground lightning struck the Katabami Gold Mine without restraint.

For Raiga Kurosuki was the Thunder God of the Mist, and lightning was his to command.

---

The shrieks of banshees swallowed Katabami Gold Mine whole. They were inescapable, encircling the inhabitants of the mine, terrorizing the quivering souls of the cowering workers with every lacerating claw that tore through the benevolent veil separating their underworld dens from the living world.

Breathing life to their sinister claws was the hair-lifting screech of two buzzsaws shearing through metal.

The unpleasant noise was as repetitious as the shrieks. It came and went suddenly, screeching with the gooseflesh and shiver-inducing agony of a metal nail scraping rapidly against a plate in one moment. Then there would only be the shrieks.

For the simple workers below, the noise was the sound of razor sharp claws tearing at the fabric of reality, slashing, clawing, ripping and mauling to eviscerate and tear their fragile flesh from bone. Trembles afflicted them en masse. Even the hardened Kurosuki Family members felt the awful sensation of gooseflesh crawl over their skin.

For Chōjūrō, the unpleasant noises were merely the familiar sounds of battle. The shrieks were not banshees, but the cry of the Kiba Blades in conflict with each other—Haruhi was alive. She was still fighting. To defeat Raiga. To survive.

The buzzsaws were not claws tearing apart the fabric of reality, but the grinding of Hiramekarei's chakra coated blade clashing in heated battle against Mikki's cutlass, the latter sheathed in razor sharp Wind Chakra.

There were no banshees or demons here. Only shinobi—humans—steeped in conflict.

He had to hurry. He had to reach Haruhi. The only chance we have at defeating Master Raiga is by fighting together. Alone she'll…

Mikki lunged in. Steel flashed and the air vibrated beneath the razor blades of wind surrounding the cutlass. Quickly, Chōjūrō shifted his feet and moved Hiramekarei into the proper block.

The unpleasant noise of metal shearing metal screeched twice more in rapid succession, the Swordsman blocking both strikes; Chōjūrō had acclimatized to the noise, for better or worse. He could feel the sensation of gooseflesh crawling over his skin like invisible insects, but he no longer grimaced. He no longer felt the shiver shoot down his spine.

He only felt his heart pounding, desperate to reach Haruhi before it was too late. And regret that Mikki was now standing in that path.

His counter was just as quick as her advance. Light on his feet, he stepped back and lowered himself out of range of the cutlass, both its metal blade and the invisible Wind blade that granted Mikki an extra six inches of length, by his estimations.

In the same motion, he brought Hiramekarei, now glowing blue with razor sharp chakra, down out of a guard and to his side. Hurry, Chōjūrō, he commanded of himself. You have to hurry. You're running out of time!

With intent to cleave, Chōjūrō swung the mystical blade at the abdomen of his enemy, grinding his teeth together.

He didn't want this. No, this was everything he hoped to avoid, and yet they found themselves here anyway. Was it fate? Was he being spurned by the gods for the wish he made?

Why? Why did it escalate into this?

It doesn't matter. Not anymore. The thought came from deep inside him. And it was true. There was no choice now. For any of them. Master Raiga sought to take their lives. Regardless of who was to blame, if anyone was to blame at all, that single fact could not and would not change.

Mikki would not betray Raiga. Chōjūrō would not abandon or forsake Haruhi to death. Their goals could not coexist, and since neither could lay down their weapons in search of a peaceful resolution—Master Raiga wouldn't stop now until he held a funeral—the only possible answer now was conflict. Violence.

This was the only way to resolve their differences now.

I don't want to kill you. I don't…

Agile as a snow leopard, Mikki pushed off her front foot and evaded back with a powerful leap. Simultaneously, she tossed the cutlass up and caught it by the hilt in reverse grip, lifting it above her shoulder, then throwing the weapon like a spear as her heels slid back on the stone.

Within a blink the blade was upon Chōjūrō. He saw the tip of the blade zeroing in on his head, heard the purring of the razor sharp Wind, and beyond the blade, as he calculated his next move and anticipated Mikki's, he caught the Pirate Queen forming handseals.

Then, with a piercing clang, the cutlass's trajectory changed, struck by a precise strike of Hiramekarei, sent flying like a missile tip first into the vertical wall enclosing their battlefield, sheathing itself all the way to the hilt in the stone.

Chōjūrō had no time to celebrate his amazing counter. With Hiramekarei and his body in the final motions of his previous swing, sword raised up and over his shoulder, he could only watch as Mikki's chest expanded with a deep breath.

Here it comes!

Compressed wind expelled from her scarred lips at the same time as a violent shriek cried above them, giving off the appearance that Mikki had actually transformed into a wailing banshee capable of altering the weather with a violent scream.

No time for a jutsu. I have to…

Hastily, Chōjūrō dropped into a crouch and pierced the mystical sword into the earth, hiding his body behind the twinswords. Chakra flared out of Hiramekarei in the form of a large sword as wide as his body, and just in time, for the compressed air smashed against his impromptu shield.

Hiramekarei wobbled once, nearly dislodging. Wind howled past the Swordsman, and he felt a sting of pain unzip along his right side, beneath his harness—a small tear in his clothes and flesh by a sharp gale.

Movement attracted his eyes to his left, to the vertical wall and Mikki's sword, where he found the Pirate Queen at the end of a dash along the wall, chest expanding again—she had outmaneuvered him.

Hands flashing quickly through handseals, Chōjūrō sprayed a stream of water at the ground.

Water Style: Water Wall!

Compressed air was expelled as the Water Wall rose. He gripped the hilt of Hiramekarei and formed a half Tiger handseal as he sprang away in an evasion.

There was no way such a hastily made Water Wall would hold up against Mikki's focused Wind Style, he believed. And he was right. The compressed air smashed an opening straight through the wall as he evaded, splashing water every which way.

Leaping out from the right side of the wall, a grimace on his face, Chōjūrō only had enough time to see Mikki shooting through the air straight at him, sword drawn across her body. He felt his eyes go wide.

The Pirate Queen's cutlass caught the Swordsman at the hip. And cleaved straight through.

Water sprayed through the air, splashing against Mikki and her blade. It was her turn to go wide eyed as Chōjūrō leapt like a rising demon from the vertical wall of the terrace below.

Hiramekarei was already drawn back. A droplet of blood dribbled out of a fresh, stinging cut on his left cheek.

Like a fisherman throwing chum into the sea to draw out the big-game fish, the Water Clone he formed out of the Water Wall baited the Pirate Queen perfectly, drawing Mikki into striking range as he hid himself away on the wall below.

It wasn't the perfect evasion. A blade of Mikki's Wind had sliced by as he dropped beneath the terrace—her Wind Style was as wild and free as the woman herself.

However, the tides had turned. A single miscalculation steered her ship off course, and now the wind was no longer blowing behind her sail, leaving her adrift in a doldrums without aid.

This time she was the one outmaneuvered.

Movement flashed in his peripherals.

"Mikki!" Karashi cried out, springing through the air to tackle the woman.

Chōjūrō felt himself inhale sharply. He felt the muscles in his arms tighten and go utterly stiff, all as his mind dragged him back to the Gallows.

Three quick but long strides were all that separated him from the whipper. On the final step, he pivoted and rotated at his hips, sandal screeching on the stone as the air beside him pulsed with a sharp, ear-rupturing crack!

He leapt over two corpses—enemies felled by Natsumi's chains. He drew Hiramekarei over his shoulder, and finally reached striking range to kill the whipper.

In that moment, he could see it in the whipper's wide eyes that he knew death was imminent, he could feel the certainty of his killing blow in his heart and in his body.

In this horrifying den of misery, those who had committed atrocities, who had twisted the poor prisoners into puppets and set them on him and Natsumi like rabid dogs, they were finally going to be brought to justice. That's what he and Hiramekarei would be—a sword of justice to eliminate the monsters who still prowled these lands.

When he saw the skittering movement in his peripherals, there was no time to react, no time to process what it was or hesitate—he was fully committed to his strike. And with a heaving blow, he struck.

The anguished cry seized his senses. When the blood splattered onto his face and glasses, he inhaled sharply with all of his stomach-churning horror, eyes finally processing the falling body of one of the prisoners.

The prisoner he just cleaved with Hiramekarei.

Struck by horror, Chōjūrō slowly processed the scene of Karashi flying through the air, slamming into the Pirate Queen as he heaved Hiramekarei for the finishing blow.

"I'm sorry, Hiramekarei," he recalled his own voice. "I hoped I could be different than my predecessors. I hoped together we could be a sword of justice for Lady Mizukage. But, in the end, you were forced to spill innocent blood again because of me."

Chōjūrō grit his sharpened teeth together. Not again. I will never…

He pulled back against the momentum of his cleaving blow.

I will never spill innocent blood again!

His muscles protested, the jolting halt akin to a horse halting suddenly during a full gallop, throwing its unprepared rider ahead headfirst. But it did everything he hoped—Karashi fell to the ground in a heap with Mikki. Unharmed.

Karashi was a fool. A spineless weasel who's eyes revealed how little he understood of the world or the Kurosuki Family. But that wasn't Chōjūrō's problem.

Karashi meant nothing to him, cold as that was to say.

To be honest, a passing thought occurred to him, I don't really like him either, Haruhi.

Landing upon the terrace, Chōjūrō bent his knees then sprang ahead for the vertical wall—his path to Haruhi was finally clear.

Despite his foolishness and selfishness, for it was obvious Karashi's sole motivation was to regain Mikki's favor, he had provided an opening for the Swordsman to break away and regroup with his comrade. He might've thanked the young man if he wasn't such a fool.

On the wind Chōjūrō dashed up the rock face, grimacing in anxiety at the sudden shriek coming from above.

Haruhi, hold on a little longer. I'm almost there. Come on, Chōjūrō, he grit his teeth. Don't be late this time. Please, don't let me be late!

"Mikki, you all right? See? I'm still on the Kurosuki Family's sid—"

"Get the hell off me!"

"Wahhh!"

Glancing back from the corner of his eye, Mikki's physical strength became even more apparent by the sight of Karashi falling shoulders first at least four full meters away from her position.

Don't look back. You can't afford to look back…

Mikki, on her feet, sent a scathing glare at the fool.

"On the Kurosuki Family's side? Tch, you'd say anything—do anything—to save your hide. You'd stab Sunshine in the back then hump my leg like a dog if I commanded you to. It's disgusting. You're no different than the man who betrayed my fleet."

Her next move was almost too quick to see from a side glance. She drew her sword arm down, as if securing the blade in a scabbard on her opposite hip, held it there for no more than a blink, but Chōjūrō sensed the sudden shift of the wind; it was gathering around the blade.

Then the Pirate Queen slashed the blade across her body at a sharp, upward diagonal, as though cutting down an invisible enemy.

"Sword Art: Straight-line Quick Draw!"

What Chōjūrō heard in that moment was a noise he associated with the cowcatcher of a derailed steam locomotive tearing through the earth. Yet it was wind. Purely non-rotating wind roaring at the speed of a weak tornado.

Chōjūrō had no chance to evade or counter. One moment he was running, the next he was flattened against the vertical wall, unable to hear his own cry of agony over the roaring gales as the fabric of his shirt and his mesh armor were torn open; his harness took damage but provided better protection.

Raising his eyes, he saw the top of the terrace was within a few strides, but couldn't move his body an inch. He was pinned against the stone, at the unmerciful mercy of the roaring wind.

Haruhi, he dug his fingers into the stone, curled them tighter around Hiramekarei's hilt, trying to claw and crawl up the wall to no avail. We always end up separated when it matters most, don't we? It's always like this. In the rare opportunities where you truly need me, I can never reach you in time.

Red cuts along his forearm bled into his torn up long sleeve.

It's so frustrating. But I know you'll keep fighting. You always do. Even when you appear to be defeated you find a way to complete your mission. Just like in the mines. So please, keep fighting. Don't stop. Not for a moment. Because I'll be there this time…but I'll be a little late. So keep fighting until then. Keep fighting for your dreams. Keep fighting. Because the future we're building is meant for you too!

As suddenly as the wind began, it ended just as abruptly. Chōjūrō felt the pull of gravity, and let himself fall back first towards the bench of the mining pit, where Mikki was waiting for him. He watched the top of the wall get farther and farther away, and heard the distinct rupture of stone somewhere on the battlefield above.

I won't be able to reach Haruhi…

The Swordsman extended his legs suddenly, feet glowing with chakra and grating harshly against the stone. He rotated at his hips, whirling around, brow furrowed and teeth grit as he set his gaze on Mikki.

Until I go through her!

He launched himself not at the Pirate Queen, but straight down the wall, reaching the bottom in one breath, and then springing ahead at his enemy in the next.

The buzzsaws roared over Katabami Gold Mine as their blades clashed once more.

Chōjūrō glared at Mikki, teeth grit in frustration he couldn't numb himself to. Mikki stared back, eyes like fire but a faint smirk on her lips.

"What's the matter, Sunshine? Am I not showin' you a good time?"

"Why are we even fighting?" he growled. "Neither of us want this."

"Are you so certain of my feelings?"

They both took steps back, shifted their positioning and leapt in again to the sound of buzzsaws shearing metal once, twice, a third and fourth in rapid succession as razor sharp chakra and Wind greeted one another.

Chōjūrō overpowered the lighter cutlass with the weight of Hiramekarei and his technique, controlling it until he had it pinned against the ground. He kicked at Mikki, but the larger woman caught his leg between her arm and side and, with seemingly no effort at all, threw him aside.

Flipping as he flew, the Swordsman landed on his toes and skidded along the terrace in a low crouch.

"I am!" he declared confidently, and he meant it. He could feel it. She could pretend all she wanted, but he knew her feelings as intimately as his own.

Mikki took two long strides then sprang at him, striking from above. He lifted Hiramekarei above his head and blocked her blade, but caught a sharp kick in the stomach.

Even as he stumbled back and felt his back bounce off the stone wall, he kept his senses and sidestepped a powerful slash, which carved the stone where he once stood, then jumped above a low swipe.

As he swung to bury his sword in the Pirate Queen's shoulder, she parried the blow and hopped back towards the edge. Again he extended his legs and caught the wall, pushing off and into another fierce collision, which Mikki was prepared for.

"I can feel it in every single one of your strikes!" Chōjūrō said over the grinding of their rapidly clashing of their blades. "You don't want this. I don't want this. So why? Why are we fighting this pointless battle?"

They battled dangerously close to the edge of the terrace. When he tripped Mikki's front leg, she began to fall off the steep shelf. Chōjūrō caught her outreached hand by the forearm, much to her bewilderment.

"I want to reach out to everyone I can," he recalled Amaririsu's declaration. "I want this light that burns inside of me to burn so bright even those lost in darkness can see my hand reaching out to them."

He wasn't sure he could do that. He wasn't sure he had a light like Amaririsu's inside of him. But when their blades clashed, and when he looked in her eyes, he felt the same yearning Amaririsu had for others. The same yearning to save Mikki from the darkness that surrounded her.

"Hang onto your kindness, Chōjūrō," Natsumi's voice came to him. "It'll help brighten the Mist's future."

This was just his way. He couldn't help it.

"I don't want to be another cog in this ancient cycle of pointless death and misery," he pleaded, feeling the strain of Mikki's weight as she balanced with one foot on the rock face below. "You've suffered at the hands of this world. You have no reason to believe a shinobi like me is any different than those who hurt or betrayed you. But…"

"I do believe you, Sunshine. You've got kind eyes. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"Miss Mikki, please…"

"It isn't that simple, Sunshine. Wish it were."

Simultaneously, he swung his arm as she ran up the wall, bringing the Pirate Queen onto the edge of the terrace again, and no sooner did she land did their blades meet once more in this never-ending conflict.

He felt a fat, wet plop of rain smack on the top of his head.

Amid their duel, a cataclysmic eruption of stone caused the entire terrace to shudder with the force of an earthquake. It happened as he blocked away another strike from his unfortunate adversary, suddenly dislodging the stones beneath his back foot.

All of his weight, and the weight of Hiramekarei, dragged him off the steep shelf.

Out of instinct he threw his hand out, searching, hoping for a solid surface to latch himself to, when he felt a harsh grip snatch him by the forearm, jolting his shoulder unpleasantly.

As his foot came to rest on the vertical wall, he looked up at Mikki even as raindrops pelted his glasses, now understanding the same bewilderment she felt moments ago. She could just have easily let him fall or taken his head with her cutlass.

Yet here they were. Hands clasped around each other's forearms, in arms reach, and yet too far apart to truly reach one another.

Instead, Mikki held his gaze, shrouded by a slate sky that flashed with lightning, standing in the drizzle of rain, undisturbed by the impending storm.

"Kindness and compassion alone can't free this world, Sunshine," Mikki declared but not unkindly.

Chōjūrō faltered for a moment. Strangely, her words didn't sting. Instead, her jaded acceptance of the world filled him with sadness. Because she was right, perhaps. Kindness alone wasn't enough. If it were, a revolution wouldn't have been necessary to overthrow the Fourth Mizukage.

Mostly, though, he felt sadness because the resoluteness of that statement proved their ideals and goals were continents apart. And nothing could bring them together.

"You may be right," he said finally. "They may not be enough to change anything."

Chōjūrō, with aid of the Pirate Queen, swung up onto the terrace. Their hands, once clutched around each other's forearms, returned to their weapons and their blades sang through the air.

"But even so!" Hiramekarei met the cutlass in another unpleasant collision. "That doesn't mean we shouldn't try!" he replied passionately. "A future without kindness and compassion—without hope!—is a future of unforgivable misery and death. That's not the kind of world I want to leave behind!"

Mikki advanced on him as she struck. He evaded and blocked, stepping back lightly on his feet.

"I reject the paths the old generation demand we walk. I'm going to blaze a new trail. I'll blaze it straight to a future where people of any Nation or Clan can understand each other and smile and laugh as friends."

That's the kind of world I want to build, too. A world where we could've smiled and laughed as friends instead of fighting this pointless battle.

Chōjūrō blocked two more slashes, then released chakra from his feet, springing over Mikki, corkscrewing through the air and slashing Hiramekarei. As he'd come to expect from the Pirate Queen, she was as agile on her feet as she was with her cutlass, pivoting and blocking his blade as he flew overhead.

He landed and lunged in. Mikki pirouetted out of the way of his thrusting attack. He narrowly raised his sword in time to block her agile counter, and the shearing of buzzsaws roared over the battlefield.

"In another life, Sunshine," she grunted, "I'd steer my ship and follow you into this typhoon you sail towards. But my course is set. My colors fly for the Kurosuki Family and no one else. I will follow Raiga to world's end."

"Even if that means burying more innocent people alive?" he pressed.

"Even then," she said without hesitation. Without blinking. And he knew she meant it with her whole being. "We are the betrayed, the broken, the lost, the fallen, the abandoned, and the invalid. We're all damaged goods, Sunshine."

"Nothing is ever permanently broken," he repeated Haku's words to Mika with all his passion. "Not people. Not a Nation. Not this world! All of it can be fixed if we try."

"It's a pretty sentiment. But all we have is this Family. This Family is our home. It's our borderless and roaming Nation. Wherever it is, whatever sins it commits, this is the one place where we can live freely."

"That doesn't excuse anything. That doesn't make burying these workers right!"

Mikki smirked a gruesome smirk. "S'pose one of us has to die then."

"It didn't have to be this way," he ground out.

"In another life, Sunshine. In another life."

Another cataclysmic roar of rupturing stone trembled the Katabami Gold Mine. The vertical wall beside them suddenly split into two distinct halves, diverging entirely from one another. But it did not stop there.

The divergence split the terrace they stood upon as well, splitting a jagged path right between them. Hastily, the pair leapt away from one another as the foundations of the earth quaked beneath them.

Chōjūrō glanced to the crack as he lowered into a crouch to steady himself. This is bad. What on earth is going on up there? Haruhi…

Across the gap, Mikki rose and pointed the tip of her cutlass at the Swordsman.

"Your heart and your sincere wishes for this world glint and glimmer brighter than any treasure I've plundered. But each of us has something we must protect." She narrowed her eyes. "I will kill anyone who threatens this Family."

"…I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to enable Master Raiga's madness any longer," Chōjūrō rose to his full height as the tremors lessened, banishing thoughts of regret and hesitation. "It all ends here, Miss Mikki."

"Hmph," she snorted, smirking a grotesque smirk. "We'll see about that, Sunshine."

Above, lightning flashed across the sky.

Before they could make their move, a blinding flash swept over Katabami Gold Mine.

And the world trembled.

---

With a quick thrust, Raiga pierced the Kiba Blade into the right shoulder of the supine kunoichi, the tip of the blade passing through flesh, muscles and the humerus, plunging into the earth beneath her with surgical precision and almost terrifying ease.

To her credit, the only inclination of pain on Haruhi's face was a harsh grimace as her right arm, stretched out with the palm facing up, went numb; her fingers twitched a moment before slowly falling limp, releasing their tight hold of the Kiba Blade she had handled so admirably.

Raiga knelt beside his adversary to pick up the other blade, leaving his pierced in Haruhi's shoulder.

Claws of lightning stretched through the clouds above. Thunder did not so much as rumble, but crack and shatter the battlefield which had finally calmed, just as he was calm.

Unlike twice before, Haruhi no longer posed a threat.

"You are truly impressive," Raiga said sincerely. "You grasped the fundamentals of the Thunder Armor not once, but twice."

Haruhi said nothing. She wasn't normally the talkative type, he understood now. He felt closer to the youngster than ever before, as though she were a precious pupil. However, this time silence wasn't her choice.

Through damaged vision distorted by the rain, and beyond the ribbons of smoke rising off the kunoichi's frayed, snow-white dress, Raiga examined Haruhi's supine body with his good eye.

Crackles of Lightning sparked across her in a thunderstorm of their own. Her left hand trembled and twitched; she was trying desperately to subdue the pain and overcome the paralysis caused by his Lightning attack, and the Thunder Armor he shattered with it.

"You've overdone it," he critiqued, sighing. "With more training you may have grasped more than the fundamentals of the Thunder Armor and the Kiba Blades; you may have done more than survive my Lightning, however briefly that may be. Although I shouldn't be so harsh on you. Surviving a blast of that magnitude when wielding the Kiba Blades for the first time in your life proves it beyond any doubt—you are a born Swordsman."

He positioned the flat side of the Kiba Blade over her body, and like the bolts of lightning he commanded moments ago to strike Katabami Gold Mine, shearing off stones from the terraces, collapsing two tunnels and, of course, nearly killing the kunoichi, lightning jumped off her body to the mystical blade, striking the specially made metal, sheathing it in Lightning once more.

"Any halfwit can swing a sword," said Raiga. "To wield the power of a Mystical Blade, however, that requires something more. It requires training, true. To understand their individual powers. To learn the proper techniques. But—how to explain it?"

He shut his eyes and slowly rotated his wrist, moving the tip of the blade in a thoughtful, circular motion.

"Many shinobi tried to become Swordsman in my era," he tried to begin again. "There's a weight and…prestige to earning your place among the Seven. Yet try as many might, training alone wasn't enough. Even some of the so-called geniuses failed. They lacked something.

"I don't know how to explain it. I've never been smart enough to figure out what that something is they were missing. The innate…thing that makes wielding these blades and their power as natural to me—and you, now—as breathing. I guess you could say Swordsman aren't created, not truly—they're born for it.

"Like you. You have it—that thing I can't explain." He eyed the kunoichi, expression calm and composed. "Indeed, you even figured out how to overcome the power of the other half of my soul. You know what it is, don't you? The power. Maybe not by name—I believe the name was lost long ago, during the Dark Era you and I both revile."

The grimace on her face did not change. The fingers on her left hand twitched, but she could not move. Her whole body had gone numb from the Lightning, her jaw was shut tight.

Her orange eyes, he noticed, were as intense as ever. Still full of fight. Still full of fire. He admired that about Haruhi. She was a lot like him. In fact, he would say they were more alike than they were different.

She would've made an excellent successor.

"Mei should be proud of you," he said sincerely. "I know I am. You wear your convictions well. Yours is a face I will remember for as long as I walk this earth. But now I must give you a funeral. A burial by lightning is the only thing suitable for you. Yes," he smiled softly in mourning, "that will be best. You won't even feel it. And in dying like this, you will be reborn. From this day forward you will be known and remembered as Haruhi, the—"

"Raiga, on your rig—"

Raiga snapped his head right, then felt the crushing pain of a foot slamming against his cheek.

"Dynamic Entry!" a strange voice called out.

Sent sliding across the ground on his left shoulder, once again separated from one of his blades, he quickly sprang onto his feet and halted on the stone, touching his hand to his cheek. He winced slightly. It was already swelling.

"I'm sorry," the other half of his soul apologized. "He was too fast. I couldn't track his movements."

"It's all right," he comforted before setting his harsh gaze on the stranger.

This stranger interrupted the funeral, which meant Haruhi was suffering, bleeding and unable to move a single muscle. Such helplessness was more painful than death itself.

The stranger stared back, expression intense and unfriendly. He attired himself in a spandex jumpsuit colored the loudest green he'd seen in many years, paired with unpalatable orange leg warmers. Around his waist was a red cloth belt; attached to it was a metal plate with an insignia the rain and his damaged vision made difficult to decipher.

He was young—younger than Haruhi and Chōjūrō. His ridiculous bowl cut and bushy eyebrows may have been laughable if he hadn't attacked.

Instead, Raiga could only clutch a hand around his Kiba Blade. He was aggravated, he realized. Incredibly aggravated.

The stranger tucked one arm behind his back, the other he held out in front of him as if asking him to attack.

"Who the hell are you?" Raiga demanded.

"I am the Handsome Devil of the Leaf Village—Rock Lee," he replied, his tone as unfriendly as his expression. "I am your opponent now. On my word, you will not harm her again!"

---

Cowering in the prone position, hands covering his head, Karashi watched Mikki and the Mist shinobi fight tooth and nail, blade against blade, amid the grey haze of rain.

When he squinted, Karashi swore he could see raindrops bursting and splitting along the sharpened edges of their swords. He swore he could see the raindrops sinking down their blades even though such a feat should've been totally impossible; he couldn't see their blades move, so how was it the raindrops appeared so vividly to him?

Was it the adrenaline? Was it some sort of primal clarity? Or was he so afraid he was beginning to imagine things? Yeah, it was probably something like that.

All around Karashi were the shattered debris of a boulder sheared off by the recent strike of lightning, which was then smashed into relatively harmless, smaller stones by the massive chakra hammer utilized by Chōjūrō. Some rocks even rested on top of him.

Saving his life almost cost the Mist shinobi. Mikki's sword, despite not even touching him, cut through the fabric of his damaged long-sleeve, very nearly spilling his guts over the terrace.

"What are you still doing here? Run!" Chōjūrō had yelled at him.

Run? Where? No, seriously, where did that nervous idiot and his bossy girlfriend expect him to run off to? It's not like he didn't want to, but the Mist shinobi was crazy if he thought he'd follow his command. Honestly, how did someone like him become a shinobi? It's like he didn't even bother to think about the situation.

Running up or down the mining pit meant running straight into Raiga's or the Kurosuki Family's grasps. Running ahead would bring him right into the middle of their battle. No way. Like hell he'd try that. He wasn't about to risk getting cut or cleaved by a stray swing of their swords.

There has to be some way out of this, Karashi brainstormed. I don't want to go with these Mist shinobi. That girl is super rude and bossy. And this guy, he's as flimsy as they come. He kowtows to pretty much every woman. He's even tried negotiating with Mikki. In the middle of a battle! Seriously, what's his deal? I can't put my life in the care of a flimsy boy like that.

This is all their fault, anyway, he decided. And he knew he was right. No doubt about it. This whole mess was their fault. I would've been totally fine if they hadn't shown up and upset the Boss.

Besides, how am I supposed to trust them? They're Mist shinobi. Everyone knows they're scum.

Mist shinobi were the worst of the worst. They were basically cannibals, willing to eat their own young from what he heard. The rumors probably weren't exaggerated at all. Chōjūrō definitely had the teeth for it. Talk about untrustworthy.

Problem is the Boss is pissed. I don't want to stay around if the Boss is going to bury me alive. He blanched. Running is pointless. I can't escape his all-seeing eyes. Even if I could, where would I go, huh? Back home to mom where I'll have to cook curry for the rest of my life? No way. Not gonna happen. So there's gotta be someway to make the Boss happy. I mean, I saved Mikki that one time, but that won't be enough.

What could he do? Whether or not the Mist shinobi made it out alive wasn't his problem. He had to figure out a way to survive on his own.

"You'd stab Sunshine in the back and then hump my leg like a dog if I commanded you to."

Just like that, Karashi had an epiphany.

Wait, that's it! I mean, I'm not gonna hump her leg, he thought, knowing he would if it came down to life or death. If I help take down one of the Boss's enemies, someone who is threatening Mikki's life, I'll be in their good graces forever!

He could almost imagine how thankful the whole Kurosuki Family would be to him. No longer would they snicker behind his back or taunt him, not if he took out one of the Seven Swordsman. Yeah, he was a genius! In one move he'd change the whole power dynamic. They'd finally see him for what he was—a real man. A valuable member of the Kurosuki Family.

No, a powerful member of the Kurosuki Family.

Quickly, feeling a sinisterly warm spike of adrenaline, he scanned the ground around him until he found a stone the size of his fist.

Stone in hand, he watched from his prone position as Mikki advanced on the Swordsman. The maroon shawl covering the upper half of her left arm was getting wetter, heavier, but had somehow managed to remain undamaged.

His stomach turned and vibrated at the renewed, vicious growl of buzzsaws. Karashi felt himself trembling as their blades clashed in sharp, quick attacks he couldn't track. But he heard them. He could hear them all too well.

How could Mikki and that Mist shinobi even battle in this weather? And so intensely, too. He'd never seen anything like it. The air felt tense, and each strike of their sword, each bolt of lightning, left him stiff as a board or trembling harsher than before.

The unnatural and visceral scenes of combat playing out before him made him want to vomit. His mouth was so dry and it was hard to breathe.

He felt like he had walked into a circus tent, and the elephant and tiger were mauling the crowd. Except no one was screaming. No one seemed bothered by the violence and threat of death. They were both acting like this was somehow totally normal. And Karashi felt himself falter, too afraid to move, to act, to do anything except watch the terrifying scene play out.

Why weren't they afraid like him? Why weren't they trembling despite the needles of cold rain pelting them? Was he really less of a man than that nervous, flimsy boy? Than that bossy girl or even this grotesque woman?

Frustration and broken pride injected itself directly into his heart. Karashi grit his teeth and squeezed the rock tightly.

No way. He refused to be a coward. He wasn't going to be less than what he was born to be. A man couldn't give up so easily.

If a flimsy guy like Chōjūrō could stand up and fight, then so could he. And if girls could fight, then he sure as hell could.

So, after swallowing what little saliva he could create, Karashi began to rise, trying not to draw the attention of either Mikki or the Swordsman.

Mikki's advance was halted by an upward slash that doubled as a strike and a parry, sending her sword clambering noisily off the edge of the terrace; the rain made the hilt slick.

Agile footwork saved her from death, pivoting out of the way just as Chōjūrō brought the sword down. She kicked it at the flat and harmless face, knocking it out of the hands of the Swordsman; apparently her ridiculous physical strength and big physique had its uses, since it sure wasn't pretty to look at.

It slid and grated towards the edge, coming to lie halfway on and off the terrace.

Neither stopped in their aggressive and quick attacks. Mikki drew the strange club from her waist, Chōjūrō drew a kunai and met her in the middle, at the iron shaft of the weapon, with a sharp and metallic clang!

Tendrils of lightning clawed across the slate sky not a moment after.

Karashi hugged the wall, shielding his weapon hand somewhat behind his leg. He was doing his best to appear as if he was sneaking down the wall to escape.

Mikki made a small gesture with the fingers on her free hand. Karashi then heard razor-like wind whirring on the air; he couldn't see Chōjūrō's intense gaze, but he did see Mikki's sword, with a life of its own, boomerang towards the Swordsman.

Like he was dancing, Chōjūrō grabbed ahold of Mikki's unarmed hand with his own and stepped into her, sweeping a leg. At the same time, he threw himself over her and into a roll, narrowly dodging the boomeranging sword.

It didn't impale into the wall this time. It whirled around, guided by the wind Mikki commanded to chase him.

Closer. Closer Karashi inched towards the frightening battle. He was happy his bladder was already empty.

Clambering to his feet, the Swordsman made a desperate dive for his discarded blade, catching it by the hilts and rolling onto his back. A long sword of pure chakra extended the blade, which he swung, deflecting Mikki's sword again.

It clattered to the ground. He sprang to his feet just as Mikki did, and in reversal of roles, she dove for her weapon just as he did.

He was close enough to hear the impact of Mikki's large body on the ground as her hand wrapped around its hilt. She didn't get the chance to swing it. This time the Swordsman was there, foot pinning the hilt to the ground.

His back was turned to Karashi.

"It's over, Miss Mikki," he breathed heavily from adrenaline. "Please just surrender."

He was close enough to see her grotesque smirk.

"A Captain always goes down with her ship. Do it. I'll keep fighting unless you do."

Close enough to hear Chōjūrō's irritated growl.

His attention was fixated on Mikki, and hers on the Swordsman.

"Fine. I'll end this right now!"

Chōjūrō lifted his sword to finish the Pirate Queen off in a single, painless blow.

Now's my chance!

Karashi charged off the wall, rock in hand, to bludgeon the skull of the Swordsman. Mikki's eyes flashed to him, and all he saw was hatred in her gaze.

Perhaps the Swordsman caught a glimmer of his reckless dive in the reflection of her eyes. Perhaps his footsteps or his shadow betrayed his sneak attack. Or maybe just the sudden shift of negative emotion Mikki hadn't ever shown him caused Chōjūrō to suspect something.

In the end, Chōjūrō turned his head. His eyes went wide, surprised by the sight of Karashi. Horror and betrayal flashed across his face.

Beneath the Swordsman, Mikki sat up, grabbing her would-be killer by his torn shirt, but her movements were too late.

This is it! I'll finally do it! This will make the Boss acknowledge me as a man for sure!

With a crazed gleam in his eyes, Karashi swung the stone with all of his might, and once more he could see every individual rain drop that his weapon broke apart on its path towards the skull of the Swordsman.

In that vivid moment, when all details became perceivable to his naked eye, two gloved hands suddenly clutched his arm at the wrist and elbow.

He felt his eyes flick over to the responsible party, and caught sight of red fang-like markings on the cheeks of a young girl, who's face was so fierce and fearsome in that vivid moment it extinguished his crazed gleam. In its place was pure terror he hadn't felt since Raiga had cornered him in the tunnels earlier.

Suddenly he was flying in the wrong direction. Mikki and Chōjūrō vanished. In the whirlwind he saw the slate sky and a flash of lightning, then the edge of the terrace, and then earth itself was rapidly approaching his face.

When he struck the ground, he swore it trembled and cracked beneath him. The pain was instantaneous and hot, but he had no air to scream; it was knocked clean out of him. Yet it did not end there.

Karashi struck the earth with such force, he bounced back up like a slightly deflated rubber ball, then felt a kick bury itself in his abdomen, causing him to gasp and spit up as he ascended higher.

"You worthless sack of flesh!" someone he did not recognize bellowed. "Didn't anyone ever tell ya? Once you pick up a weapon and try to attack a shinobi, you become a combatant. That means you're fair game, bastard!"

Somehow, he landed on his feet, though he instantly began to collapse. Before he could fall, he saw the terrifying girl again, specifically her fist as it crashed through the raindrops straight for his face.

And crash it did. He heard his jaw fracture before he felt it. Then he torpedoed into the adjacent wall.

Blackness pulled its curtain over him, dismissing him with a growl of,

"Prick."

---

"I like this girl. Friend of yours, Sunshine?" Mikki asked, a merry smirk on her scarred lips.

Chōjūrō, lying on top of the woman, nearly nose to nose with her, had one hand gripping her sword arm and his other clutched by Mikki, who was restraining Hiramekarei just as he was restraining her cutlass.

"We asked them to stay out of this. We wanted a peaceful conclusion," he grunted.

"I know."

"Why won't you just— mmmpphh!"

Mikki silenced him by smashing her lips against his. Brain seizing and face flushing, he watched in a state of shock as she leaned away. It wasn't so much of a smile on her face as an expression of euphoric triumph.

"Another life, Sunshine," she said softly. Then, more roughly, she drove her knee into his abdomen as she bellowed, "Get that through your thick skull!"

---

By the time Mimi turned away from Sanshō's idiot son, Chōjūrō was sliding across the earth towards her, gasping greedily for air.

Mimi took a stride, knelt and caught his sliding body. At the same time, the gladiator-sized woman made it to her feet and, after hooking her cutlass and metal club on her belt, began to weave handseals.

"Incoming," she warned as the Mist shinobi sat up, grimacing.

Doubt my Water Wall will hold up against her Wind Style if she broke through Chōjūrō's, the Inuzuka thought, beginning to weave handseals. But it'll buy us an extra second.

Hands in Tiger, Mimi drew her head back and expelled a stream of water ahead of them, which sprang up into a wall of water.

No sooner did it rise did a second stream of water strike the ground beside her jet, this one expelled by Chōjūrō. She hadn't expected him to recover so quickly.

What rose was not a wall, but a tremendous wave of water capable of withstanding the sudden gale of wind that sought to churn the sea and change the direction of the tide.

Together, their combined Water Walls held against the gale like a shield wall.

"Mimi, her sword!" Aoko warned.

Piercing straight through the tidal wave, the cutlass sheathed in Wind chakra sang tip first at the seated Mist shinobi, flying faster than a loosed arrow.

Mimi cut off her stream and stretched her hand out to grab Chōjūrō. Likewise, he moved to raise his sword in the hope of deflecting the flying blade.

Neither, she realized with grit teeth, would be quick enough.

Clang!

From her peripherals, amid the gray haze of rain, a red object, its shape thin and long, whistled by, catching the basket hilt of the flying cutlass. It carried the cutlass off course into the adjacent wall.

When Mimi turned her head to examine it, the mysterious weapon, red as the rain was wet, became clear as its pole clattered on the stone—a jūmonji yari, a spear who's lance formed a T-shape by brandishing two curved blades around its central lance.

The central lance had slipped neatly into the basket hilt of the cutlass, its two curved blades clung to it even as it lay there.

"Nice throw, Tenten," Mimi complimented, knowing that degree of accuracy could only belong to her teammate.

"Phew, that was cutting it close. That's two you owe me now," Tenten replied from the edge of the terrace, the smirk on her lips clear to Mimi even without looking at her.

As the tide of water cascaded off ther terrace, heat ignited over her bitter cold and wet skin, orange light casting shadows across the dull grey atmosphere. Nothing like a Dragon Bomb to spice things up a little.

Across the battlefield, the gladiator-sized woman sprang to the vertical wall, dashing along it as the stream of fire roared over her previous position and crashed against the wall.

Ribbons of steam and smoke rose among the rain. The cutlass leapt off the ground and flew back into the grasps of the Kurosuki Family second-in-command.

"Two?" Mimi wondered, hefting the Swordsman onto his feet. She didn't remember the first, but resolved to figure it out later. "How are your injuries?" she asked.

"I'm okay. Don't waste your chakra on me. Oh, and thank you for the backup. You both really saved my skin there," he added sincerely, though his expression was more confused and conflicted.

His gaze was fixated on their enemy, who seemed to be gauging their battle strength by their appearances from her position on the wall.

"Sorry we're late," Tenten apologized. She crossed the terrace quickly, placed her foot beneath the shaft of her spear, then kicked it up into her hands with a graceful and practiced motion.

"It's not your fault. This is…"

"That idiot's fault," Mimi jabbed her thumb behind her towards Karashi. "Yeah. We know. Neji saw the whole thing and told us everything."

"Mm." Chōjūrō withheld his frustration with that single noise.

It hadn't taken much inference to figure out the idiot who caused the whole escalation into this battle was Karashi. Once Haruhi and Chōjūrō snatched the fool and tried to run for it, Karashi's identity became academic.

I've got plenty to say to that bastard when this is over. She glanced to the Swordsman, who was pressing his lips together. And so do you, I bet.

"Please, leave Miss Mikki to me," he said suddenly. "Haruhi needs backup against Master Raiga. I…haven't heard the shrieks of the Kiba Blades for some time. I'm worried I've let her down again. So, uh, please tell her I'm sorry for being late. Again."

"Miss Mikki, huh?" the Inuzuka hummed, eyeing the woman. Telling us to backup Haruhi when he's more suited for battling Raiga, seems like these two have connected. "Tenten, you back Chōjūrō up."

"Mimi—"

"My mission is to bring all of my comrades home alive," she cut off the Mist shinobi. "You're our comrade now. Same thing with Haruhi. Besides, by working together, fighting together, bleeding together, we can deepen the bonds between our Villages so Amari's and Lady Mei's dreams can come true."

She looked at him from the corner of her eyes. "Together, united, standing shoulder to shoulder, that's how we change this world. There's no Leaf and Mist on this mission. We're one team—one unit. We live together, we fight together, and, if this goes south, we die together. That's what it means to be comrades."

Chōjūrō shut his eyes for the shortest of moments and exhaled. When he opened them again, he looked to her and offered a smile and sharp nod.

"You're right," he said. "Tenten and I will make an opening for you to reach Haruhi."

"Got it," she nodded.

---

For the members of the Kurosuki Family, presently numbering twenty-four in total—they were missing five members in Touya, Botan, Ryoichi, Shuji and Kari, who hadn't returned from their excursion—the initial signs of their Boss fighting against the intruders did not spur them to jump to his or Mikki's aid.

Their collective decision was not out of resentment or laziness or even a foolish grab at power. There was simply no need, they initially felt.

The Boss and Mikki were the strongest members of the Kurosuki Family. None who challenged them, whether they were bounty hunters, Mist tracking units, rogue shinobi, bandits or squads of shinobi had ever defeated them.

Harsh as it was to say, they knew they'd only hold Raiga and Mikki back. They could be taken hostage, used as bait, or, worse, cause their leaders to hold back from their most devastating techniques out of fear of harming them as well as those who threatened their Family.

So they waited. They watched and listened from their posts, and felt trepidation rising in their hearts as the shrieks of banshees refused to relent, as the buzzsaws continued to shear through metal, and as Lightning collapsed mining tunnels, trapping workers or burying them beneath stone.

The longer it went on, the more obvious it became something was wrong. These intruders, these shinobi from the Mist, were different than all the others who had threatened their Family before. Battles against the Boss or Mikki never lasted this long.

Realizing their leaders, the man and woman who had brought them in, who provided them a home, safety, and camaraderie were in legitimate danger, the Kurosuki Family organized themselves and dashed off through the rain towards the battle.

Those capable of it—four in total—ascended the mining pits benches by running up their walls. Everyone else diverted and charged up the muddy slopes which provided paths into and out of the mining pit, shoes stomping wetly against the mud, weapon belts and their weapons clinking and clanking beneath their flapping rain cloaks.

It was as the twenty members ascended the final incline to reach the bench where Mikki was locked in combat that they halted suddenly.

Amid the obscuring rain, the soaked figure of a young boy was visible, his palms raised not in surrender, but preparation for combat. He was waiting for them.

Although he was but a child, smaller in physique than the grown men and the women among the Kurosuki Family, in that moment, upon the muddy incline, he was a colossus who cast a shadow that encompassed the entire Kurosuki Family.

Silhouetted by a foreboding cloak of slate, the fangs of lightning above illuminated the steel upon his forehead.

"A Leaf shinobi?" one of the Kurosuki Family members questioned.

Another member, a man of imposing height wielding a battle axe, had no inclination of halting or hesitating when their leaders were in danger. He charged the boy headlong and drew the axe back, bellowing out a cry as he did.

A palm struck his chest before he finished his swing. The man flew down the incline, crashing in the mud and sliding back through the crowd. Trails of blood streamed from the corners of his lips. He gasped and hacked, eyes wide as he clutched his chest.

"This is as far as you all go," the boy declared calmly, menacingly calm in his tone and cadence despite the heavy patter of rain.

He pressed his foot upon the head of the battle axe and shoved it off the terrace, where it clattered somewhere down below, off of his battlefield where it could not be an obstacle.

More claws of lightning stretched across the sky, revealing the penetrating lavender gaze which cut through them with the ease of a sharpened lance through unprotected flesh.

The nineteen gripped their weapons tightly and grit their teeth.

"We won't hold back because you're a kid," a Kurosuki Family member declared.

The boy—the colossus who's shadow stretched over every last one of them—smirked arrogantly, shifting his footing into a slightly wider stance, spreading his arms out to their full length with his left arm aimed towards the ground in front of him while his right extended towards the sky behind him.

"Then I have no reason to hold back, either," he replied.

"You think you can take us all by yourself, boy?"

"Certainly. You're all within my range now."

"What?"

"However, I will not have to fight you alone. You and your leader have made a very fatal miscalculation: You angered the Crows of the Leaf. Now you must face their wrath."

Lightning illuminated the dark mining pit, revealing a fearsome flock of black silhouettes nosediving for the Kurosuki Family members.

Falling among them were the four eviscerated corpses of the their comrades, thrown into the crowd and toppling Kurosuki Family members like artillery launched by a catapult, soaking them in the blood and gore of their fallen friends and comrades.

Caught in the muck of indecision and horror, the members at the front of their group were unprepared for the boy to flash forward, hands striking their bodies and chakra points like vipers.

"Eight Trigrams: Two Palms!"

The flock of Crows struck the members of the Kurosuki Family like a herd of galloping war horses. Amid the dark feathers and rain, the boy leapt and struck without hesitation. Without mercy.

"Four Palms! Eight Palms!"

Four Kurosuki Family members collapsed after his assault, but he did not wait or linger a moment longer on them. He leapt ahead. Deeper into the mass of his screaming and roaring enemies.

"Sixteen Palms! Thirty-two Palms!"

More bodies fell among the dark feathers. Their cries of agony and fear replaced the shrieks of the banshees, echoing across the mining pit as Crows splashed their blood over the mud, as they pecked their eyes out, clawed their flesh from their skin and drilled holes through their abdomens, and as one boy struck bloodless blows that dropped one Kurosuki member after another.

"Sixty-Four Palms!"

The final strike sent a woman barreling into two men, bowling them over. But the assault did not end. As the Crows attacked, three men who escaped the barrage of palms leapt at the boy from all sides, weapons drawn back to deal the killing blow to the beast that had decimated their brothers and sisters.

Without blinking, the boy spun on the mud, whipping up into a veritable tornado of chakra—a tornado of blue light they were suddenly caught within.

"Rotation!"

Two were repelled and sent crashing into the nearby wall, shattering stone with their bodies. The third was sent plummeting off the slopes towards the bottom of the mining pit.

For a while longer their cries would be heard.

Then all would fall silent upon those slopes.

---

The storm's getting worse.

Standing inside the door of the Curry of Life, now slid open, Amari observed the dark clouds and the flashes of lightning looming over Katabami Gold Mine, expression shifting as often as the tide between contemplative and concern.

She pondered on Kari's, Shuji's and Botan's feelings and what the Kurosuki Family meant to them. She worried about her friends and comrades, somewhere caught in the swelling tempest of conflict raging in the sky. And doubtlessly on the ground as well.

Although her sensory abilities were nowhere near as sharp as her mother's or Miss Anbu's, she could feel something ominous on the air. Something which stirred her heart into a storm of its own.

A delicate sprinkle lightly pattered upon the awning outside of the door. A bitter breeze swept across the street; if she didn't close the door soon it might blow dirt and dust into the curry shop.

The world is on the brink of another global conflict, she thought, watching another flash of lightning. Like that storm, there will be those who only witness it from afar, who live their daily lives never knowing the pain and suffering of those caught at the center of the storm. It will splinter families. Sever bonds. Leave people abandoned in darkness, alone, weeping tears of blood. In agony. In hatred. In sorrow.

Why? Why do we do this to ourselves? Why do we inflict such pain to each other? Such suffering?

Amari lifted her left hand and looked at the scars peeking out of her sleeve.

Are we so different from the Kurosuki Family? They're only fighting to protect their precious bonds. Their Family. Their home. The world of shinobi, the Village System, it splintered their families. Severed their bonds. It left them alone in the darkness. But Raiga and this Mikki woman reached their hands out to others. They freed them of the chains which bound them.

So, why? Why must we kill each other? Where did we all lose our way?

Are our rules and laws the problem? Is there a systemic injustice within this system created in search of an answer for peace? Do we judge too quickly? Too rashly? Is there even such a thing as true justice in this shinobi world of ours? And if rules and laws are chains which limit our personal freedom, does that mean none of us are truly free?

What if we abandoned all rules and laws? What would happen to the world then?

How far should one's personal freedoms stretch? When does the individual freedom cease to outweigh the freedom and safety of the majority?

Frowning, she clutched her hand into a fist.

Without laws, all I see is anarchy. Shinobi would still exist. Ninjutsu and weapons would still exist, and so the world built without laws, on the idea of limitless personal freedoms, would begin to resemble something like Blood Mist.

The strong would fight for dominance in order to lead the masses and claim their slices of the "pie" we call a Clan, a territory, a Nation or the world itself. The weak would be culled, enslaved, or otherwise beaten and walked on.

We'd end up exactly how this all began. With Clans who unified to gather strength fighting each other just as the Uchiha and Senju once fought. And so a new Warring States Period would begin.

However, total order and control is also not viable. It would lead to totalitarian regimes which rule by the blade. Fear and suspicion would reign. Paranoia would be abundant in its leadership. Punishments would be harsh. Too harsh. It always is in totalitarian regimes.

At the end of the day, when you clench a populace beneath an iron fist, the people will struggle against you. The more they struggle, the tighter you clench. It feeds off itself until chaos is all that remains.

Eventually a revolution would spawn. It's the inevitable conclusion. When a specific group among a populace is treated as separate from the whole by the laws or the population, they become filled with resentment. There's only so much mistreatment a person can stand. Only a certain amount of unfairness they will accept until, eventually, they rise up against their oppressors. Just like the Uchiha Clan.

And though the core of the Will of Fire is an appeal to kindness, selflessness, love and camaraderie, it is an aspiration asking us to be better human beings, but it is not a binding contract. And it can be perverted into a tool to justify atrocities, all in the name of protecting the Leaf and its population.

In the end, people will always be flawed. The Will of Fire can't fix that. It doesn't suit everyone. People like Mizuki exist. Like Zabuza. Like so many other shinobi who have gone rogue.

Even traitors had reasons for their actions. Those reasons could be good or ill, depending on one's perspective, and if those reasons weren't searched for to better understand the circumstances that led to betrayal—even if it inevitably ended up as simplistic greed—they would create a world colored without shades of grey.

There would be the heroes—Hashirama, the Fourth Mizukage, herself—and the villains—Madara, Zabuza, Tayuya.

There would only be the heroic Leaf and Mist shinobi and the terrible and heartless Kurosuki Family.

They aren't perfect. They aren't saints. But, then, neither are we.

Gently, Amari gripped the door and looked one final time at the violent storm in the distance.

The dark curtain of clouds draped below the tree-line. Lightning, like red-hot sparks leaping off of blades, flashed amid the darkness, their conflict reaching the climax of its rising crescendo.

How did we all get caught up in this cycle?

She slid the door shut and turned away.

And how do we get out of it?

---

Review Response to Guest: Happy you enjoyed the last chapter!

No harm done with your previous comment. I'm happy some of those ramblings made sense and were able to answer or ease your concerns.

Amari's petite and shy act was fun to write, so I'm happy it was entertaining to read. And that you enjoy the little nuances. I can understand your worry, but Naruto will always have an important role to play in this story. Not only because he's a jinchuriki, but because even though they haven't gotten to spend a lot of time together lately, he is and always will be Amari's best friend. And he, like Sasuke and Sakura, are resolved to change the world with her.

It's definitely an interesting theory. I'm not sure I put nearly as much conscious thought into it as you did, I just kind of assumed that since Amaterasu could be spawned where the eye looked that any other ability I might create pretty much could. When it comes to Amari's abilities my intentions were two-fold, first to have at least one m.s. ability that reflected her Nara heritage, and then to have those abilities reflect the duality of light and shadow that she possesses.

I've not actually seen/read Rosario Vampire, so I can't be much help in that respect.

However, you may be overthinking the straight and male aspect in two ways. First, from the respect of the characters themselves. A strictly "male character" or "female character" or "straight character" or "LGBT character" is automatically, to me, a bad way to describe a character. It's an unnecessary checkbox to consider. Now, that is not to say gender or sexuality cannot play a major role in a character or their story. It all depends on the story you're telling. But is that the one defining characteristic of the character is a question to ask. Think of it like horror movie tropes. The dumb jock, the insensitive cheerleader, etc. They're one-dimensional. The same could be said if you define a character as a "straight male character" or a "gay male character" for instance.

As an example, what defines a character like Harry Potter? Hermione Granger? Other characters from across different universes like Luke Skywalker, Kenobi, Ashoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker and Darth Maul, John Stewart the Green Lantern, Frodo, Samwise, Arwen, Aragorn, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Commander Shepard, what defines them? Is it their gender? Their skin color? Their sexuality? Are those the parts of the characters that viewers find most interesting? Why they're so beloved by the fans of their tales? I'd say that's the least interesting part of each of them.

They're all characters first and foremost, everything else we use to identify ourselves comes after. For example, I don't write Amari or Kasai or Sakura or Naruto as female or male characters, I write them as characters who happen to be male or female. It's their motivations, their desires to grow, their fears, their dreams, their emotions, and how they react to the situations going on in the world and the pain they endure that adds nuance to a character. I'm by no means a master of it. I'm trying my best to improve on writing characters all the time, but that subtle difference of male/female characters and characters who happen to be those things, to me, can be huge.

The other way you may be overthinking it is from the more personal perspective of being a straight guy. But think of it like this, popular novelists write characters who are a different gender, different sexuality, different morality, religion, etc. all the time. Of course, there are some experiences a man can't understand, like childbirth, but beyond a handful of differences, people are people, more alike than they are different. It's not like love between two men, two women, or a man and a woman is in anyway different. Love is love. And the great thing about writing characters is you can decide what their personalities are and how they might react to a situation. So there's no reason you couldn't write those characters in a relationship. If that was a limiting factor, characters like Wonder Woman and Harry Potter wouldn't exist.

Now, if your intention for the story is smut, that's an entirely different conversation. My best advice there would be less is more. A gentle caress, a longing stare, a tender kiss, and the emotions felt by the character can go a long way.

Anyway, thanks for the review and hope you enjoyed the newest chapter!