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.

152. Chapter 151: Wherever We Are Is

Chapter 151

A Light Born From Darkness: Wherever We Are Is…

The pouring rain, once a soothing lullaby, now merely drowned the world in oppressive white-noise.

Rain thrashed against the terraces, pounding the fractured stone debris standing as blank, fragmented headstones for all those felled in the turbulent battle. It assaulted the desperate miners, whipping their flesh red, biting their bones with its icy fangs as they scrambled to rescue those who'd sheltered in the collapsed tunnels.

The howling deluge poured over the inferno burning atop the mining pit, orange tongues quenching their thirst on the cluster of trees. Rooftops were beaten. Wind and rain lashed the earth. The banshees no longer shrieked. The buzzsaws did not roar. But the bitter, merciless rain battered the quarters where, but a short time ago, Raiga and Mikki drank hot chocolate together.

In that not so distant past, Ranmaru recalled, he sat on the kitchen counter, blowing the ribbons of steam rising from his warm cup of hot chocolate, savoring it as he listened to Raiga and Mikki discuss Raiga's mounting frustrations at the Land of River's traditions. Silently, he listened as they shared their concerns over Karashi and plotted a course to depart from these Lands.

If they'd only known what would transpire. If only his eyes could see the future.

If only they'd never let Karashi into their Family.

It was to those same quarters he returned. Against his Will. How different it all was now. No longer was there a pleasant aroma of hot chocolate wafting through its halls. It smelled wet. The gaping holes crashed through the walls welcomed the biting chill to stand where only warmth stood previously. And its new inhabitants steps were not as heavy. Not as familiar.

Not Raiga or Mikki.

Hidden inside his carrier, submerged in the dry and warm darkness, Ranmaru was carried by the Leaf shinobi named Rock Lee as he and his comrades hurried into the shelter.

Ranmaru did not move. He did not make a noise or bother to peer beyond his dark prison. For that's all it was now—a prison. Without Raiga, it was no longer a means for him to see the world. He could not travel with their Family. His Family was dead.

Now his carrier was a caterpillars cocoon. Except he would never escape. He would never transform into a beautiful butterfly and spread his wings to fly through the world. Nor did he want to. Not anymore. Life without Raiga and Mikki was not life. It was a short, pitiful existence.

Like a caterpillar squished on the bottom of a shoe, killed before it could spread its wings.

Ranmaru shut his stinging eyes. He felt the holes in his heart, hoping, almost, he'd find a piece of Raiga or Mikki hiding there. Even a fragment. A whisper to let him know they were still with him. But there was nothing.

They were dead. He'd seen it. His eyes let him see everything—everything except how to save them. And when they died, he died right alongside them. Though his body yet lived, he was already dead.

Sincerely.

"Don't worry, Haruhi. I've got you," he heard Chōjūrō's nervous voice. "Just hang in there."

She was unresponsive.

"Raiga did a number on her. She was moving by sheer force of Will at the end," the Inuzuka analyzed. "Hang in there, Lady Iron. I'll fix you up. "Lee!" Her voice became authoritative. "Check the bathroom for towels. Bring them all!"

"Roger!"

"Tenten, you have your survival equipment scroll, right? Pull out every blanket you have. We need to get Haruhi dry and warm. And fast."

"Got it."

"Neji, place this Chakra Seal on that carrier. I don't sense a will to fight from whoever's inside. But I'm not taking any chances."

"Agreed."

There's no point, Ranmaru thought instead of spoke. I don't have the strength to fight any of you. Besides, when Raiga and Mikki died, I saw what they wanted most. Even if I could, I wouldn't hurt any of you. Chōjūrō and Haruhi—all of you—were apart of their dream.

He said nothing. He lay in the darkness, cheeks wet despite no rain ever touching him.

"What can I do?" Chōjūrō asked.

"Mimi, I have the towels!"

"Good work. Lay one out over the coffee table. Chōjūrō, once the towel is there, I'll need your help moving Haruhi to it. My hands are tingling. I doubt I could lift a spoon without trembling."

"All right."

"Once we're there I'll need your help removing her gear. Specifically anything tight enough to decrease blood flow. You're not squeamish about undressing a wounded comrade, right?"

"Not if it saves her life."

"Good man. Aoko, get my bandages, scissors and Plasma Pills. Lee, I'll take care of your injuries as soon as I'm finished with Haruhi. Until then, I want you, Tenten and Neji to dry off as best you can. If any of you've brought spare clothes, get changed."

The Leaf and Mist shinobi continued in their efforts to heal Haruhi, warm up, and live for some time.

Ranmaru merely laid in silence. Wishing Raiga and Mikki hadn't died. Weeping for their loss.

And wishing he could join them.

---

When he first looked upon Katabami Gold Mine, Chōjūrō couldn't help but compare the conditions of the mining facilities—slave and death camps—organized by the Crimson Flowers. It'd seemed so strange. So abnormal. All because it was normal. Mostly.

Now, to his eyes, the dark reflection of the Crimson Flowers had cast itself over the mine.

Nothing was out of the ordinary anymore. Nothing was obscured by curtains of mist. The rain did not impede his vision; the looking glass had never been so clear to him before.

What was once unnatural in its normalcy was now natural in its abnormality. What was once extraordinarily foreign was now painfully familiar.

Painfully natural.

Painfully normal in this cruel world.

The physical wounds, the pointless suffering and heartache, and the death and destruction; it had taken different shapes and forms in their ongoing assault against the Crimson Flowers, from their narcotic and human trafficking, to their Corpse Pits and the resulting suicides. The magnitude of suffering continued to be felt.

Sometimes Chōjūrō wondered if it would ever end. God, he hoped it did.

Here, in the Land of Rivers, the shapes and forms were different. The circumstances stood on opposite poles of the world. Yet no matter how diametrically apart those poles stood, they would always occupy the same plane.

They would always exist together. Forever connected by the axis they together formed, upon which this cruel world rotated on.

Another familiar sensation: Exhaustion. Its claws were burrowed deep in his body and his soul.

Chōjūrō felt himself begin to drift off. A new conflict arose, this one waged in silence between the desire to sleep and the tremendous effort to stay awake. Admittedly, it was a losing battle. But he tried anyway. He had to.

Behind him was Haruhi, resting peacefully beneath a blanket on the loveseat they once occupied what seemed like whole days ago. Bandages covered her injured eye.

When the battle had finally finished, as they pulled their blades free and Master Raiga's body splashed against the earth, Haruhi collapsed right beside the legendary Swordsman, falling unconscious in the pouring rain amid the dark cloud of blood pooling beneath Master Raiga.

She hadn't stirred since.

Chōjūrō promised himself to stay by her side. At least until she awoke.

So he did. He sat in front of the loveseat, knees bent, back braced against its cushions. He positioned the bandaged form of Hiramekarei between his legs and rested his arms on its cross-guard, guarding over his comrade and friend as he patiently waited for her to wake.

And he wondered what could've been different. He wondered how such a needless conflict came about. He wondered whether Master Raiga could've relinquished his darkness, and whether he and Mikki could've been saved.

Chōjūrō stopped wondering after that.

Not long after, Mimi found Chōjūrō fast asleep. Gently, she pulled a blanket over his slumbering form, then silently checked on Haruhi's condition.

Thunder rumbled. Rain poured.

Neither Mist shinobi stirred.

---

"What should we do now, Mimi?" Lee asked.

Team Guy had huddled up in the kitchen to discuss their next move. So far it was proving to be the warmest spot in Raiga's quarters, though even the warmest spot of an igloo was still damn cold. A faint scent of hot chocolate lingered on the air.

From the entryway, Mimi could keep an eye on Haruhi and Chōjūrō, playing the roles of sleeping beauty and sleeping prince charming. Quite the tale. All it needed was a room so she could close the door and hang a sock on its handle, then it'd be something like those pervy books the Master Pervert himself wrote.

Knowing Chōjūrō would understand the symbolism while it'd pass right over Haruhi's head and fly to another continent would make it that much more hilarious. For her, anyway.

She could also monitor the mysterious carrier they'd taken from Raiga, presently laying on the floor out of the main walkways.

The person hadn't resisted them. Hell, they hadn't uttered a sound or twitched since they first picked them up. May as well be a corpse in a body bag.

Conventional wisdom suggested the threat was contained. With the chakra sealing tag placed on the carrier, which resembled a sleeping bag, they shouldn't be able to do anything. That was the conventional wisdom.

With a kekkei genkai like theirs, she thought, eyeing the carrier, that can see and hear through walls, cast genjutsu and apparently transfer life-force, who knows what else it's capable of.

"For now, we rest," she answered, looking back to her team.

Everyone was dry and sporting fresh, warm clothes. Everyone except Mimi. She was damp and cold. Freshly bathed by the rain, which was only slightly better than being bathed in a freezing cold stream. But only slightly.

Lee had on a fresh, dry green jumpsuit. Neji wore a nearly identical outfit to his previous attire, except he didn't replace his bandages and his shirt was an off-white color.

Hair buns undone and wet hair draping to her shoulders, Tenten hid herself beneath a thick, brown fur blanket; it looked heavy enough to belong to a bear. A very large bear. Looked nice and warm, too, with plenty of space for the whole team to fit inside. Neji would never impose, of course, unless survival demanded it. Lee was warmed by his own hot-blooded spirit, and the insulating, yet breathable, fabric of his jumpsuit.

Mimi had no pride or shame holding her back. What she did have was a soaking wet body and waterlogged clothes, neither of which were welcome inside the blanket of absolute, delectable warmth. Thus was the cruel decree of Tenten the Great.

"Chōjūrō and Haruhi need time to recover," she continued. "So do we. I'm still feeling the recoil of that Thunder Armor."

"As am I," Neji concurred.

He kept his arms crossed, but she noticed the familiar tremble in his hands. The protection of his Rotation kept them alive, of that she was certain.

"However, there are still some matters we can conclude while they rest."

"Like what?" Tenten asked.

"The individual in the carrier, for instance," replied Neji. "Even now they conceal their presence. Although, based on what we already know, any attempt to discover their identity should be done with the utmost caution."

"I'm not touching them until Chōjūrō and Haruhi are awake," Mimi shook her head. "We just helped kill the person who carried them around everywhere. I'm not gonna take chances. Not when I don't know the full extent of their kekkei genkai."

"Fair point."

"What about Karashi?" Lee asked.

Mimi's lip curled unconsciously. "Don't know how Chōjūrō and Haruhi will react if they see him right now. Bastard tried to cave in Chōjūrō's head. But I know how I'd feel and what I'd do." A broken jaw was just a start. "The workers also might have a few things to say to him. Probably have plenty more they want to do."

"Can you blame them," said Tenten. "Look at everything he did since we showed up."

"Yeah. Can't say punching him didn't feel good." Mimi shrugged. "Once we're back at the curry shop we'll deal with him. There's no rush. Not like he's going anywhere."

"I must talk to him when we return to Grandma Sanshō's," Lee declared. "It was my actions which set him on this path of darkness—"

"No, it wasn't," Mimi cut off her teammate with a sharp gaze. "That idiot chose to walk in darkness all on his own. You had nothing to do with it. Nothing at all."

"Mimi…"

"Anyone who ever looks to you for inspiration, and comes to this conclusion," she gestured at the walls to encompass the whole situation, "is either the biggest idiot in the world, or a scumbag at their rotten core. Hell, they can even be both.

"But you aren't responsible, Lee. You're a bright light. Pure. Karashi is an idiot. He's not even the lovable kind of idiot like the Goofball. He's just stupid, plain and simple. So don't let him use you as a scapegoat. Don't give him that opportunity. Because if you take responsibility, he'll push all the blame on you and pretend he did nothing wrong.

"We all make choices. Good, bad, and in-between. Now he has to live with the consequences of his decisions like the rest of us."

She'd make sure of that. He'd regret his greed and hunger for power for the rest of his life, as long as she had a say. Maybe a permanent limp would remind him to be a good boy. Maybe.

"I…I understand." Lee frowned. "Still, if my actions inspired his behavior even a little, I feel duty bound to correct it. So please," he teammate bowed his head, "when the time comes, I ask that you to allow me to handle his punishment."

Mimi stared at the top of his head for a moment. Then sighed. Lee and his goddamn earnestness.

"As long as you don't go easy on him," she relented.

She'd never been able to say no to Lee.

"I will not. That I swear."

"Well, in the meantime." Tenten suddenly approached. "You need to dry off and change your clothes. Look at you. You're trembling all over. You'll catch a cold at this rate."

Mimi rolled her eyes playfully. "I'll be fine, mom."

"No arguments."

Slipping one hand out from beneath her blanket, Tenten wasted no time in pushing Mimi out of the kitchen.

"Hey! Quit shoving," she couldn't help but laugh.

"Let's go, Mimi. Sooner you change, sooner you'll be warm."

"This is squad leader abuse."

"Less whining, more moving."

"All right, all right. So pushy."

---

Haruhi did not jolt awake. She did not stir. She lay as still as a corpse when she came to, awareness of herself slowly blossoming from the silent, shapeless, murky haze of deprivation, delivering her to the world of consciousness once more. Reborn.

Consciously, Haruhi kept her eyes shut and her body immobile. Relaxed. Meanwhile expanding her senses to gather Intel on her surroundings and her physical condition. To be reactionary was a fatal error. First, gather Intel, silent as a shadow. Then prepare how to respond.

It's still raining.

The downpour drummed harshly against a shelter. Yet it was loud. Bearing down right on top of her despite not a drop of rain touching her. Such a clamor meant there was a crack in the shelter. A portal through which the sound penetrated her aural organs seamlessly. A window, perhaps? A door? No, the noise was too profuse, too overpowering on the senses.

Raiga's quarters, then. It's dryness and immediate proximity made it a logical shelter to regroup, tend to injuries and seek respite inside of. They would not be challenged or run off by an owner.

Its owner was now dead.

There was a presence beside her, she sensed. Motionless and silent except for their evened out breathing, the faint sound all but swallowed whole by the downpour.

She recognized the soft breaths. Their pattern of sleep. She recognized Chōjūrō's familiar presence.

And she breathed easier for it.

Activity occurred beyond her immediate surroundings. Footsteps carried across the floor. Quiet voices were difficult to comprehend over the rain. But those responsible were composed, she observed.

No urgency echoed from their steps, nothing depicting an image of impending danger or a medical emergency. Their quiet voices were non-aggressive. And familiar.

Leaf shinobi. The manifestation of their presence on this mission was unforeseen, their aid was unexpected, as was the camaraderie they willingly showed. Yet it was not unwelcome. They were not unwelcome.

When Haruhi finally opened her eyes, she felt neither surprised nor disheartened by the bandages forcing her left eyelid shut. After Raiga struck her the world became filtered through a blurry, red veil, accompanied by figures suitable for Rorschach tests, which limited her already restricted sight amid the rain. The initial pain was intense. But she was grateful for the pain—it kept her conscious, truthfully.

Now there was an ache. Harsh, but bearable. Her right arm was restrained as well, she noted, currently held in a bandage sling beneath the blanket. It ached, too. Harsh, but bearable. Pain was natural. Pain was inevitable. Pain was proof the body—the shell—still lived.

Only the dead could not feel pain.

Ultimately, her shell had served its purpose. It absorbed the damage of the battle, but her soul was uninjured. Unbroken. She could press on. Forward. Always forward. Stagnation meant death on a battlefield, and life itself was the largest battlefield of all.

Once her blades were sharpened she would proceed with the next mission. Alongside Chōjūrō, as always. There yet remained threats in the Land of Water. Darkness in need of removing awaited them in the Land of Water. Chinami required training to acquire the strength to defend Mika.

That was what her hands were capable of.

"I leave…the future to…each of you. Build it. Even you…Haruhi. You can build…it…as I built…this Family. We…are more…than weapons, after all."

Haruhi pursed her lips. She lifted her left hand off the top of the blanket and held it over her face, blocking out the darkened ceiling.

The future… Raiga had entrusted it to her. To all of them. He claimed she could actually build such a thing despite knowing what she was…

Yet, perhaps it was because of that, because they were kindred spirits, he made such a bold claim.

Through the years he had learned to be more than a weapon. He built a Family. Meanwhile Lady Mei and Chōjūrō had only begun to show Haruhi what it meant to be more than a tool. He understood love, and she…she didn't know what it was. What it felt like.

Perhaps, though, one day she could. And then, perhaps, her hands could be capable of comfort instead of merely death. Perhaps…

Haruhi rested her hand on top of the blanket again. Turning her head, she observed Chōjūrō as he slept, chin tucked to chest, knees bent and arms resting on the cross-guard of Hiramekarei. Someone had pulled a blanket over him. Unlike her, however, he was attired in fresh clothes; the blanket hid her bandaged body and her small clothes.

Sleep should have provided him respite. Instead, his face was tense and strained. Exhausted. He hadn't looked so drawn out since the raids of the Crimson Flowers operation. If only her hands were capable of more than violence. If only she could ease his strain.

Pursing her lips in an awkward expression, Haruhi reached her hand out and patted him gently on the head.

Chōjūrō stirred. At first he inhaled a single sharp breath, tensing from head to toe. He hadn't meant to sleep, it told her. He drifted off in exhaustion, at the call of the rainy lullaby drumming the ceiling and slapping the windows, and now was uncertain of his whereabouts or what awoke him.

His mind reeled, eyes flitting across his immediate surroundings. His hands tensed around Hiramekarei.

Haruhi silently patted his head again, hoping it signaled safety. It seemed to do the trick.

Recognizing the awkward gesture, his muscles relaxed, his eyes shut and a soft smile formed on his lips.

Wearily, Chōjūrō slid the blanket off his body, shifted Hiramekarei to lay beside him in quick reach, and turned so he could look at Haruhi. His smile was sincere, but exhaustion clutched his expression and posture in a vice grip.

Conversely, he rested his hand on top of hers, now lying alongside her, and held it gently, so unlike the crushing hold exhaustion held over him, or the white-knuckle grip they clutched the hilts of Hiramekarei with during the previous battle.

His hand was gentle despite the heavy weapon he handled. Warm despite the chill whipping into Raiga's quarters. Kind despite their ability to kill. They were contradictions, but they were each apart of Chōjūrō.

They were apart of her friend.

"How are you feeling?" he asked kindly. Her well-being was at the top of his priorities.

"I will recover," she replied simply. "Has much time passed?"

"Can't be too long," he said, looking over his shoulder. "We're still caught in the same storm as before."

"Mm."

"Do you need me to get you anything?"

"No. I will be fine." She caught her friend's gaze. "You look exhausted."

One corner of Chōjūrō's lips lifted in a weak smile. "I could say the same to you."

Haruhi flattened her lips together. She said nothing.

In the silence that followed, entire exchanges passed between the two shinobi without a sound ever being uttered. They didn't need words. In truth, they didn't have any for what they felt, none they were comfortable expressing yet, or knew how to express, respectively. Yet they understood each other.

Just as they had understood Mikki and Raiga.

Battle fatigue was manageable. It was expected. As sure as the sun would rise tomorrow morning, shinobi would endure fatigue caused by prolonged combat scenarios, and so it was a trifle unworthy of complaints. She had experienced similar conditions before. She would likely endure them again.

This feeling present now was different. It went deeper. She would not have understood it without recognizing similar feelings in Chōjūrō.

Their spirits were wounded in the conflict.

"It was a difficult battle," she said at last, certain the words were imperfect, and yet perfectly described everything.

"Yeah. It was…" Chōjūrō slouched forward. "I'm sorry. You had to fight Master Raiga on your own because I took too long with Miss Mikki."

"You are not to blame for my current condition," replied Haruhi sincerely. "Raiga was the superior Swordsman. He understood the Kiba Blades better than I did, thus he utilized his greater experience and talent to his advantage. It is as simple as that."

"We're supposed to be a team, though," he muttered sullenly, lowering his eyes to his lap. "But this is the second time I was too late to help you. First with the Hound, and now with Master Raiga."

"I separated us in both circumstances. Though I have caused you an unfortunate amount of distress, I stand by my actions. Without you, Mika would not have been saved. You would not have regrouped with Natsumi and Haku, retrieved the map to the Crimson Flowers operations, learned of Koshiro's treachery, and thus granted us the chance to eliminate their poison.

"Likewise, had I not been captured, I would not have found Chinami, learned of their narcotic, or acquired it and their gambling chip. Our paths diverted, true, but they reconnected and brought us to the Hound and Sadao, among others, who now no longer possess the power to harm others."

"Yeah, but… What if he had killed you instead of capturing you?"

"What if he had captured us together instead?" she offered.

"Haruhi…"

"What ifs are a pointless mental endeavor," she said, but not unkindly. "He did not and that is that. This situation is no different. I separated us. Together, on diverted paths, we divided their strongest fighters, bought time for reinforcements to aid us, and then eliminated the Kurosuki Family. Now we are here."

"I suppose. I just…" Unconsciously his hand tightened around hers. "I feel like I keep letting you down."

"You cannot let me down. We are friends."

Emotions flashed across Chōjūrō's face. She did not recognize them all; it was difficult to see when he angled is head down. She noticed him swallow roughly.

"Friends can fail, Haruhi," he said softly. "And I…"

"If you have failed, then so have I."

"You didn't fail," he refuted instantly, shaking his head. "You were amazing. You are amazing, Haruhi. Holding back Master Raiga on your own. Figuring out how to wield the Kiba Blades and their power so quickly, just like you did with Hiramekarei against the Hound. Meanwhile I couldn't…"

"If you have failed, I have as well," she repeated firmly. "'We'll bear the weight of the future together. Us, our comrades and the people of this Land. We'll work together to build the path forward. Stone by stone, step by step, we'll do it together.'"

Chōjūrō sucked in a sharp breath. He clearly recognized the words. As expected.

They were his own, after all.

"Those were the words you spoke to rally us against the Hound," Haruhi recalled. "I remember them because, like Lady Mei, you spoke them from the truest part of your heart. I remember them because they reinforced my belief in Lady Mei. And in you."

She watched how his bottom lip quivered. How he ducked his chin into his chest, bit his lip gently and squeezed her hand. She wondered if these were the right words. If they were helping or hurting. She didn't know.

So she tried harder.

"If we are to bear the weight of the future together, that means we must bear its successes and failures together as well. That is what it means to be a team. Am I wrong?"

"No," Chōjūrō shook his ducked head. "You're right. I just…I'm going to do better," he promised. "I'll train harder. I'll get stronger. I'll be strong enough to bear that weight and stand by what I said that day."

"Then I will do better as well," Haruhi promised. "Together we will train to gather the necessary strength to build Lady Mei's future and bear the responsibility of its safekeeping upon our shoulders. Haku and Natsumi will as well. I will ensure they understand this."

"Oh no," Chōjūrō exhaled an abrupt, awkward chuckle, strangely. She was not joking.

"In doing so we will rise as the pillars Lady Mei believes us capable of becoming," Haruhi continued. "We will build the future she dreams of. We will protect it. And we will make ourselves worthy of inheriting it. Together. That is also a responsibility we bear as a team. For Lady Mei. And now for Raiga."

"And Miss Mikki," he added. "Before she…died…Miss Mikki entrusted the future to us as well."

"Then we will make ourselves worthy of Raiga's and Mikki's final wishes."

"Right," Chōjūrō nodded once.

They said nothing after that. Further discussion was unnecessary; their points were made and their intentions stated plainly.

Haruhi saw no change in their overall mission—secure a path to the future and remove the tumors which poisoned it. To her eyes, the only true difference were the additional Wills and hopes they now carried. Though heavy, they would bear them. That she swore.

Chōjūrō leaned deeper into the edge of the loveseat. He shut his eyes and exhaled a long breath. His features remained drawn out. They would remain that way until he finally rested.

Haruhi shifted her head into a neutral position and shut her eye, listening to the noisy rain drum against the rooftop, then to Chōjūrō's soft breaths hidden beneath its cadence. His hand rested on hers.

And she breathed easier.

---

Some time after, Mimi Inuzuka and Aoko joined Haruhi and Chōjūrō at the loveseat.

Now attired in a blue sweater zipped to her sternum, a black tank top and shorts, the Inuzuka began a check-up on Haruhi's injured right shoulder and left eye, explaining the severity of the injuries while she worked to provide clarity on a timetable for recovery.

Nothing truly surprised Haruhi. Raiga's fist fractured her left orbital bone, which was evident by the veil of blood tinting her vision after the impact. And the pain. The Kiba Blade cut cleanly through her humerus, damaging tissues and muscle fibers along its path.

"When a bone breaks," Mimi Inuzuka explained, "a hematoma forms around it to protect the bones and to deliver the necessary cells to heal it. It takes about a week for a callus to begin to form—think of a callus as the foundation of a new bone. Starts off soft, but, as time passes, it hardens. After a few weeks it replaces the hematoma entirely. That's when the new bone starts to form to replace the callus. The bone begins to reshape, hardens some more, and in a few months it's like you've got a shiny new bone.

"Thanks to the wonders of Medical Ninjutsu, I can accelerate your body's natural healing process. You'll be reforged in no time, Lady Iron."

"I appreciate it."

Chōjūrō tilted his head. "Lady…Iron?"

"It is a nickname," Haruhi explained plainly. "I believe she means to say I am strong and durable."

"Nailed it, Lady Iron."

"Steel remains stronger."

"Went over this already. Doesn't roll off the tongue as nicely."

"I am stronger than iron."

"Heh," Mimi let out a short laugh. Haruhi never thought herself capable of humor, but she seemed to amuse Mimi often. Strangely. "Don't doubt that. But nicknames aren't chosen by committee vote. I picked it for you, so you're stuck with it."

Haruhi squinted. "That is unreasonable."

"Guess I'm just an unreasonable girl, then," she grinned.

"You are strange."

Mimi Inuzuka gasped. It was clearly feigned.

"Strange and unreasonable? I think you've wounded me."

"If you break so easily, then perhaps you should be Lady Iron. Iron is fragile, after all. And it appears you are, too."

"Ouch!" Mimi Inuzuka snickered. Aoko yipped from atop her head. "Your tongue is pretty sharp. Unfortunately for you, Lady Iron, Tenten's tongue is a lot sharper. Sharper than the Kiba Blades, in fact."

"I can hear you, you know," Tenten called from the kitchen.

Grinning, Mimi replied, "Shall we have another toast for our dearest Sassy Sage of Swords?"

"Ughhhhhh," groaned the Leaf kunoichi.

"You are relentless," Haruhi stated plainly.

"Yep." Mimi grinned. "It's a part of my charming disposition. Really livens up a room."

"I see."

She did not. However, Haruhi understood attempting to point out the differences between the definition of charm—bringing delight to others—and the reaction of her teammate—embarrassment and despair—would only incentivize banter, and banter was difficult to understand. And pointless.

Instead, she chose silence. Chōjūrō took the opportunity to ask questions—important questions. First, what was their next step when the storm finally calmed? Where did the Leaf shinobi intend to go? What were their plans now that the Kurosuki Family were eliminated?

After she finished tending to Haruhi's injuries, since the storm did not appear to be prepared to relent, Mimi hoped to handle the individual in the carrier—Ranmaru, as Raiga called them.

She expressed her concerns. She detailed what she hoped to learn from them and her desire to keep them involved as a single squad instead of two separate units. At least until it was necessary to part ways.

"Afterwards, we'll check on the miners here, collect the bodies, and head back to the Curry of Life. I'm sure the Crows will show up, so we'll send one ahead to tell Amari we survived. Poor girl has probably paced a ravine into the floor."

"What about Karashi?" Chōjūrō asked. The tightness in his voice betrayed his calm exterior. He was frustrated, but Haruhi could not blame him.

The mere mention of the fools name caused her jaw to tighten.

"We'll handle him there." Mimi didn't look either them in the eyes, but her next words proved she did not need to. "If I brought him out now, one, or all three of us, would likely hurt him. Not saying he doesn't deserve it. Not even saying he's innocent. But our rules and laws hold us to a higher standard."

"They do," Haruhi agreed, frowning.

Were Lady Mei's ideals different, such rules and laws would not bind her to show mercy to a fool who deserved none.

"I've thought about how to punish him. Thought 'bout beating the living hell out of him. A lot, actually. Even thought of killing him when he made his move. He became more than just a bastard in that moment—he was a combatant. But, with my skills, my strength, would killing a useless nobody like him be justified when I could just as easily disarm him? Or is that just plain, cold-blooded murder veiled as justice?"

"I don't know, honestly," she continued after a brief pause, shrugging. "Wish it were black and white; it's easier that way. Shades of grey make the world more difficult, but a world without nuance is destined to burn itself to cinders. Besides, you guys risked your asses for him. The least I could do was keep him alive like we promised.

"I was also certain his death would be hung on the Mist. I would've tainted your Village's reputation, for what? For a scumbag like him?" She shook her head, lips curled in an irritated frown. "He isn't worth it. On a more positive note, I promised Lee he could punish Karashi. Knowing Lee the way I do, and Guy-sensei's idea of punishments, I've got a good feeling it's gonna be entertaining. A real hoot, as the old-timers say."

Haruhi gathered the sense it would be painful. And, perhaps, that would be entertaining.

She would patiently wait to see it.

Finally, Mimi Inuzuka informed them of her team's intentions to help refortify the Curry of Life before inevitably departing.

Before Chōjūrō could offer their aid, which Haruhi approved of despite her condition, knowing Lady Mei would approve as well, the medic-nin explained how they didn't need to ask.

"I figured it'd keep the others busy while I took care of Haruhi," she interrupted the Swordsman. Then she looked directly at Haruhi. "I know I said I'd reforge you in no time, but even with Medical Ninjutsu, recovering from your injuries will take time. As long as you're willing to stick around for a few days, I can make sure walking home won't be painful. Though you'll still need doctors to check you over to make sure you're fully healed before you return to duty."

"Then I appreciate your assistance," Haruhi replied, dipping her chin in a short nod.

"Yes, thank you very much for healing Haruhi," Chōjūrō thanked. "I'd probably be panicking like crazy if you weren't here to help."

"Don't mention it," Mimi replied, as easy-going as always. It was the natural state for the kunoichi around those she trusted, Haruhi observed.

As if sensing her thoughts, the Inuzuka said, "We're comrades now. Fighting together, patching you up afterwards, teasing you relentlessly, that's all apart of building bonds between our Villages. The more struggles we face together, the stronger our bond can be."

"Then our Nations relations are like a healing bone," Haruhi considered. "Lady Mei and the Fifth Hokage are the hematoma which brought together healing cells, Amaririsu Yūhi and Haku were the callus which began to mend us, and together we will all form a stronger bone."

A very strange expression crossed Mimi Inuzuka's face at that moment. Haruhi did not recognize it, truthfully. It was a grin, and yet there was something very…sinister in it.

"Are you saying that by Amari and Haku entangling with each other they have begun to harden this bone we call a bond?"

"You are emphasizing words for some strange reason," Haruhi analyzed. "Chōjūrō, your face is red. I have missed something." What, she could not say. But she recognized the signs, plain to see on her friend's red face.

"However, yes, Amaririsu Yūhi and Haku's entanglement has brought our Village's closer," she pressed on anyway. "To use the same metaphor as before, our Villages are slowly healing, which means the bone—this bond—has a chance to harden into a sturdy, fully healed bone."

Mimi Inuzuka snickered. Haruhi did not understand.

"Good to know," she nodded like there wasn't a sinister grin on her face. "I'll be sure to let Amari know how important her role is as soon as we get back."

"I have misspoken, haven't I?"

"No, no," Mimi cut off Chōjūrō before he could speak. "You said it perfectly, Haruhi."

Haruhi frowned.

Then why do I feel like I have done something horribly wrong?

Foreigners are strange.

---

After discussing the mysterious kekkei genkai—the name was wiped from history during the Purges—and after making preparations to counter its range of abilities, it was finally time to confront Ranmaru. Whoever that may be.

Cautiously, Mimi placed the carrier onto the coffee table, around which they all gathered for Haruhi's sake, and for the first time realized how small the person inside really was. Far too small for a normal sized adult. Hell, they were too small to be teenagers like them. Could they be…

Slowly, as though defusing a bomb, she unzipped the sleeping bag.

Gasps escaped the likes of Lee, Tenten and Chōjūrō when they saw the child lying inside. Mimi, like Neji, only narrowed her eyes. Haruhi couldn't see Ranmaru entirely from the loveseat, but she had her suspicions.

Docile, red eyes stared at them.

"Please, don't panic. I mean you no harm," Ranmaru said, cheeks streaked by freshly shed tears.

The young boy was frail and thin despite being well-cared for. Dry despite the rain they'd all endured. His youthful features were slightly more feminine, but he couldn't have seen more than ten or eleven winters. Purple hair hung at chin length.

Raiga attired his other half well. He wore a light-purple cashmere shirt and a silk sash to compliment his dark pants and sandals; each item was so obviously crafted from the finest of artisans.

"Mimi, he's no longer concealing his presence. I can sense his condition…" Aoko whined in discomfort.

"Aoko?"

"He is dying."

---

Ranmaru did not struggle when Mimi Inuzuka helped him to sit up. He did not struggle when she began using her Medical Ninjutsu to diagnose his sickness.

There wasn't a doubt in his mind she knew. He'd seen how her eyes went wide after her ninja hound whined. It was almost the same shock and horror Raiga expressed when they first learned of his impending, slow death.

All she was missing was the helpless despair Raiga felt, realizing for all his strength he possessed, for all his tremendous, earth shaking power, he couldn't kill the disease. He couldn't cut it out. He couldn't fight it for him, protect him from it, or take his place.

He could only watch. He could only find ways to prolong his life day by day. Year by year. And along the way help him see and experience as much of the world as they could together before his time ran out.

Never, though, did Ranmaru imagine he would outlive Raiga and Mikki. It was unthinkable. Yet here he sat. All alone.

"Are you in any pain?" Mimi Inuzuka asked gently.

"No," he replied, and it was the truth. His sickness did not cause physical pain of any kind. At its worst it caused him to sweat at night. But it wouldn't matter if it could cause him pain, anyway.

Now that Raiga and Mikki were gone he felt numb.

"What's the matter, Mimi?" Lee asked earnestly. "Is he hurt?"

"Some contusions from the fall. Nothing serious. At least nothing our battle caused," she replied, voice lowering.

"He's sick," Chōjūrō ventured, kneeling beside the table to take a closer look. "Or he looks like he is. Master Raiga wouldn't have underfed him, so he shouldn't look frail. Were you malnourished? Before Master Raiga, I mean. Poor nutrition at a young age can cause a person to be underdeveloped. And your legs…"

They were the thinnest part of him. "Nothing but bones. Like twigs," was what Mikki said when she first saw them. When Raiga finally introduced them after many long travels. She hadn't meant offense, nor did he take any. She just spoke her mind, then ruffled his hair.

"Well, you're in good company. Don't need legs when you're blessed with a giant to carry you. Ever want a prettier giant, just ask. I'll carry you to world's end. Raiga, too, if he gets too old and fat."

Raiga had laughed at that. He'd always liked Mikki's sense of humor.

Ranmaru missed them both terribly.

"My legs have never worked," Ranmaru explained patiently to the Leaf and Mist shinobi. Numbly. Perhaps, he hoped, if they knew the truth about his condition, they would send him to Raiga and Mikki as a mercy. "I never knew my parents. I don't know how I survived the winters as a baby. My very first memory is of the shelter where, for me, life began. It was an old shed on a field. I was alone. Raiga said I was three or four years old.

"I couldn't move my legs back then. I could only crawl on my arms, and even that was difficult. I'd lose my breath. My body would grow too weak to move.

"The people who worked the field took pity on me, I think, and would bring me food and water. Maybe they're the reason I survived as a baby. Maybe my mother or father left me in that shed in the hopes I would be found. I don't know."

"There may have been complications with your birth," Mimi noted clinically, but gently. "If your mother was too afraid to go to a doctor, out of fear of her kekkei genkai or yours being discovered, she would've been left on her own to handle the birth. Or with everyone hunting down your kekkei genkai, you were stashed away while your parents evaded pursuers, in the hopes they'd make it back to you in time. Being left in the elements as an infant, though… That could cause any number of problems."

"Perhaps."

"So the workers took care of you instead?" Tenten asked.

"Yes. Until they learned of my kekkei genkai."

Back then, he explained, he didn't know what it was or its abnormality. One day he saw a worker get hurt while tending to the fields—he accidentally cut his hand with a harvesting knife.

A day or so later when he came to deliver food, Ranmaru made the mistake of asking if he was okay. He'd seen him get hurt, he told the man.

The man's reaction was confusion at first. Then fear. He ran out, slamming the door behind him, and never returned. He still remembered hearing them chain the door shut.

It wasn't long after that he met Raiga, who had come in search of a traitor to the Mist. Instead they found each other, two broken halves that could form a whole.

Now he was just a broken half again.

"Raiga helped me to see the world beyond my shed. I've seen places I could have never dreamed of. I tasted foods and drinks I never would have known existed. I saw mountains, beaches, animals and towns all across our continent. I had a Family because of him," Ranmaru said. "He took care of me for six years. I studied so many books, learning about the world I never would've seen from my shed. There is so much beauty in this world.

"But once we learned I was sick, I was sad. I didn't want to leave Raiga. I didn't want to die. I was afraid to be alone again."

"Wai- wait a minute," Chōjūrō recoiled, horrified. "You're…dying?"

"I am. There's nothing that can be done."

"What about Medical Ninjutsu?" he asked desperately. "Medical Ninjutsu can cure illnesses, right?"

"Mimi?" Neji Hyūga looked to his teammate.

Silently, she shook her head.

The illness had already progressed too far. He knew that already and didn't bother to hope. He didn't want to live any longer now anyway.

"You've…" Chōjūrō fell back onto his buttocks in shock. "You've got to be kidding."

"It's okay," Ranmaru said. Ducking his head, he smiled a sad smile. "I was afraid for a long time. But now that Raiga and Mikki are gone, I'm ready. If they're waiting for me, then I'd like to go now. So please, I know what I'm about to ask goes against what Raiga asked of you, but I beg you.

"Please kill me."

Not a sound was made after that. Nothing except the drumming of the rain.

---

"How long does he have?"

It had taken time to ask that question. Strength, too. There was weight to it. A terrible, crushing weight that Chōjūrō could hardly bear now, like an elephant was sitting on top of him.

Asking didn't alleviate the burden at all. If anything, it made the elephant sitting on him real. His whole body felt weak. His throat was tight, his mouth was dry, making it hard to swallow. His chest ached horribly. Worse than when the Hound had pummeled him into the earth.

Mimi Inuzuka didn't answer him immediately. Part of Chōjūrō hoped she hadn't heard him at all over the downpour she was now watching through the gaping hole in the wall. But he knew better.

Even though he stood two strides behind the kunoichi in the grey isolation of the backroom he crashed Master Raiga through, with the downpour drumming against the ceiling above and the flooded stones just beyond the hole, Mimi could hear him as well as she could hear a heartbeat in total silence. And if she couldn't, Aoko could.

"At most," she began slowly, softly enough he almost didn't hear her, "with the best medicines and medical-ninjas, Ranmaru has two or three months left."

There hadn't been a bolt of lightning or rumble of thunder for several long minutes now. Yet Chōjūrō felt his heart jump all the same.

"Worst case?" he struggled to ask.

"People can die from broken hearts," she replied, just as softly as before. "Right now, Ranmaru's heart is in pieces. There's nothing you or I can do to mend it. Nothing at all. Could be days at this point."

Chōjūrō's face contorted in a grimace. He clutched his hands into white-knuckled fists and felt them begin to tremble.

"He's already lost the will to live," Mimi continued. "Hell, you heard what he said. Didn't even blink when he pleaded for one of us to kill him. And when we told him no, he kept on it, claiming he was already dead."

He had heard it. He heard every gut-wrenching plea for them to end his life. And seen how sullen Ranmaru looked when they refused to change their minds.

How could Ranmaru expect them to agree? Master Raiga had wanted them to care for him. Not murder him.

"So then, uh, what…what are our options?" Chōjūrō asked, voice trembling.

"The way I see it, there are three choices. First, we can take him back to the Leaf," Mimi offered. "In the Leaf he'll have access to the best medicines and doctors available. With enough luck and hard work, he may live longer than two to three months. Our medic-nins will also be able study his sickness. Maybe we'll find a path towards a cure for others like him.

"Second, you guys can take him to the Mist. You know your facilities and doctors better than I do, but assuming you're still handling the fallout of the Crimson Flowers refugees, I'd bet there are probably fewer doctors and resources readily available."

She was right, unfortunately. They hadn't had the time or the resources to build up their own Medical Corps. Doctors and hospitals were still in short supply, not to mention the equipment they required. There was still so much work to be done…

"You should still have doctors study his sickness while you can, if that's the option you want to go with. He'll likely die sooner, but… He obviously prefers it that way."

"What's the third option?" Chōjūrō asked, trying to ignore the tight ache in his chest.

"One of us kill our hearts, and then kill him."

He felt himself recoil. "Ho- how can you even say that?"

"Never said I liked it. You asked for options. Whether we like to admit it or not—"

"That isn't an option!" he retorted. "That's— It's—"

"Shouldn't he have the ability to decide when and how he dies?" Mimi replied calmly. "He's going to die soon, that's a guarantee. We don't know what his symptoms will be as he gets closer to dying. He may spend his final days in pain and agony because of this sickness.

"He can't walk on his own. His body is steadily dying and he can't stop it. The people he loved most, the people who gave him a reason to live, are all dead. The only thing he wants control of is how and when he dies. That's all he has left."

Her emphasis of the point, afflicted by momentary heartache, caused him to flinch.

"Between you, Haruhi, Neji and me, we could find a way to end his life painlessly. But we didn't. And we won't. Because we don't want his blood on our hands. Heh," a bitter and humorless chuckle escaped her, "when it comes down to it, we're just being selfish. 'Cause we're afraid. 'Cause we want to believe some miracle is gonna drop out of the ass-end of nowhere into our laps and save him. Even though we know it won't."

That truth hurt more than he expected it to. A punch to the nose would've hurt less.

Dizzy, Chōjūrō crossed the floor and braced his back against the nearby wall, then felt his weak body finally give way to the terrible weight. He sank down the wall to the floor, threading his fingers into his short hair as he tucked his chin into his chest.

"This is all so awful," he said, eyes stinging.

"Heh," Mimi let out another humorless chuckle. "Yeah."

"…Why does it always end up this way?" he whispered, vision blurring. "As a…a pyrrhic victory, where tragedy and suffering are everywhere we look. Why?"

He heard Mimi approach before she, too, braced her back against the wall, sinking down beside him.

"I wouldn't call it a pyrrhic victory," she said after a moment, lifting Aoko off her head and bringing the ninken into her lap. "It's a tragedy, but it wasn't a pyrrhic victory."

"What makes you say that?" he asked in defeat.

"Because we met," she replied as she gently rubbed Aoko behind her ears. "Despite all the tragedy and suffering today has brought, for the first time in years—perhaps for the first time since the first Kage Summit—Leaf and Mist shinobi met under a banner of peace. We then went on to fight side by side, bleeding together, struggling together, and eventually achieving victory together.

"The Kurosuki Family is dead. That we couldn't save a single one of them is a tragedy. That we can't save Ranmaru is an even greater tragedy. It sucks. It's awful. Trust me, I'm kicking myself in the ass as hard as you are. I'm supposed to be able to heals these sort of things. That's what Medical Ninjutsu is for."

"I'm not blaming you," he assured quickly, lowering his hands from his head.

It wasn't her fault at all. This wasn't something any of them could control. More than that, he didn't want her to bear the burden of it. Yet…

"You're not. But I am," she said, a note of defeat in her voice. "I've got a long way to go to become the medic-nin I want to be." Mimi shook her head. "Anyway, we took a beating. Losing Raiga is a blow for your Village. That we'll lose Ranmaru, too, despite our original intentions has knocked us all on our asses.

"But in all this loss, in all this suffering, we've gained something." Sapphire eyes, intense and yet soft, met his. "We've gained new comrades. We gained this bond, strengthened by the blood we shed together, and the struggles and suffering we endured. And continue to endure.

"We reached our hands out to you, and you to us, and rather than using it as an opportunity to drive a dagger between the other's ribs, we chose to lift each other up. Amari and Haku opened up a path for us. Lady Mei and Kakashi-sensei built the skeleton of a bridge, and now we've laid the first plank on it. I'd hardly call that a pyrrhic victory."

Chōjūrō hummed and looked away at nothing in particular, eyes still stinging.

She's right.

Truthfully, their current circumstance had always been a possibility. They had prepared to fight and kill Master Raiga and his followers in order to regain the Kiba Blades, which was exactly how it happened in the end.

The reclamation of the Kiba Blades was objectively a tremendous step for the Mist. One more of the Mystical Swords returned into their rightful possession, leaving only Samehada and Kabutowari elsewhere in the world.

Soon enough he would no longer be the last and only Swordsman loyal to the Mist. He looked forward to that day.

In isolation the elimination of Raiga and repossession of the Kiba Blades was a major victory. That they pulled it off without any allies dying couldn't be understated.

But more had occurred. So much more, things he never could have dreamed of. They had been gifted a wonderful opportunity, he realized at that moment. They were able to meet Amaririsu and Mimi.

They had actually worked together with the Leaf. On a mission. An objectively successful mission. None of it happened by chance or a random meeting, either. The Fifth Hokage's express orders sent Amaririsu as an envoy and Mimi's squad as support.

Today they laid down the first plank, as Mimi said, on the bridge they hoped to build.

"Don't…go dying…now. Got a…world…to fix, don't…you?"

Miss Mikki…

"Take heart…youngsters. Do not…falter now. I leave…the future to…each of you. Build it."

Master Raiga…

Chōjūrō lifted his glasses, rubbed his eyes dry then stood up without a word. He couldn't save Master Raiga, Mikki or Ranmaru, but he couldn't allow this sorrow and pain to stop him. He couldn't falter. Not now. Not ever. He had to keep pushing forward. For the future which was entrusted to him.

"We suffer, we endure, and we push on towards the future," he said absently. "We learn from our past mistakes and our dark history so we can build a brighter, peaceful future. That's what I believe the new Mist Village stands for. It's what we Mist shinobi must do to bring forth true change in our Nation tainted by pointless bloodshed, cruelty, and horrors like the Crimson Flowers."

"Not just you guys. It's what we all have to do," said Mimi.

"You're right," he agreed, nodding. Yes. It wasn't just the Mist, but the world itself. Change the world: that was the goal Amaririsu and Lady Mei strove towards.

"But although this world is full of suffering and cruelty, even though my heart is aching right now…I think it's worth fighting for," Chōjūrō said. "It isn't our Nations alone that we should call home, but this whole world," he gave voice to his newest revelation. "I think—no, I believe we can fix it."

"Let's change this world. Together."

Chōjūrō felt a powerful resolve ignite in his heart.

I want to build that world you spoke of. But I can't do it alone. None of us can, Chōjūrō thought. That's why we have to do it together. That's why we have to reach out to everyone we can. Right, Amaririsu?

"Mimi," he began after a brief pause, glancing over his shoulder at the Leaf kunoichi. "You want to build the future Amaririsu spoke of too, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do," she replied without hesitation. Aoko yipped in solidarity. "Amari's gonna change this world. And we're gonna stand by her side every step of the way."

"I feel the same way," he said, voice stronger than before. "Lady Mei is changing our world, too. Amaririsu and Lady Mei… I believe they can do it. I believe in them completely. So…" Turning around, he outstretched his hand to the Inuzuka. "Let's bear the weight of the future together. As comrades and as friends. Let's stand by their sides and help them build it."

Mimi smiled and grabbed his hand. "Yeah. Let's do it."

---

Like the birds anchored beneath the canopies, and squirrels sheltered in the hollows of trees, Team Guy and Chōjūrō exited the safety of Raiga's quarters into the windless drizzle to begin collecting the bodies of the wounded and dead Kurosuki Family members, and to aid the workers however they could.

It was along the terraces they learned of a startling development…

---

"Two of the bodies have vanished?" Amari repeated, furrowing her brow.

"Yes," Kazama confirmed from his perch on the windowsill. "One of the individuals is an unidentified Kurosuki Family member; he was dispensed off the terraces by the Eight Trigrams: Palm Rotation. We can confirm with certainty he was not felled in battle by our agents or your comrades.

"However, I would not feel troubled were he the only Kurosuki Family member missing. We could safely conclude he fled in terror when the chance presented itself."

"But the second body disproves that conclusion," she stated rather than asked.

"Precisely, Lady Amari."

"Who else is missing?

"The slain second-in-command of the Kurosuki Family, unfortunately."

"That's definitely not good." Crossing her arms, Amari felt an overwhelming anxiousness begin to bubble in her chest. "Why would he whisk away her corpse? It could be to give her a proper burial, I suppose. But that seems pretty farfetched, even when considering their loyalty. After all, there were more than a handful of survivors. He could've picked any one of them and left; that's far more logical than carrying a corpse for a proper burial. His scent has been washed away, too, by all the rain. He escaped cleanly but chose to take a corpse."

The anxiousness was boiling, bubbling, and on the verge of pouring over.

"…Unless he's not behind this at all. There is someone who could slip in and out of a battlefield without leaving a trace. There's also a jutsu that requires a living sacrifice."

"Mm. Now that is a far more troubling conclusion," Kazama admitted. "However, temper your fear, Lady Amari. Although the second-in-command did command power, it seems unlikely he would waste his time collecting her when a Seven Swordsman was close-at-hand. He also did not bother to confront you or Mimi."

"True," she conceded, feeling slightly relieved by the reassurance.

The Masked Man wouldn't have wasted an opportunity to fill their ears with his honeyed words. He liked to talk. To wind his web of truth, half-truth, and lies, and what a master he was of the art. She could almost believe him. So could Mimi.

"I guess I'm just jittery about corpses vanishing because of our recent encounter with Lady Mito."

"Understandable," Kazama dipped his beak in a curt nod. "It is not out of the realm of reason that he possesses the knowledge of the Reanimation Jutsu. If he is who he claims to be, that is. However, for now, it is more likely this is the act of the Kurosuki Family member. He must have quite the scheme in mind to commandeer a corpse."

"If we can, I'd like to stop it before he can succeed," she said. "I don't want him to sell her corpse to collect a bounty or use her for some Forbidden Jutsu."

"Agreed. We shall proceed in scouring the land for the missing Kurosuki Family member. Should we find him, we will secure him for retrieval by Team Guy."

"Thank you. Please be careful."

"Of course."

Kazama took flight from the window into the grey and cold atmosphere beyond, darkening by the minute as the sun, somewhere lost behind the curtain of clouds, sank towards the horizon.

After sliding the window shut, Amari exhaled a soft breath. At least everyone made it out all right.

She'd been pacing for what felt like hours. Sitting still just wasn't in her power when echoes of the battle were reverberating against the walls of the Curry of Life. She winced at every roar, grimaced at every flashing spear of lightning, and shuddered at every wailing shriek, wondering, fearing, what it meant for her friends and comrades.

All the while awing at the power of the one known as the Thunder God of the Mist.

Shutting her eyes, Amari rested her hand against the back of her neck and let loose all the tension after another breath.

She was relieved they survived. The whole battle sounded pretty dicey from start to finish. Too many close-calls. Way too many. They had survived by the skin of their teeth through no small amount of teamwork and the sudden impulses which swept Raiga's attention away on a howling gale.

Maybe that was the best they could hope at their current skill level when facing a legendary Swordsman. For all their power, for all their talents, they were still just kids. Still inexperienced despite their experiences.

"Tell me, do you brats think wearing that headband really makes you a shinobi?" Zabuza's dark laughter rumbled through her ears like distant thunder. "Don't be ridiculous. When you've hovered between life and death so many times it doesn't faze you then you may be called a shinobi. When you've become so deadly your profile is entered into my bingo book then you may have earned the title of shinobi."

They weren't upstarts anymore. But they weren't seasoned veterans, either. We've got a lot of work ahead of us.

"You look tired."

"Heh," she exhaled an abrupt chuckle, turning around to face Miss Anbu. The woman was seated a few steps away at the table beside the window. As always seemed to be the case, she was observing Amari with keen eyes. "It's weird. I haven't really done anything, but I feel exhausted."

"You did negotiate cooperation between Team Guy and two Mist shinobi. Maintaining a pseudo-personality at such a high level can also be taxing."

"Our squads were more or less on the same page already. All I did was reach a hand out." She shrugged. "It also wasn't much of a pseudo-personality. More of a…regression."

"Mmhm." Miss Anbu didn't press her on the deflection. "It was…almost exactly as I remember you," she admitted after a brief pause.

"Almost?" Amari tilted her head. What about her changed? She didn't feel all that different.

"You… The old you would have never spoken as much," Miss Anbu answered. "You rarely made a sound around strangers."

Ah. Of course. Her accursed shyness.

"Hmm." Amari felt her face flush. "I can't deny that. I've always been a shy and awkward mess. In some ways I've gotten better. In others…"

"In others?" Miss Anbu prompted when she trailed off, curious to hear more.

"I'd honestly love to stay just to explore this Land, but unless you take my hand in marriage I'll have to go home."

Heat burned across her cheeks.

"A few missions back," she began quietly, "Princess Koyuki of the Land of Snow mentioned how she wished we could stay. And I…" The Nara grimaced, cheeks red as fresh spilled blood, "I may have told her she'd have to take my hand in marriage for that to happen. I just…went out and said that without thinking."

Totally smooth. As smooth as sandpaper, in fact. So smooth it could be used as an exfoliator to grind barnacles off skin. God, she was hopeless, wasn't she?

"What did the Princess say?" Again she sounded more curious than anything else. But Amari could sense the battle to not smile taking place beneath the cat-mask.

"She teased me about it. Said I was a little underage for her, but also mentioned an arranged marriage. I then blabbered like an idiot, calling her beautiful," Amari decided tearing it off quickly was preferable to prolonging her pain. "I even told her we couldn't be married because I knew nothing of romance. I didn't know how to court her or be courted.

"Oh god," she buried her burning face into her hands, "just remembering it is soooo embarrassing. Why does my mouth do that so much?"

"So much?" Miss Anbu repeated, a hint of mirth slipping into her voice.

"It wasn't the first time. Or the last," she muttered from behind her hands. "Please don't ask me to recount them all right now. I'll die. Gruesomely."

Miss Anbu snorted but didn't press her for details. Not today, anyway.

Despite that, Amari found herself reliving those mortifying incidents one after another. Cringing and grimacing at how stupid she sounded.

Between the time with Haku, which happened in front of Zabuza and Kakashi, and the time with Reina in the Hero World, which happened in front of Yukiko of all people, she feared what the future held for her.

Who else would she make a total fool of herself in front of? Would she ask a prince next to marry her? A Feudal Lord or his wife?

Oh god. Horror struck the young kunoichi out of the blue. What if I say something really stupid to Lady Mei if we ever met!

She was already on the Fifth Hokage's radar for telling Lady Mito about her gambling and drinking, which was technically Naruto's fault; he was the one who blabbered it out loud. But a technicality wasn't going to save her from the Fifth Hokage.

So, what if she called Lady Mei beautiful the first time they met? What if she asked the Fifth Mizukage to marry her!

"I'm…I'm going to doom us all!" Amari panicked, clutching the sides of her head.

"Haya?" Miss Anbu sounded unsure whether to be concerned or amused.

"I always end up saying something super awkward and embarrassing without thinking to attractive people," she rambled. "And, and, and they're always older than me, too! There's a pattern, isn't there? That's a pattern. It's always people older than me. With boys and girls my age I can hold my own. My friends and peers are safe territory for me to speak to now. Mostly.

"But Haku, Princess Koyuki, Reina, they are all older than me. And I said some super embarrassing things with Yukiko. Heartfelt and sincere things, but I wasn't smooth at all. I probably said embarrassing things to the other kids in Class 1-A, now that I think about it.

"So, what if the Fifth Mizukage's really beautiful and she asks to meet me! And in that meeting, when I see her, my mouth just moves and says something totally inappropriate. Like another proposal of marriage, except for the securing of an alliance between our Nations. Or I just come out and tell her she's beautiful in front of everyone! What if she finds it so inappropriate she second guesses an alliance? All because of my awkwardness! I'll ruin everything. I'll doom us all!"

Miss Anbu stared at her for a long moment. Then, with all the candor and gravitas of an S-rank threat, she said,

"There's no choice, then. This is a pattern, Haya. You cannot speak to the Fifth Mizukage. Ever. Should you by random chance find yourself in her presence I will be obligated to Seal your mouth shut. Please understand. This is in order to protect the Leaf."

Amari paused. Blinked. Then stared at the woman.

"…You… You're teasing me!"

The horrified accusation broke the façade. Miss Anbu lifted her hand to the expressionless porcelain cat's mouth and giggled. Quickly, she stifled it and cleared her throat.

"This is the second time I have heard you mention someone named Yukiko. Who is she, if I may ask."

"Don- don't change the subject," Amari sputtered. "I'm having a crisis here."

"You will be fine, Haya," Miss Anbu placated, clearly amused. "You won't doom us all. Even if you do say something awkward, you're a shy teenager. It's expected. Some people find it endearing."

Slumping in defeat, Amari said, "I'm going to be alone forever, aren't I?"

A lonely bird whisperer. Like an old cat lady, but with feathers. She wouldn't be an enchantress at all. She'd just be an old hermit, a misunderstood witch who scared off all potential lovers. What terrible defeat for Amaririsu Yūhi.

"I was afraid you lost it," Miss Anbu said suddenly.

"Hm?" Amari dispensed with her dramatics to look at the kunoichi. "Afraid I lost what?"

"You've grown up so much since I last saw you. There's a maturity in your eyes, in your presence, and in how you speak. You're always watching others. Listening. Learning.

"After the battle against Lady Mito, although you were present in the conversations with your friends, although you smiled and laughed and teased them, I could see your mind was elsewhere. You were thinking of the battle and everything you had learned.

"This mission has been no different. You continue to search for answers, trying to understand others, including those who may be your enemies. You seek answers to the world's problems despite their enormity. Truthfully, seeing you now, you remind me of Shisui."

"I'm nowhere near as amazing as he was," Amari denied, shaking her head.

Shisui was a hero. Her hero. If she could be even half the person he was she'd be content.

"Maybe not in your eyes. But to mine…I feel like I've stepped back through time," Miss Anbu said sincerely. "You've truly inherited their spirits—Shisui's and your parents. I never imagined I'd see you grow up. To see you now…it's like a dream. A wonderful dream I thought far out of my grasps.

"Yet, seeing how much you've grown…I was afraid you had lost it completely. Your ability to be a child, I mean."

"If I spent all of my time brooding about the world it'd just make everything a drag. My face would get stuck like Itachi's. Shisui taught me that," Amari replied, smiling a fond and remorseful smile.

"Mm." Even through the mask Amari could tell Miss Anbu wore a similar smile. "That sounds like Shisui."

In the solemn silence that followed, Amari sat down beside Miss Anbu. Grandma Sanshō swept the floor while Hachidai and Sangorō sat at the counter; the Kurosuki Family members were safely secured inside a scroll. Rokusuke was…still upstairs, no longer unconscious or bound, but in need of time alone.

After the verbal blistering he'd given her, ending when he could no longer scream over his sobs, Amari decided to give him space. Time to grieve, she supposed. Her Shadow Clone lingered nearby in the shadows for his safety.

She was more afraid he'd hurt himself than anyone else now.

"Yukiko is…was the first person I've ever truly been in love with," Amari began suddenly. "I've had crushes. Have crushes. Attraction is a part of being human. But what I shared with Yukiko… It transcended a childlike crush."

"Yukiko was from the other world, right?" Miss Anbu asked.

"Yes," Amari nodded. "I know I sound crazy. All this talk about other worlds, a multiverse of infinite possibilities, and alternate realities. It's like something out of a manga or a movie."

"It isn't so strange. The frontier of space-time ninjutsu is relatively untouched. Generally speaking, shinobi have searched for its uses in combat scenarios. Like storing weapons, signing summoning contracts with powerful animals, utilizing summoning seals for the purposes of infiltration, and, of course, the Flying Raijin created by the Second Hokage and perfected by the Fourth. Using it to explore the vast universe of infinite possibilities, as you call it, has never been considered."

"Probably for the best, honestly," the Nara considered. "Imagine if someone like Orochimaru figured it out. He could prop himself up as a god depending on the world he ended up in."

"Very true. So," Miss Anbu shifted the conversation, "did Yukiko reciprocate your feelings?"

"She did. It's sort of a long story. I'd love to tell you about the whole thing, if you'd like to hear it."

"I would. I…I want to hear everything," she said, voice filled with longing only time apart and grief could cause. Amari recognized it well. "Everything you have seen and experienced since that night. The good, and the bad. But…"

"The mission comes first," Amari said knowingly. "You can't let your guard down because of the Masked Man. I understand."

She pursed her lips, gathering her thoughts. She wanted to at least give her something. Even if it was condensed.

"Yukiko was a kindred spirit," she began again, only to chuckle a little. "Unlike me, though, she was charming. Roguish. She was an amazing artist, too. I'll have to show you the picture she drew for me."

Amari paused, catching herself before she could ramble aimlessly.

"When I told everyone what happened, I actually sort of lied to all of them. I said I never considered staying in the Hero World after I summoned Osamu and Atsuko.

"The thing is, I did consider it," she admitted, fiddling with her haori sleeve. Nervous. Feeling guilty, like she had betrayed everyone. But she couldn't lie to Miss Anbu. She couldn't lie to her big sister.

"There was a small moment. It was after the fire. After Yukiko helped me clean up and change clothes. We were laying together on her bed, talking about everything and nothing at all, and as I looked into her eyes, I thought to myself, 'I want to stay with her forever.'

"I want to leave it all behind, is what I thought. Everything. I want to stay here in her arms. I never want to stop feeling this love we share. In that moment, I wanted to leave behind the burdens of my lineage. The burdens of Ryu's wish and all the pain the path I have to walk will bring. I wanted to abandon it all. Even if it meant abandoning all that I knew and loved for a strange world and the war that was coming to it. Because I loved Yukiko. I really did."

Shutting her eyes, Amari let out a bitter and self-deprecating chuckle. "Hearing myself admit that out loud finally, it sounds even worse than I thought. I'm an awful person, aren't I? Only a terrible person would think something so utterly selfish. I would have left Kasai and all our other enemies to burn this whole world down. For love? How twisted is that."

"You're not an awful person, Haya," Miss Anbu reassured gently. "Everyone has selfish thoughts. Even Shisui. But that is all they are—selfish, but invariably harmless thoughts. It's your actions that truly matter."

"I don't know…"

"Don't overthink it." Miss Anbu rested her hand on top of hers, drawing her eyes to the dark gaze behind the mask. "You came back. That's what matters. You already bear a heavy burden, Haya. Like Shisui did. The path you've chosen will demand a great deal from you. But you're only human. Sometimes your wants and desires may not align with this path, and understand that that's okay. It isn't wrong for you to wish to be selfish now and then."

"Even I was a little selfish," Shisui's voice came to her.

"Seize moments like those you shared with Yukiko while you can," Miss Anbu said. "As shinobi, there is a chance we may die on any mission. And love is… Love is a gift. It's worth it. The joy, and the pain," Miss Anbu said, the slightest tremble in her voice.

She understood both, Amari realized. The joy of purest love, and the agony of losing it.

"It is worth it," she agreed after a moment, glancing towards the stairs. "Even if it's hard to see through the pain sometimes."

"Rokusuke will understand in time."

"I hope so. I think it's too fresh right now."

"It is. However, why did you allow him to shout at you?"

"Who else could he vent to?" Amari posed the question. "This Nation is more conservative than the Leaf. He's afraid to talk about his 'freakish secret' to anyone; he and Kanpachi kept their tryst as private as possible, and those around them might cast him out now, bully him, or worse for all I know. He needed someone to talk it out with. Or shout it out with, I suppose, and even blame."

"You didn't say a word the entire time."

"I wanted to," she admitted, placing her hands on the table to quietly drum her pointer fingers on it. "I thought of what I could say to prove we weren't different. Not in the way he was implying, anyway. If I could do that, maybe I could calm him down. Maybe I could show him I did understand. Maybe I could show him we both understand the pain of losing people precious to us. I still believe that would've been the best way.

"Yet every time I prepared to say something…I couldn't bring myself to speak."

"Why not?"

"There was so much pain in his eyes. It reminded me of…well, me." She lifted her hands up and stared at her palms. "I held Ryu in my arms as he took his last breath. To this day I can still hear it. I can still feel him die in my arms. I remember how alone and frightened I felt. How was I supposed to fulfill his wish? How could a weakling like me do anything at all? I was the reason he was dead in the first place. I couldn't let go. No, I chose not to let go. I chose to hold on too tightly…and, in the end, they both slipped from my grasps. I hate myself for it. I probably always will."

"Haya…"

"When I remembered Shisui for the first time, the pain was so intense. I remember how awful I felt. How I just wanted to curl up into a ball and…die. Just so I could be with him again, far from all the pain I was feeling. Both times all I wanted to do was die," she said, then clutched her hands into fists. "And then I remember the rage. The hatred.

"I tried to kill them all. Itachi, Aimi, Kisame; I wanted to kill them. No. I wanted to maim them. I wanted to make them suffer. Break them bone by bone. Piece by piece. I wanted them to beg me for mercy, and then I would make them suffer more. Because Shisui was gone. They'd taken him from me. That was all I could think of."

For an instant, she saw all of those emotions in Rokusuke. That was when she realized the truth.

"He reflected everything I've ever felt," she said, flattening her hands on the table. "And I realized nothing I could say would help. Nothing I could say could fix this mess. Words can't wipe away that kind of pain."

If words were that powerful, there would be no suffering in the world. No more grief stricken tears or sleepless nights, wishing and praying for pain to end. If words could heal, the world would be a lot different.

Their lives would all be different.

"Maybe we can find an understanding through our shared pain," she said. "Maybe that is the right path. But it isn't the right time. He didn't need someone to tell them 'I understand.' Even if I do, it doesn't matter. Right now all he can think of is what he kept falling back to."

"You were supposed to understand. You were supposed to be the same. But you aren't," Miss Anbu repeated.

"Yeah," she sighed. She wouldn't forget those words anytime soon. "He's not wrong. We aren't the same. Our environments are totally different. I don't know. I just felt…I felt like saying anything would make it about me. Like I was diminishing the intensity of his feelings. Like I was trying to say, 'you think your pain is bad, but you don't know how much I've suffered.' It made me feel self-centered. Childish. Like I somehow know the most pain."

"You have suffered grave losses."

"Maybe. But, then, so have you," she said, looking to Miss Anbu. "You've lost as much, if not more, than I have. So have Kakashi-sensei, Uncle Shikaku and Aunt Yoshino. The pain Shisui felt in his final moments surpasses mine any day of the week."

"It isn't a competition, Haya."

"Exactly. That's what I'm trying to say," she agreed calmly. "When I tried to think of what to tell Rokusuke, I realized I was making it about myself and my pain. Like it was somehow greater than his. But whether I've lost more or not doesn't matter.

"Itachi and Aimi suffer daily. Lady Mito suffered. Lady Mei suffered. Lady Tsunade suffered. My parents, you, you all suffered so much. Naruto, Gaara, Hikari and Haku, they have all suffered. The shinobi world is full of similar suffering," she made a delicate gesture with her hand to the surrounding walls, and the world beyond.

"Maybe one day I can bridge this divide between Rokusuke and I. Maybe one day we can find common ground and understanding. But that moment wasn't the time for it. It would've been an attempt to dismiss his pain and grief. It would've been so childish. Because only a child can look at this world and say their pain is greater than everyone else's."

Miss Anbu stared at her for a long, silent moment.

"Shikaku and Yoshino were right," she spoke up suddenly.

"They're always right. It's sort of a drag," Amari quipped. "What were they right about this time? Am I troublesome workaholic again?"

"You're parents would be so proud of you," Miss Anbu said resolutely.

"Ah," Amari flushed. "I…I'm trying my best to be worth their sacrifices."

"You already are."

---

Rokusuke had finally emerged from the upstairs bedroom when he overheard Amaririsu speaking to the cat-masked woman. From there he eavesdropped on everything they had said until, finally, he came to sit on the stairs, head cradled in his hands.

He hated her for being so mature. He hated her for being so kind. He hated how she thought of others and their suffering over her own. He hated that she refused to give up on him.

There was only one thing that superseded his hatred for Amaririsu, who was completely different than he was.

Rokusuke hated himself most. For being so weak. For being so immature. For the self-loathing he pushed onto Amaririsu. He hated himself for standing up, climbing the stairs to return to solitude again. Like a coward. He hated himself for thinking only of himself and no one else, proving once again how different they really were from each other.

In the room again, he sat down against a wall and stared out the window, eyes glistening with tears.

Kanpachi…

He hated that he couldn't bring himself to apologize.

---

"Team Guy and the Mist shinobi have nearly arrived," Yūgao informed, preparing to slip into the shadows once more.

Haya nodded in understanding. "Okay. Guess that means it's back to hiding in plain sight for you, huh? The spooky cat shadow within my shadow, lurking in plain sight, ready to pounce at any moment. Maybe I should start calling you Miss Kitty instead of Miss Anbu," she added lightly. "Do you think Mr. Anbu will mind? Or should I start calling him Mr. Kitty to be fair? Can you ask him for me? In front of comrades you trust, just for fun."

Yūgao fought against a smile behind her mask. Shikaku and Yoshino were right again. She'd seen a glimmer of it before on the return walk with Lady Mito, but now there could be no doubt—Haya had inherited her mother's unique sense of humor, altered only slightly to her own quirks and personality.

Haya was… She was the only one who had found a way to make her smile and laugh since Hayate was slain. The only one to stay her hand and soothe her spirit when hatred clouded it. Without any effort at all. Just by being Haya.

I want…I want more time. I want you to tell me everything. Every detail. Every story. Every peak and valley you've experienced. I want to hear it all.

Before Yūgao could hesitate, as though sensing her desires, Haya disarmed her with a warm smile.

"Let's talk again when we get back home." She poked the Anbu agent in the belly. "And no masks next time. You're not supposed to wear a mask around family. Okay?"

Yūgao couldn't fight the smile any longer.

"Okay."

---

When Karashi finally regained consciousness, the first sensation he became aware of was the awful pain of heavy boots stomping his chest, face and skull. He grimaced and groaned, wincing when the mere act of grimacing and groaning intensified the sharp pain in his face.

It took him an extra moment to understand there was no one taking the boots to him. What he felt was the leftover aches of the butt-kicking he'd received at the hands of some girl he'd never seen before.

The second sensation he became aware of was the familiar scent of spices. He recognized them instantly. How could he not? He'd spent his whole life so far smelling the assortment of spices his mother used in her curry dishes. She was cooking something spicy, his nose detected. Something spicier than the Curry of Life.

Then there was the third sensation. A harsh flick to the forehead which felt like a metal shovel crashed against his skull.

"Ugh," he groaned, head spinning and stomach swirling. The scent of spices was making it so much worse. He could feel it…

"Waking up finally?"

"I feel… Ughh."

"Ah, hell. Looks like he's about to pop. Tenten, hand me that bucket. Lee, help me keep him upright."

Karashi felt strong hands support his weak and light body. For a long time his world was the inside of a wooden bucket. He lost track of how many times he dry heaved, but for one reason or another, nothing ever quite came up.

He'd never felt so sick and frail in his life. All he wanted to do was curl up on the floor and wake up when it had all passed, but he never fell asleep, and his stomach never emptied itself into the bucket.

Eventually the headache and nausea subsided enough for him to comprehend his surroundings, mainly that of the wooden bucket his face was shoved inside of. It was progress.

He had no idea the hand on the back of his head was applying Medical Ninjutsu.

"Ugh," he moaned pitifully. "When I get my hands on that girl. I swear…"

"Karashi," the familiar voice of Rock Lee scolded.

"No, no. Let him finish, Lee."

Karashi felt himself still. He recognized that voice, too. Lifting his gaze out of the bucket, he felt his stomach swirl and his hands tremble at the sight of the red fang markings, the vicious grin and malevolent sapphire gaze belonging to his assailant, now looming over him.

"I'd just love to hear what he's gonna do to me."

"No- nothing! I wasn't going to…" Her piercing stare didn't budge. Lying, he realized, wasn't going to work. "I- I mean… You punched me!" he accused.

He would have pointed his trembling finger, too, had he the strength to toss aside the bucket, but now it felt like a sturdy, impenetrable palisade standing between them. A weapon, even, to hold back a vicious, snarling dog.

He also feared she would break his finger out of spite.

The girl with fang like markings nodded along; he noticed a second head on top of hers, and then identified it as the small head of a black puppy, which watched him indifferently.

"I did punch you." She sounded pleased about it. Proud of herself, even.

"See!" he declared, though he wasn't sure who he was declaring it for. He only recognized Lee's voice and the girl, but hadn't taken in the rest of his surroundings. "Of course I'd be a bit angry about that. You punched me, so, yeah, I said when I get my hands on that girl. On you," he corrected. "In fact, I should…"

He stopped himself short of saying he should get a free hit in return as payment. Even if it would've felt good to knock the girl off her feet for hurting him, he had to think more strategically.

"You should pay me. For the damages," he decided, and felt a burst of pride at how cunning his plan was shaping out to be.

In control, his lips curled into what he believed was a cunning and powerful smile; he was totally making a power move even the Boss would appreciate.

Soon enough this young, stupid shinobi would be begging for his forgiveness, she wouldn't want her superiors to hear about this. After all, she was probably some know-nothing Genin, who'd have her whole career stamped out if word got around she attacked a civilian. Unprovoked, too!

Yeah, that'd be the perfect blackmail, Karashi marveled at his brilliance. Then she'll be paying me a percentage of her wages for years to come.

Little did he realize the powerful and cunning smile he felt on his lips was little more than a slimy, unattractive sneer, made all the more unattractive by the bruising and swelling on his face.

"Shinobi've got laws, don't they? I bet there's something in there about hurting civilians."

"Yep," she nodded along. "We do. Based on shinobi history, though, I'd say it's treated as a loose guideline than a binding law. As long as the ends are justified, anyway," she added with a cavalier shrug.

Her violent grin didn't falter. In fact, she looked at him like he had a jester hat on his head and bells on his shoes. Like she was in complete control, simply allowing him to speak until, inevitably, she would snap her fingers and demand him to dance for a crowd.

Talk about annoying.

"Bet you aren't protected from unprovoked assaults!" he countered.

"Uh-huh." She sounded bored. "I'd probably get my ass chewed out by the Old Hag, my rank stripped, and find myself performing all sorts of mundane chores until I proved myself trustworthy. To steal a phrase, it'd be a real drag."

"This is going nowhere."

The bland statement sent a chill shooting down his spine.

"Now, now, Haruhi," the girl with fang markings placated the Mist kunoichi with a menacing air. "I want him to get it all out of his system. I want him to puff his chest a little more. C'mon, little boy."

She bent over to pat her legs like calling a dog to follow her, bringing her intimidating face even closer to his. "C'mon. C'mon. Say everything you wanna say," she demanded with pseudo-excitement. "I want to hear it all. Let's hear that juicy blackmail attempt. We're at the unprovoked stage, right? So, tell me, what are the damages? I've gotta pay something, right? Let's aim high, shall we. Don't insult me. I know my worth. C'mon, what's it gonna be?"

"Uh… Well, you see…" Karashi began to look around, unable to process the humiliation over his pounding heart. "Uh, I should probably…discuss it with the Boss first?"

He saw two Leaf shinobi, a boy and girl, whom he didn't recognize. The boy held him beneath a disinterested and cold lavender gaze, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the kitchenette counter. The girl with her hair tied in two buns sat on the counter beside him. She looked ready to roll her eyes at any given moment.

Karashi turned his head more to see Rock Lee directly behind him, the disappointment on his face as all-encompassing as the storm Raiga summoned.

It's not raining anymore, he noticed in his fearful search.

Head spinning and stomach churning, his eyes finally fell onto Chōjūrō and Haruhi. They were joined by a small, blue-haired girl with a Leaf headband and a frail, sullen and silent boy, sitting inside a black sleeping bag far too big for him.

The Leaf girl was watching the whole scene with distant curiosity. She wouldn't interrupt, he assumed from her behavior. No matter what happened.

Adjacent to her was Chōjūrō, seated with his legs crossed; he couldn't even look at Karashi. But his fists, he noticed, were white-knuckled on the table, and his jaw tight. He looked ready to burst from holding himself back, but he was too kind to take action or yell.

Nearby, his sword was bandaged again and leaning against the table, right where he could reach it.

Raiga, Mikki, other members of the Kurosuki Family, he didn't see them anywhere. It relieved his tension, then made his throat tighter and his stomach unsettled, like he'd eaten too much spicy curry and now a bomb was going off in his insides.

He had no one to rely on. No one to beg for help.

He was all alone. Alone with Leaf and Mist shinobi, who would show no sympathy to him.

When that frightening realization struck Karashi, his eyes fell onto Haruhi, who was seated with her back braced against the wall. And staring at him. Always staring at him. Her unsettling orange gaze, so chilling, full of nothing except contempt and…death.

He felt another cold shiver down his spine. He felt himself gag, then nearly puke then and there. He never realized it was killing intent.

Beside her, leaning against the wall, were the Kiba Blades.

It told him everything.

"Finally figured it out, huh," the girl with fang like markings spoke up, voice now cold. "Raiga's dead. Mikki's dead. The Kurosuki Family is gone."

"It…can't be." He felt himself gag again as the horror of it all came over him. "How? How did you kill them? There's no way. There's just…It's gotta be a mistake. The Boss can't be dead. He's like a god."

"The Boss? Heh. You know, it's almost funny hearing you call Raiga that," the girl said, but there was no amusement in her voice. Just an invisible cold blade he could feel against his throat. "You're so desperate for his protection and his approval, and yet you're the reason he's dead."

"I- I didn't kill him," Karashi refuted, turning around to face her.

"I didn't say you killed him. We did. I said you're the reason he's dead."

"I didn't do anything! You—" he turned his head to look at all the other shinobi, "all of you are the ones who barged in and killed them. Don't try to pin this on me! You're the killers. Everything was going well before you showed up. The Kurosuki Family had a good thing going."

"You mean burying innocent people alive? Is that the good thing they had going?"

"They tried to organize a revolt. They had it coming," Karashi replied firmly. Without thinking.

When the girl backhanded him quick as a flash, without hesitation, without mercy, Karashi was stunned. Shell-shocked. It hurt. It hurt badly. His eyes stung with tears instantly. Humiliation swept over his entire being.

Part of him wished he had a manly reaction. He urged his body to move, to stand up and slap her back to put the girl in her place. Actions had consequences, right? And he wasn't about to take a slap without returning the favor.

Karashi couldn't move. He couldn't even form a word. He could only sit there, stunned, on the verge of crying.

Besides the recent slam, kick and punch he endured at the hands of the girl with sapphire eyes, Karashi had never been hit before. There was a bit of roughhousing with the Kurosuki Family, which he usually ended up on the losing side of. Obviously. But he always walked away unscathed.

They went easy on him. They treated him how they might an annoying kid brother, pulling his ears, pushing him around a little, wrestling him to the ground until he begged to be released—nothing harmful. Nothing with the intent to hurt Karashi.

His mother had never slapped him, either. She chewed him out for being lazy or unmotivated, but she never actually slapped him. Never once.

Now his head was ringing. His cheek stung. Badly. He didn't know how to process it.

"You… You slapped me," he struggled to speak.

"You had it coming," she parroted his words back to him, sneering as she did. "For the record, I was provoked. By that stupid mouth of yours."

In a moment of sudden blind rage, Karashi lunged off the ground at the girl. She dodged the bucket he swung as a weapon without effort, then backhanded him again. Harder. He crashed to the floor in a heap of pain and humiliation.

"Try it again, prick," she dared. "I can do this all day. Hitting you is better than squeezing a stress ball."

The pup on her head snarled viciously. She looked ready to tear his jugular apart.

"You're right, Aoko. He's so quick to judge what others deserve. How about we start deciding what you deserve. You tried to cave in Chōjūrō's head." Her foot came to rest on his head, pressing it harder against the ground. His headache screamed a searing, high pitched note. "I think it's only fair we take turns trying to cave yours in."

"I…I didn't…" he groaned.

"Don't pull that crap," she seethed, roughly removing her foot from his head. It hurt, too. "I saw you. You lunged at him fully intending to cave his skull in. You thought it would save your skin, right? You thought if you could kill Chōjūrō, Raiga and Mikki would take you back. That they'd pull you into a tight embrace and sing praises for how wonderful and powerful you were. You'd be a member of the Kurosuki Family once again."

He had thought that. How the hell could she even know? Could she read minds, too?

"You never had the slightest idea what the Kurosuki Family meant to Raiga and Mikki or all the others who called it home," she chastised harshly. "All you saw was power. And once you had it, oh, once you had that intoxicating euphoria, you were hooked. You were willing to do anything to keep it.

"First, you tried to bow up to Raiga so he'd dismiss Lady Mizukage's offer. That's when our negotiations crumbled and all chances of a peaceful conclusion went up in flames. The only choice left was saving you and killing the Kurosuki Family, or letting you die and continuing negotiations like nothing happened. But Haruhi made a judgement call. She decided to save you."

Save? How was he saved? His whole future with the Kurosuki Family went up in flames because of them.

"What I find interesting is Raiga had a moment of clarity as he prepared to kill you," she continued. "Almost a prophetic vision. According to our Mist friends, he said you would even doom his entire Family if it meant protecting yourself. And look where we are. You're alive, and the Kurosuki Family is gone."

"It wasn't…my fault," he groaned, pushing himself into a seated position.

"Nothing is ever your fault, is it? Someone else is always to blame. Your mom, the workers, us. It's always someone else. You're just so goddamn perfect, aren't you? Tch, it'd be funny if people hadn't died for your selfishness."

"It wasn't me!" he shouted back. New strategy. He had to keep thinking. Keep planning. There had to be some way out of this dangerous situation. "Raiga was crazy, you saw that. He would've kept performing his funerals no matter where he was. You would've had to kill him anyway. Same thing with Mikki. She was a brute and cared only about herself."

He stopped himself short of saying, "You owe me for showing you their true colors." Despite everything, he knew it'd get him hit again.

"You're wrong." The quiet voice came from behind him. It belonged to the small, frail and sullen looking boy. "Mikki wasn't a brute. She cared about all of us. She was kind and generous, and she protected you many times. Also, before you angered him, Raiga understood he would have to give up the funerals. He would have stopped for the future of our Family. I know he would have."

That news struck Chōjūrō like a fist. He squeezed his eyes shut and tightened his fists, on the verge of slamming them against the table in frustration.

Karashi had a different reaction.

"Who the heck are you? And what do you know about it, anyway? I've never seen you before in my life so stay out of this!" Karashi chastised.

The hell was this random kid doing? Trying to ruin everything, apparently.

"And now it's Raiga and Mikki. Do you see the pattern now?" the girl with sapphire eyes asked. "Also, yell at him again and I'll kick your teeth out."

Karashi grit his teeth. What was with these people constantly jumping down his throat over every little thing he said? Some random kid talks about the Boss and Mikki, people the kid didn't even know, and suddenly he's the bad guy again. Seriously. They were worse than his mother.

He shook off the frustration and the fear. They weren't planning to kill him, he was certain of that. Leaf shinobi were too noble for something like murdering a non-combatant.

Besides, they kept on about how "Haruhi made a judgement call" and "she decided to save you." Total garbage, obviously. The Mist shinobis totally ruined everything he had going. But if he hoped to avoid getting hit again, he had to pretend they didn't walk in and wreck his entire life.

So, the real question then was…

"All right," he spoke up, exasperated. after a thoughtful pause. "What do you want from me?"

It was the wrong question. Or, rather, the wrong tone, he realized when her lip curled and a vicious snarl thrummed from her throat.

"What I want," she growled, "is for you to grow a pair and take some responsibility."

"Responsibility for what?" he spat back unpleasantly. Now she was insulting his manhood? What was her damn problem? "I didn't kill anyone. Maybe you should look in the mirror if you want someone to blam—"

Suddenly he found his shirt snatched by the girl and her furious face inches from his. He was thankful for his empty bladder.

"Listen to me, you spineless prick," she snarled. "You wanna know what you need to take responsibility for? Then shut the hell up and listen. You ran away from home. You broke your mother's heart, who only wanted you to show some goddamn urgency in picking up the one trade she knows before she dies."

"Now you're taking her side? Of course you would. You aren't the one she's always ridin—"

Crack!

She slapped him again. Open-handed. Somehow that was more humiliating.

He said nothing, though. He couldn't. There was a look of murder in her eyes.

"Shut. The hell. Up." The entire curry shop was eerily silent, like the last breath of life had been suffocated from it. "You think you've got it tough? Grow up! At least you've got a parent who gives a damn about you!" she snarled, shaking him.

"You know how many people aren't that lucky? Do you know how many have lost their parents before they could know them? How many grow up abused by drunks, or are thrown out onto the streets to fend for themselves, or kicked out of their homes or towns because of the gifts they were born with?

"Oh, my mom's tough on me," she mocked his complaint. "Like hell she is. Tough is living off scraps of garbage in an impoverished Nation. Tough is living with the scorn of an entire Village or being branded as a child because of some stupid old tradition. Tough is reaching your Academy graduation, and surprise! Your final exam is to kill your friends to become a shinobi!

"So don't tell me you've got it tough," growled the girl. "You've had a roof over your head since you were a child. You had a parent who loved and doted on you. Who worked her ass off to keep food in your stomach. She's tried to push you to pick up her trade because she wants you to at least have some way to provide for yourself when she can no longer take care of you.

"And what is her thanks? You whine and complain like a brat. Then you run off to play the role of a thug. You say the workers Raiga buried—innocent people who just wanted to work without thugs or a magistrate bullying or taxing them until they couldn't afford bread crumbs—deserved it. I should hand you over to the local authorities. You deserve to rot in a jail for a while and then maybe, maybe you'll finally understand your selfishness had consequences!"

The girl with fang like markings on her face released his shirt, shoving him away so he collapsed onto his back.

"You're pathetic," she spat, stepping away toward the door. "Just lookin' at ya makes me sick to my stomach. Lee, he's all yours. I need to take a walk."

Frustrated, humiliated, Karashi couldn't stop his mouth.

"Why does some brute of a girl like you get to travel the world and fight, but I have to sit in a curry shop for the rest of my life?" Karashi wondered in annoyance, sitting himself up

He swore he heard her bare foot screech on the floor. Then, without warning, the girl was upon him again, both hands curled into his shirt, yanking him off the floor. Suddenly the air was knocked from him, spine slamming against the nearby wall.

The look of murder was flashing in her eyes. No one was coming to help.

"Do you think this is some sort of game?" she bellowed. "Do you think fightin' has no consequences? People are dead, Karashi. Dead!"

"I didn't kill anyone," he gasped for air. His collar was tightening around his throat.

"I am so sick of hearin' you say that," she seethed. "You would've killed Chōjūrō. He went out of his way to protect you, yet you spat on that. You tried to kill him. Now you want to tell him you didn't kill anyone. Like that somehow absolves you of being a two-faced bastard. It pisses me off!

"You want all the power and violence that comes with bein' a thug or a shinobi, but none of the responsibility that comes with it. None of the consequences. It's just a big adventure and game to you, isn't it? Playin' the role of a thug like a theater performer, and then what? Once you get bored you want to come straight home and pretend nothin' happened. Like you did nothin' wrong.

"You want to bully those who are weaker than you, but once someone stronger picks a fight with you— look me in the eyes when I'm talkin' to you, you worthless sack of flesh!"

She slammed him against the wall again. He gasped and grimaced. In pain. And in fear.

"Once someone stronger fights back, you tuck your tail between your legs and start blamin' everyone else for what happened. You hide behind others as shield. That way your hands are always clean. You're a weasel. A spineless coward! People are dead because of you. People who didn't need to die found themselves buried alive in those tunnels because you pissed Raiga off!"

"Then why did you save me, huh? I didn't ask for anyone's help."

"You ungrateful bastard. It's because of you we had to fight on a battlefield populated by civilians! Had you just shut your goddamn mouth, there's a chance we could've negotiated peaceful terms with Raiga. And if that failed, we would have waited until he moved on so civilians wouldn't be caught in the crossfire of our battle. There wouldn't have been any more civilian casualties. But you," she snarled, "you and this stupid mouth of yours!"

"Mimi."

It wasn't Rock Lee who suddenly appeared beside the girl named Mimi like a phantom, but the small, blue-haired girl in the haori colored like a sunset and lapis blue kimono.

She rested a hand on the taller girl's arm and looked her in the eye. "Let him go. Haruhi was right, this is going nowhere."

"It'll go somewhere when I knock some teeth out."

"I won't let you do that." Somehow such a small girl spoke with the presence and authority of the Boss. She didn't even look at him. "The first time you hit him, he deserved it. The second time can be excused as self-defense. Anything now will just be you taking your frustration out on him. That's unacceptable, even if he deserves it."

"Seriously? Are all shinobi girls little—"

His back slammed against the wall. "Insult her and there's not a god that will be able to reassemble the pieces I carve you into," snarled Mimi.

The small kunoichi sighed. "I wish you weren't making me do this. I didn't want to get involved, but this has gone on long enough."

Karashi felt Mimi's body stiffen suddenly. The small girl opened her fingers, and Mimi did, too. Sensing he had a chance at a free, retaliatory shot, he clutched a fist. Then his body froze.

The little girl didn't look at him when she spoke.

"You're an idiot."

"He is," Haruhi, he noticed, nodded in agreement to her assessment.

"Yelling at Karashi isn't going to change his behavior," the little girl directed to Mimi. "Punching him, slamming him against a wall, even breaking a bone won't change anything. He's only going to dig his heels in because he thinks he's being treated unfairly."

"Talkin' to him won't change anything," replied Mimi heatedly.

"True. I wasn't planning to waste my breath on a lecture." Karashi didn't like her dismissive tone. "There are other ways to help him understand the dangers and weight of what we do. Without dirtying your hands. So please, calm down."

Mimi glared intensely at him. Thoughts of violence and maiming were crystal clear in her sapphire eyes, and again he felt the sick feeling in his stomach.

"Fine," she finally said. "We'll do it your way."

"Thank you."

Mimi's hands stopped mirroring the small girl's suddenly. Without a word, she turned away to join the girl with her hair tied in buns and the boy with lavender eyes.

"Ye- yeah," Karashi spoke up suddenly, bowing up. "That's right. Skulk off—"

"That's enough, you idiot." Again the small girl spoke with an authority she shouldn't have possessed. Yet his mouth shut on its own accord. "It's evening. I'm tired. Your mother has special curry for you to eat and Lee has important things he wants to say to you, so let's get this whole troublesome ordeal over with."

She still had yet to look at him.

"Who the heck are you anyway?" he demanded. "And why can't I move."

"Those are meaningless questions. You wouldn't understand the answers."

"Calling me an idiot again?"

"Just stating the obvious," she replied, shrugging. "Anyway, be a good boy and pay close attention. Well, I guess asking you to do that is meaningless, too" she chuckled. It was a dark chuckle.

The small girl turned her head to face him, and his head turned to face her against his Will. He made eye contact with a red eye.

"It's not like you'll have a choice," she said.

What occurred in a mere moment for the rest of the world would take an unknowable, painful amount of time for Karashi.

The rest of the world would not see the Village on fire or hear the terrible hoarse and shrieking cries for help. They would not feel the regret he felt, knowing he couldn't save them. They wouldn't see the snowy mountains, stained red by blood and littered with corpses, who's faces were frozen in their final moments of agony.

They would not see the giant brute with three tufts of orange hair, or feel him crush the life right out of his body.

They wouldn't see the tall, eyebrow-less man shrouded in demonic chakra, feel his awful and frightening presence as he laughed the laugh of the devil himself. Or the woman who's body contorted like a snake, who's presence made him witness his own death happen before his eyes, or stabbed him and twisted the blade in his shoulder, smiling at his frail mortality as he screamed.

They wouldn't feel the heartbreak of a stranger in a mask or the pain of hurting them. They wouldn't feel their entire world crumble as a stranger died in his arms, their last breath all he was able to hear in the silence. They wouldn't see the other stranger fall off the cliff, or feel the anguish and desire to just die he felt.

They wouldn't see the crazed maniac setting an entire forest on fire to kill him. They wouldn't feel his immense hatred or his yearning to destroy everything and everyone he loved. They wouldn't see the green-haired woman begging for mercy.

And when he cut her down, they wouldn't feel the sickness he felt.

Suddenly Karashi was back in the Curry Shop. He was trembling and gasping for air, sweat pouring down his face. The entire room was spinning.

"Isn't as fun as it looks, is it?" the small girl asked as she walked away. "Someone grab him the bucket. He'll need it in a sec— Oh, there he goes."

Karashi's legs gave out. Heat burned up through his throat. And then his world was the inside of a bucket once again.

Everything he'd eaten finally came spilling out of him.

---

"Here you go! This is a plate of my special Punishment Curry."

As Karashi stared at the plate of steaming, bubbling black goo his mother excitedly placed in front of him, upon which thumb-sized chunks of foreign matter floated, considering what Rock Lee had said about hard work, responsibility and plans to rebuild his mother's shop, and the images of death, destruction and violence he'd seen in a fever dream, he had a startling epiphany.

This world is full of crazy people. If I join another band of thugs, it'll be me who ends up dead next time.

In that moment, the idea of learning how to cook curry for a living no longer seemed like a bad trade-off when compared to dying a gruesome death at the hands of a shinobi.

Karashi picked up his spoon without a hint of trepidation, dug it into his curry and began sucking it down. Even as tears spilled over, as his nose poured snot, and sweat dripped off his red face, he shoveled more and more of the curry into his enflamed mouth.

"I'm…sorry…Mama…" he apologized while chewing, repeating those words over and over with every new bite.

Karashi never wanted to see another battlefield again.

---

The Leaf and Mist shinobi stayed the night at the Curry of Life, camping in sleeping bags on the first floor. They organized a scheduled watch, which Mimi and Aoko volunteered first shift on to monitor Ranmaru, during which Yūgao was granted a period of rest, switching shifts with a platoon of Crows led by Kazama.

The three clients—Hachidai, Sangorō and Rokusuke—slept upstairs in the spare room.

In total silence they finally found rest after an evening of storms.

That night, Ranmaru wished to be with Raiga and Mikki again.

He willed it with his whole weak, frail being.

---

Ranmaru walked through the thin veil of a morning mist. He had never walked in his dreams before, but his legs were working, walking without conscious effort, oddly as that felt.

Ahead, amid the white wisps, he saw the glow of a campfire. Drawn to it, by it, he walked closer. Closer. Until he could make out a large silhouette seated before it, warming their hands against the mild chill in the air. He did not need his eyes to recognize the figure.

"Raiga!" he cried out, running on legs he'd never been able to run on before.

The figure straightened at the voice. When he turned, his undamaged blue eyes went wide at the sight of the small child running towards him.

"Ranmaru?" he questioned. Then he smiled a wide smile. A wonderful and warm smile. He sprang up, leapt over the log he sat upon, and scooped the boy up, lifting him into the air. "Ranmaru! You're here!"

Raiga's smile suddenly faltered. "But… Why? You aren't supposed to be here. You shouldn't be here yet. I entrusted you to those admirable youngsters."

"They didn't hurt me, Raiga. I didn't want to live without you and Mikki. And I didn't want you to be alone."

"Ranmaru…" Raiga's eyes glistened.

Ranmaru reached his arms out and hugged them around the Swordsman's thick neck.

"I'm sorry. I know you wanted me to stay with them. But I couldn't. I belong with my Family."

Raiga hugged his large and gentle arms around him. He was trembling. "Don't apologize. You've never done anything wrong, Ranmaru. And now we're whole once again."

"Not yet. We have to find Mikki and the rest of our Family."

"Yes. Yes, you're right," Raiga agreed, revitalized with a new rush of life. He lifted Ranmaru up and sat him on his shoulders. "Now that you're here, there's no reason to wait any longer to reunite our Family. However, you should know, Mikki will be late in joining us."

"What do you mean?" Ranmaru asked, tilting his head curiously.

Raiga stared off at the veils of mist, smiling a small smile. "Mikki was called by the tides of destiny. She answered, after I gave my blessing. Don't worry," said Raiga reassuringly. "She'll join us again someday. And when she does, we'll have our whole Family waiting for her."

"Okay."

"Shall we go now, Ranmaru?"

"Yes. Let's go, Raiga."

"I'll be relying on you, as always," Raiga said as he walked off into the mist.

"Of course. I can already see far ahead. The mist will clear soon."

"And what awaits us there, my friend?"

"I've never seen land like it before. It's untouched. There are hills without roads, mountains and forests that haven't been damaged or destroyed by drought or war. And…and so much more. More than I've ever seen. Colors I've never even dreamed of. It's beautiful, Raiga," he gasped.

"Mm. Then I'm glad I waited. I want to see it all with you. We'll travel it all. Every inch. Together."

"Raiga, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Are we home now?"

Raiga paused. He considered the question for a moment, then looked up at Ranmaru with a warm and kind smile on his face.

"Yes. Yes, we are. Because wherever we are is home."

Ranmaru smiled and nodded. "Right!"

"Okay. Now, let's go find our Family!"

Ranmaru wasn't certain of where exactly they were heading. These lands were new and foreign, beautiful and untraveled.

But he knew in his heart, for perhaps the first time in their lives, they were heading in the right direction.

---

Review Response to Isobel Bauch:

Sorry the wait can be such a drag. I've basically had to sacrifice posting every Friday for every other Friday in order to make chapters not only longer, at times, but also better in quality. However, hopefully at some point I'll get back to that again. If only I had a Shadow Clone Jutsu and several extra computers. The writing I could get done would be unfathomable.

Anyway, hope you continue enjoy the story!

Review Response to Guest:

Glad you enjoyed the last chapter! Happy some of my ramblings may have helped, even if only a little bit.

Amari definitely would've liked to run over to the battle, but for this arc she had to take a backseat to the action. But Raiga got to sort of see her, even if only 'in spirit' against Lee and Haruhi.

Well, about that lore...um, I don't think that's much of an option now... Sorry about that. But it was an interesting concept that, had I not gone with this ending of the arc, could've been explored because I, too, always found it was an interesting kekkei genkai how it conjured illusions against the Byakugan specifically but not to normal vision. Maybe it was a sort of mutation of Sharingan and Byakugan or the Clan's kekkei genkai evolved in such a way to combat those with enhanced senses, maybe because of a rival Clan or something.

Maybe I'll find room to discuss more on it later with Mei. Don't know yet. But it would've been an interesting subject/lore to explore.

Hope Amari's meeting with Karashi was satisfying.

As for your questions regarding her mangekyo power in the Byakugan:

Yes, it can blind her. Though that's more because I want there to be stakes and risks to using such a destructive power. If there wasn't, besides the toll of chakra, the obvious answer to every battle would be spam the mangekyo if it has no consequences, you know? That wouldn't be fun to write, and probably wouldn't be fun to read. That's why every use, to me, has to mean something. Otherwise it doesn't remain special if its used in every other arc. The first battle with Itachi, Aimi and Kisame was to show what the powers were. Against the Nomu in the My Hero arc it was her last card to play to buy time for Atsuko and Osamu to summon Itachi and Aimi, and to protect the civilians and members of Class 1-A. Kasai was, again, last resort to try to kill him after being injured and nearly losing Atsuko. So right now the powers have been used the same amount of times. This has been a long way of saying I want to explore the deteriorating vision aspect in Shippuden.

Yes, she can launch it anywhere she can see, and since the Byakugan has 360 vision, she could technically launch it behind her and distances ahead of her. That was sort of hinted/nodded after her battle against Kasai when the Masked Man pointed out that she aimed it in such a fashion to keep Kasai in its radius but herself and Atsuko out of it. Extra km away may require more chakra. Not a set in stone thing as of now, but I could see myself leaning towards that.

While it would be entertaining for bursts of light and shadows over ridiculous range, I'd agree that it would probably be pretty broken at that point. Especially with Eternal Mangekyo, which, I think, reduces strain/chakra use or something overall. I can't remember at this exact moment.

I've got no problems with hearing theories on the direction of the story. I may not confirm or deny anything, but I find theories fun to read regardless of if they're far off the mark or really close to it.

If you do a SI or an OC story for Naruto, I have a few pieces of advice. First off, understand how long the project is going to be. I love Naruto and Naruto Shippuden, even though it is flawed in some respects, so writing this for as long as I have has never been a drag. Granted, I'm looking forward to being finished with part 1, which should be in about fiveish arcs, give or take one, that way I can get to work on Shippuden and a few other projects I have in mind. But if you intend to follow it from the start of Part 1, and go through every arc, and if you're as long-winded as me, it'll take a while. I don't say that to discourage you or anyone else. I say that as someone who had no idea how huge this project would become. But I've loved every moment of it, so maybe I'm just weird.

Second, don't be afraid to change things. I leaned into the canon story at the start really hard. Made it a sort of rehash of the story we all already knew plus one extra character at the start, so don't just rehash everything. Add your own twists to arcs. Fan fiction doesn't have to be perfect, so experiment with arcs, develop characters. Don't just bash characters you don't like or make them even more inept. It's just lazy and immature, to me, anyway.

Finally, just write and have fun, if you do it. Nothing is worse than writing something you aren't having fun with.

Oh, you could also write a short story just exploring the idea you mentioned. It doesn't have to follow any part of canon at all.

The stuff about Hiramekarei was me. I thought it'd be interesting, and it sort of made sense when I thought about the properties and abilities of each blade, so I went with it.

I'll have to look up the stuff about Samehada. I'm not sure off the top of my head, but I wouldn't be shocked either if it was true.

Thunder armor is similar to Lightning Armor used by Raikage, pretty much parallel to it. Main difference is Raiga, and now Haruhi, use the Kiba Blades to create it. The Kiba Blades are naturally imbued with Lightning. Or I'm pretty sure they are. They allow the user to use high-leveled Lightning Nature ninjutsu with minimal chakra, and if there's natural lightning around they can battle without tiring.

Raiga's rotation is what created the wind. At a guess, since the swords command lightning, he is either using Wind alongside it, or the swords are controlling the gales of wind created by the storm. I just pulled that jutsu from the anime, which didn't give much explanation on how it is used. Going forward, I'll probably have to figure that answer out at some point.

Anyway, thanks for the review!