Winding down the arc as promised. The beginning of the end starts here. Thank you for those who have stuck by the story thus far and been invested in this arc. Also, 30 chapters is a milestone!
The chickens saw him coming and eagerly started clambering closer, making him smile a little. At least they appreciated him, despite it being for a simple reason like bringing them food. It made him feel guilty when he had to slaughter the hens who stopped laying.
"Muyo! Kaa-san wants you to…oh, you're already doing it," Mina came bouncing up behind him, her pale hair fluttering. She rocked on her heels and watched him scatter the feed before speaking. "You're so on top of everything, little brother."
"Stop," he mumbled. "Y-You know better than anybody I'm always angering mother because I don't remember half of what I should, and I never do things fast enough. Should you really be outside in your hostess attire?" Sometimes, most times, he felt he cared more about his sister's duties as future hostess of the inn than she ever could. But what else could he really do? His mother had proclaimed him useless, and his father never really bothered to tell him otherwise. In fact, he seemed to defer to his wife in most things. "If you get the ends muddy…"
"Then I get the ends muddy," Mina shrugged it off with ease. "What'll she do..? Scold me and send me to my room? Not when she needs all the help she can muster." Oh, how he envied his spirited sister. She was friendly, good at her chores, and best of all…their mother liked her, even when she was disobedient. But he'd never hate her for that, or for anything. Mina was the only one who even attempted to understand him. "Hey," she went on, "Did you know? We've got more visitors wearing those shinobi headbands!"
Her words ended in a squeal, the news bursting out of her. Knowing that she expected him to show interest, Muyo smiled quietly. "What are they like?"
"So much different than everyone else around here," she answered without hesitation. "You know the handsome shinobi…Lord Uchiha? Well, there's another man that looks so much like him, I think they must be related! The other two that came are a man a woman. They're young, but still older than us. I think they're related too. They look like a matching set." She snorted at her own joke, rambling unstoppably, "Oh, I'd really like to visit the mainland one day, wouldn't you?"
Muyo gave the last of the feed to the hens and their one rooster, watching them peck it up. His life was so pitiful, he envied the simplicity of these animals, lowly birds who were oblivious right up until the end. "Yes," It was the honest answer. His dreams would never come to fruition, more than likely. As bland of an existence as he lived in Water Country, it was all he knew. And even if she didn't really need him, Muyo wanted to stay and help his sister.
"You could, you know," she hummed calmly.
Startled, he nearly dropped the empty feed sack. Mina's eyes were full of the kind of instant understanding only a sibling could have, and Muyo had to remind himself she was much more observant than she seemed. "I could what?"
"Leave Water Country one day. Explore the mainland. Muyo, kaa-san can't keep you here forever," She hopped up deftly onto the wooden post of the little chicken pen. "You think your whole life has to be like them?" He followed her gesture toward the ambling chickens. He'd always felt he wasn't only similar to them because of the direction his life went, but his cowardly nature.
The heavy yoke he'd never been able to throw off hitching him to the crushing weight of his doubts, his mother's scorn, and every negative trait he saw and picked at in the mirror…
Muyo worried the sack still clutched in his hands, not meeting her eyes. "I just think I know my place here, and that if I don't forget it, I can't really be disappointed. Maybe I'll find a new life out there, but that doesn't mean it'll be a better one." Because, truth be told, he'd spent a lot of sleepless nights dreaming of what would happen if he ran away.
The fear that he'd be leaving his stability, as disappointing as the life that came with it may have been, for something unknown and dangerous and sad, always made him turn over, blow out his candle, and force himself to sleep, his unpacked rucksack hidden under his futon.
Mina choked down an incredulous laugh, "You're only fourteen!" If she'd been closer, he knew she would've given him a hardy slap to the back. She had their father's strength, to their mother's dismay. "Your place is enjoying the rest of your childhood, then gearing up for the big adventure the rest of your life is gonna be—because we'll make sure of it." She slipped down, coming to touch his hand. He lifted his head to smile at her initially, but it was the sky that drew his attention.
"Mina," he whispered, his breath stolen away by the sight of the once blue, autumn sky churning restlessly, blackening steadily with each second.
Her head snapped up, mouth agape in the same way his must've been. It started like an obtrusively deep gray bordering that didn't quite fit the sunny spot it was framing, They watched together as the once beautiful heavens disappeared, shrinking down to a pinprick, only the smallest sliver of blue still visible.
"This is unreal," His sister stated, just before the last wavering bit of color got swallowed up too. The air was so dense now, the sky overhead pitch. It wasn't only the loss of sunlight that shook through his bones, but the very real feeling of impending destruction seizing the air from his lungs. It was everywhere. His pulse jumped and his skin clammed up. Mina felt it too, her pupils exploding until it encompassed nearly the whole iris. Death was watching, right on their heels, waiting…
Muyo remembered hearing about an eclipse happening on the islands once, years ago before he or his sister had been born. A bad omen, their father had said. That season famine and a harsh winter ravaged Water Country.
He'd never seen an omen physically manifest itself, as much as everyone on Sekai and beyond believed they were beholden to the whims of the gods. But he was sure if what he was seeing could be described as anything, it was the wrath of some vicious deity, being brought to bear.
Heart galloping, his sister reached for him, their holds on each other threatening to hurt them both. It was a tense minute of waiting to see what would happen next, if something would come cutting through the darkness, but their mother's sharp wails rung through their heads. Muyo could have wept; nothing had ever sounded so glorious…because it let him know he was still alive.
His arm nearly wrenched from its socket before he knew he was being made to walk, nearly dragged, back down the little path and away from the chickens, back to the inn. They burst into the back hall, where no guests were allowed and where the family lived.
A warning that they should both remove their shoes so they wouldn't upset their mother stuck like wet sand in his throat. Mina wouldn't have listened even if he'd managed to get it out, anyway.
She was on a mission, weaving the three bends that brought them back to the front of the inn, where the tavern was separated by an ornate partition from the lobby that greeted guests, and where they were just in time to see their mother drop to her knees, arms held wide for their bemused younger sister.
The shriek had drawn not only their father—who stopped short behind his wife and stared blankly— but the shinobi guests from upstairs, and a red-haired woman in miko robes he had never seen. Maybe she'd come in while he'd been outside. At any rate, no one was paying her any attention.
"Fuyuko," His kaa-san kept crying, grabbing his sister's little body and holding her tight. "My Fuyuko,"
Muyo could just barely make out the top of her black head. She was almost hidden in the tight embrace of their kaa-san. Everything about her was so familiar, it hurt. Her rosy cheeks, long black hair, blue eyes, the deep purple nemaki she'd fallen asleep in. Fuyuko was a winter child, named for the season of her birth. The same one that had taken her from them a year ago.
Muyo clearly remembered the tears, holding her cold little hand, and the burial that was too quick and unsatisfying to bring closure. A priest of Iwanagahime had come hobbling down from the mountains, said some words over her as she was lowered into the ground, and declared her a child of the goddess.
"Maka," His father grunted. "What's the meaning of this?" Beneath his full beard and the hard lines of his face, there was disbelief…and fear. In all his life, he'd never seen that before. His father was a giant of a man, well over six feet and able to split logs with his bare hands—strong as, no, stronger than an ox. In every way it was possible for a human being to be, he was immovable. That extended to his emotions, which were sparse.
"Oh," Their mother, still refusing to let go of Fuyu, smiled brightly. It was abundantly clear by the sheen in her eyes that she was euphoric, holding her youngest child again. She knew—she knew it was unnatural. But a mother's love knew no bounds, and Muyo fully suspected she didn't care. "Hachirou, can't you see our daughter is back with us?" And she peppered kisses to the crown of Fuyu's head, ceaseless tears still dripping from her face.
"Our daughter is dead." His father said in his rough baritone, swallowing thickly. "And so dead things should stay." Muyo and Mina glanced in unison to the axe gripped tight in their father's right hand. He'd just come running from chopping lumber.
"Things?" Kaa-san screeched, enraged.
"Dead?" asked almost everyone else. There was enough shock and horror to go around, Muyo watching it jump like a tick from one face to the next.
Only the redheaded miko's expression remained unchanged. "So it's already too late," she said, wearily.
"Kaa-chan?" Fuyuko wriggled free, and Muyo wondered when she'd ever been that strong. The cornflower color of her eyes was still so vibrant and innocent, making the memory of watching them close for the final time seem like a faraway, horrid dream. "I'm…I'm really hungry," Their mother sprang into action, scooping her up and whisking her off to the kitchens, and their father followed with a displeased frown.
Mina toppled over, breathing erratically, and he sank to his knees with her. All he could do for his sister was hold her together, knowing the omen had just gotten worse.
After everything that had happened since arriving to Water Country, one strange revelation after the next, Sakura fully expected her ability to feel true shock would have long since left. But it hadn't. Downstairs, a mother was fussing over her dead little girl, who was once again alive.
Everyone was agitated, Yurine remaining close to the family, fully armed and ready to act. The rest of them huddled upstairs, in the room she'd been sharing with Madara once again. He took in the dour expressions with passing interest, but the gravity of the situation hadn't really sank into him. Not that she'd expect it to with the way he was.
"What else do you know?" Izuna snapped, glaring at Takara.
The miko was sitting on the edge of the cot, her body language suggesting she was doing everything in her power to shrink into herself. Despite the tremor running through her clasped hands, she spoke with quiet conviction. "I know that little girl must be destroyed. And that if she's risen, so have others."
That settled as well as anyone could expect. "Then how?" Kureno demanded, no longer any hint of his usual playfulness remaining. "If death doesn't stop a dead thing, what does?"
Takara picked at her fingernails, lips twitching.
"Speak, if you've got something that'll help!" The Yuhi threw up his hands.
"I saw what I believe is the source once," she said lightly. "In my dreams I saw a field in a valley between the mountains."
"And it was covered with violacias." Sakura added. "Because after it rains, the dead rise!" The story Joben told them all those nights ago resurfaced, and she would have been proud she'd remembered if the terror left any room for it.
"You know the tale." Takara smiled a bit, "That makes things easier. Destroy the field, destroy the dead."
"That's all?" Madara sounded unimpressed, blowing his bangs out of his face. "Why is my hair so long?"
Sakura had asked herself the same thing on more than one occasion, but she'd never expect to hear it come from Madara's own mouth.
"You always preferred it that way," Izuna trailed. "And what do you mean, that's all? Isn't that enough?" He looked between her and Kureno. "We need to find that field."
"I'm willing to show you the way," Takara stood.
"If you knew it, why didn't you take us there from the beginning?" Izuna sighed. "Well, never mind. I'm not sure I trust you completely, but—"
Takara smirked, unoffended. "It's either this or watch the island sink into oblivion."
Sakura was starting to get annoyed with the miko's blasé attitude. If she truly wanted to help, she could do a better job of making herself seeming more open and trustworthy. "How far is this field?"
The redhead craned her neck. "Far enough that we'll need to hurry,"
"What about your bird?" Kureno asked, immediately following the question with a full-body cringe.
"Bird?" Sakura and Madara asked in unison. Even in his amnesiac state, the mention of birds apparently held some appeal to Madara, as he leaned forward, engaged in the conversation for the first time.
"He means Shinta, the eagle Summon of the Uchiha clan." Izuna's shoulders slumped. "My name isn't on the contract. That's a rite of passage usually reserved for firstborns of the head family."
Their eyes all trailed to Madara, who didn't seem to be catching on. He stared up at them dumbly. "Madara," Sakura ground out, "That's you."
"I'm older than you?" he asked Izuna idly. "By how much?"
"Is that really even important right now?" the younger Uchiha grumbled.
Madara glared, not a hint of a joke in his eyes. "I want to know."
"Three years."
"Good," The Uchiha puffed out his chest in satisfaction. "But I don't remember how to call any bird." Then, filling the room with second-hand embarrassment, he attempted a half-hearted whistle that wouldn't have even called forth a crow. There was no point in telling him that whistling had nothing to do with Summoning. It was just another headache no one could afford.
Sakura was doing her best not to throttle Madara right in front of Izuna, but her fingers ached with the restraint it took to stop herself.
"We're wasting time, then." Kureno grunted, running both hands through his hair and tapping his heel. "We'd be better off just going it on foot."
"Agreed, but I'm not sure if I can keep up with you ninja." Takara added.
"Then get on my back," Sakura offered, almost throwing the young woman over her shoulder, but managing to wait for her to climb on properly. The willowy arms around her neck were stronger than she would've thought, a hint of hidden power in the grip. No sooner had Izuna and Kureno made sure they were properly armed than Yurine came tumbling in, soaked in blood.
Kureno rushed forward, touching the spot on her cheek and staring at the crimson that came away on his hand.
"It's not mine," she reassured, panting. "It's not…" Stopping with a shudder, she gave Sakura a desperate look. "Sakura, you need to come quickly. The innkeeper's wife...I was hoping you could save her."
Sakura remembered how the dour woman had been so different, overjoyed by the return of her supposedly deceased child. "Where is she?" Takara had already hopped down, backing away and crinkling her nose at the strong odor of iron.
Yurine glanced down at herself. "In the kitchens…but wait!" She grabbed for the other kunoichi with two hands. "They're here, outside trying to get in."
Izuna touched her shoulder when she started to sway, "Who is?"
"More like Fuyuko." Yurine stared down at herself. "We barricaded the entrances and sent all the guest to their rooms, but I don't know how long it'll last."
Sakura bolted, not waiting to see what Kureno or Izuna would decide to do. Sprinting made short work of the expanse of hall, and the creaky stairs. Reaching the bottom of the steps, she nearly lost her footing and skidded through the trail of blood dirtying the otherwise squeaky clean hardwood floors.
Following the spatters to their end, she burst into the kitchens, coming across signs of an obvious struggle. Food was flung as high as the ceiling in dripping spatters, overturned pots littered the floor and the large table where meals were carefully prepared had been pushed onto its side, one leg broken.
Pinned to the wall by the axe in her gut was a crying Fuyuko, who reached fruitlessly for her mother, babbling apologies. Her little feet were dangling off the ground, and for all the blood running from the fatal wound, she appeared fine.
The large man, the girl's father, was sitting on a keg with his head dropped into his hands. He looked up the minute she set foot into the kitchen. "You the medic?"
Sakura nodded wordlessly, and he threw a thick arm to the side, motioning to his children gathered close to their mother and applying pressure with towels. Sakura didn't waste time, lowering to the floor and prying the woman's hands from her bleeding abdomen. For someone with the haze of death starting to creep over them, the arms she'd banded around herself were like steel.
"What happened?" She asked as she worked, glancing at the children on either side of her for an answer.
"Fuyu was with kaa-san; we were outside the kitchen and we…we heard the noise…" Muyo shook his head, unable to finish.
"My wife was attacked when her back was turned," Their father sighed. "I managed to get that," he shrugged a shoulder in the child's direction. "Pinned to the wall before she caused more damage. Whatever it is now, I know my daughter's still gone."
"Papa!" Fuyuko trilled. "Papa, it's me!"
"Then why didn't you stay dead?" Hachirou started to shed silent tears, something Sakura surmised didn't happen often. "We already buried you once. You were at peace, and we were moving on."
The child started to thrash, groaning, "I'm so, so hungry…!" she cried.
That's what she said right before she attacked." Hachirou explained, his knee bouncing. "My wife had made her a feast and I watched her eat every scrap, but she kept complaining that it wasn't enough."
Fuyuko had quieted, and when Sakura checked to make sure she was still secured, she was treated to the sickening view of the child sucking blood from her fingers, a ravenous look glowing in her eyes.
The woman's breathing was starting to even out, her eyelids twitching. She'd almost finished closing the injury now. Any longer and she would have been too far gone to save. Izuna was right. They had to find that field, or more people would die.
The innkeeper's wife started to open her eyes. Sakura thought she heard the husband call her Maka. Disoriented, she screamed, struggling weakly, but the pinkette had no trouble keeping her down. "You're alright," she soothed. To the woman's family, she said, "You're going to need to move her, and—"
With an angry grunt, Fuyuko jerked the axe from her gut, slumping to the floor. No one wasted any time scrambling to their feet and out of the way. Sakura picked up and carried Maka with Mina right behind her, leaving Muyo and Hachirou to start sealing up the kitchen with whatever they could find. Fuyuko's wailing echoed from within, the axe blade striking and sticking in the door.
"Fuyuko," Maka began crying from her arms. "Why?"
"Your daughter, and likely everyone brought back, are gripped by a deep bloodlust," Takara's stated. Kureno came down the stairs with Takara on his back, the others following. Madara was noticeably absent, but considering that now probably wasn't the time for his antics, she wouldn't be surprised if Izuna had locked him in the room.
Fuyuko kept screaming, beating the door from the inside. Takara climbed off of Kureno's back and spun her body in Sakura's general direction. "We should hurry, or this whole island and the rest of Water Country is damned for sure."
"Don't go out the front," Yurine warned, her hair loosening from its ponytail and sticky with sweat. She was still wearing her soiled clothing, unbothered, and Sakura remembered how both Yuhi siblings were used to the gruesomeness of daily life with the Kaguya. Even before that, she'd been a kunoichi, and right now it showed. "That's where they all started gathering."
Hachirou, towering over them all, looked solemnly around the room, eyes landing on his haggard wife, who Sakura had deposited gently in a nearby chair from the tavern. "Take the back way. Muyo and Mina can show you."
"Someone still has to stay here." Izuna muttered, "To keep the inn from being breached."
"We can," Kureno lifted his hand, the other resting on his sister's arm. "Right, Yurine?"
"You go and resolve this, Sakura," The blonde girl pulled her into a quick hug. "If anyone can, it's you."
Her heart sank. The enemies they were facing seemed indestructible—a little girl who had survived an axe blow to the stomach?—and almost certainly outnumbered them. So there was a chance she'd never see either of the Yuhi again, and they knew that too.
"Ready?" Izuna asked, already waiting with Muyo and Mina.
Sakura shook off her melancholy, unwilling to feel sorry for herself when everyone here was doing their best to keep it together. Nothing could be more traumatizing than the child a parent had once buried returning, only to nearly kill them.
And she wouldn't be the only one risking her life. "Takara, are you sure you know where to go?"
"We're in the endgame now." Takara shrugged. "The location is the easy part, what comes after is what's hardest."
"Is that a no, a yes, or a maybe?" Kureno growled.
"I'm sure enough," the miko said.
Rolling her eyes, Sakura once again helped Takara onto her back. Regardless of the fact that Takara wasn't their best option, at the moment she was the only one.
Driftwood rooftops didn't feel as sturdy underfoot as the tiled ones he was accustomed to. With every leap, Izuna was careful to apply just the right amount of chakra to absorb impact, not keen on the embarrassment of crashing through someone's house. He knew if he was watching his steps, Sakura had to have been being doubly cautious with the added weight of Takara at her back, though it didn't slow her jumps.
Izuna didn't trust the mysterious woman, and he doubted any of the others had unwavering faith either, but they knew they didn't have the liberty of being as wary as usual. What had happened at the inn was all the proof they needed that at the very least there was a bigger threat than Takara and whatever agenda she had.
He'd come because he was worried for Madara and for Sakura, that their lives would be in danger. And yet the situation was somehow even worse than the scenario he'd been thinking of…
"Do you really think Madara will be alright?" Sakura asked, keeping perfect pace.
It was a valid question, considering he'd asked himself the same. But in his state of mind, Madara could be more of a danger to himself on the battlefield than any great asset to them. "He'll have to be," he winced. "Kureno and Yurine aren't going anywhere either, so he's at least moderately guarded from…the undead. And himself."
All he got was a noncommittal hum. "Mm,"
"It's the west side of the mountains," Takara shifted, "So you'll want to travel a little diagonal to reach it." They moved accordingly across the houses, and their strange guide fell silent again.
Izuna glanced down at the people moving through the darkness, screams of terror or aggression echoing up to meet their ears. Predictably, chaos had consumed the island, the dead wearing the same faces they had in life, even acting the same right up until the moment they moved to slaughter.
He'd never considered himself much of a believer in the gods, but he thought they had to be particularly cruel to unleash this kind of punishment on so many unsuspecting people.
It raised a question he'd been wondering since Takara had conveniently shown up, and he couldn't help but give voice to it now. "If this is the will of your goddess, why are you helping us?"
Takara laughed, mirthless. "Because I've had a connection to the heavens since birth. No matter what the others believe…this doesn't feel like the will of the Iwanagahime I know."
"Then who's the real enemy?" Sakura demanded, jolting Takara when she made a particularly hard jump. "You'd better not be holding out on us!"
"I only know what the gods allow me to," the miko claimed. "I wouldn't have sight at all, but they allow me to see through my visions. In them, I saw you, staring down a powerful force. What happens next is something I couldn't tell you."
Izuna thought it over. Honestly, it all felt insane, but it was no more unbelievable than anything else he'd seen or heard in the last few hours. As long as he was in Water Country, Izuna supposed he had to suspend everything he thought he knew about the word believable. "How much further, Takara?"
"Well," She turned her unseeing eyes to him. "There's a stream that runs through the mountains and from there reaching the valley is pretty simple."
"Wait! Down there!" Sakura yelled, already leaping into the darkness.
Unable to stop in time, Izuna nearly twisted his ankle as he leapt to the next roof they should have both landed on together. Staring in disbelief, he watched her run toward the scene of some fierce battle, a charging group held at bay by a tall luminous wall in a hexagonal formation. Cold mist rose up from the sheets, Izuna realizing they were made of ice. 'Ice walls? '
Perplexed and unwilling to let Sakura charge in alone, he reluctantly joined her on the ground. Men and women in light blue yukata stood shoulder to shoulder, their backs all bearing the same elaborate snowflake symbol. A crush of charging, crazed undead rushed them, holding knives and swords while cowering civilians huddled behind the shinobi clan. As one, they wove hand signs, filling the streets with a united cry of, "Makyō Hyōshō!"
Izuna felt the stagnant air pulse, three rows of approximately twelve mirrors each circling around each other in a spiral, trapping the dead inside. Additional mirrors formed to float above the ground, three rows of eight angling downward in concave formation, a final giant mirror a roof stretching across the top and sealing a massive, icy dome.
It had to be a kekkei genkai, because despite the sound of fists and swords beating the ice, they didn't so much as crack. A pause hitched the breath of the civilians and shinobi alike, and then a triumphant round of cheers rose with the chill mist, punctuating the air with relief.
Members of the clan began attending to the villagers, leading some away, presumably to safety.
No longer distracted by the impressive bloodline limit he had never seen before, Izuna was easily able to pick out Sakura, Takara still clinging to her as she talked to a man that was obviously from this ninja clan of ice-users.
"…all of them buried." He was saying somberly.
"Right," Sakura nodded, voice trailing off. "And Erika always facilitated that exchange."
The ice-user paused, his eyes widening visibly even in the dark. "Now that you mention it…yes. She told us early on she'd managed to establish contact with the acolytes. No one comes or goes on the island without their approval...When the sickness was at its worst, we were losing ten patients a day on average. Acolytes seemed to show up and gather bodies immediately, and they always insisted on dealing with Erika only. Which is peculiar, given her status as a traveling healer and how private the order generally is."
Sensing a lull in the conversation as Sakura took in the information and the man glanced toward the ice dome, Izuna broke in. "We need to be going. But you'll keep tending to…whatever that is?" He motioned to the as of yet unbroken prison, the chatter of dozens of angry voices coming from inside. While they appeared nearly driven to madness with bloodlust, they were clearly still capable of human intelligence, which made them all the more horrifying than if they'd been grotesque and mindless.
Sizing him up once, the other shinobi slowly nodded. "Our Makyō Hyōshō can stand up to it fine. Or…that's what I'd like to believe." He sighed, glancing over at the structure. "But it's only as strong as our chakra reserves. As long as we alternate, we should be safe from chakra depletion for a while, but not forever."
"Take these," Sakura reached for a small pouch at her waist. It was too dark to see whatever small thing she pressed into his tentatively stretched hand. "They're chakra pills I was keeping. I think you'll need them more right now."
Izuna watched discerningly as the older shinobi's face lit up and he squeezed gratefully at her hand. "Thank you, Sakura. You've been more help here than you realize."
Her smile was faint and it dropped quickly as he heard her whisper. "Maybe you shouldn't thank me just yet," Sakura took to the rooftops once more, Izuna bidding the shinobi a brief nod and followed after her.
There was something melancholy hanging over her now, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it. In the time since they'd been acquainted, he had noticed a pattern she had of overextending herself, taking blame for perceived shortcomings when there was truly no need.
"I should have known," she said aloud.
"You couldn't have." Takara comforted, "I hear the heavens in my dreams each night and I still only had a suspicion."
Izuna sped up so their paces matched. "Of what?" he interjected, thoroughly aware how uninformed he was on the entirety of the situation.
"Erika's involved in all this…" Sakura said over the wind. "I know it's going to sound ridiculous," she hesitated, and Izuna worried he'd have to prompt her to keep speaking. "But there's no other way any of this makes sense."
The Uchiha knew for certain this person was their enemy. He trusted Sakura's assessment. But that was all the more reason he wanted to be in the know before they reached their destination. "And Erika would be?"
"A traveling medic that was here before me. She said she got here around the same time the blights started."
"Blights?" His long ago conversation with Madara hit like a smack to the face. "Black butterflies? …That's what's doing all this?"
"Yes," It was the miko who answered. "I should tell you now…Erika spoke with the high priest shortly after arriving. She told us all she communicated directly with our Iwanagahime and knew her will. Whatever honeyed words she fed him privately must have worked, because, he was always seeking her counsel. The medic was correct that the acolytes would have only been dealing with her."
Izuna wasn't sure what that meant for them, or if he could even wrap his head around actual myths coming to life. Turning back had ceased to be an option the minute he'd made up his mind in the Hokage's office, though. "Soon she'll be dealing with us, and we'll put all this madness to rest." he announced, adrenaline running high now. His declaration made the intention clear—they would win or they would die fighting.
Without words, he knew Sakura shared his sentiment, feeling her resolve link with his. The village rooftops gave way to the trees dotting the path up the mountain, the temple sitting ominously atop it, a guardian overseeing their final confrontation.
Once again they had all left him, stuck by himself without much in the way of explanation, staring at the walls. Madara may not have none as much about himself as he wanted to at present, but he knew he didn't like being ordered around. When Izuna, his younger brother, left with the others—telling him to stay put before locking the door and taking the key— he was outraged.
But outrage had given way to grumpy resignation when he'd pounded the door and it didn't open up. He'd even kicked it as hard as he could with the flat of his foot, earning himself a stubbed toe. They told him he was a ninja, but after that failure he really wasn't sure.
The people in the room next door sounded frantic, and for a while he had tried listening to their conversation, but it didn't make any sense. Punishment from Iwanagahime? Bored, he flopped across the futon on his stomach, pretending to swim the sheets like a fish traveling upstream. As hard as he tried, there was no clear memory in his head that gave credence to anything they'd told him. Taking their word was all he could do. Not that it sat well. It didn't.
Next door, someone was sobbing gently, whispering prayers. Ugh. Madara sat up, shifting away from the wall. He didn't like criers. That was another fact he knew instinctively.
Restlessly standing to pace, he found himself at the window, looking through the glass and hoping to make out anything that could tell him what was going on. The darkness that eclipsed what was once a peaceful blue sky gave no clues, making him more frustrated.
He pressed his cheek up against the cold pane, watching his breath fog it and lifting his finger. "Ma-da-ra," he mouthed as he steadily wrote out the characters. Unfortunately, seeing it written only made his nose crinkle in disdain.
The door rattling made him pull away, racing to the other side of the room and getting the sword Izuna had left for him. Of course, he was gone before Madara could complain he didn't know how to use it. But well, he reminded himself cheerfully, how hard could it be to stick the pointy end into someone? Any idiot could do that!
"Who's there?" he called, not really expecting a response. There was a heavy sigh on the other side and Madara charged forward, sword raised as the door swung open. Sakura Haruno dodged nimbly, ducking under his raised arms and sweeping his legs out from under him. He landed hard from his back, sword flying from his hands.
"What exactly did you think you were doing with that?" she hissed, eyes flashing as she stood over him.
"Oh," he scoffed, trying to hide his red cheeks and wounded pride. "It's you again. What're you doing back?"
She glared down at him, moving around to survey the room as he picked himself up off the floor. "Against my better judgement, checking on you." She shook her head at his writing on the window and the unkempt state of the futon. "But you seem fine."
Madara didn't know why, but her exasperated tone rubbed him the wrong way. If he had it his way, he'd be out there, doing whatever shinobi things the others were doing. But no one would let him.
"I am." he grunted, stalking over to the futon, plumping the pillow for no other reason than to have something to do. "So you can go. You're all busy stopping some big threat, right?"
In spite of his clear dismissal of her presence, she remained, her footsteps near silent but there nonetheless. The pink-haired kunoichi came and perched herself beside him on the futon, looking up into his face. "I trust everyone else has it under control."
Madara slowly sat. "How do you know that?" She parted her lips, but he interrupted, "Even if that's true, you should be out there helping. Aren't you a medic?"
He half-expected her to huff, declare that of course she was, and storm off. For some reason that just felt like what she'd do. Instead she leaned over and took a lock of his hair, rubbing it with her thumb. Unnerved, his dark eyes trailed down to focus on her perfectly groomed nails, short and pink. "You know, you're a strange one." She looked up at him from under her lashes, green eyes bright. "I like strange."
Madara wrenched her hand away, scowling. "You acted like you couldn't stand me before, so I doubt that." Persistent, she crawled toward him, sincere interest reflected back in her gaze.
"I'm sorry if I offended you then." Her chest touched his. But instead of feeling her heat, he only felt cold, a chill seeping right through his yukata. "Maybe I just needed more time to see you for who you were." Madara had no good argument, as he didn't know who he was, but it still all felt too surreal.
Some small, dulled prick of awareness made his muscles clench as she let her eyes drift shut, puckering her lips. The sense of discomfort flared up, two fingers coming up to poke the center of her forehead. She retracted, eyes blinking open. "Wha…"
"Why's this pink?" he asked, tracing the diamond at the center of her forehead. "Wasn't it purple before?"
Sakura Haruno looked taken aback. Her hand flew to cover the mark. "Well I…"
Eyes narrowing, he bore down on her with heat in his voice. "It was hard to tell until you were close enough, but your hair's darker now too. It was a lighter shade when you left. So you might as well come clean, whoever you are."
"Whoever I am?" she growled. "I can't believe you!" Madara watched "Sakura" become overtaken by a wide smile that morphed her face. Her eyes shifted, darkening like ink blotting over fresh paper. He jumped back, waiting. "I mean, you must pay more attention to her than I thought. Or maybe I just got too careless?"
The imposter's whole countenance had shifted to reveal some roiling darkness. Her skin might as well have started peeling, because it wouldn't have made the sight of madness twinkling in her too-round eyes any more frightening.
She rolled her shoulders, shrinking minutely at first, and then as drastically as a foot. Reaching up to rip the white ribbon away made the dark pink hair fall black and cropped to her shoulders.
Madara reached for the sword, but she was quicker, slamming him into the wall with just a movement of her hand. The Uchiha groaned, tasting the blood from his bitten tongue. "I hope you feel special, because I don't go this far to kill just anyone. You two were supposed to die at the temple; it's why I sent you. But if you want something done right..." She shook her head.
Madara glared. "Don't remember. Being crushed by a rock tends to do a thorough job of jumbling your memories."
Erika's eyes glittered with interest. "Amnesia? How...unexpected." She went on, "I went to the trouble of tracking you down. I was going to give you the Kiss of Death and be done with it," The tiny dark-haired intruder sighed, climbing up onto the cot until she was eye level with where he hung suspended. "I didn't count on you putting up much resistance if you thought I was on your side." A child's finger poked at his lips and he fought to turn his head away. "This is more fun, though."
Madara growled, his jaw feeling clenched tight and sewn shut by invisible thread. When he opened his mouth, it was with great effort. "Who're… you really?"
The child grabbed both sides of his face and pinched at his cheeks with unnatural strength. If she tugged, he was positive she'd come away with flesh. "Do you want the who or do you want the what?" There really wasn't much answer to that inquiry but to bare his teeth, not that it did much. She held his life in her hands and she knew that. "Who I am varies from time to time, century to century. But for right now, since it's the name you'll remember the easiest, you can call me Erika." Madara's eyes flew open, wide and livid. So this sadistic little child was Erika?
"Recognition!" She slapped both his cheeks hard between her palms, and he bit his tongue again. "You're Madara, I presume?" she smiled charmingly. "I don't see who else you could be. And your name's right over there on the window…" Mocking him, she let her eyes drift across the room, showing him she knew exactly how powerless he was. "I can't believe it's taken us this long to meet face to face." He squirmed away from her clammy touch, realization washing over her face. "I should let you speak; that's the polite thing to do."
The thread came loose, and the very first thing he wanted to do was bite her corpse-cold fingers as hard as possible. It wouldn't be productive though, so he settled for seething quietly until he knew exactly just what he wanted to say. "You're behind all of this." He said, perusing her. "It's hard to believe, but then you're not really a child."
Erika's brows rose, dark eyes thoughtful. "Oh? I admit I'm fond of this form so I use it whenever possible—whoever suspects the little girl? Well, a conversation should be an equal exchange, correct? So I have a question of my own for you, Madara Uchiha…" All the pressure holding him aloft was released and he slid down the wall, landing on the cot unceremoniously. "What do you know about Kaguya Otsutsuki?" Nothing. That name didn't mean one iota to him, and she must have seen that plainly. "Fair enough; it was before your time. Then again so am I."
Madara discreetly searched for the fallen katana, all the while keeping track of Erika's movements. She didn't appear too concerned about him possibly planning anything. "You seem confident no one is going to come and stop you," he commented.
"Oh, they won't." Erika beamed, her cheeks pink with glee. "They're too busy fighting for their lives downstairs. My armies have the inn surrounded, you know." She lazily lifted and spun a pointer finger. "I just wish I'd arrived sooner, when you were all here to crush at the same time." She drummed her fingers to her chin.
Ah! The sword had landed by the desk, near the window… "Army of the dead…" he muttered.
"Precisely," Erika nodded. He inched toward the window as if he were going to look outside at her handiwork. "Let me share a secret with you, Uchiha… Life is unfair even for an immortal. Not all deities have the adoration of loyal mortals, a coveted place in the heavens, or godly strength, and for those of us that don't…our best chance at survival is developing skills to make up for the attributes we lack. I've always had a…a knack I suppose…a nice streak of cunning and the ability to manipulate just about anyone."
When she faced him with wide open arms and a soft, blissful face, he fought the urge to stare back with blatant disgust. "I've done so well with so little! I'll always be proud of myself for that. Even my latest project infecting these islands was something more spur of the moment, you see." There it was, young countenance rolling into a new, twisted expression. Now Erika's round little face was frigid and childish as she balled up her hands and stomped her foot, pouting, "I was just so bored with waiting and searching."
This time when he dove for the weapon, she didn't stop him. Madara wanted to believe he'd caught her off guard, pivoting on the spot and thrusting the katana straight through her chest cavity. She shrieked, stumbling backwards with a panicked sheen in her eyes. The Uchiha stood panting over her downed body, waiting for it to be over. She shook and wailed, at one point throwing a bloodied hand up to her forehead.
He couldn't remember seeing anyone die, but he knew if he was a shinobi he must've not only seen it, but been the direct cause. Maybe it was that fuzzy, out-of-reach sensation of knowing death intimately that made him wonder…
…Should her death be taking so long? Would it be so theatrical with such a clean, precise finishing blow?
Only some honed, dormant sense made him spring back in time to avoid the two-handed swing with that same sword. Erika had effortlessly plucked it from her wound, up on her feet and lunging at him with bubbly giggles that sounded so distorted coming from her mouth. "Shame, shame!" she chirped. "Did you think a simple attack like that could kill an agent of death, a shinigami?!"
Madara crouched, rolling away, narrowly avoiding the strike from above with only a few wisps of severed hair to show for it. Erika jerked the sword from the wood of the floor and feinted right, make a hard slash left at the last minute that caught him across the shoulder.
Expecting the pain to bring him to his knees, he was more than a little grateful when aside from a shudder, he quickly adjusted, putting it down to a high pain threshold. Madara attempted to put as much distance between them as possible, but really there was only so much space to begin with. Erika sighed so loudly it shook her whole body, her grip on the blade loosening. "I would have preferred more challenge than this." She leveled the bloody tip in his direction, "But I suppose the act is reward enough," she whispered. "No one else in the pantheon can boast that they slew Madara Uchiha~!"
"You know," he coughed, backing away until they stood adjacent. "You really do talk too much." The shinobi slammed his foot down as hard as possible, loose floor board rising up to smack Erika in the face. The katana flew high, hilt over blade, landing in his outstretched hand. Ignoring his frantic heart, Madara held the sword diagonal to the ground in a surer grip, a brief spark of knowledge making him more confident.
Erika however, clapped, not at all angry. "Oh, now there's that fight I'd hoped for! I really enjoy reaping souls like yours. It's why I was so upset about your brother, you know? The one that got away."
Madara may have barely remembered anything about him, but he knew that if nothing else, he cared deeply about his brother. Izuna… There was a stinging sensation behind his eyes, just enough to make him blink, and then everything was incredibly clear. "Stay away from him,"
The self-proclaimed shinigami made a face. "Are you threatening me? What would you do if I didn't agree?" She fingered at the hole in her clothing, "Look at all the trouble I've already gone to! All the pieces I've had to line up, just to knock them down! I have every right to—"
He felt it before he saw it—a tremor of power so far yet so fierce, his soul shook apart and then reassembled itself in an instant. Erika's speech came to an abrupt stop, the pupils of her eyes expanding. He watched her sway as if caught in some trance, even as her mouth fell open in awe. "He's…he's come," she yelped. "My master!" Just like that, the child monster patted endearingly at her cheeks, mentally psyching herself. Almost apologetic as her gaze fell on him, she winked, "Well, I never claimed to be all-knowing, did I? This isn't your time to die after all."
Madara didn't think anything could be stranger than what he'd just endured. But Erika's body jerked, collapsing into a swarm of black butterflies as if they'd all been caught inside a net of flesh and bone, smashing the window and funneling out into the darkness.
"Across here," Ignoring the freezing temperature, Sakura waded waist deep into the river at Takara's instruction. Luckily it was slow moving, and reaching the opposite bank only cost her the uncomfortable feeling of being in wet pants.
Already, they'd trekked so far into the forest of the mountainside, and still their guide spurned them on. At any other time, it might have been questionable—following the directions of a blind woman?—but the divine essence that allowed her to ascertain powerful energies had been buzzing beneath her skin. The more they traveled, the stronger it became, so overwhelming at one point she had to pause and regain her equilibrium. None of them felt overly talkative, and navigating through the dark, dense forest and sloping terrain was difficult enough without distractions, so most of the talking was left to Takara, calling out directions. In the breaks of silence, Sakura had time to fully take in everything, to observe her surroundings, to mentally fortify.
Except for the unnatural stillness, any other time the forest probably wouldn't be so bad, she mused. The trees weren't as thick and mighty as the woods surrounding Konoha, but they were tall nonetheless, and spaced apart with gnarled roots that threatened to snag their angles as they picked their way through.
Occasionally, her hand would brush on feathery ferns that stood up to near waist level, or her feet would nudge clods of mushrooms bulbs that seemed to faintly glow and then flicker out before she could decide if her eyes were playing tricks.
There were some points when she wondered if they were lost, foliage blending together unrecognizably. But Takara quietly assured that her visions had told her the way, and Sakura imagined a mental map stamped across the miko's brain, the three of them blips following some unseen path. Izuna was taking point, and whenever the presence up ahead shook her resolve, he would gently touch her arm, almost like he could sense exactly when she needed the encouragement.
When the trail sloped downward and plant life grew scarce, Sakura knew deep inside they were almost there. At one point her foot slipped on the loose soil of a steep embankment and despite how hard she tried to squint, the kunoichi couldn't see past her own toes.
"You can't mean…" Sakura swallowed, a wave of power bursting up and zipping through all of them at the same time. That didn't effect only her this time. Izuna grunted in pain, and Takara sagged.
Puffing, the miko picked up her head from her shoulder and confirmed it with a deep, shuddering breath. "Now we leap,"
Sakura bent her knees, teeth grit so hard she worried they'd crack. While she was fully accepting that what she was about to face was deadly, she couldn't help but hesitate over the choice to let Izuna follow her. If he died, would it effect the timeline? "I don't know if—"
"I do," he cut her off, once again able to anticipate exactly what she was stoking herself to say. "We do this together."
She shook her head, knowing she was defeated before the argument had even begun. "You're really stubborn when you want to be aren't you."
"I prefer the word driven, and I actually think it's one of my better qualities."
'Thank you.' She jumped, falling vertical for mere seconds before she was sliding downward across the craggy mountain slope.
The sudden lurch that picked them up into the air and then dropped them to roll across the plush grass of a field dislodged Takara, a soft breeze blowing at her back. The velveteen touch of a petal pressed against her lips and the strong but undefinable fragrance that wrapped around her had Sakura lifting her head to a field of springy purple blooms that shot up everywhere for as far as the eye could see. Takara had plucked one and brought it to her nose with a delicate sniff. "Violacia."
"You need to get back. We can't fight and keep you safe at the same time, so lay low." Izuna commanded.
Out across the field of swaying flowers, a tall figure stood with back facing them in crimson garments edged with gold that trailed the ground. The agitation stirring inside Sakura clawed around under her skin, a foreign pull that had her up and charging, heedless of Izuna calling her.
It wasn't that she didn't understand how dangerous it was to rush an unknown enemy, but more that the beast inside that had called for Madara's blood reared its head again. It felt his power and decided upon a new challenge, eager for combat.
As she ran closer, the entity grew larger, slowly turning to reveal four crossed arms and blue skin, a knotted gold headdress with a small skull encrusted in its center like a jewel sitting in his long, wavy head of hair. He easily stood taller than any human she'd ever seen, dwarfing even the giant innkeeper of Hagakure. But his smooth face was very human, not even particularly old-looking, and save for the two tiny tusk-like protrusions curling up past his top lip and the blazing ruby eyes that looked and leapt unnaturally like entrapped flames, nothing was really amiss.
He was so otherworldly, so daunting, and so very much not Iwanagahime. The heavy force that slammed into her and sent her tumbling to the side rattled her mind too much to think about it. Erika pinned her down, snarling manically. She was wearing the same yellow yukata from the clinic, a bloody hole in the fabric right where her heart would be. "Sakura," she giggled, spittle flying into the kunoichi's eyes. "I told you that outsiders need to be very careful about disturbing the order."
Feeling the bloodlust inside shift to a new target, Sakura jerked so she could roll on top to pin Erika belly down. "Erika…or should I say Iwanagahime?"
In spite of their positions, the child-like entity lifted her face from the dirt and laughed. "Her?! That sulking wench hasn't left her chamber in the heavens in almost a millennia! You can continue to call me what I've always been to you: Erika." Shifting, she slid away, materializing behind Sakura in the next blink and seizing her tightly by the hair. "Proud shinigami of Lord Yama." Cold lips ghosted across her lobe, "And Sakura, I have to confess that while I enjoyed working alongside you, I can't let you keep getting in the way of my real job. You've been ruining my quota lately."
She felt the heat before she saw it, Izuna blowing out a large fireball that Erika was forced to dive away from. Sakura rolled just in time, too. Some of the flames still managed to land in the shinigami's hair, and she patted at them with a screech, inconvenienced more than actually harmed. "You!" she yelled, "Your soul's going to be my personal reward when this is all over, and I'll shred it to bits and piece it together as many times as I want—for eternity!"
With the hand not cradling the back of her head, she waved droves of blights at them, Sakura appearing in front of the Uchiha as a shield, letting them sink deep into her skin.
The intensity of simultaneously absorbing so many stoked whatever had already been prowling just below the surface, and she felt every bone in her body shifting unnaturally.
"Sakura?" Izuna grabbed her arm to pull her behind him, but she pushed him away, falling to her knees in the patch of charred earth. She didn't want him coming any closer, not when Erika's attack had just fed whatever was inside.
"You've taken in quite a few of those, haven't you?" A new voice remarked, blue sandaled feet coming into view of her swimming vision. "Many more than a human should." Sakura felt herself picked up by the front of her haori, dangling between only the thumb and forefinger of the large monster.
"She's the one, my lord!" Erika's shrill voice cried down near his feet. "Mizuchi's new plaything."
"Ah yes," he rumbled. "I sense it now. Underneath all the taint, you have traces of Mizuchi's essence."
"Put her down," Izuna demanded, slashing at her captor but meeting steel with Erika instead. The sleek blade she wielded was almost identical to his save for the jet black color.
"Your whole cursed lineage fascinates me," she spat, pushing against him. Standing his ground, Izuna drew away with a scrape of metal, unleashing a furious barrage of strikes with grace and well-timed precision that would have likely downed any other foe.
Erika danced under every one, on the defensive and still managing to make it look as though she were winning somehow. "Even if you land a strike, it won't do a thing. An ordinary weapon isn't going to kill a being born from death."
"Everything born can die," he returned, lashing out with a kick to her unguarded side. She squealed, flying sideways but flipping midair to land safely as Izuna landed behind her, already aiming for her neck.
Erika dropped into a crab stance that evolved into a backflip, opening her mouth to blow out a stream of pollen-like mist. Guarding his mouth and nose, the Uchiha leapt back several paces for distance, switching his sword to one hand and taking several shuriken from his weapon pouch in a fluid motion too fast for the naked eye.
Although they were all deflected, Izuna was able to rip a gash into Erika's side, and it bled freely as she looked down in surprise.
Sakura watched them clash, marveling at Izuna's swordsmanship as much as Erika's speed. The god seemed similarly impressed. "He is good for a mortal. One of the better swordsman I've seen in a century." He turned those flaming red eyes to her and she saw they actually glowed like coals, hitching the breath in her throat. "I am Lord Yama, God of the Dead. You've met my subordinate…" Yama waved one of his many arms toward the clash. "Erika, as she calls herself these days." Oddly polite for a being of utter destruction, but Sakura wasn't about to let her guard down.
"Why are you doing this, and why go so far as to frame Iwanagahime?" She reached up and bent his fingers back until the tell-tale pops met her ears. Sakura dropped, watching in dismay as Yama simply fix his broken fingers by snapping them back into place.
"We have orders handed down to us, and I don't quite appreciate that it takes me away from my duties in the underworld. I sent Erika on ahead to scout in my place." Yama clenched and unclenched his fist, wriggling the two digits she'd broken. "Perhaps that wasn't the right course of action, given how impetuous she can be. However, none of my other shinigami are half as eager, and there's something to be said about how often she's successful once she sets her mind to something."
Sakura released her Byakugo, the seal invitingly familiar after remaining inactive for months. Yama anticipated her action almost before she'd decided on it, stopping the blow of her chakra-enhanced kick with the flat of his broad palm, the ripple of the impact sending a visible shockwave through the air.
It tore up flowers and grass and dirt and made deep troughs under the deity's feet when he was pushed back. Bringing two palms together, the death god released a spinning ball of black and blue light that reminded her of the truth-seeker orbs. Sakura flickered around the field, watching the orb kill everything it touched in its quest to reach her. She had no delusions about what it would do to her, were she touched.
'Don't run. Push back,' The same warm hand that had touched her head and sweetly told her she could kill Madara if she wanted to pushed between her shoulders in an encouraging nudge, and she stopped in her tracks. The orb made a beeline toward her, and not really understanding why, she opened wide and unleashed a fierce blast of water that would have made Tobirama sit up and take notice.
The attacks collided, fighting to encompass each other and then cancelling out with a tremor that rocked the ground. She'd never been able to perform a water jutsu half as successfully since Tobirama began teaching her. Where had that come from?
Sakura apparently wasn't the only one contemplating her newfound proficiency in water-style. On the fringe of the field, Erika and Izuna had paused their duel briefly to watch, and Yama was giving her a look she couldn't quite place.
One thing was made abundantly clear in that moment—he was the real deal. Never before had she fought someone with not only superior physical power but godly abilities she assumed were beyond even Kaguya.
"Why resist?" Yama pondered aloud. "If you simply revealed to us where Mizuchi was, and forfeited the soul of your companion, we could be on our way."
Sakura started, not suspecting Izuna would be such a hot commodity for two higher beings. "His soul?"
"Yes, I admit I've been too busy to focus on retrieving it, and it becomes less of a priority as time passes, but it was meant to come with me months ago." Yama explained. "The realm of death is mine alone, and yet on top of her many other transgressions, Mizuchi interfered in it and intercepted the delivery of his soul to me. Thus, setting off an unlikely chain of events. Quite a few of the heavens suspected that she may have help in whatever she was planning next, but what deity would dare? Now I understand: an average mortal, a transplant through time…you."
Sakura had known the truth all along. She was in a time she didn't belong to, and Mizuchi was enigmatic at best and dangerous at worst. But hearing him say it so plainly made her want to shrink into the ground, afraid of the possible punishment to follow. She bowed her head. "I didn't… ask to be dragged here," She raised a knee, and, expecting her to drive it into his stomach, Yama merely cupped a hand in front of it.
Sakura sprang up off the ground at the last possible minute, letting her leg snap up into a full kick that caught him in the nose. Stumbling, he lifted one long blue arm to guard himself and she jumped off it using the momentum, raising herself to straddle his shoulders and bring her joined fists crashing into his skull with all her might. Her knuckles caught the side of his headpiece and it cleaved neatly in two, the broken halves falling into his hands.
"Lord Yama!" Erika roared, already rushing over. Izuna used her moment of distraction and caught her clothing while she turned away. Swinging her back into his sword, he impaled her above the navel, twisting the blade for good measure.
Stunned, the shinigami fell and he followed her to the ground, putting weight on top of her small frame and driving the blade in to the hilt. Her incensed squawk split the air, so shrill it weaponized into a spiraling concussive blast that tore half Izuna's shirt and had him covering his ears. There'd be blood on them when he pulled them down, no question.
Sakura shot away from her foe, putting her fists up in preparation for a retaliating assault. But the God of the Dead wasn't trying to engage her back at all. She found Yama staring at his broken circlet. "This was a gift," he sighed, tossing it away. "Very well, I acknowledge your spirit is a cut above the average human's. Time for the next level of this battle." He waved two of his arms in an arc, summoning a shimmering golden staff with a rounded ornament on the end.
Just a shake of the staff, a movement so minute she barely caught it, and a jagged seam opened up underneath her, shadowy hands reaching out to lock around her. They ground her body between them until every limb felt rubbery and unresponsive, every cell deadened.
Yama took his time approaching, pity silently passing over his otherwise blank face. "I have sympathy for you, a lost mortal drawn into the foolish plan of a delusional river deity…but if you will not aid us, and if you stand in the way of my reaping…" His huge hand seized her whole head, Sakura gasping as her seal receded and something sinister wrapped around her body like a great snake constricting prey muscle by muscle.
Bones snapped and realigned. Sakura would have screamed, but her breath was so scarce that it came out in a feeble whimper. "Don't look at me that way. The blights were already corroding your humanity… I merely sped up the process. I wonder what'll become of you now? If the divine essence Mizuchi's placed within you will be enough…" Sweat fell from her forehead and dripped down her jaw, her whole body burning and aching with what could have been an intense fever if she didn't know better.
Though Yama's restraints kept her from struggling much, she could just barely see her wrists and hands where the shadows ended. Every visible vein was thick and grotesquely black, carrying the impurities into every cell, pumping right through her heart.
Everything became murky, her senses blurring uselessly and a male voice faintly calling, protesting. Sakura thought of home. The one with people she had known for years, those she loved and missed. She also thought of the one with the new friends she'd made, those she was getting to know better every day. Leaving one set behind was bad enough, but leaving both was unbearable.
The tear that scalded its way down her cheek plopped onto her hand, making it twitch. Yama's attack shriveled and disappeared back into the patched seam of earth, and Sakura shakily held her hands out in front of her. Tough, unyielding scales with wickedly curved talons almost poked her eyes out. Not as surprised as she ought to be, she felt the right side of her face.
Smooth skin, if not a little grimy. The left? More scales, stopping just under her eye, the vision of it a little distorted. Her right eye on the other hand could see for miles and miles, beyond the field, clear across to the expanse of mountain range, to every inch of wood and layering of frost and bit of gravel.
Unreal.
Sakura sat and marveled first that she was alive, and then at the metamorphosis her body had undergone.
"Lord Yama, what should I do with him?" Erika came back into view over Yama's shoulder, sword still jutting straight through her and a weary but triumphant grin on her face.
A bruised Izuna in a shredded top held by the throat dragged behind her; blood congealed from a vicious gash in his side at the waist of his pants and one eye was shut and swollen, the other bright with a three-tomoed Sharingan. "S-Sakura…?" he looked unsure.
Sakura…you're really so damn annoying. And then he plunged his whole arm through her chest, crushing her racing heart in an electrically-charged fist. Blood burbled past her parted lips, and she couldn't bring herself to stupidly ask why, because why did it matter?
"S-Sasuke…" she growled, more scales climbing her neck and back. "Sasuke!" He looked so pitiful, so worn and confused and horrified. But what he didn't look was sorry.
Break him down. Make him understand your hurt.
Tears clouding her vision, she lunged the same time Erika let go and stepped away, swinging a fist into his handsome jaw, and another one up into his gut, shattering ribs. For years she had only wanted to help him, to understand him, to be close to him. And for years, he had hurt and shunned her.
Her claws cut three stripes from waist to throat and he fell down in shock, the red fluid running from the gash and down his chin. She launched herself onto his chest and snarled into his drawn face.
"This is what happens to those who take in so many blights. They're warped, until they can no longer recognize friend from foe, illusion from reality." Yama's voice drifted over her senses. "Even the slightest provocation can elicit a negative emotional reaction so strong they're seized totally by it."
Sakura set her eyes on them next, opening her maw and sending a stream of glimmering green flames that they almost didn't avoid. Her chest rose and fell harshly, wild eyes searching for something else to burn, to maim to slaughter.
That was when Sasuke's hand reached up and seized hers, locking his fingers in between her reptilian digits. She tried to pull away, but he squeezed with considerable effort. Some of the haze clearing, Sakura blinked in bewilderment. The touch of a hand at her scaled cheek almost made her jump out of the snug new skin. Resisting the urge to rip off the offending extremity, she stared down into his tiredly smiling face. "You're still…in there." He rasped. "I know you are."
"Sa…suke?" When had he ever spoken to her so gently, or looked at her so patiently? Every so often, he would reward her with some gruff, clumsy affection, but it never felt so tender and trusting.
This wasn't…Sasuke.
"Izuna?" she asked, fangs scraping over her tongue.
The least swollen side of his face quirked up, his opened eye drifting skyward. "There you are,"
"Oh!" Fighting back a sob, she watched as the hand holding his shrunk into the familiar one she'd always known. "I…I hurt you…"
"Almost, but not quite," He gently pushed her off, climbing to shaky legs. Sakura followed him, glad to see her teeth felt normal and her skin didn't pinch. "You went into your mind. It looked like you were under some sort of genjutsu."
It was definitely a surreal enough feeling to be dragged into the depths of whatever the blights did to her head. "I still attacked you. There's no excuse for that,"
If they lived through this, she'd definitely be confronting Mizuchi about whatever the hell was happening to her. Because twice in just under two days she'd tried to kill someone in some kind of murderous trance. Some people might be able to live with that, but Sakura wasn't one of them.
The path she had incinerated with the odd green flame stood out as a stark reminder of what her new powers could do. The flowers and grass weren't just burned, they looked like they had been eroded by acid, the ground still bubbling. "Here, let me help…" Without waiting for permission, she put two fingers over his eyelid and let the healing chakra flush through it.
"So you overcame the corruption," Erika huffed, rolling her eyes. "So what? If you won't destroy him I can destroy you both. Right, Lord Yama?"
"We'll do this together, Erika." Yama corrected, holding out his staff toward them.
"Will you?" Sakura had barely finished knitting the gash in Izuna's side closed, and she was far from in the mood for more complications. Staving off the corruptive power of the blights inside took more out of her than she would admit to.
When the wind picked up into a gale force tornado and she had to use chakra to keep her upright, she was positive she wouldn't like the reason why. But as she peeked up through the barrier she'd made around her face with her arms, she saw a large winged creature circling the field, lower and lower to the ground.
"It can't be…" Izuna wasn't even covering his eyes. "S-Shinta?! And…Madara!"
'Oh, this had better be a joke…' But it wasn't. Madara had arrived, riding a massive eagle. Still high in the air, the unexpected Uchiha released a vicious stream of fire, the bird flapping its wings rapidly to fan the flame. The duo circled what quickly became a burning funnel, stoking its strength. Yama swung his staff as it spun toward them, deflecting some of it back up into the air. The eagle soared around the attacks with a grace that bordered arrogant.
They landed, right up behind she and Izuna, the wind blowing hair into both their eyes.
"What're you doing here?" was the first thing said, and she wasn't even sure if it came from her or Izuna.
Madara hopped down, "Helping you, obviously. You both look like warmed over death."
"How do you even remember how to Summon? And how'd you find us?!" Sakura sputtered, trembling with the shock of it all.
"Brother," The younger Uchiha clutched at his sibling's arm. "Are your memories back?"
"Not really," he shrugged. "And that bird almost took my arm off." Shinta ignored the accusation, spreading his wings and standing in an offensive stance as he faced down the two deities.
"I was able to manually activate those memories pertaining to combat, at the very least. I also transmitted your location into his brain. You are certainly welcome." Right in front of them all, Mizuchi popped through one of her dragon's eye portals. Surveying them, she added, "I would not normally be inclined to agree with a word he said, but you do both look like warmed death." She licked her thumb and tried to wipe a smudge from Sakura's cheek.
The kunoichi hissed, scuttling away.
"Head into battle looking like an urchin then." The dragon goddess raised her nose scornfully.
"Mizuchi, this is a most unexpected turn of events!" Yama guffawed. "You must care for the human a great deal more than I thought you capable of if you've risked yourself to make an appearance."
"That's right. This human is my godslayer, but she isn't truly ready." Sakura frowned. "To that end, until she is, I will be the god and she will do the slaying."
Yama's eyes fell over all of them, fixating on a point out of focus. "And the others? Iwanagahime's miko who's been quietly playing possum this whole time?" Sakura had nearly forgotten Takara, but it was nice to hear she wasn't really dead. One less thing on her conscience. "And these Uchiha?"
"The miko is here of her own volition for reasons I don't pretend to know, nor care about," Mizuchi answered in the nonchalant way that only she could. "These Uchiha are sword and shield to my progeny respectively. They serve their purpose as long as I feel she has need for them."
Izuna and Madara traded dubious expressions, no doubt questioning when they'd committed to those roles.
Erika snorted, moving in front of Yama a little. At a glance the matchup looked comical: Mizuchi's poised, svelte form facing off against a petulant child. But Sakura could feel it in the air. This was truly shaping up to be a clash of gods. "You know, Mizuchi, I've always thought of us as two equally ambitious castoffs that rose above our stations to become something...more. Wouldn't you say?"
Mizuchi began to shift, her skin hardening into beautiful black scales and powerful wings rippling from her back. As her spine lengthened to accommodate a tail, her lips pulled into a smirk. "I would say... even in my weakest form I have always outclassed you. And I am feeling incredibly strong right now."
Erika's cheeks were so red they glowed, her eyes hooded in anger.
Mizuchi took to the sky, immediately breathing green fire, Erika blowing a cloud of black spores that collided in midair, the smell of burnt leaves filling the air. That just left the three of them to deal with...
Yama watched the attacks attempt to overwhelm each other, his mouth set in a calculating twist. "Let them settle their grudge match. Come then: all of you. Your opponent is me."
Sakura activated the Byakugo once again, relieved that it was still usuable. Madara climbed back atop his eagle, and Izuna's Sharingan shifted into a new pattern she'd never seen before. 'I didn't know he had that! It's probably an advanced form.'
"Amaterasu," he whispered, black flames flickering into existence and cutting a line straight for Yama as if they had life of their own.
"Amaterasu? What a peculiar thing to name a technique." He lowered the ornament on his staff to face the ground and swung, "I happen to know the real Amaterasu," The flames changed course and came rushing back for them, rising like a wave swelling toward shore at high tide.
Heart rattling in her throat, Sakura found herself releasing a strong green blaze that clashed with the incoming attack, the heat from the intermingling flames boiling the air and drenching her in sweat. Encouraged, Sakura's fire burned stronger, overcoming the misdirected Amaterasu and piercing it to scorch Yama.
The god stared incredulously at his burnt, blistered shoulder, the skin peeling away and the acrid smell wafting through the air between them. Smirking, Yama charged, brandishing his staff. For a god nearly seven feet he was agile, using it like a flail to cut through the remainder of the black flames. Shinta circled overhead, creating another vortex.
This time, Sakura rushed forward into the wind, stopping just short of the vortex and slamming her foot into the ground. It buckled and flew apart, getting pulled into Shinta's wind attack and spinning toward Yama as a storm of earth and debris, obscuring his view as he was buffeted by chunks of earth.
Madara wasted no time, swinging his scythe at the god, Shinta flying around him until it completely restricted the movement of his arms. Before he could free himself, Izuna used a partial Susanoo, an orange ribcage wrapping around his body and sprouting skeletal arms that grasped Yama and lifted him from the ground.
Knowing it wouldn't hold him for long, Sakura launched herself into the air, slamming a kick so powerful into his unprotected head that it created a crater underneath him, burying him waist deep into the ground, a strong wind from the aftershock even managing to temporarily knock Madara off course from the air.
Overhead, the battle seemed to be winding down, Mizuchi unleashing the biggest flame yet with a guttural cry, her long body coiling through the sky, only faintly visible because of the green luster to her black scales.
Erika's blight storm was overwhelmed and swallowed up, the small shinigami screaming in pain as the fire leapt across her body. She rolled through the dirt, stamping it out. But Mizuchi had a bigger target in mind, and the clearing was already ablaze.
Shinta dove for them, Izuna snatching her around the waist as he jumped up onto the bird and the dragon flames torched the field. "Get the miko!" he commanded, Shinta spotting Takara trying to scramble up the mountain and away from danger, swooping to pick her up in his strong talons.
Takara flailed uselessly, "I will not beg for mercy. If you want to kill me, do it now or..."
"Takara you're safe!" Sakura told her. "It's just us."
She stopped fighting, content to dangle precariously in the bird's sharp claws. "Oh, so you've triumphed after all."
Smoke stung the kunoichi's eyes and embers licked at her hair. It had been hard to see through the darkness the island had been plunged into, but the green glow provided some reprieve. Sakura saw the violacia field going up in smoke, the noxious scent rising up to meet them on the wind.
"No!" Erika wailed, fruitlessly running through the burning blooms and scooping at ashes. "My army!"
"Let it go, Erika." Yama wriggled from the ground with effort, staring up at them. Mizuchi had flown over to hover beside Shinta, the bird looking more intrigued by her wings than frightened to be so near a dragon. "Today, you've won..."
"But, Lord Yama!" Erika protested, motioning up at them frantically. "I could shoot them down! We could get back the soul!"
"No." Yama said more firmly. "I am feeling gracious today, Erika. So we will concede defeat."
Sakura nearly fell off the eagle's back. She had been expecting a fight to the bitter end. Hell, half of her hadn't thought she'd live so long in a fight again a god. "You'll leave the island then? For good?"
"For good?" Yama ran a hand through his hair, thinking. "There will always be souls to reap, and when there are, I will send my shinigami. But in the meantime, Erika will cease her game of blighting and prematurely reaping souls."
Erika looked crestfallen, the flame light brightening her face giving the illusion of a young child denied a sweet. "But the balance..."
"There are other ways to keep it. I will return the souls she reaped, as a reward to you. And for you, young man, I will not actively seek to take your soul." He cleared his throat, studying the dragon next. "Mizuchi...as far as our encounter, it never happened. ...Or perhaps it did?" he pondered calmly. "Far, far away from here. Close to the deserted No Lands at the edge of the world. That should give you time to find yourself an adequate place to hide."
"All this talk about gods and you're running away?" Madara asked, incredulous. "This is it?"
Sakura wanted to knock him off the bird, but she had to grab Izuna's arms to keep him from doing it first.
"Yes, mortal. It is. But the next god you encounter will likely not be so generous...to any of you." Yama swung his staff, the ground shuddering and then opening up, red light spilling up from it. "Come Erika," He stepped down into the portal, disappearing.
Grumbling, Erika cast one more resentful look across the burning field. "Sakura...today Lord Yama's generosity was your salvation...Next time, I will have my vindication. And your lives..." She hopped down after her master, the ground shifting to seal up behind her.
"Good riddance..." Sakura murmured, leaning heavily into the eagle. The sky started to lighten, the dark shroud of death that had blanketed it falling away to reveal a clear midday blue. "I can't believe it. After all this time it's only been hours?"
Mizuchi roared, sweeping over the field and sucking in the fire, zipping back and forth until the field was flat, smoking dirt. Shinta gingerly landed, watching as the dragon became a beautiful woman once again.
"It's finally over." Takara sighed. "The island has been purged of evil."
"Not quite, miko." The deity corrected.
Sakura placed a hand to her chest, the stirring like a thousand wings brushing around. Something made its way up her throat, and she hiccuped, a nearly translucent butterfly sputtering out. Its delicate wings were luminescent, like stardust powdering the air with each twitch. She watched it flutter around in disbelief, the single insectoid creature suddenly five, and then a dozen more, multiplying until there were clouds of them everywhere. Scattered across the sky like snowflakes.
"Congratulations, Sakura." Mizuchi smiled kindly, "You have not only expelled the blights, but you've learned to create something better."
"What are those?" Madara held out a finger, one of the white butterflies briefly alighting on it.
"Miracles," said the dragon goddess. "If blights are everything dark and evil in the world, these represent everything light and beautiful. A true deity can give mercy in equal measure to condemnation."
Her mind was foggy, her body more tired than it had ever been. Sakura had a feeling that the only remedy for this was lots of rest and a nice long sleep. Still, she was enthralled by her newest creation, accidental as it was. "I...I made miracles? I thought it was just a miracle I could keep sitting upright," she joked. "I feel so drained..."
"I think we're all feeling spent for the day, though," Izuna winced, staring down at his bruised chest. Crimson rivulets seeped from his eyes and he hastily swiped them away.
"I need a nap," Madara yawned. "Take us back, bird."
Shinta screeched in outrage, bucking through the air in a haphazard flight pattern. "Stop!" Izuna screamed, holding on tight. "Stop telling him what to do or he'll kill us all."
"I think I've changed my mind about everything," Madara announced as loud as possible, holding on for dear life. "Shinobi life is overrated in hindsight!"
ASiT
Yurine collapsed backwards with a grunt, a cackling woman falling on top of her. "No!" Kureno tried shouldering through the two men he'd been fighting, but he found himself ducking under the swing of a knife. Still, it cut into his bicep, a long line of red dripping to the floor.
"You don't have time to worry about her right now." his foe growled. "Sorry, but this feeling's just too strong to fight."
Sweat falling heavily from his brow, Kureno could feel his body nearing chakra depletion, casting multiple genjutsu taking a toll. The knife came at him again, but he was determined to go down fighting. Blocking the attack with his wrist, he lashed out with a quick swing of his tanto, watching the hand and knife drop to the floor. Despite the bleeding stump, the undead man wasn't deterred.
Kureno shuddered. If this kept up...
They had been at it for so long, and they were so exhausted. Yurine had found that because they still had the senses of their human selves, genjutsu was a viable defense. For a while they had worked together to cast a combined illusion over the inn, but one of the dead saw through it.
They had hacked and slashed and held off as many as possible, but they just seemed to keep coming. Even those trapped had brandished chairs and knives and plates and begun to tentatively fight back. The innkeeper's timid son had been the most help out of all the untrained civilians there, surprisingly. The boy had risked his life sprinting to his father's toolshed and returning with more weapons the inn residents could use to arm themselves.
When a small swarm had come after his family, he leapt to action with a mighty cry and a hatchet. Nevertheless, two shinobi and a group of determined civilians fighting for their lives were no match for a group of dead out for blood with inhuman strength and near invulnerability.
'Sorry Izuna...I guess this is just a fight we can't win.'
Panting, he looked around at the barely immobilized dead picking themselves up, perspiration stinging his eyes. Had he not reached up to wipe it away, he might have missed the tiny white butterfly.
"H-Huh?" He was seeing things in his final hours. He had to be. More butterflies came, fluttering past serenely, right through the door where the dead scratched and pounded. Overwhelming light enveloped the room, Kureno letting his eyes flutter shut as he slumped to the floor.
ASiT
The ice was starting to melt. Kohei came tumbling out and he rushed to help him off the ground. Kou knew his clanmates couldn't keep it up forever. But they had to. They were among the last lines of defense. Even with the chakra pills they had split amongst themselves, their reserves were slipping dangerously low.
"Rest," he touched his cousin's head, moving toward the mirror prison.
"Kou, you can't," Kohei protested, grasping at his hand. "You've exerted the most chakra out of all of us."
Smiling a little, he pulled away, launching into the mirrors to be confronted with nearly three dozen angry dead. Their faces all haunted him. Each and every one of them someone they couldn't save.
"Kou," An old woman, one of the first to go, turned to him with a twisted smile. "Such a sweet boy you were. Always peddling your medicine as a child. But they couldn't save me, could they? Not any of us." she sighed. "It's alright though. It'll all be over soon. I intend to keep fighting the bloodlust for as long as it's possible."
"I hope so, obaa-san..." he smiled weakly.
A boy who had died in his own sick lunged for his mirror with a savage noise, Kou bracing himself in case it didn't hold. His vision clouded over in white, and he briefly wondered if he had departed from life himself. Until the powdery white wings of dozens and dozens of butterflies caught his attention, each of them touching some person in the dome.
End Notes:
Whew! Welcome back from that crazy ride.
Sorry for the length...
Some things I suppose are important to unpacking all the information revealed in this chapter: Yes, "Erika" is a shinigami, and not actually Iwanagahime nor a member of the main pantheon (the collection of important gods and goddesses and assorted deities that appear in any culture's mythos). The "main" bit is important. Iwanagahime was framed for thousands of years, basically. That will come up in the future.
I know media often refers to and depicts shinigami as a singular entity, the literal "Grim Reaper"…and I'm not saying that's wrong. But plenty of texts refer to them as being numerous death gods as opposed to just one. I followed that interpretation here. Erika is one of many shinigami out there, and they are all subordinates of the God of Death/God of the Dead that appears this chapter: Yama. Although she may be the most…extreme… in her devotion to him and her fanaticism for her job as a reaper.
Yama was originally a deity from Hinduism that later would become adopted into a number of faiths around Asia, including Shintoism. A pretty interesting deity too, if I do say so myself. There are conflicting accounts of everything about him from his clothing, appearance, and even what his personality is like, naturally. Some paint him as a hot-headed and merciless deity (which I guess one would expect from someone who rules over the planes of the afterlife). While in other interpretations, he's actually said to be very reasonable and just and patient.
Here, he is somewhere in between. Same with his appearance…Some depictions have him looking fit and handsome, some not so much and with a dad bod. Some give him blue skin, some bronze…some make him appear more human and some less. I mixed and mashed. Anyway, Yama would outrank shinigami in this fic.
Oh, and Madara can mean "speckles" or "spots" depending on the characters used, something he discovers much to his horror. Sounds like a cool name until the meaning's broken down. XD
I really hope readers enjoyed the arc's finale. There may be a few more loose ends for them to wrap up next chapter before leaving but the journey home still starts; soon enough Konoha and the characters and storylines that come with it will be back in play. Mizuchi and Sakura both have some explaining to do, and things will also heat up soon.
If you enjoyed this chapter please remember to comment. It's just nice to know people are still out there, reading. I am unsure if I will try to get another chapter posted this month or wait until the New Year rolls in (wow, I can't believe it's almost that time again). It sort of depends on how I'm feeling after this chapter, been juggling a lot as of late. Stay safe, enjoy the holiday season. Until next time.
