Let's get this trainwreck moving.


Yuurei watched the red sun rise over Sunagakure, its harsh shine bringing light and warmth to the desert. Pressing a glowing gradient of orange and pink into an otherwise violet-and-lilac sky, the first shadows of the dunes returned to darken the pit of black sand that Shukaku had used to murder his brother. For all the stresses of the previous day and night, the blond demon found the tranquil sight rewarding. He didn't watch the sunrise often, in spite of his consistent lack of sleep; there was always something to attend to, or prepare for, that made those quiet minutes disappear in a haze. The last time he'd had the freedom to watch the sun rise and set when he wanted to, he'd also been in Suna, and he'd waited outside the city's walls before defending it from foreign invaders. But more than the picturesque horizon, there was something else he wanted to see—and hear.

Uchiha Itachi woke slowly, and the first rays of dawn's light sat on his heavy eyelids for long enough that he considered trying to go back to sleep. Laziness had never been one of the Hokage's strong suits, though; cracking his eyes open just enough to see a bleary haze, he closed them to rub the sleep away for the day. Opening them fully, he was greeted by the sight of his wife sleeping peacefully next to him, but something seemed off. Blinking twice, he noticed dark spots on the pillow by her head, and another on the blanket over her. Itachi was immediately on high alert, twisting off of the mattress and turning to look at Izumi's unmoving body. Empty eye sockets stared up to the ceiling, blood caking her cheekbones and temples to draw attention to the fleshy nubs that had once been Izumi's ears. A kunai had been lodged in her neck, deep enough to barely see the wide-angled point sticking out from the front of her throat. And across her belly, in handwriting so elegant that it might have been found at the Daimyo's court if not for its grotesque presentation, the characters "幽霊." Yuurei. Unnatural black blood had filled and dried across the wounds from her killer's lettering, and dead flies littered the bedding around her body; whatever technique had killed her, it had also killed the insects who sought to scavenge her corpse.

Standing on the roof that was directly across from Itachi's hotel room, Yuurei turned around when he heard the Hokage's bloodcurdling scream. The blond demon didn't react any further, only staring passively in the Uchiha's direction as he was forced to come to grips with his new reality. He thought it was a good look for the Hokage to have on his face—an excellent expression for facing the consequences of his actions. Itachi shouted for his dead wife, for his Anbu guardians, for anyone; all the while, Yuurei stared at him through the window, and his cries were music to the demon's ears. Idly, he noticed that he couldn't smell anything wrong, and his joy ballooned internally. These were the Hokage's true feelings.

Perhaps it was wrong to find pleasure in the misfortune of others, but Yuurei couldn't be bothered to care. There was a price to pay for going against him, or harming those who he considered his people, and even Zabuza—though he'd kept his life, as far as Yuurei knew—had been forced to lose in excess for that decision. The Raikage had lost the entire rising generation of his family to Yuurei's hands; why shouldn't he cut the stems and pull the roots of the Hokage's family as well? His justice was as primitive as it was severe, exchanging murder for assault, but the blond demon was secure in his course of action.

Words alone couldn't convey his message. Actions, and a single jutsu, would have to take their place. As Itachi finally turned, making eye contact with Yuurei, the demon did not flinch. With an impartial gaze, hiding the manic hatred he was trying to soothe in his heart, the blond raised his right hand into a half-Ram seal. A moment later, Izumi's corpse ballooned before exploding in a burst of putrid flesh and noxious fumes. Only then did Yuurei see fit to disappear in a cloud of smoke.


Inside of the Kazekage's mansion, Mei's unconsciousness persisted. Aside from briefly opening her eyes when Yuurei had performed his sealing ritual to heal her throat, the Mizukage had remained motionless for nearly a full day. Sitting in a corner on the opposite side of the room, Tayuya quietly played her flute. Officially, she was keeping watch to make sure that nobody interrupted Mei's rest; unofficially, she was making sure that the taller redhead had someone nearby in the event that she woke up. So, when she felt Fu's overbearing presence approaching the room they were in, she didn't bother trying to stop the Nanabi Jinchuriki.

Whatever Itachi had done to Mei, the damage was far more severe than simply having a knife in her throat. Dissonant though it was, the best descriptor Tayuya could come up with was "visceral." She was a Genjutsu specialist, even if her time with Yuurei had prevented her from showcasing that expertise, but Itachi was clearly a step beyond her. Whatever technique he'd used, it had trapped Mei so deeply in her own mind that she was struggling to get out. Though she doubted her music would have an effect, she hoped it would at least slightly comfort the Mizukage's troubled mind.

Fu was in a rush when she entered the room, with the door already cracked open to avoid any untoward noises; though the mint-haired Jinchuriki wasn't officially a ninja of Kirigakure, she'd taken up a role as one of Mei's primary defenders and confidants. Before yesterday, she would have wondered why someone as strong as Mei needed guardians, but her curiosity had been rewarded with blood. To that end, she decided there was only one person on earth who didn't need protection—Yuurei ate sparingly, never seemed to sleep, and the only person she'd ever seen come close to beating him was another demon who looked just like him.

Tayuya wasn't offended when Fu bypassed her without even saying a word, unsure if the Nanabi Jinchuriki had even seen her. She continued playing her flute. Sweet, crisp sounds flowed from the air running through the instrument, quiet enough to avoid disturbing others and loud enough to allow them to listen. Unconcerned with Fu's presence, she closed her eyes to focus on the song.

"That feels like an awfully happy song, given current events," the green-haired girl said, introspective. Tayuya didn't take the words to heart, believing Fu didn't mean to insult her. "What is it?"

"I'm not sure," Tayuya replied, lowering her flute and re-opening her eyes to talk. Fu raised an eyebrow, silently asking the redhead to elaborate further. "It's what I remember from a song my mother used to play. She was a survivor of the Uzushio massacre, and this flute is the only thing she was able to bring with her. I can't remember everything, but the only songs she played were about fighting. War dances, battle hymns, prayers for the fallen and praise for the victorious dead...I picked the one I remember the most of, but I'm sure I'm getting it wrong somewhere and making up my own answers to fill in the blanks." Tayuya closed her eyes once again, raising her flute and beginning from where she'd left off.

"That's what happens, I think." Fu didn't comment any further about the dissonance. "The longer things last, the more they end up changing. People, places, songs...they all fade, eventually. The only reason we know anything about the time before the Warring Clans Era is because it was written down. There's no telling if they wrote down the whole truth, or just what they remembered. So don't feel too bad if you can't remember the songs perfectly."

The way the Jinchuriki framed that statement didn't really make Tayuya feel better, but she knew what Fu meant. They were alive, Mei was alive, and retribution had been delivered. That was reason enough to play lighter, happier music. It didn't matter if those songs were original, or inspired by her heritage, or anything between the two—nobody but the two of them would ever know. So, why worry about it?


Yuurei sat on the living room couch, Yugito and Temari nearby on either side. The three blondes sat in relative silence, but only because Yuurei hadn't been speaking. His scars ached; he resisted the urge to reach up and scratch at his throat. What could he say, or do, to talk about the situation? There was no going back from his course of action, and he didn't regret it, but patience might have been the better choice. He'd waited for more than two months to butcher Gato and his mercenary army in Nami no Kuni, he'd killed loyalist and rebel alike while he waited to find Mei's location during the civil war, he could have waited to deliver his vengeance.

He couldn't convince himself that there was any truth to that final thought. He had been patient in those situations because he'd developed moderate long-term plans. Nothing like that had been in his mind; instead, all that occupied his thoughts was the idea that he'd made a mistake by going to the desert to spar with Yugito and Tayuya. Never mind that Mei was supposed to have guards, he should have trusted them. He should have been nearby to interfere in her confrontation with Itachi. He knew why he'd been hesitant to hold the same faith in his companions from before the final battle for Kirigakure—it didn't make him feel any better.

"Sorry," he laughed wryly, his eyes shifting from one woman to the other. "I seem to make a mess of things everywhere I go."

Neither woman had a rebuttal for that remark. They were familiar with his exploits, and he practically seemed like a magnet for turmoil; what could they say that would refute him? Four eyes met when Yugito and Temari looked at one another, but both blondes were unsure of who should say what.

"No, it's my fault," Temari finally said. "I wanted to believe in the peace Itachi claimed he was promoting. I wanted it so badly that I ignored the risks of inviting a third major village, or ulterior motives behind hosting it here. I knew better, even before finding out about your connection with Mei and Konoha's tensions with Kiri. Don't blame yourself," the Kazekage pleaded.

"I'm not blaming anybody, especially not you. You're innocent in this. Both of you," Yuurei countered.

"Last night, you said you made a mistake. What did you do?" Yugito asked. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer, but morbid curiosity overtook her. More than almost anyone, she was familiar with his decisive and ruthless violence. For him to consider something a mistake after the fact, how far had he gone?

"I killed his wife in her sleep, right next to him. Carved my name into her body, and then blew the corpse apart after he woke up this morning. I wanted him to know it was me," Yuurei said, a snarl briefly marring his face as Temari's eyes widened in shock. "I could have killed him too, and I probably should have, but I didn't. I wanted him to know it was me...and I would do it again. No human has the right to offend me without consequence."

"And that was enough for you?" Yugito asked, numb to the devastation her master caused. She found his wording interesting, though—as if there was some god or demon that he'd decided not to provoke. She knew of the Speargod from the story of Yuurei's journey through hell, but that wasn't an existence the young Kyuubi was likely to meet again. Was it the demon they'd met in the open desert? She would have to ask him about it later.

"Fu and Chojuro took care of his guards and several Jounin, so I didn't do very much. It was impressive," Yuurei said, praising Mei's absent pair of guards.

"They created the opening," Yugito asserted. "Working together with you?"

"They knew that Mei disappeared after meeting with the Hokage. I...let them do as they pleased. It made things easier for me," Yuurei said.

"That's a pretty roundabout way of saying 'no,' you know." Temari lowered an eyebrow in questioning, but didn't press the issue further.

"They didn't know I was there, and I'm beginning to think I prefer it that way. Not in terms of stealth, even if I can probably out-sneak anyone, but working in tangent. Seeing all the nonsense you have to put up with killed any desire of mine to become a leader." Yuurei laughed, looking in Temari's direction. Her four ponytails shook with her head, not sure whether to laugh or groan at the tall demon's proclamation.

"Leaving that aside..." Yugito's mismatched red eyes looked between Yuurei and Temari as she tried to keep focus. "He'll retaliate. You know he will. He has to, what kind of leader—what kind of man would take that lying down? What are you going to do about his reprisal?"

"He's the aggressor here, not me. Whatever revenge he thinks he can approach me for, he's wrong to try, and he's in the wrong for believing he can," Yuurei countered.

"I'm not saying you're wrong, just that you should be prepared. Men in positions of power don't take it well when their loved ones die," Yugito delivered a pointed look to her master, lifting a hand to the scar from her beheading. Yuurei seemed to struggle for a response, his expression changing several times while he processed that she'd referenced her own death so casually. When he leaned his head back and rolled his lips over his teeth, sighing in self-defeat, the older blonde couldn't help laughing; it wasn't often that she got to see Yuurei so stumped.

"I don't have any mercy for those who harm my people. I don't have any mercy for their friends or family, or their villages, or their nations. I'll rip out his dantian if I need to, but if he decides to face me, then he's going to face me." Yuurei's conviction was insurmountable.

"Good." Yugito smiled, and any memory of pain was gone from her features. "That's the attitude you should have. Right, Temari?"

"I...right," the Kazekage agreed. She sounded uncertain, but as she thought about it, the ex-Jinchuriki's words made some sense—she had seen Yuurei's vengeance with her own eyes when he'd killed the Raikage's heir for hurting Yugito. It would be wrong to tell most people that uncompromising violence was a virtue, but the young Kyuubi was an exception. Violence was everything he knew. It was the attitude he should have. Brooding didn't suit him.

Yuurei remained unmoved. His shaggy blond hair, still uncut after more than a year, gave him a wilder look than he intended when paired with his mismatched red eyes. Still, as he took in the sight of the women on either side of him, a sense of peace gradually overcame his tension. He had an idea on how to keep a leg up on the belligerent Hokage; it wasn't much, but it was a start.

"I don't know how much it will help, but I can look through my Sharingan's memories to see what Kakashi knew about Itachi," the demon said. "I won't hold out hope, but if there's any advantage I can get..."

"Take it, and don't look back," Temari nodded as she spoke.

"You're also assuming that you have the time to do that. I know you like to make deals and bet on yourself, but I wouldn't gamble on that. Not when he knows where we're staying, and not if you're going to fight inside the city walls. I have an idea of what happened to Konoha, and I know what you'll do to Kumo, but I hope you wouldn't just throw away Temari's citizens' lives on a whim. Not on that scale, knowing what you can do," Yugito said.

"I'm not sure what your logic devolved into there," Yuurei replied with a puzzled look on his face. "But you're right about time constraints. Depends on whether or not someone comes along and holds him up."

"Does that mean you have somebody doing that?" Temari asked.

"Sai's still back in Konoha, isn't he? As near as he can safely be, anyway," Yugito added on. "You're just speculating."

"Of course I am, I don't have the time to plan that many steps ahead while I'm committing crimes of passion." Yuurei laughed at Yugito's observation, maybe a bit too much. "Not that it's ever stopped me before. Act first, question later."

"From all the stories you told me about your travels, I'm not sure you've ever reached the 'ask questions' stage of that conventional wisdom," Temari said drily.

"He hasn't. Once, maybe," Yugito replied. But just like the room's other occupants, and the rest of the people in the mansion, she was unaware of the violence that awaited them.

His white hair and red vest knew no mercy for Konoha's enemies, and he walked into Suna with his head held high while two younger ninja followed after him.