The accommodations granted to him were clearly special. Sakura could have figured that out even if the hostess of the inn hadn't greeted Tobirama's return with hearts in her eyes.
The woman wasn't discourteous when she saw he'd brought back company though. She prattled on about how lovely Sakura's hair was, how much she loved her sense of fashion. Her name was Etsudo, and despite having a teenaged son she had the energy of a young woman herself.
"I'll have Eito bring up dinner just as soon as it's done," she winked.
"Actually," Sakura began, "We've eaten already."
"Yes, and we shouldn't be disturbed." Tobirama added.
"Oh," Etsudo pouted, her hands clasped in front of her. "Well…you'll come down for breakfast then?"
Sakura blushed. "I'm not staying the ni—"
"Haruno," Tobirama was already climbing the stairs. "Let's get on with it."
"Thank you," Sakura quickly bowed and hurried to follow her temporary partner.
Usamaro leapt the steps two at a time, and she tried to ignore Etsudo's remarks behind them. "You know, your father was stiff like that when we met," she was telling her son. "But what he lacked in romantic gestures he made up for when we were alone. I remember—"
"Ugh," Eito groaned. "Enough already."
Sakura was happy to shut the door on that conversation.
Tobirama moved around the room, ignoring the expensive hand-woven rug he walked across, the silken sheets, the hand paintings on the walls trimmed in gold framing. Did he always stay in rooms like this? Or was it because he was a Senju and Tenryu had such a close partnership with the clan?
He motioned for her to sit on the floor as he did the same, drawing her thoughts back to the reason she was there. The reason she assumed she was at least. Battle strategy.
Instead of a map of the region, however, he pulled out what she recognized as storage scrolls. Questions bubbled at the end of her tongue, until he unsealed them to reveal several very peculiar kunai. 'Those are just like the ones Lord Fourth used!'
"You remember that day in the Nara Forest?" he asked suddenly, producing several tags laid out carefully in a row. With a calligraphy brush he swiftly began writing across them.
Sakura nodded, thinking back to when Tobirama had been too preoccupied collecting bark samples to care that his brother had been spirited away by enamored deer.
Her hand grazed one finished tag. Usamaro trotted over to sniff at the fresh inking, but she shooed him away. "Yes. This is…what you were collecting samples for?"
Not even pausing as he glanced up, Tobirama grunted an affirmative. "I've found a way to weaponize the elemental paper Doi Nara made. I collaborated with him at first, then made my own batch. Now," He took a tag and adhered it to a kunai with chakra. "These kunai will store and release timed elemental attacks according to the seals."
Without waiting for a response, he took one of them and placed it into her palm. Sakura stared in awe as she felt the crackle of electricity stored in the paper. Zips of it traveled along her finger tips. Assuming his seals worked, striking a target with such a kunai would mean they'd be in for a—very literal—nasty shock.
'Attitude aside,' Her green eyes studied Tobirama's jaw as he took a tiny vial, placed it in the hollow space in the handle of one kunai, and then adhered elemental paper completely around it, 'This is really innovative weaponry.'
Though, the repressed curiosity chose then to make itself known. "It's impressive, and with these there's a lot of possibilities to catch an enemy off guard. But why show it to me?"
Tobirama's expression suggested the reason should be obvious. "You're an integral part of this."
Sakura carefully toyed with the sharp weapon before setting it down. Her work with Mizuchi to call upon her power at will was not the same as using it successfully in combat. Finding out about the mishap in the heat of battle fighting Yama probably wouldn't inspire a whole lot of confidence from the Senju. "You really think that's the best idea?"
"There's no reason to assume this Hatsuko wouldn't have the same sort of weapon we saw today. In which case, the otters aren't equipped to handle it. We'll have to be the ones who present a tactic that minimizes their chance of casualties."
That, she could understand and agree on. Although she was almost surprised to hear it from Tobirama. Not because he wasn't intelligent enough to come to the conclusion, but because he already seemed invested in the otters' plight. More than simply partnering with them as a means to an end. Unless she was imagining what wasn't there…
Sakura worried her lip, trying to follow exactly where his thoughts were headed. "Does that mean you believe whatever kind of weapons we're dealing with might be…?"
Tobirama crossed his arms, red eyes boring deeply into her. "You've spent time around this…deity. You'd know best if this is the kind of strategy they'd use. Let's assume there's something in the mountains worth guarding for a divine being. Stoking the flames of a conflict and outfitting one side with the means to eliminate the other is a cunning, effective way to cause a distraction."
Sakura felt Usamaro return to brush himself against her back in another bid for attention. But she was too distracted to do more than reach around and quickly scratch between his ears.
So, Tobirama really had come to the same conclusion she had. Everything the otters told them about the beavers' antagonism further solidified the idea that maybe it was all orchestrated.
"I can engage their leader directly." she volunteered. "I don't think you'd have any problem leading the rest of the otters to a win once what sounds like the bulk of the enemy's might is dealt with."
Well, that was putting the stakes of victory on a lot of variables, really, and they both knew it. The otters made it sound like one beaver was in charge and if she fell, they might have a chance to break through in the chaos.
Before they left The Couch, the otters gave them a pretty decent rundown on the landscape, the enemy numbers, how Hatsuko tended to direct the others in battle, and what resources would be at their own disposal.
Sakura didn't really want to take part in a bloodbath if she could force the other side into a retreat. But did Tobirama share that sentiment or was he wanting to go all out and deal the kind of decisive blow the beavers couldn't come back from?
"I'll have shadow clones dispersed throughout the area to command different units at once," he explained. "While you engage Hatsuko and whatever frontline forces she possesses with the help of Chuya, Noboru, Enmei and I will be hitting them with a pincer attack."
Huh. Overwhelming them with superior strategy and sheer numbers bolstered by some human shadow clones might be enough to make them want to retreat. Sakura was hoping so anyway.
"We should get the information back to the otters then." The kunoichi leaned forward, hands on her crossed legs. "Noboru should be at the rendezvous point soon."
As he started to lift his hands into a very familiar position, Sakura squinted. "Wait!"
He paused, though not without an irked scowl. "Your shadow clones…they're like the regular clone jutsu but they're meant to last longer…is that right?" Sakura had seen her teammate employ shadow clones into his fighting for years, but she had to be sly now.
She couldn't appear to know too much about a technique by and large currently in use mostly by Tobirama and Tobirama alone. Hashirama had raved to her about his brother's brilliance during their chat at Madara's party.
According to the Hokage, the clones were still somewhat experimental. Evidenced by the stoic shinobi's frustration, they weren't staying around as long as he wanted. Which meant kinks in the formula to work out.
"…Yes," Tobirama huffed. "The original clone jutsu serves as an effective intimidation tactic if used correctly. But were they solid their uses would double."
This too, Sakura knew well. Shortening training times, reconnaissance, evening the numbers in a fight, and so many other purposes. "I noticed you making the seals for the parent technique at first in a different order and adding 'horse'…but have you ever considered substituting horse for ox?"
In the future, casting the jutsu would require fewer hand-signs. But this was supposed to be the early stages, and she again wanted to avoid knowing more about the jutsu he created than Tobirama did. His face already looked unsure, and then, to her mild surprise, he did as she suggested. Three more Tobirama's popped into existence, glancing around the room with unchanging expressions.
"This is different," One clone remarked. "We're more solid somehow."
The original stood up, inspecting the duplicates while Sakura waited. "Meet with the otters. Let them know what's been decided." he said, and a clone immediately left in a smoke cloud.
Sakura blinked, hoping she hadn't guided him wrong.
"He's still around," Tobirama noted, a faintly pleased tone coloring his voice. To the other two he said, "Travel as far across the river valley as possible. I want to see the extent of the distance this technique works."
"Demanding," The second clone imitated his stance and regarded him with mild irritation. "Were it anyone but myself…" the proclamation trailed into silence as they both disappeared.
The smoke hadn't even settled before Tobirama whirled on Sakura. "How'd you know?"
Her face scrunched. The clone was right. Did anything that came out of his mouth ever sound like a gentle question?
Nonetheless she considered her answer a moment. "The ox seal is in most long-range jutsu because it acts as a stabilizer and allows the jutsu to travel greater lengths without losing its force," she explained, fidgeting. "Granted that's normally the case for elemental jutsu, not clones, so…"
Maybe it was her imagination, thinking he seemed almost…fascinated. "Your theory could have some merit. They're five miles away but they haven't disappeared." Already, the gears of his mind were turning swiftly. There was nothing hard about recognizing that expression. He kneeled and began scrawling out more tags to attach to kunai.
She said nothing, allowing him to work in silence. Usamaro had grown bored and hopped up on the window sill to nap. Sakura wasn't really sure what she should do, but he wasn't making a big deal about her being around, so she took a seat again.
When next his carmine eyes glanced up and met hers, they were filled with a fervor that made her heart skip a beat. He had the same look she recognized on herself in the middle of discovery. Sakura had a strange sense of elation in that moment, only just grasping that she was around one of Konoha's most innovative minds (for better or worse) and could get knowledge from him firsthand. For the first time, he didn't seem opposed to her presence.
She opened her mouth to speak, tongue still heavy, but all suggestions of collaboration fizzled out. Something passed over his face, so abruptly, a stone wall forming all but tangibly. "The plan is going to be put to motion in only a few short hours at sunrise." he said.
All business. Like the brief meeting of minds had never happened. She could have thrown her hands up. How in the hell was she supposed to read this man? Was he that wary of emotional intimacy of any kind?
He'd been fine scolding her through attempts at learning Suiton before the events of Sekai. But now she'd returned, forced to give up her status as Mizuchi's chosen. And the frigidity was almost tenfold. Just now it was like he had snapped himself from falling into mild civility, the horror too unimaginable.
Sakura stood, determined to be just as curt in return, not about to allow him even a glimpse of how the spurning stung. 'Is this…is this a little of what Naruto went through?' Attempts to connect with others shot down for a burden most could never understand.
It was probably presumptuous. Her friend had lived with the village's treatment his whole life until shortly before the war. Sakura had been Mizuchi's plaything for mere months, and it gave her an even greater appreciation of how upbeat the incorrigible jinchuriki managed to stay in the face of it all.
She gathered Usamaro, the cat only cracking an eye opening and then giving a half-hearted meow as he went back to sleep. "Right, I know." She skirted around the arrangement of weapons, tags and ink on the floor, more out of respect for the process than the man behind it.
He wasn't sure he could take it any longer. He'd tried being patient, tried to avoid pouring salt in the wound. But how much patience was warranted before tough love could be administered? They shared a wall. He'd woken up to that music. He ate breakfast and then eventually lunch to that music (Naoko had been tasked with making sure Izuna at too). He worked himself to a sweat in the training yard with that music following him out the window. He had dinner and Izuna had stopped by then. But now he was going to sleep in hours and the gentle, melancholy sounds of the shakuhachi filled the halls again.
Madara raised his fist and knocked on said wall, sharp and loud. Definitely hard enough to disrupt the tempo of the steady sound that had been playing from within. When it had stopped, he swung himself from his futon and made the short trip to the door across from his. There was no more perfunctory knocking before he barged in. Izuna could squawk about it, but he was invoking elder sibling rights on this one.
His little brother looked appropriately apologetic, Madara standing in the doorway with his arms folded. Idly he wondered if this had ever happened before when they were children. Did he go running to tell their parents or handle it himself?
"Sorry," Izuna sat the flute aside, drawing one knee up to his chest. Clear evidence of his heavy playing, his cheeks were puffy and red.
"No, continue, sleep is optional at this point." Madara deadpanned.
"I'll stop, it's just been helping me clear my head lately."
Storming fully into the room, he headed straight for his brother's futon, shoving him over to make room for himself. Madara snatched the shakuhachi away with a shout of protest falling from Izuna's mouth. "You'd clear it faster if you wrote to Haruno. Tell her when she comes back you—"
"I never said this was about Sakura!" Oh, but his red-cheeked, wide-eyed expression said it all. Madara only hoped his smirk wasn't too haughty. Then, considering the last few days, maybe he didn't really care.
"We are brothers," he informed the younger Uchiha. "You're transparent anyhow." Madara thought he had done a fairly good job playing blind as the infatuation his brother had bubbled over into…whatever misery they were now all living in. But no more. The period of leniency had ended; the time to confront him had arrived.
On some subconscious level Izuna had to know the interest he was projecting clear as day. That the two of them already exchanged enough vibrant looks and lingering touches to make the mind wander.
Izuna pressed his lips together and squinted. "And you're not?" he asked, challengingly. "You rub yourself all over her like a cat in heat lately."
"I make my intentions clear through decisive action. I suggest you try it if you want anything to change." Unconcerned and with message delivered, Madara leaned backward with his arms folded behind his head.
The room was quiet as Izuna lowered his head and brooded. A beat passed before either spoke again, "Sakura thinks you're still just pushing her buttons for your own amusement. I bet it's never crossed her mind even slightly that you're interested."
Madara glared. Every action to provoke her temper brought them closer, in some measure. He was sure of it. He couldn't just present her with flowers and his heart. Not outright. He wasn't even sure if in the long run he would ever want to. But he could offer her sensation, passion, blinding hot—
"If you're telling me you really want her to like you, I recommend less commitment to the role of daily nuisance," Izuna declared smugly. The cheeky shit.
"Then when she returns, should we pursue in earnest?" he queried, blood rushing at just the thought. "Remember Izuna, I'm a much better hunter."
The petulant, puffed face aimed at his direction drew a rich laugh from his chest. He shifted, stood, sure that it was settled. He'd saved the day…or rather night. Shakuhachi be damned he would sleep.
"Before any of that," Izuna's voice was hardly above a whisper, only close proximity letting him hear it, "there really is a lot more I've been thinking over."
Spinning on his heel, Madara gave his brother his full attention. "The odd fluctuation in weather notwithstanding? It confuses the animals, you know. It makes hunting diff—"
"Madara, I'm serious." Izuna rose to his feet, too. Madara had never taken the time to notice they were the exact same height, and somehow the fact that he couldn't look down at his brother when he wanted to, even if by a few inches, annoyed him. "You remember Maro, don't you?"
Maro Uchiha. Over a decade older than the two of them, unpleasant without trying and a firm believer in traditionalist ways. Naoko had told him over tea, rather blithely, that he had been bitter over many of the reforms Madara enacted once he took over. Her personal favorite was the discontinuing of seduction missions for kunoichi who weren't of legal age to truly understand what they entailed.
"The face of one embittered councilman blends together with any other," Although he made himself sound less than concerned, the truth was he did remember. He noticed Maro in the way a hawk noticed a snake quietly creeping upon its nest. Like the hawk, he could easily devour a snake without difficulty. Only if the snake managed to find a weakness and gain the upper-hand was there a concern.
The man wasn't to be trusted by any stretch of imagination, he could tell that much without his memories fully intact. As if it weren't obvious enough with the way a certain other portion of the council was always ready to entertain and sometimes even defend his archaic ideals on what the future of the clan should be.
Why did they need a clan council? Madara had often thought in the midst of yet another vicious argument with them. Izuna had staunchly forbid him from trying to disband it outright, sure that it would be the tipping point that made Maro's "secret" concerns seem founded.
"He's the one most dead-set on deposing you," His brother rolled his eyes, taken in by his rouse of impassivity on the matter. "The one quietly gathering up conspirators and waiting until the time is right. Yurine Yuhi teaches at the academy. She's told me his son, Manabu, only cares to be around others from elite clans. Namely other Uchiha children, save Kagami, and Danzo Shimura. You know how the Shimura can be—how they are."
"I don't remember past encounters before the incident with them in detail, but, I know enough." Shinpachi Shimura felt slimy. That was about the only way to describe it.
The man was exactly the kind of seasoned, firmly militant warhawk some councilmembers felt should be leading the clan.
"Well I don't think it's a stretch that they could be using their sons as couriers. Even if it's not currently happening, I'm wary." Izuna grumbled. "And right now all they have is conjecture, but that's not going to stop them forever. Most of our clan is finally happy here. Konoha is home."
The softening of the shadowy expression tight around his brother's eyes told Madara all he needed to know on that front too. Izuna had found a home in the village as well, the same as he had.
Despite not being able to freely recall every minute spent at war in the not so distant, bloody past, Madara had enough recollection through tales shared with him and his own dreams, to know he did not miss it. This attachment to one place…this unprecedented unity…it wasn't so bad.
Izuna went on, "Whatever they perceive as a weakness or slip-up is all they'll need to pounce. It's imperative they never learn about…" he touched a finger to his temple and stared at Madara meaningfully.
Although his brother meant well, was only really trying his best to protect him and was right, besides, Madara still bristled. "They never will. While the snakes poise themselves for an attack from the shadow, they fail to see the raptor that swoops down from above."
ASiT
A few more reassurances that they would remain one step ahead of possible dissenters and Izuna was content to go have a late dinner. He'd questioned why Madara was slipping back out, but that concern he assuaged with a claim of wanting one more round of sparring to pacify his heated blood.
Knowing his brother's, Izuna left it there without further question.
And no one really looked twice when he slipped off into the forest just behind the far end of the compound. Following the path he had discreetly marked, it was no trouble to find himself at the still riverside, the same as before.
Rummaging through his clothing, he produced several plump persimmons and studied them. Brushing a thumb over the bright skin, he lobbed all three into the water one after another. "I've returned," he announced.
Waiting and watching, the still surface began to ripple, an intrigued goddess emerging with persimmons in each hand, studying them in scrutiny. A faint but persistent memory stirred, but too impatient, he stuffed it down for later pondering.
With this woman it was best to keep his wits about him.
"So you have." Mizuchi said. She pocketed two of the fruits and delicately bit into the last, making her way to the bank. "In vain, I'm afraid. I have already explained I can do nothing for you."
She cut such a regal figure in the finely tailored silk of the deep emerald kimono, trimmed in gold at the sleeves and neck and tied with a matching colored obi. The pointed ears visible through the silken charcoal of her hair were adorned in jewels fit for a noblewoman. The curving horns jutting from the sides of her head shone like polished obsidian even in the fading evening light.
The ruby of her pert mouth never smudged as she chewed. Her posture was impeccable, her expression flippant, and when she looked down her nose at him with that air of superiority in her green-gold eyes, Madara knew without a doubt she was powerful enough to end him in an instant.
Desperation drove him beyond a point of caring, and he only squared his shoulders forward to stare her down.
"I don't believe you anymore than I did before," Madara insisted, perfectly fine with being stubborn in the face of what he was sure was a bluff.
Giving him some semblance of her attention for perhaps the first time since appearing, she sucked the juice dripping down her wrist without breaking eye contact. A soft, practiced laugh fell from her mouth. "Be—lieve…" she drawled, eyeing the fruit in amusement. "Humans are so interesting to me with their beliefs."
"The relationship between mortal and god is fueled by belief, isn't it?" he asked boldly. "That in a way makes you beholden to humanity's faith."
"No," she chuckled, taking a particularly vicious bite of the orange skin. "Never beholden. Not me, at least." Mizuchi sucked down more of the juice and flesh with a smack, then smiled charmingly. "You flatter me though, coming again with the same request, inadvertently laying power over your fate in my hands. All deities do revel in the power over human life."
Madara glowered. "Yes, I suppose." He crossed his arms. "I'm here for the same thing as before, it's true. You say you can't help and yet, you did on Haruno's behalf. I would wager that wasn't the only time you've found a way."
Her eyes were spectacular as she leaned into his face, melted pools of the finest metals and yet still inimitable. Nothing shone that unnaturally. "You," she whispered, her fruity breath wafting over his cheek, "are not Sakura."
He had a feeling her bias would play a large factor in her resistance. From the few interactions he'd had with the deity, she had a soft spot for Haruno and not much else.
That in itself could be used to his advantage. "A fair statement," he said carefully, "I have no choice but to rely on her good will indefinitely in that case." He had picked up on the stiffness and barely restrained mistrust the night he had found his way into the woods, seeking her out.
Mizuchi finished off the first persimmon, but didn't clean the juice from her skin, opting to stare him down blankly. She took a step back as if to better see him, and just that small action made breathing a little easier without her divine presence pressing in on him.
A flash of something passed through her eyes, lip curling scornfully as she spoke. "I've seen your future, Madara Uchiha. The man you are at the center of your being. Perhaps trust that without your memories, you are more tolerable. If only barely."
She began to walk away, finished entertaining him to any degree.
The Uchiha didn't immediately respond. "How does a possible insurrection factor into what you know?" he called.
Mizuchi had one foot in the water and released a great, put-upon sigh before she turned around. "I've witnessed many future insurrections. Surely you can be more specific."
"The Uchiha clan," he grit out. The conversation had shifted, at least momentarily, but it seemed to be the right one to get this fickle goddess to stay. One thing Madara had gleaned was how important her carefully constructed plans were to her. She could be so resolute and self-assured to the point of conceit because she knew.
Minimal, so small even from up close it was hard to catch, her eyes widened. That was when Madara knew he had succeeded. "There's question regarding my leadership abilities. The discovery of my amnesia would also be problematic."
"Rightfully so," she muttered.
Going on like she hadn't interrupted he said, "There's a conspiracy to see me deposed and instate someone with more… hardline traditionalist views. What do you know about it?"
"There should be no rift happening now," she bit out. "Not like this." If he didn't know better he would say she was genuinely aggrieved. Much quieter and without meeting his eyes, "Kaguya's damnable bloodline. So intent on self-destruction."
Seizing on the opportunity, Madara decided the time was nigh. "I can handle any threats posed against me in combat," he was confident in that much. "But if my memory were restored, there'd be nothing to call into question. Haruno would no longer be burdened with my presence either." He said it to sweeten the pot, not because the final statement was true. If anything, not having to divide his attention between pursuing his memory and other things meant he could devote that time to doubling his efforts in courtship.
Mizuchi's face was hidden by long tresses as she thought. "I cannot afford for everything I have carefully planned to be endangered by this." The hiss that left her mouth revealed fangs. Woe be any man he faced her now. "Give me their names. I will slaughter them by the light of dawn tomorrow and—"
"Don't you think that would be my first solution if it were that simple," Madara wanted to roll his eyes. Deities were supposed to have better foresight than this. "Izuna says that would aggravate the situation, for them all to turn up suspiciously dead."
"Then your memories are the only way to quash this rebellion?" She laughed, a hollow and agitated sound. "So be it. Be warned the method has consequences. You pushed for this."
Madara huffed, growing weary of the ominous threats wrapped in detached concern. "It's been a challenge just to get you to admit to it. I want to proceed."
A thin finger pointed in his direction as she pursed her full lips, "Listen carefully. I will not be repeating myself even once."
The march was a solemn affair, as most marches to battle were. The morning had yielded heavy fog, and it wasn't the only thing bringing chill.
Hardly two words passed between himself and Haruno after the conclusion of their meeting the night before. After his abrupt dismissal he wasn't surprised, but at least she was beginning to take the hint. He didn't want her camaraderie.
A professional, temporary alliance between two shinobi with similar goals was all they were. The sooner she could understand there'd be no charming him, the better. Tobirama was satisfied to see her cat was absent at the least.
Of course the many otters with them made up for that, fur coats in various colors all around them. Noboru, Enmei's trusted right-hand and general, trotted briskly along with his own platoon of muscular otters the size of adolescent human children. Standing, all of them came up to or even past Haruno's ribs, which might have brought a trickle of dry amusement any other time.
But as it always was when battle was nigh, his mind had been emptied of all things not pertaining to successfully implementing strategies.
Enmei and Chuya lumbered ahead, leading the way, their large, light-furred bodies easy to spot in the lineup. Everyone had been briefed on the plan, knew their parts. Haruno may not have been happy with him but he had confidence she wouldn't be diverting from her role, nor would he or any of the sentient animals accompanying them.
A twitch in Enmei's thick tail was the only sign of his tensing as he stopped to rise to his hind feet. "There," he rumbled, readying himself.
A beaver Tobirama assumed to be Hatsuko, dark enough to be considered midnight and decked in faded green armoring, stood watching them across the expanse separating the territories. She was somewhere in height between Enmei and Chuya (who was roughly three feet shorter than her mate), which naturally meant enormous for her species.
"I was told you might pay me a visit." The beaver greeted, her tail pounding the ground restlessly. "But not to avenge you, Enmei?" she tilted her head innocently, her beady eyes unnerving. "Hisoki must've been sloppy if you've already had time to crawl away and lick your wounds."
Tobirama felt his skin prickle, a sort of zap traveling up his arms and neck. Haruno quickly moved forward, a chakra-laden fist crackling against a silver blur cutting the air. Metal twanged. Movement so fast even he reared back identified that the fight had already begun. The segments of the weapon glinted brilliantly as they flew apart, Tobirama moving his face away just in time.
"You know your places! Go!" Enmei roared to his warriors, otters charging into the mist at the signal.
Without hesitation, the Senju called forth his shadow clones and commanded them to split off as directed.
No sooner had the last one gone with the otter's leader than Tobirama found himself ducking the same weapon once more. When it flicked through the air, swerving to change directions, he saw it was no spear as he had originally believed. Putting distance between himself and the wicked edge, he lashed out with a water whip that sent it recoiling back the way it'd come.
Boisterous laughter from above shook through him, a glance up confirming Chuya and Haruno were doing battle with Hatsuko as planned. Though she had no weapons of her own, the beaver made use of her sharp teeth, wide tail and knowledge of Doton-jutsu.
"Doton: Gōremu no Jutsu!" Hatsuko shrieked, rock piling up and solidifying to create several earth golems of identical monstrous size. Chuya swung her nunchucks, aiming for the beaver's paws to immobilize her, but Hatsuko batted her powerful tail like a mace, knocking them away.
Haruno met fists with a golem, the creature shuddering as its arm crumpled to dust. However, he hardly had time to pay attention to their battle when he sensed more than saw the enemy slicing at him through the shroud of mist again. Having had enough of defensive, he charged in, body low to avoid a strike as he flung out a kunai.
The first clanged off the blade with the chirps of electricity traveling through it drawing a grunt from the hidden assailant. Directing his attention toward the noise, Tobirama aimed again, sure he had struck true when through the mist he saw a dark shape pause to grip the weapon embedded in his shoulder.
The seal work had held up, doing its job in delivering a timed release of lightning jutsu, enhanced by the moisture of their surroundings. The enemy tremored, swayed, but did not fall.
In perfect striking distance, Tobirama sped through hand signs, intent on finishing off the target while they were immobilized. "Suiton: Mizuame Nabara," Deep, viscous liquid poured from his lips to envelope the feet of the mystery attacker. Triumph swelled when a growl issued from his prey as they attempted to raise a foot, hacking at the syrupy spill with the odd weapon—a segmented sword—and only managing to become more trapped.
From so close he could now make out an ornate porcelain mask, a snarling cat with red streaked diagonally in two lines, and a black cloak that did an effective job at obscuring the rest of the person's body. Just as the otters had described.
"A flashy weapon means nothing if you don't possess the skills to wield it properly." he taunted, stopping just short of his own capture jutsu. While he wanted nothing more than to unmask and interrogate them, sounds of battle still rang all around.
Although he had succeeded in stopping one menace he could question, the right thing to do would be to help finish what they—air whistled and he turned, kunai swinging…and missing.
Haruno landed in front of him from seemingly nowhere, her chakra blaringly loud now that it was right on top of him. Agitated, Tobirama concluded she had interceded seconds earlier on his behalf, her right arm transformed and scaly. Senses rippling, Tobirama cursed himself to discover he had been caught in a genjutsu at some point, Haruno stepping in to disrupt it. A ruby line trailed from between the scales and dropped as she hissed under her breath. "It… cut me…" Apparently that news came as great surprise to the kunoichi, who stared white-faced at the superficial injury.
"Surprised?" Hatsuko cackled, slamming a fisted paw into Chuya's face and then picking her up to fling. "Don't think we haven't prepared for this too."
The winded otter landed with a groan, recovering herself and scratching dangerous claws at the beaver when she lunged. As they wrestled, biting and slamming each other into the ground, the masked person from before materialized with sword poised to strike. As it uncoiled this time in a move that had already become familiar, flaring green heat seared the air in a wave of crescent flames.
Haruno sucked in a deep breath, drawing the fire in as easily as one might drink water.
Even without heavy, oppressive armor and the crisp mountain air, Tobirama felt as though his soul were being seared. 'Those are no ordinary flames. Are they like Amaterasu?'
Tobirama's body straightened, the figure calmly advancing, heedless of the chaos in all directions. The sword wasn't raised just then, gripped tight to the side. "Soul of a dragon…" The words spoken sounded crystal clear. "The river goddess Mizuchi's chosen."
They regarded Haruno doing her best to stop the flames, then a hidden face turned to stare in his direction. "But…Tobirama Senju…it's you I want. Your blood and the sight of your agony will be atonement for all your past misdeeds."
A burst of flame licked a path right toward the sword-wielder as Haruno turned what she absorbed into a fiery attack. But without looking, the sword lashed to cut straight through it, the fire deterred long before it reached its target. "You…" he regarded Haruno. "You wouldn't help him if you knew."
Nerves tight, Tobirama felt out the unknown warrior, sensing no sign of a chakra he had ever brushed with before, only the distortion of a presence like Haruno's but far darker. Packed with rage.
"Experience says the creep in a mask swinging that kind of weapon around is the one with something to hide!" she shouted out, dashing closer. The sword wound apart, and she jumped over it, leg outstretched in a dynamic kick that collided with the assailant's dominant arm.
It buckled and his fingers tensed even as his grip loosened. Tobirama shot a piston of water at the precise moment Haruno flipped away, and the wretched sword clattered to the ground where the pinkette was finally able to seize it.
"Now," Haruno panted, wielding the weapon back at its owner. "We have questions so you'd better start talking!" Were the situation less dire, Tobirama would have begun the round of interrogation by asking Haruno who taught her to wield a sword in the first place. They were an awful instructor. Her form was that of a novice and corrections burned in his throat as he held them at bay.
"Ah," More to the point, the owner of the sword hardly seemed concerned about the predicament. There was no movement to try and attack or reclaim their lost weapon, but it was apparent they also saw no threat to their well-being. That kind of assuredness in such a tense moment either came from unparalleled bluffing skills or knowledge of the upper-hand still being obtainable.
A quiet huff that could have been a laugh slipped from under the mask. "It'll do you no good. That sort of weapon only works for the one it was forged for." Outstretching only two fingers, the sword shook in Haruno's grasp. She planted her feet, grunting as her hold tightened. The masked warrior curled the fingers and the sword lurched away as if drawn by magnetism, flying right back where it had started. "I'm the one that's been chosen to draw out the hidden power of Soul Ripper. No one else."
Sakura was livid. It had taken everything to maintain composure and not come across rudely to the otters when she declined their invitation to The Couch for the both of them.
Tobirama for once raised no resistance to her taking the reins, and their furry allies seemed to understand. If anything they needed the breather to clear their heads just as badly.
There had been no casualties, not this time, and minor wounds at best. Suspiciously, the beavers offered half-hearted resistance, playing a strong defensive but not doing much to try and turn the tides of battle. They had definitely known to expect help in the form of the mysterious assailant who had rattled them all.
With the enemy intent on killing Tobirama, they had escaped in a strategic retreat only by the skin of their teeth after a drawn out combined assault, in which they discovered neither of their attacks were particularly effective. Two to one and they were still summarily outclassed, evident by the way they were brushed aside.
This proved to be insult to literal injury for Sakura, all her training over the course of months rendered useless by some assailant with a flashy sword. It had been able to wound her.
It sliced through her scales, a feat which she previously would have considered impossible from ordinary weaponry. Though clearly it was not an average sword, design aside. Even when her arm had changed back, the wound throbbed insistently until she was forced to tend to it, and it didn't quite dull the phantom pain she swore she still felt. And the flames! Those were her flames. Mizuchi's, passed down to her through the essence of the dragon to be more precise, but it didn't lessen the blow.
Sakura had spent the walk down to the riverside postulating, Tobirama listening and offering grudging input to either discredit or quietly agree with theories she put forward. He said repeatedly he knew of no enemies he had that would turn up in a peaceful river valley on the off chance he would come. He said no one but Hashirama and Toka had known his destination. Most importantly he said the steel of the blade and the aura of the wielder were both foreign to him, and from the very genuine frustration pouring off him, Sakura was inclined to believe it.
They had some rough idea of what was guarding the path deeper into the mountains now, but considering the need to run for their lives, there were still some questions that could use answering.
That was when the one goddess who had directly or indirectly dragged her into mess after mess up 'til this point came in.
So as the Senju stood back with arms folded and a face that betrayed no emotion, Sakura made a show of calling Mizuchi. Standing on the river with an aggressive stance and a brow marred by a heavy scowl.
Time seemed to crawl, the river's surface undisturbed. She could practically sense the mounting skepticism wafting from Tobirama, because the man's stubbornness ironically defied all reason like that.
Sakura could feel the embers of her temper sparking to a higher elevation, seconds from reaching down below the water and dragging the wayward deity out herself if she had to, when increasing ripples came in earnest.
The pinkette barely withheld her snort of derision as Mizuchi appeared with a dramatic flourish. An elegant twirl and ribbons of water twining up around her before plopping down.
"Sakura, your calls are coming with unexpected frequency—"
"We don't have time right now," the frustrated ninja cut in.
Mizuchi ignored her in favor of observing Tobirama, who observed right back with cold calculation. "A non-believer if I've ever seen one," the goddess declared. "And yet here I am in the flesh. Rankled, boy?"
"Call it dissatisfaction." Tobirama didn't rise to the bait, acting as if he had wholeheartedly believed he'd be having such a conversation from the minute he woke up.
"As you wish." Mizuchi shrugged, bringing her palms upward. "What are you dissatisfied about? As if I couldn't guess."
Sakura felt like if she didn't reinsert herself into the conversation they would never get it where it needed to be. Stepping off the river and hopping onto the bank, she stood just behind Mizuchi. "There was someone who interfered today. They had a weapon that cut right through my scales. I thought that shouldn't be possible!"
"Well it shouldn't." Was the simple answer.
"And you know nothing else?" Tobirama prodded, clearly unconvinced. His arms were still firmly tucked against his chest and the look on his face was put out.
"I don't recall saying that. You're very presumptuous." She tutted. "I suppose I know why you called me Sakura, but the simple fact is I couldn't tell you what you don't already know. The weapon you encountered is of a divine nature. Therefore it can deal damage to human or god. You," she flapped her hand at the two of them. "And I," Slowly, Mizuchi poked a finger at her throat.
"You're saying you won't assist further." Sakura hated to think Tobirama was correct, but that really felt like the gist of it.
"I will assist," she corrected. "Just not directly. I have my own suspicions about what might be happening. My advice would be to focus on finding Hitotsu. Time is of the essence, Sakura."
"We were trying," The kunoichi stepped in the way as Mizuchi attempted a graceful exit into the river. "I was trying. But I'm obviously on the right track if we're being met by so much resistance."
"Are you sure?" Great. Those green-gold eyes were shining with the kind of cryptic glimmer she hated. "You once explained to me a teacher of yours told you, what was it? To look underneath the underneath?"
Cocking one hip, she gestured to Tobirama. "You might try that too, to help you solve your problem." Then, pausing as if reconsidering, she moved ever closer, until she and the Senju were eye to eye. Sakura wasn't sure what to make of the stare-down, and she certainly wasn't prepared for the deity to reach out and pinch one side of the stoic shinobi's face. "This sour expression…you're rather fond of making it. I do hope for your sake that changes someday. See to that, yes, Sakura? It's a waste otherwise."
Tobirama pulled away with no shortage of indignation carved into his visage, Sakura too speechless to screech the rest of her questions.
The goddess slipped away in the span of silence that followed.
Usamaro nosed at the leaves with interest like had never seen them before. When he managed to get one into the air he was quick to bat it back down. Sakura watched her cat with a sigh, wishing she could be half as carefree just then.
The day was bright and cloudless and the air was clean and balmy. Behind them was sleepy Choshu, a village full of friendly people oblivious to the dangers lurking in the mountains stretched across the landscape.
After the disastrous turn the day before had taken, Sakura had tried to take Mizuchi's advice to heart (fruitless as it felt), and get back to basics, investigating the area where she had first seen footprints.
In an effort to be mature and make peace, she had offered for Tobirama to come and join her, but unsurprisingly he was nowhere to be found. He really did avoid her like the plague it seemed. And, as much as Sakura would tell herself his opinions of her meant absolutely nothing in the face of her greater purpose…a tiny, niggling voice of doubt wondered why such a feared and respected Konoha mind could hardly stand the sight of her.
Honestly it was offensive. The man had been responsible for the nightmare known as the Reanimation jutsu. Somehow, a girl with a pool of divine power to channel was too unpalatable? She'd have called him out more directly, if only she could explain why it bothered her so much in the first place.
Sakura kicked at a rock in her way and it tumbled across the ground and startled a squirrel investigating a berry bush. Usamaro noticed the small creature and it took off up a tree before her cat could approach. Smart squirrel.
Undeterred, Usamaro ducked his head into the bush and emerged a minute later smacking at the tart, half-ripe berries with red juice smearing his fur. The kunoichi rolled her eyes, patting her leg as she passed to beckon the feline to keep following.
He did, spitting out what was in his mouth and trotting forward.
The ground sloped down, and she carefully watched her footing to avoid a slip. They were coming up on the clean riverside, the area just before the mountain base where she was sure the clues had been.
Although Sakura couldn't spot anything particularly promising in the way of anything that looked like a humanoid being had walked the trail recently. The sound of nature and Usamaro's scampering were all she could hear. Stopping she placed a hand to her forehead and groaned. 'Kakashi-sensei this is getting as old as your excuses...'
A resounding snort echoed her weary sentiments, making her lift her head slightly. Usamaro was stopped at her side, taking the opportunity to pluck debris from his fur. "That almost sounded sort of human," Sakura chuckled. She waited, hoping to hear it again and humor herself. The wind carried nothing. No new noises she hadn't already been hearing. No...
A long sigh whistled through the trees, and Sakura was positive she wasn't alone, even though nothing suspicious prickled at her senses. Neither dangerous nor friendly. "Usamaro, you hear it too, right?" The cat lifted his head to gaze at her with sharp, intelligent mismatched eyes. Then his fluffy tail wiggled as he hopped off into the brush.
A cry of protest bubbled up from her throat as she followed, watching the cat wriggle under tangled overgrowth, meowing persistently. Any number of things could have caught his attention, and she was really just hoping it wasn't another squirrel. But when she parted the bushes, her breath caught and she drew up short. Staring her down dejectedly from his place inside a nasty trap, was the largest boar she had ever laid eyes on.
It had huge yellowed tusks perfect for gouging, ruffling its snout and watching her in clear caution. Aside from the fact that its leg was clamped tight in a trap, painful wound keeping it still, Sakura was curious to notice the animal had only one eye.
One glassy, green eye was trained on her, while the other was closed tight with a jagged, crescent scar over the lid and stopping on the animal's cheek. The injury had once caused such trauma that the scar was white against the brown fur, where the hair had grown back thinner.
The big, ugly brutish creature laid its head down and closed its good eye, resigned to its fate. Pity bubbled over Sakura, wondering what careless hunter had left a trap out for this animal to suffer in it. While she knew boars could be vicious, and were menaces to farmers besides, leaving it on its own didn't sit right with her.
His hulking size suggested he had been through many winters to survive so long. Moving as quietly as possible, the kunoichi skirted to the animals side, waiting for him to swing around and try an attack. This was literally a cornered, wounded animal. It was within their nature.
But despite her closeness he hardly stirred, and that only made Sakura more determined to see him freed. "Just hold on," she whispered, tentatively laying hands on the creature's rough coat and letting them drift down to the trap. Despite his big size it seemed like overkill, biting into the flesh of his hindquarter. A well-placed chakra flick ought to be enough to dismantle it though. And if luck held out the boar's even temperament would hold out enough for her to get some distance.
Steadying herself on a deep breath, Sakura placed her fingers in position and pumped enough chakra into the flick to shatter a boulder.
It did...nothing.
Sakura stared in disbelief.
There had never been a piece of metal more resistant than the chakra control she used to destroy it.
Doubling her efforts, Sakura applied more force with the same results. The boar looked at her dully, as if to assure her that it was all useless.
'This steel doesn't respond to chakra at all. Just like earlier.' Working her fingers dangerously close to the laceration at the risk of agitating her listless patient, she closed her eyes and conjured images of the dragon spirit she knew was always curled dormant inside.
Scales rippled up her arms, flares of fire shooting through her veins as she wrenched the trap open with a bestial snarl. For good measure she broke it spitefully, stumbling away to let the boar get itself reoriented.
The animal snuffled at the wound incredulously, and when he stood wobbly, Sakura did a double take. The beast had three legs, his other hind leg missing. Usamaro chose that moment to strut in fearlessly, almost touching noses with the boar as he sniffed deeply.
"Usamaro," she hissed warily. "Come here." The cat looked over, but he didn't step away from the larger animal very much capable of maiming them both. It didn't look inclined to go after either of them though, staring around the forest as if it hardly noticed their presence. Sakura had half a mind to try healing its injury, since it had been calm so far.
Before she could decide the hog lifted its headed and snorted deeply, tendrils of green miss encasing it. Shocked, Sakura fell over her feet, tumbling backwards and shielding her widened eyes.
You may be wondering why Tobirama keeps pushing Sakura away at the last minute even when it seems obvious that whether he likes it or not, they have things in common. Such as brilliant minds. But he won't be able to hold out forever. The arc still has a great many twists to go through.
And yes, while the Uchiha brothers have finally seemingly confronted each other on their attraction to Sakura, don't be so blinded with joy over that, that you miss the importance on the second half of the conversation. What's going on with the Uchiha clan dissenters you may ask? In canon Madara was the one who couldn't move on from the past, which led him to walk away from the village only to return to attack it. But…maybe the problem in the revamped timeline is something else entirely, hm? Also yup, shady Mizuchi and Madara collab. Keep an eye on that too.
Can't promise any further updates with this fic this year, but I'm hoping to continue A Requiem for Fireflies for those reading that.
I would like to strongly encourage everyone to take a few moments to review as that's the greatest indicator that you're there, invested and would like to read more. lol That way I can be sure to try and keep it in mind for next year.
Happy holidays to all, enjoy breaks, stay warm if you're somewhere that gets cold (I love the crisp fall weather happening here and could live in it forever). Watch some sappy holiday movies or read a good book curled up somewhere cozy, and take care into the New Year.
