Chapter 152
For Utopia: Until We Meet Again
"Ultimately, despite peaceful negotiations collapsing, the joint-operation was a success. Katabami Gold Mine is liberated," Atsuko finished, perched at the corner of the Hokage's desk.
Seated behind it, Tsunade hummed as she digested the report, tapping her pointer finger against the vintage oak to a slow, thoughtful cadence.
She was waiting, she supposed, for the other shoe to drop. For Atsuko to suddenly add to her report, "But the Masked Man," or "Unfortunately, then the Mist shinobi tried something" or some other awful turn of events.
The Head of the Crows added nothing. Tsunade waited a moment longer. Perhaps Atsuko was letting a dramatic pause build. Then she would strike at the exact moment the Hokage sighed in relief. A classic ambush.
The strike never came. Of course. Though the Crows were known for their macabre humor, this mission and its result were too important to treat like open-mic night at the tavern.
Maybe I should play the lottery today, Tsunade considered. Seems my luck is finally turning around.
Maybe security should be heightened, too. Just in case.
"A successful joint-operation between Leaf and Mist. Never thought I'd see the day," she mused. "The Mist Village of my era would have spit at the idea of our help. And then at our feet to drive the point home. They wouldn't have let us anywhere near Raiga when possession of the Kiba Blades and potential Mist Village secrets were at stake.
"Although," she drew the word out thoughtfully, "it could be said this gamble paid off specifically because these shinobi weren't from the previous era."
"True," Atsuko concurred. "As direct members of the Fifth Mizukage's inner circle, their loyalty to her ideals was never truly in question. You might even say it wasn't a true gamble. We already possessed insight into Chōjūrō's personality and devotion. Since Haruhi was handpicked by the Mizukage, it was safe to assume she shared similar devotion, thus she would not reject our invitation of cooperation.
"This knowledge, alongside Young Amari's passion and yearning to bridge ancient divides, one could say, made the conclusion of their meeting academic.
"However, were they members of the regular forces, from beyond the Fifth Mizukage's inner circle, then we would have faced a true gamble. Were veterans of our Villages to meet under these same circumstances, under the same banners, would we be speaking of cooperation or conflict, I wonder."
"Mm," the Hokage hummed, wondering the same thing.
The joint-operation was a success, there was no denying that. But the variables were carefully selected and controlled. Without that, well…
"It'll take a lot more than a few letters and a joint-operation between the next generation to bridge a divide as large as this," she said at length. "The roots of these ancient quarrels run deep. Deeper than the roots of the oldest trees, and deeper than the lowest of valleys."
"It is an unfortunate truth, but one we can overcome," said Atsuko. She gestured her wing towards the Hokage. "You and I have walked these lands and flown on their winds for many years. Indeed, we have witnessed the rise and fall of Kage's in each Village. As fledglings we watched the slow collapse of our economies and the long, painful wars they ignited.
"Alliances were formed. Armistices were agreed upon. However, these conclusions were never reached by a common interest of peace."
"That's true," Tsunade nodded. "The Five Great Nations were hemorrhaging military strength, money, or at risk of losing territory. It eventually becomes a choice of accepting an offer of peace or the utter destruction of your Nation's military and economy."
"Precisely. Why risk utter destruction when you can accept peace now and cross your fingers behind your back, as you humans say."
"Then you have all the time in the world to rebuild your forces to wage war again," the Hokage followed the Crow's logic. She shook her head. "We've never stopped thinking of the other Nations as our enemies."
"There has never been a reason to."
"Until now?"
"Until now," Atsuko agreed, dipping her beak once. "This is a rare moment in history. Never before have the ingredients to peace coalesced as they are presently. At least between the Leaf and Mist."
"It's almost too good to be true," Tsunade ruminated.
As far back as she could remember, the Hidden Mist had always been an enemy of the Hidden Leaf. Doubtlessly there were those in the Leaf and the Mist who believed the status quo should remain untouched. Who would see it maintained at all costs. For profit, ideology, or out of spite.
Peace between their Nations wouldn't come easy. And, she feared, it wouldn't come without bloodshed.
"Should Mei Terumī and I reach the day where we can shake hands as my grandfather and Madara once did, there will be those within our Villages who seek to sabotage that bond," Tsunade spoke the dark thoughts plaguing her mind.
"Some will do it out of suspicion for the other Nations," she added. "Some will think Mei Terumī and I are too soft-hearted. Too naïve. They may go so far as to gather other likeminded individuals in order to usurp us. Others will play along with us, smiling to our faces while scheming in shadows to overthrow what they see as a false peace. All because they cannot let go of old wounds. Just like Tobirama."
"Lady Tsunade, you are neither as naïve as your grandfather or as cold and uncompromising as Tobirama," Atsuko stated emphatically, dark and wise eyes staring directly into Tsunade's soul. "You are not beholden to their failures or their sins anymore than Young Amari is beholden to those of the Uchiha Clan.
"Of course there will be those who reject an alliance between our Villages. These conflicted feelings always arise when talks of peace occur. For some Leaf shinobi, the armistice with the Stone was by no means an acceptable conclusion. Before the Hyūga Incident, those who personally lost friends, comrades or loved ones to the Cloud wished to reject their offer."
Atsuko made a slight gesture with her wings, the equivalent of a human shrug. "Could it be said the Leaf's leadership trusted to easily? That our haste to end the conflict blinded us to their duplicity? Certainly. It was a hard lesson paid in blood. But we learned.
"Now there is an opportunity to forge an Alliance with the Mist. We cannot rush into this, nor can we stand idly by in our innate suspicion and distrust," the Head of the Crows declared.
"It will be difficult," she continued. "An alliance will ruffle many feathers in both of our Nations. That you and Mei Terumī already know this puts you in a tactically superior position; you can prepare to mitigate the fallout while those who will be ruffled know nothing at all."
Tsunade hummed, tapping her finger on the desk. No one ever said the path less traveled was easy.
"Well, at least this impromptu joint-operation worked out," she said at last. "It put a foot in the door. Though it's too bad Raiga Kurosuki refused to join them. He would've bolstered the Mist's military strength considerably."
"Yes. Although his mental state may have complicated their situation more than aided it."
"Yeah, maybe. What ever happened to that punk kid, anyway?"
"He was punished accordingly."
Haruhi had waited for Karashi's punishment. Patiently.
Witnessing Mimi Inuzuka strike him—twice—was…pleasant. But ultimately vain. Barren of true satisfaction.
If justice was akin to balance—a punishment equal to the crime committed—to be backhanded twice, slapped once, and then thrust violently against a wall was a meager price to pay.
Karashi's reaction to Amaririsu did little to settle the scales. It was too quick. It was absent of context and substance. She even found the Punishment Curry lacking.
Yet Haruhi continued to wait. Perhaps Rock Lee's punishment would settle the scales. Perhaps it would be as painful as Mimi led her to believe. And perhaps that would be entertaining.
They awoke the next morning to grim news. Ranmaru's heart had stopped while they slept, Mimi explained in solemnity; the weight of his short-lived life, and her inability to resuscitate him, burdened the medic-nin all morning. Exhaustion was visible on her face. She wouldn't smile, laugh or grin, as she was known to do, for several hours.
For Haruhi, Ranmaru's passing was further proof Karashi would evade true justice. Truthfully, nothing could ever properly punish him. Nothing could replace the lives lost.
Still, she waited. And was ultimately rewarded for her patience.
Rock Lee woke Karashi an hour before sunrise, dragging the drowsy fool out into the icy morning air to begin cutting down trees; they would be used to reinforce his mother's old curry shop.
Strangely, she noted, the Leaf shinobi's clients had decided to aid them as well. A sign of gratitude, perhaps. Haruhi could only watch them all work, restless while Mimi healed the cracks in her wounded shell.
Now, a few hours before noon, seated on a tan blanket beneath the reinforced awning, Haruhi was joined by Amaririsu. Forbidden from physical activity, the young girl had taken to teaching her the rules of shogi, a game she clearly possessed a vast knowledge and expertise of.
Haruhi made a sincere effort to learn, though not for personal enjoyment. She had little time for games which required such time and dedication to play. Duty to building Lady Mei's dream required her full devotion.
What Haruhi sought through this game of strategy was further insight into Amaririsu. She wished to see more of the young girl. To see more of her spirit, which resembled Lady Mei's.
Unfortunately, Haruhi found herself consistently distracted from her yearning.
"With this tree delivered, we have completed yet another task!" Rock Lee declared passionately, gently beginning to lower his side of the tree trunk. Later it would be used as lumber for the windmills repairs.
On the other side of the thick trunk was Karashi, face strained, red and dripping sweat, giving his hair the appearance of expired dijon mustard. His grip faltered and the tree thumped against the ground. Karashi collapsed on top of it with a pitiful groan.
A moment later Rock Lee was at his side, picking him up by the collar.
"Now is not the time to rest, Karashi. The springtime of our youth has only just begun!"
"Plea- please. No more. No moreeeeee," he begged.
"But Karashi, we did not return in two minutes like we promised. Now we must perform one hundred push-ups. Even if you must do them from your knees, that is okay! Everyone must start somewhere!"
Hardly a minute later, Karashi was on his knees, shamelessly performing what he previously referred to as "girl push-ups." His arms trembled beneath him, appearing ready to cave at any given moment. His whole body was convulsing; he'd already puked up his breakfast hours ago.
Rock Lee worked beside Karashi in a standard push-up, pumping them out one after another. One after another.
"One-two. One-two. One-two. One-two. One-two. Come on, Karashi! Only seventy-five more to go!"
"Ughhhhh."
Similar demands had been made of the fool since work started this morning; laps, sit-ups, squats, and now push-ups. More were coming. More pain. More suffering. More impossible demands of a fool who had never worked hard a day in his life.
Rock Lee continued to perform rapid push-ups. Karashi's strained, sweaty face was twisted by agony. He was green, too.
"Mimi was right," Haruhi said suddenly.
"Huh? About what?"
"This is entertaining."
Amaririsu let out a soft, sadistic chuckle.
Just like Lady Mei.
"Rebuilding that curry shop isn't really a priority. Normally, I'd scold Mimi for this. We're not in a situation where talented shinobi like her can waste precious days doing charity work," Tsunade said, tapping her finger lightly on the desk. "But, honestly, she's made an excellent call. I bet rebuilding the curry shop isn't a priority to her, either. She's just using it as an excuse to strengthen the bond between their squads."
"Thus strengthening the bond with the Hidden Mist," Atsuko agreed.
"She's cleverer than she acts. Now only if she stopped calling me an Old Hag, I might start liking her."
"Hmhmhm," Atsuko hummed, amused. "You like her plenty already, Lady Tsunade."
"That brat has some redeeming qualities, I'll give her that much."
"You're not supposed to be up there."
Amari rolled her eye. "Mr. Sangorō needed an extra set of hands," she called down to Mimi, one leg hooked around a wooden beam of the windmill's structure, her other foot braced on a slightly lower plank. Working from the ladder beside her was Sangorō.
Mimi placed her hands on her hips, lips screwed in a frown. Aoko, as always, lounged on her head. Chōjūrō was standing beside the Leaf kunoichi.
"You could've been patient."
"There was no telling when any of you would return." She shrugged. "Besides, I'm pretty much recovered."
"Until you twist your ankle and end up shelved for another week."
"Don't be so dramatic," she rolled her eye again. "A little bit of climbing isn't a big deal."
"Would you like me to switch with you, Amaririsu?" Chōjūrō asked.
"No, it's okay. I'm pretty sure my work is already done."
"Why are you hanging out up there, then?" Mimi asked.
"Just in case Mr. Sangorō needed me again."
Carefully climbing up and down the whole windmill more than once in her kimono would've been a drag. Also, the view of the rolling hills, marigold canopies, and the crisp afternoon breeze were nice, too.
"Your noble intentions have been noted. Now how about you come on down anyway," Mimi said, gesturing with her hand to descend the windmill. "I don't need the Hokage chewing me out because I showed you leniency when she explicitly hammered in that I was to treat you as an envoy and a patient."
"Hmmm. I don't know," Amari pretended to consider her choices. If she could've playfully kicked her feet without accidentally throwing herself off the windmill, she would've. "Watching you get chewed out does sound sort of fun. Definitely after all of your teasing."
"You know, I could always force you down."
"Attacking an envoy and a patient?" she mocked a gasp, feeling emboldened by the advantage of higher ground. And desperate to bring Mimi back from the brooding darkness she'd been in all morning. "For shame, Mimi Inuzuka. For shame. Wait until I report to the Hokage about this."
"About what? About how I rescued a kitten from a tree?" the Inuzuka retorted, the small ghost of a grin appearing on her lips.
She flushed. "I may appear as a kitten, but I bear the soul of a dragon!"
"Uh-huh. Allow me to bow before you, oh great dragon." The Inuzuka mocked a grandiose bow. "I, but a poor maid, can offer no gold or silver to your treasure. All I can offer is my devout servitude, oh majestic one. May I humbly request you come down now. Surely, as you admit to shape-shifting, you have already walked among us mere humans, claiming other sorts of carnal treasures."
"I'm going to destroy you," Amari warned, cheeks flushed pink.
"So bold!" gasped the Inuzuka, covering her mouth as though she were a blushing maiden. "I cannot tell if it is a threat or a promise of your majestic embrace, oh great dragon. But I must decline. Our bond is already far too strong. Your embrace must be saved to reinforce new bonds. So," she slapped Chōjūrō on the back, "I volunteer Chōjūrō as tribute to your harem."
"Whaaaaattttt!" Chōjūrō wailed, recoiling back as his face turned incandescent.
"Why do I try to tease her?" the Nara groaned in embarrassment, burying her face in her hand. "Is this my punishment for trying to cheer her up? I should've just let her brood."
Sangorō offered a sympathetic, if not awkward, smile.
"After all," the Inuzuka's expression was sinister, "our Nations relations are like a healing bone. That's what Haruhi said. Lady Mei and the Fifth Hokage are the hematoma which brought together healing cells. And you, oh venerable dragon, and Haku are the callus which began to mend us."
"That's…actually sort of poetic. I like it," Amari said.
It didn't explain Mimi's sinister expression, or why Chōjūrō looked like he'd seen Zabuza burst through the walls of the Curry of Life shrouded by his Demon Chakra, but it sounded nice. Too nice for Mimi to twist, actually.
"I'm glad you do!" Mimi's excitement sent off warning bells. "You see, by you and Haku entangling with each other, you've begun to harden this bone we call a bond! I bet you really hardened Haku's bond, too!"
Amari felt her brain and heart seize.
Mimi pounced in for the kill.
"Now, oh majestic dragon, there are more entanglements waiting for you! Humbly, I ask you to harden a new bond. Starting with Chōjūrō!"
Chōjūrō could only form a flustered, wordless wail. Clouds of smoke rose from his head.
In an instant, Amari's brain and heart exploded into an embarrassed pulp. She saw and heard nothing for a brief moment, not Sangorō reaching his hand out to stop her from falling, the frightened expressions of Chōjūrō and the arriving Tenten and Neji, or the cackles and chortles of Mimi and Aoko.
Suddenly Amari came to. First she saw the windmill, seeming to reach towards the heavens. Then she saw Neji's face, observing her with a neutral expression. It took her another moment to realize he was cradling her steaming body in his arms.
"Will you be all right?" he asked.
Flushed, Amari could only nod.
"Oh, and now you can entangle with the Hyūga Clan, too!" Mimi somehow got the words out. She sounded on the verge of dying from cackles.
Missions accomplished?
"Can I destroy her?" Amari was the one to ask.
Neji snorted and smirked as he lifted his eyes. "I'm afraid not. You're already too late."
"You just can't help yourself, can you!" Tenten bellowed.
Cackling madly, Mimi took off.
"Oh no, you're not getting away from me! Get back here, Mimi!"
Tenten gave chase, throwing all sorts of ninja tools at her teammate as she did. Amari decided after a moment to leave Mimi's destruction to the weapons mistress.
Tenten was far scarier, anyway.
Haruhi also watched the scene at hand with a familiar thought in mind.
Foreigners are strange.
"Nearly every loose end was tied up neatly," Tsunade said, leaning into the arm of her chair, propping her chin up on her fist. "All except the missing second-in-command."
"As we speak, my agents are monitoring Team Guy and the Mist shinobi relentlessly." Atsuko shook her head. "That my agents found the corpse of the man who stole Mikki's body, but no trace of Mikki herself, nor tracks indicating where she is now, is a mystery with only a few answers. None which are good."
"I don't suspect the Masked Man's involvement. Not this time," said Tsunade. "The Reanimation Jutsu requires the DNA of the person you want to Reanimate and a living sacrifice to host the soul. Simply put, your agents wouldn't have found the Kurosuki Family member's fresh corpse had it been used. They would've found Mikki's body, abandoned for the scavengers."
"Based on their findings, I also do not suspect foul play from any other entity," Atsuko agreed. "Were there a fight over the body of Mikki, who likely possesses a considerable bounty, the Kurosuki Family member's body would have displayed wounds resembling a struggle of some kind. There were none to speak of."
Tsunade hummed, crossing her left leg over her right. "That leaves some manner of Forbidden Jutsu to revive the dead, one that likely cost that man his own life. You don't find loyalty like that among common thugs."
"No, you do not. However, perhaps it wasn't a Forbidden Jutsu. Perhaps it was a kekkei genkai," Atsuko theorized.
"Hm," Tsunade frowned. "That is a possibility. Raiga could've picked up a Clan member who survived the Kekkei Genkai Purges before he left the Land of Water. Hell, he may have stumbled upon any number of criminal organization that makes its profit by selling those with exceptionally rare kekkei genkais.
"Either way, until we can confirm Mikki's whereabouts, those kids need to stay vigilant. They have scrolls filled with their prisoners; if Mikki is alive, and if she knows they have her comrades, she'll do anything to get them back."
"My agents will ensure they do not lower their guard," Atsuko assured. "However, on the subject of vigilance, I bear grim news regarding the land-ship."
Tsunade pressed her lips together apprehensively and asked for the report.
Not two days ago, a mechanical behemoth of what should have been impossible size and scope, at its peak standing higher than the tallest towers across the shinobi continent, entered the Crows network.
This behemoth followed no roads, it carved through the land itself like a ship run aground, shattering and eating up anything in its path.
Trees as thick and tall as the average building splintered beneath its machinery; two small villages were disintegrated, flattened, with only a handful of people to survive simply because they were away from home when the land-ship passed through.
Based on the reports of Atsuko's agents, the descriptions of the land-ship resembled the strange battleship heading towards the Land of Wind.
There appeared to be no signs of human life on board or around the behemoth as of yet. No signs of shinobi scouting its path or anything else for that matter.
By all accounts, it appeared to be an autonomous metal beast set on feeding itself on the Land of Fire's landscape and towns. Atsuko, however, doubted it was entirely autonomous. Something or someone was guiding it, for the trajectory of its path had altered significantly.
Now it was heading straight towards the Land of Wind.
"At its current speed, assuming they are not impeded by the terrain, they will arrive at the border of the Land of Wind in approximately four days," Atsuko explained. "Osamu and his squadron will continue to investigate its structure thoroughly for entry points and weaknesses; whoever, or whatever, controls it remains blissfully ignorant of our presence, and we will keep it that way until it is time to strike."
"As soon as you find something, let me know."
"Of course, Lady Hokage."
Long after Atsuko departed, Tsunade would ruminate on the mysterious land-ship. Its construction was too foreign for it to be the Stone or any other shinobi Village for that matter. And, if the Stone had crafted it, they wouldn't have entered the Land of Fire with such a hulking behemoth to ignore the Leaf Village entirely. That left one conclusion:
We're being invaded by a foreign continent.
They couldn't have picked a worse time. This was exactly the sort of spark the Stone was looking for to launch their attack.
All we can do is try to end this before it begins.
And pray the Stone doesn't hear about it.
Together the Leaf and Mist shinobi departed from the Curry of Life and the Land of Rivers.
They each bid respectful and fond farewells to Grandma Sanshō, though nowhere near as fond or as exuberant as Rock Lee's, who was brought to tears by their parting. Karashi received a tepid farewell from everyone except Haruhi.
"Should you ever harm another soul, I will return," were her parting words.
It was a warning Karashi would heed to his final day. He would never be able wash the intense orange eyes, or their silent promise of death, from his memories.
Hachidai, Sangorō and Rokusuke returned to Katabami Gold Mine, safely escorted to the site by the Leaf shinobi before their departure. Sangorō thanked them repeatedly for liberating the mine.
Rokusuke quietly thanked them than left to mourn at Kanpachi's grave; he never found the courage to apologize to Amaririsu. She never held it against him.
Before they left, Hachidai promised to uphold his deal with the Hokage. For their heroic efforts, he graciously parted with an installment of refined golden ingots. Team Guy were too stunned to be paid in literal gold to inquire for details on the deal.
Their mission fulfilled, Team Guy, the Mist shinobi and Amari finally hit the road. They traveled together, camped together, and shared in a new, if not at times awkward, camaraderie no Leaf and Mist shinobi had shared in recent decades.
When the time finally came to part ways, after many expressions of gratitude and an awkward silence as Chōjūrō rubbed the back of his head, wondering if there was anything more he should say, Amari extended her hand to the Mist shinobi.
"This isn't goodbye," she said, smiling. "Let's make this the beginning. The first step and first meeting on our journey towards the future."
"Right," Chōjūrō smiled and clasped her small and delicate hand in his. "Until we meet again, Amaririsu."
It was the first step on a longer path, but that was okay.
Every journey, after all, started with a single step.
From the rough, stone interior of her cell, shackled to the wall, Kari watched the sun rise on the third day of her imprisonment through the bars of the small window—a square portal too small for anyone but a child to slip through.
Their jailers had isolated each of the Kurosuki Family in separate cells. Truthfully, Kari didn't know where they were; she hadn't heard Botan's backwater accent, who she expected to hear screaming or cussing at the prison guards. Had they gagged her? Did they put her in another portion of the prison? How large was this complex?
Kari didn't bother screaming or cussing. Instead, she sat on the floor, chained to the wall as she was, watching every sunrise she could, wondering about the strange young girl they'd had the ill fortune of crossing.
The prison was quiet, well-guarded, and decent enough as far as prisons went. The guards hadn't tried anything. Yet. She hadn't seen another prisoner since being locked inside this cell. All she'd heard was the groaning of other iron gates opening and closing somewhere farther down the hall.
What prison had the shinobi dropped them in? Why weren't they brought to the Leaf to be imprisoned? Were their bounties too meager a sum to be bothered with?
Did it matter?
No. Kari exhaled a resigned sigh. It doesn't matter where I am or why they left us here. The Kurosuki Family is finished. There is nothing left out there. Nothing for me, at least.
The girl was different. She had a goal to strive towards, regardless of its impossibility.
What a grand goal it was. Children possessed such astounding levels of passion, dreaming dreams jaded adults would scoff and turn their noses up at. Kari had marveled at it while her son was alive; he, too, had big dreams, so grand in scope and out of the norm for people of their status.
She had wondered often if, with more time on this earth, more time to gain experience, if he would've given up on those dreams.
The girl changed the answer she once believed.
Though her body was scarred and her hands bloody, Kari couldn't see that girl ever giving up. She wanted to believe her son would've turned out the same way.
Maybe he would have. Children had the potential to see the world through a crystal clear lens, untampered and absent of the cracks jading the lens of an adult; their perspective had no blinders directing their attention in a single direction. Nothing was impossible, and so everything, even the grandest of dreams, could be accomplished.
At some point we only look at the cracks in the world. We see the savagery and nothing else. In place of the innate empathy we possess we become apathetic. In place of kindness we show bitterness. Selflessness gives way to selfishness, and dreams become childish endeavors.
At some point we stop seeing the flowers on the road, the stars in the sky, and the sun rise and fall. Children, though, children are always seeing these little wonders. They see this world and awe at its beauty, while we see nothing at all. Nothing except savagery, certain in our bitterness, in our apathy, that there is nothing beautiful left in this world. That it is all so meaningless.
Yet the sun rises. The flowers still bloom on the road. If we adults could only change the lens we see the world through, perhaps, then, dreams like that girl's would be more than mere dreams.
Instead she would spend her life fighting against a world that resisted change. She would fight on behalf of people who would never thank her for trying to make the world less savage. To what end, Kari wondered. For who's sake?
Heavy boots echoed along the walls of the quiet prison. Kari ignored them; the guards patrolled the cellblock vigilantly.
Though she wondered if today was the day they would enter her cell in an effort to take what they wanted. She wondered how many she would kill or injure before the numbers and beatings finally pinned her to the floor.
Perhaps, though, it wasn't the guards she should concern herself with. Perhaps it was the other prisoners she should fear; she had seen and heard the horror stories of prison gangs, both male and female, while traveling with the Kurosuki Family.
If the guards ever brought her out to the yard, Kari could only hope she would find members of her Family among the other prisoners. The showers and mess hall had been absent of them thus far.
The boots and their heavy steps were getting closer.
Kari's eyes remained on the sunrise outside the barred portal, her thoughts stuck on the strange kunoichi she'd met.
Why would a child take onto their shoulders a burden the rest of the world had shrugged off in apathy long ago?
The boots halted. A knuckle lightly tapped on the iron bar.
"Anybody home?"
The gruff voice sent a bolt of lightning shooting down Kari's spine.
Whirling towards the gate, she stared wide eyed at the tall ghoul standing at her cell door, muscular tattooed arms slipping through the slats to rest on the horizontal bars casually. The ray of light breaching through the portal illuminated a mermaid and her naked bosom and a maroon shawl.
"What's with that miserable face, Kari?" The hideous, scarred smile was as plain to see as the jagged scar tissue running down her breastbone. "Have you already given yourself to the gallows?"
"Mikki?" Kari rose to her feet and tried to approach the cell door. The snag of metal halted her an arm length from the wall. "It can't… They said… You died."
"I got better," the Pirate Queen replied with all of her usual cheek. "Tide brought me back. Good thing, too, since all of you sorry saps ended up here."
Kari forced a smile. "At least we didn't end up dead."
"Ha!" she barked a laugh. "True! Didn't end up with any new beauty marks like me, either," she said, gesturing to her abdomen.
The ashen-colored vest she wore was split down its center, plunging its usual neckline to her waist; Mikki didn't seem at all bothered by how little it left to the imagination, or the long scar where her flesh fused itself together.
She had other priorities.
"What are you doing here?" Kari asked, unsure of what else to say.
"You don't leave Family behind," Mikki said resolutely. "Inoue, that stubborn fool, sacrificed his life to bring me back. Now I'm gathering our survivors."
"Where are the guards?"
"Napping." Kari doubted they did so voluntarily. "Now hold still."
An invisible blade of wind severed the chains restraining her. Kari looked down at her shackled wrists. They were heavy, and yet…
She was free. She had already forgotten what it felt like. How…beautiful it was.
Mikki swung the door open and gestured with her head to follow. "Don't stand their gawking. Let's go."
"Where are we going?" Kari asked, stepping out of the cell.
"To freedom."
It was just shy of noon in the Land of Fire. Though the sky was scarce of clouds, grey and black plumes polluted vast swaths of blue along the eastern trail Chōjūrō and Haruhi utilized.
So much for a peaceful trip.
Chōjūrō rubbed his nail plates together. The earth beneath their feet was vibrating. He imagined thousands of horses galloping somewhere in the vicinity, but that didn't explain the smoke.
Farther along the vibration evolved from thousands of horses to tectonic plates rupturing.
The earth was quaking. Pebbles scattered on the road and its edges hopped and bounced, and somewhere off the beaten path, beyond the hills, the air erupted with sounds of unadulterated carnage. The rumble and roar of a massive engine—it had to be a runaway train or a generator the size of the Mizukage's tower—bellowed across the silent and peaceful land.
Trees were splitting and splintering apart; the long asked question of whether a felled tree falling alone in a forest made a sound was finally answered.
Yes, if you blew it up, a collapsing tree did make noise. Lots of it, actually.
Not a word was spared between them, yet in near synchronicity they darted off the path, drawn by the carnage. And hopeful they could end it.
They followed the breadcrumbs of smoke, ash, and rupturing trees groaning for mercy. The closer they neared, the harsher the ground trembled. Bark of untouched trees quaked. Animals frequently dashed beneath the trees and flew above the canopies—several squirrels, five does, a seven point buck, two foxes, blue jays and a pair of woodpeckers were some of the fauna he saw fleeing.
Finally, at the top of the nearest and highest hill, they ascended a tree of marigold-colored leaves and cast their gaze out to the distance.
Chōjūrō sucked in a breath. "Oh god."
"What madness is this?" Haruhi stared wide eyed at the scene.
A metal behemoth, its highest point dwarfing their tree and the hill it sprang from, was chugging through the valleys; trees burst in hails of splintered bark beneath its mechanisms or seemed to be chewed up and swallowed by the machine; fires burned all around it, frenzying the wildlife as they tried to escape the inferno of their collapsing ecosystem. He wouldn't forget the scenes of animals burning alive for years to come.
A nearby river was clogged by debris and, farther in the distance, what appeared to once be the plot of land of a farm was flattened and chewed up. Nothing but dirt and ruin remained.
"A most disturbing scene, is it not?"
Chōjūrō stiffened, then whirled towards the voice. Hiramekarei was in his hands before he consciously realized it. Haruhi's reaction was even smoother, drawing a single Kiba Blade and pointing it at the source of the voice.
An open space on the tree trunk where nothing existed.
"Calm yourselves, Mist shinobi. My name is Osamu—a Crow of the Leaf. Please lower your blades." The voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
"A Crow?" Chōjūrō questioned.
"Reveal yourself," Haruhi demanded.
"As you wish. Down here."
Chōjūrō and Haruhi turned their heads and lowered their gazes to the gap between them, where a Crow now stood perched, black eyes glinting with amusement.
"My apologies for frightening you," he apologized. "Your mission with Team Guy and Young Amari faired well, I hope."
"Uh, yes," Chōjūrō replied awkwardly. The Crows are even more dangerous than I thought. Neither of us sensed him approach.
It was no wonder Lord Ao expressed his discomfort around Atsuko. He probably saw more than he let on. More than just the sight of his men screaming at the hands of an Uchiha's genjutsu.
"What is that monstrosity of metal?" Haruhi asked, cutting to the point while lowering the Kiba Blade.
Osamu fluttered his feathers and hopped up onto Chōjūrō's shoulder in a single bound.
"I'm afraid to say your guess is as good as mine," replied the Crow. "This monstrosity appeared suddenly in our Nation; we've no inclination of where it sprang from or who crafted it. All we know is what you see before you—it is destroying everything standing between it and the Land of Wind."
Chōjūrō lowered himself into a crouch, adjusting his glasses, squinting in an effort to glean something from the machine.
"I've never seen anything like this before," he murmured. "Could this be some new war machine of the Cloud or the Stone?"
"Their shinobi would build a defensive formation around it," Haruhi shook her head. "Also it is the wrong direction for the Stone to invade; they would come from the north or northwest. The Cloud would utilize this machine to target the Leaf first before embarking on an invasion of the Sand.
"This technology… It appears old, unrefined. And yet it is advanced beyond the weapon systems currently utilized by shinobi. Look at its peak. It's crafted like a temple, but none native to the shinobi continent."
"An accurate assessment," Osamu said. "We have also learned a battleship of similar design is presently sailing towards the Land of Wind. Which brings us to our only conclusion: We are being invaded by a foreign continent."
"You've got to be kidding," Chōjūrō whispered.
"I fear not."
"Is there anything we can do to help?"
"I can bring that machine down," Haruhi stated confidently. "The Kiba Blades possess the power to destroy it outright."
"I do appreciate your enthusiasm. Had we only met a few days earlier… However, we cannot risk destroying it now," he said, shaking his head once. "Before yesterday, this land-ship stopped for nothing and showed no signs of life; we have been investigating a means of entrance since it first appeared.
"Then, after it destroyed a small village, an agent spotted soldiers donning plate armor of foreign craftsmanship. Certainly not shinobi. They returned to the village and brought the surviving children on board their land-ship."
"They're destroying villages and taking the survivors hostage? What for?" Chōjūrō asked.
"I do not know. Not yet. However, although your assistance would be appreciated, you have more pressing concerns." He looked from Chōjūrō to Haruhi. "You must hurry home. There is a distinct chance this invasion may touch the Land of Water as well. If that happens, if this is a full-scale invasion of the shinobi continent, Lady Mizukage and the Land of Water will need the strength of their Swordsmen."
Chōjūrō felt his stomach drop. He was right. This could be a full-scale invasion. The Mist could be in grave danger at this very moment.
"Chōjūrō, we must go. Now," Haruhi said, feeling the same urgency.
"Ri- right. Osamu—"
"Fear not. Our agents will ensure you arrive to port without incident. Now fly. And do not look back," he commanded, leaping from his shoulder. His black feathers glimmered an iridescent blue. "Fair winds guide you, Mist shinobi!"
"Thank you!" Chōjūrō called before turning away. "Let's go, Haruhi," he said, leaping down the tree.
"At once."
They dashed off towards home.
And never looked back.
Tumultuous waves rolled and crashed against the sandy shores of the Land of Water coast, as tumultuous and overwhelming as the clashing steel, the battle cries and death screams of men and women at war with an unknown enemy.
The thin spit of land, situated at the foot of a small village, was a dense bog of wet sand and still corpses, some attired in standard Mist Village attire, others—giants—in full plate armor that matched no known Nation.
Spiked two-handed maces the size of an eight foot man, wielded by the rotund soldiers of similar stature, thundered against the earth, spraying sand onto the Mist shinobi lucky enough to evade their powerful, quick, untrained swings.
Kunais, shurikens and senbon bounced uselessly off the armor. Ninja tools to penetrate between the gaps did nothing to slow the metal men down. Even when pierced through and through by a sword, or an arm was lopped off, they did not bleed. They did not stop.
The enemy continued to fight until their bodies were broken entirely.
Amid the elite masked Anbu agents and regular forces of the Mist, Zabuza marched unimpeded through the carnage of the battlefield towards the shore, calm amid the earth shaking swings of the metal men, the shrill ring of metal ricocheting off metal, and the rending of armor as orange sparks rained off his allies blades on a cold, sunny day.
These metal men are all wrong, he thought, marching purposefully and yet peacefully despite the war around him. Are they immortal?
"Ya-ha-haaaaaaa!"
The wild cry was echoed by the crushing of metal. Fuugetsu Hōzuki caved in the helmeted head of the foreign soldier with a leaping blow of his new, metal studded Kanabō.
As the metal man stumbled, the wild child swung again, connecting a Wind-enhanced strike to its abdomen.
The metal soldier barreled into three of its comrades, digging itself headfirst into the sand until it was buried up to its waist. It halted directly along Zabuza's path.
"Striiiiiiike, ha ha!" Fuugetsu cheered.
Zabuza marched around it, heaving the fallen mace off the ground and bracing it on his shoulder.
No. This is no immortality jutsu, he concluded. They fall when their bodies are crushed. Yet…
One foreigner knocked aside an Anbu kunoichi, the force of the impact throwing her aside to several meters; she tumbled and rolled across the sand. The kunoichi was fortunate. She'd only been caught by the blunt shaft, though there was no doubt in the Demon's mind the stiff impact had broken ribs.
A comrade disengaged with an enemy, leapt across the sandy shore, and hefted her writhing body onto his shoulder before she could be trampled on.
The foreigner soldier to knock her aside shifted his attention to Zabuza.
The Demon did not acknowledge their existence. He marched towards the shore, towards the three young Genin who by a strike of ill-fortune found themselves at the wrong place at the wrong time.
They were surrounded by five metal men. Foreigners who didn't realize they were already dead. Oh, but he would help show them the truth. He'd show them the way to their unmarked graves soon enough.
On his left, grabbing and throwing aside a Mist shinobi like a sleeve of hay, the foreign soldier walked over the corpse of a townsman who'd come to defend the beach alongside the Genin, now flattened in a pit of red sand, cold, dead hand wrapped tightly around the pitchfork he fought with.
Zabuza's eyes narrowed, but he didn't let his gaze stray.
They raised their spiked mace. His hand tightened around the haft.
The earth thundered, sand exploded into the sky, and metal crunched and rent grotesquely.
Zabuza left the mace buried in the flattened soldier's body. He hefted their mace off the earth without breaking his stride.
There was something unnatural about these metal men. Something inhuman. Yet Zabuza recognized the signs of consciousness, he recognized their style of fighting. He'd seen it one too many times.
These soldiers, no matter how tall or quick, were untrained. They lacked discipline yet attacked with unremitting devotion to an unknown goal, ready to kill and destroy whoever and whatever obstructed their path. They held nothing back. Nothing at all.
They fight like Blood Mist children. Like little devils.
Three more foreign soldiers noticed him. Their mono-red eyes gleaming beneath the their metal helmets showed no signs of humanity; they were nothing like the Sharingan, which reflected the emotions of the wielder.
Oh yes, how those eyes reflected the Copy Ninja's contempt and rage when his brats finally broke him free, and how they reflected such depths of pain and sorrow in that little girl's.
These red eyes held no resemblance to the Sharingan. They were cold. As cold and empty as the metal men who owned them.
Zabuza didn't acknowledge their presence, either. He was close now. The unfortunate Genin's were but five strides away, with the only obstruction being those three foreign soldiers.
All three of them charged. Zabuza never had a chance to retaliate.
Ice missiles the length of the maces penetrated the body of the leader, piercing through where its spine should've been and into the sandy shore, pinning it in place.
Suddenly a cold wind whipped past Zabuza. He saw the green haori and the long brown sash whipping behind the individual like a tail as they bounded over the pinned metal man, and began to step quicker towards the children, trusting his partner to clear him a path.
Beneath a white mask bearing a wavy red design in place of a mouth, Haku attacked the two foreign soldiers, jumping and kicking the first; his strikes bent the metal inwards and stumbled the giant. Off the kick he propelled himself towards the second, throwing senbon coated in ice through the gaps in its helmet.
He landed and carried himself through a forward roll between the legs of the metal man.
As the mace, swung from side to side, came around, Haku gripped it by the shaft, vaulting over it in a handstand, ice rapidly spreading from his hands, across the weapon, and to the soldier. Unfortunately for their enemy, they had come from the sea, and their armor was still dripping wet. Perfect conditions for his partner's attack.
The metal man became an ice statue before Haku's feet were beneath him again.
Crouched, he formed a quick series of one-handed handseals, then a possessed gale ripped across the beach, scooping the other metal man off his feet, flinging his flailing body higher into the air. Higher.
At that moment, without warning, the ice spears flew free of the foreign soldier's body, piercing the floating metal man.
Zabuza was upon the surrounded Genin as their armored body crumpled and crashed against the sand.
Again sand exploded into the air as the ground trembled.
Zabuza glared at the remaining four soldiers, who stared at him in return, not so much startled by his attack as they were merely drawn to it.
These metal men lack humanity, he thought. They're just machines of war.
"Do I have your attention now?" he asked, a menacing glint in his eyes.
Years ago, he had crushed all the little devils of the final Blood Mist Exam. He'd done it with his bare hands. He lacked discipline and training, no different than these soldiers. Though he became a Demon, he and the little devils he had slain as a child, not even a graduate himself, were nothing like these foreigners.
These metal men did not shed blood. They could not feel pain. They did not feel blinding hatred, desperation for survival, or suffering. They did not possess any human qualities.
You're worse than a Village of Demons.
Stepping onto the crushed body, Zabuza yanked the mace free to the sound of cracking metal. He lunged ahead, crushing another soldier beneath the mace.
The weapon was more unrefined than Kubikiribōchō, heavier and unbalanced, too. But it would do. For now.
The other foreign soldiers had enough sense to attack as he struck down their comrade. Releasing the weapon, he sidestepped a predictable blow, swung from above the head to the ground.
These soldiers wielded weapons like children swinging sticks. They had no form, no footwork, nothing resembling a soldier or a shinobi. They didn't care to protect themselves, certain in their invincibility.
After the weapon crashed against the beach, Zabuza placed his foot on top of the shaft of the mace, preventing the soldier from hefting it up again. The other two soldiers were ignoring the children. Just as he planned.
One of the indistinguishable metal men charged towards him, intent to bulldoze the Swordsman beneath his metal shoulder. The other had the mace drawn over its head.
"I wonder if you metal men can understand fear." A demonic grin formed beneath the bandages covering the lower half of his face. "Let's find out!"
Surging power erupted off the Demon of the Hidden Mist. Chakra colored in violent reds and purples streamed and lashed off his tall frame, billowing his cloak as waves crashed ashore, receded, and repeated.
Every metal soldier on the battlefield was drawn to the demonic face formed amid the harsh and vile chakra. Drawn to the impure, unholy divinity of the new world.
Swiftly, Zabuza pushed off the shaft of the mace, springing over the charging metal soldier. He landed, spun—almost skating—on the sand behind the soldier following the first as he gripped the mace they had heaved over their head.
With a cruel laugh, he kicked the back of the enemy soldier and wrenched the mace from their grip, its end striking the earth with a resounding dull thud. As the metal man spun to face him, it's helmet and body were crushed beneath the heavy and unrefined mace.
Yet there was no crunch of bone. No spurting of blood. No spasms. Everything about it was unnatural.
They're all empty shells. Soulless machines with metal hearts and metal minds.
Heaving the mace up, the armored body he crushed still warped around its spiked head like old bubblegum, Zabuza took two steps and smashed the mace and his new passenger into the closest foreigner. It's body, too, bent around the mace and its fallen comrade.
Before the final enemy could finish heaving its weapon up, Zabuza's hands were suddenly wrapped around the shaft, halting its movement. Its blank red gaze was met by the Demon's murderous glare.
Zabuza tilted his head, slightly. The demonic face formed of lashing reds and purples seemed to tilt with him.
The foreigner flinched, stepping back. Satisfaction flared within the Demon, and the visage shrouding him appeared to grin hungrily, sensing a soul to be devoured.
He stepped closer, invited by their retreating step.
"Well, well, it looks like you can feel fear!" he grinned.
Then he wrenched the weapon from the metal man before inevitably crushing him. Sand and sea water showered over them.
Genin secured, Zabuza peeled the mace from the metal corpse and, shrouded in Demon Chakra, launched into battle with violent fervor, laughing with such menace, such malevolence, that even Fuugetsu Hōzuki's crazed giggle was silenced with a shudder.
For a moment, anyway.
On those tumultuous shores the foreign soldiers witnessed the Demon of the Hidden Mist flash across the battlefield, crushing their forces one by one, stealing their weapons from them when his became encumbered by the extra weight of bloodless corpses.
And the Mist shinobi who had forgotten Zabuza Momochi's moniker remembered why he was feared and respected by their forces, and why the Fifth Mizukage had chosen him to lead the Anbu Black Ops.
As for the three Genin—a team of two boys and one girl—they witnessed a living legend come to life before their eyes. They felt awe and terror in equal measure.
The tide of the battle turned suddenly. No longer were there anguished cries of men screaming out as their fragile bodies were devastated beneath spiked maces.
No longer were shinobi falling on the thin spit of sand; they advanced on the metal men as the Demon of the Hidden Mist dwindled their numbers to a devilish chorus of crunching metal and shuddering earth, shadowed by his calm partner's missiles of ice and a madly giggling jester who was excited to finally cut loose.
Shrouded by the visage of a Demon, Zabuza brought the mace down onto another soldier. Hefted it up. Then slammed it into their body again. And again. And again. Until it resembled a squished grasshopper beneath his discarded weapon.
He turned his wrathful gaze towards the final collection of soldiers—five in total. Sea water crashed against the shore and splashed between their plated legs. Without a sound the five suddenly leapt into the sea, sinking beneath the cold surface.
"Quick, don't let them escape!" someone called.
"No, let them go," Zabuza commanded, halting all attempts to follow. He sensed their hesitation and confusion. His Demon Chakra flickered away. "These were just scouts. Alive they'll be more useful to us. For now. Keiko," he summoned one of his subordinates.
Appearing at his side, kneeling, was a kunoichi beneath a white mask bearing a teal swirl, like a wave, on its left, lower quadrant.
"Sir."
"Can you sense them?"
"Yes."
"Good. Take Haku and Fuugetsu with you. Track them to their assault ship."
"Of course."
Neither boy required him to repeat his order. Even Fuugetsu sensed the urgency of the situation.
The Land of Water was being invaded by a foreign Nation, one which wore no armor or insignia familiar to the shinobi Villages.
We need to alert the ports, mobilize our scouts on the coastline to weed out these invaders, and prepare for a potential full-scale amphibious assault. Hmph, he chuckled darkly, turning away from the sea and marching towards the Genin. Just another day in the Land of Water, eh, Mei?
"Runts, I have a mission for you. Don't screw it up."
In the days of yore, the Land of Water utilized strategically positioned watchtower beacons along the coast and leading inland to communicate warnings of invasion; once a single balefire was lit, the major towns, villages and the Mist itself would know to prepare before the enemy forces could infiltrate deep into the Nation.
Of all the watchtowers to exist, the greater majority were abandoned, destroyed or decommissioned during the reign of the Fourth Mizukage, and so the ancient, though efficient, system had not seen use in decades.
None understood the decision. Those who questioned it learned to never question such things again. The morose natives merely accepted it.
Despite that, some towers remained. Some were defended before the revolution by the revolutionaries themselves, who believed there could come a time when they would once again prove necessary.
Thus a single line of towers, connecting the western coast to the Mist Village, were still tended to, guarded by loyal soldiers of the Fifth Mizukage.
In present days the main line of communication between towns, villages and ports were messenger bird stations and the oldest, most ancient means of transporting information known to man—ordinary couriers trekking on foot and by horse to deliver messages.
Yasumasa Kinoshita was the overseer of the messenger bird station at the foot of the coastal watchtower. A respectable and important job, lacking excitement of the wrong kind—the common kind—often found in the Land of Water.
Seated with his feet kicked up on his desk, Yasumasa was enraptured by the book he'd bought on a whim called Make-Out Paradise.
Once a book found in a bin labeled Mainland Garbage, popularity for the books had surged in the Land of Water in spite of its origins. The catalyst was, as he recalled, the announcement of a real Princess, known for another series of popular mainland movies, taking on the lead role of the Make-Out Paradise movie adaptation.
Yasumasa had maintained healthy skepticism. He even sneered, at times, at those who would stoop to reading fiction written by a Leaf shinobi of all people. But, eventually, as more and more of his friends gave it glowing reviews, he decided to read it. If for no other reason than to see what all the fuss was about, and then roll his eyes when it turned out as horribly as he expected.
How wrong he was. How utterly foolish he had been to dismiss it for so long.
Say what you will about Leaf shinobi, but none can deny this one's literary genius in gallant and romantic tales. The passion, the tension, the lust! Gods, if you exist, I beg you, please let them have a screening of the movie adaptation in the Land of Water.
To see it depicted on the silver screen, with a beautiful Princess in the lead role, he might faint. He could almost see it now, the beautiful Princess being—
Suddenly the door to his station was torn open, almost completely off its tracks. Likewise, Yasumasa was ripped from the decadent paradise, startled into tipping backwards, where he found himself deposited harshly on the floor.
Enraged, he sprang to his feet with all of his super-heated blood rushing to his face. At his desk were the three little Genin responsible for his tumble.
"What is the meaning of—"
"Mess- Mess- Mess— Message for…Mizukage. Needs…to go. Now. Right now."
Panting heavily, the boy at the front of the squad slammed a scroll onto his desk, designated by black trimmings—a scroll from the Anbu Black Ops.
Yasumasa blinked, rage subsiding as he reexamined the children. They were soaked in sweat, dripping it all over his freshly cleaned floor; the girl had collapsed to her knees, bracing herself on trembling hands as she tried to catch her breath. He noted the dried blood on the second boy, who had fallen to a single knee and looked on the verge of puking.
The overseer pressed his lips together.
"Breathe, young man," he lowered his voice, setting his book down and taking the scroll to prepare it for delivery. This was the wrong kind of excitement. The common kind in here in the Land of Water. "What's going on? Is there anything else I need to know?"
"Invasion. Beacon. Light…the beacon."
The boy collapsed. Yasumasa caught him. After settling the exhausted young boy on the floor, he acquired a messenger bird, fitted him with a backpack, stored the scroll in it and released the bird out the window. Then he strode out the door, leapt up the ancient watchtower and notified the guard to light the beacon.
No questions were asked. None were necessary.
After decades of slumber, the ancient balefire was lit once more.
Yasumasa watched as new flames and plumes of black smoke began to form on the horizon.
Sorry to ruin your day, Lady Mizukage.
"Our Intel suggests these metal-clad men are similar to a Puppet Master Jutsu; they are controlled by someone else, someone who hid in the shadows and sent their soulless puppets to inflict death and violence on their behalf."
Mei projected her calm and resolute across the rooftop of the Mizukage tower, thronged with squadron leaders ranking from Chūnin to Captains in the Anbu, each and every shinobi standing at grim attention. They had seen the beacons.
I never imagined we'd need them so soon, Mei thought. Not like this. Not to warn us of a foreign continents invasion.
Vindication felt utterly hollow.
"Know this," she continued with authority. "The only means to stop them is to crush their bodies entirely. Fatal blows will do nothing. Removing limbs will do nothing," the Mizukage emphasized. "You must destroy them outright. Explosives, brute force, ninjutsu—these puppets cannot be shown any quarter. Do not treat them as human."
The word puppet, perhaps, was tainted by their vernacular, conjuring imagery of Suna's famous humanoid puppets and Puppet Master Jutsu. These soldiers, these "metal men" in Zabuza's own words, possessed nothing in common with Suna's puppet masterpieces.
Pawns seemed more appropriate. Finely crafted pawns pulled from a storage box, thrown onto a board to advance in a brazen and unprovoked attack while they—the other player in this violent game—had yet to sit down at the table.
Mei was firmly seated at the table now. She understood this violent game better than her enemy could ever imagine. And she always played for keeps.
Provoking me, attacking my Nation and its people, is the last mistake you will ever make, she swore.
"I've already deployed scouts and runners to monitor points of entry around our coastline," said the Mizukage. "Until we know where the enemy hides themselves and their numbers, you and your squads will remain on standby. Take this time to prepare your subordinates.
"Prepare them for war."
The shinobis of the Mist straightened more, somehow, and replied with a unified chorus of,
"Ma'am!"
Then they vanished to fulfill their duties.
Mei cast her searing gaze towards the mountains, towards the coastline where the invasion began, and swore then and there to see the foreign continents seafaring forces crushed beneath her heel.
Off the western coast of the Land of Water, nestled behind columns of rock, three steel warships lay in wait for their scouts return.
Necessary sacrifices, they knew, were required to build a utopia, so they prepared their artillery and their soldiers for what came next.
Three shadows went unnoticed.
There was only the path forward. The path to utopia.
A world without war.
And the necessary sacrifices to achieve it.
Review Response to Guest who was crying tears: I'm happy you enjoyed the last chapter, and that I was able to make you cry! Hope you enjoyed this chapter.
Anyway, thank you for the review!
Review Response to Guest: Glad you enjoyed the last chapter and found the interactions between Amari and Yugao funny. I think I sensed a disturbance in the force when Karashi finally found himself under a genjutsu, like around a thousand voices were sighing in relief. Might feel another after this chapter, given what suffering he endures this time, and is alluded that he suffers as the day progressed.
Yeah, Ranmaru's death was both a sad experience and a happy one to write. Sad obviously because he died, but I liked reuniting him and Raiga so they could find peace together.
Glad you liked the stuff with the swords.
I am also a fan of the crystal kekkei genkai.
Sifting through Skyrim/Elder Scrolls lore and trying to connect it with another definitely sounds like a chore. There's enough lore in Skyrim to fill literal in-game books. Though I hope your inspiration lasts and helps you push through the block. For me, its always best to just keep writing/typing despite any form of writers block. Even if it means going back and revising it, sometimes you just need to write the wrong idea first to get to the good one.
I wish I had a formula to give you for original characters, but, upon considering it, I honestly haven't the faintest idea how I ended up with the variety of original characters currently in this story. Nen and Haruhi happened in the moment. Takako the Reasonable and Mikki, too. The most I planned for was Amari and Kasai, and now I've got characters from almost every Great Nation. But saying I don't know isn't a good enough answer for me, so here are some concepts off the top of my head that hopefully will help.
What are the characters motivations? This one is important. A character without defined motivations that you at least know won't go far. Using my most recent in Mikki, her motivations were to protect the Kurosuki Family at all costs. But motivations can also evolve based on the events that occur.
What is the characters history? This helps with a foundation, even if you only have parts of it in your head. You can hint and allude to some core pieces, and build upon them and the character as you get to know them better. Though that's coming from someone who doesn't outline a whole lot. You might find it better to outline their history before you begin writing, and that's totally fine. There's no right or wrong way to do this.
Does the character have a personal conflict they have to overcome? Some characters do, some don't, depending on their role. Legendary characters—Master Jiraiya for most the series—you may not see a personal conflict from. Main protagonists have one.
What is their personality? Do they have trust issues? Do those trust issues play a role in them failing to overcome their obstacles in the story? Is that part of their personal conflict?
What are their flaws? What are their good traits? Are they arrogant but charitable? Idealistic to a fault but loyal to friends?
Quirks? Injuries? Do these play a role in their history? Does it level out their power—Hikari's two kekkei genkais but achilles knee, for example. Their personality? Do they have a verbal tic, like Naruto's and Kushina's? Or a different form of speech, like Hikari using 'Tis, 'Twas and such?
These are some of the things I thought of you can consider when creating a character. Hope it helps a little.
Anyway, thank you for the review!