Chapter 1-29
Traveling…I hated it.
Running from one end of the country to the other, going from picturesque to dreary and mundane in the span of days was such a drag.
The fabled runners high remained elusive, and I was stuck with getting increasingly bored during the journey, which sadly wasn't a good thing. Boredom led to thinking, trains of thoughts that tended to become complicated, which in turn led to worries and frustration.
No Hana or Kurenai-sensei to enjoy the time between points A and B, just a harsh and silent taskmaster and an admittedly friendly teen, that did a piss poor job of distracting me from thoughts of encountering Zabuza Momochi, which might be a real possibility and even an objective given that they send me, a sensor, along.
We find him, we don't attack and get a chance to talk. Chances of that happening? Seven out of ten?
Then what?
Watch Unmo try and fail at convincing Zabuza to join the rebels and then get attacked?
If the guy had wanted to join at some point in the last couple of years that he had been a missing-nin then he would have done so already.
Are we going to be sent home with a nice friendly 'thanks, but no thanks'? I really didn't see that happening given what I knew about the guy. Stuff that I had learned as part of my backstory since my 'dad' had been supposed to be a fan and had left in a bid to join the bloodthirsty swordsman.
So…either we are going to get attacked straight away or after the failed attempt of convincing him to join.
I breathed a silent sigh and closed my eyes for a second, my sensing an ever-present constant, and the reason why, despite the overall situation, I was currently somewhat relaxed.
It was the night before we expected to hit signs of Zabuza's passing, possibly even hints of a trail, and my sensei and teammate were currently fast asleep in their bedrolls on a dry patch under a tree nearby.
Their chakra was in a state I recognized as deep sleep and nothing else with a developed chakra network in our vicinity.
It was a good indicator of the progress I had made so far.
Two high profile rebels trusted me with being the night watch in 'enemy' territory.
This, the feeling of another milestone reached, and the fact, that I was currently truly unsupervised for the first time in ages gave me the chance to lean back and actually do my freaking job.
Another little sigh, a minute flex of my hand to get rid of the hints of a cramp, and I was finally done with my overly long and overdue report for Shikaku Nara.
The stub of a pencil disappeared quietly into my pouch, hidden among my little stock of shuriken, and the standard-issue scroll with the painfully small and coded writing was handed to a Shadow Clone, which I had summoned with maximum concentration just to avoid any chances at noise and smoke.
An unnecessary but cathartic nod to the clone was the signal for it to silently glide away from us and then make its way to one of the many hidden stashes from where the scroll would be picked up by some other hidden Konoha operative, who had the means to bring it out of the country.
Now…
Now I could get back to worrying about Zabuza, worst-case scenarios, and the niggling feeling, that I was forgetting something.
Bingo!
"Just this morning," the old lady began to rage when the initial relief at our arrival had dissipated, "my husband had just gone out to collect the eggs from the coop when those…" the sheer anger apparently had the old farmers lady at a loss for second and she looked at her husband for support. To no avail, however, as he simply remained quiet and resigned at the loss of their food stock.
Seemingly enraged even further by the sight of her depressed husband the spitfire hit her groove again.
"Those rogues," she eventually said, but had obviously refrained from saying something unsavory in the presence of 'respectable' Kiri-nin such as us, "they strolled on our property and demanded our food or…."
The implied threat got an honest scowl out of Chōjūrō while Unmo and I remained stoic, hints of compassion shining through to give the old farmers couple a fuzzy feeling.
"This wouldn't happen under Mei Terumi," Unmo muttered under his breath, just loud enough for the civilians to hear, obviously planting the seeds for the newest gossip in the tiny nearby village.
"We will deal with them," Unmo promised, pretending to be finished writing down the notes provided by them.
"Thank you," seemingly gathering some new hope at our show the old man displayed heartfelt gratitude while his wife sagged in relief, tiredness now replacing indignity.
"Sanzo," Unmo turned to me, and I was suddenly very glad to have kept up my routine of mentally retelling my fake-origin story every now and then, "can you located the targets with the provided directions?"
"I can, sensei!" I replied dutifully, still mindful to keep up appearance in front of the old couple.
That I had sensed the beacon, that was Zabuza Momochi, hours ago was a little secret I was going to keep to myself since I had absolutely no desire to reveal the true extend of my sensing capabilities to the 'not-quite-enemy'.
"Four signatures two clicks north-east," I said between the jumps from tree to tree and held out my right arm to exactly pinpoint the direction, which was apparently the sign for Unmo to take the lead again as he wordlessly jumped ahead.
Our pace not slowing in the slightest and not getting any more subtle confirmed to me that Unmo was looking for a straightforward meeting with the rogue.
Something he seemingly was going to get sooner rather than later as…
"Three signatures are breaking off…" I informed my superior just loud enough for him to hear before I dutifully relayed further information, that I was actually willing to share, "taking position in a small perimeter around the major signature."
What I had been sensing for some time now had jogged some faint memories and I was beyond certain, that I was walking into one of those deja-vu moments, that strangely enough involved some random bridge.
A mental shake and I refocused on the encounter ahead.
Two chunin-level shinobis, who after aligning themselves with the Demon of the Hidden Mist imaginatively had started to go with the moniker Demon Brothers, which in turn probably was an insult to all demons, given that they were as average as you could possibly be. Not exactly decent in my opinion, but also not useless.
The third signature might also be considered a chunin-level threat, as it was elevated by the noticeable control and unique properties of their chakra but held back by the size of it due to their age. All in all, someone that might even push a teen as talented as Chōjūrō.
And last but not least Zabuza Momochi, the Demon of the Hidden Mist, the epitome of a powerhouse, who unfortunately also had the skills to use said strength to maximum efficiency.
He also had a sword. A big ass sword, that he was known to whip around like a toy.
A toy, that could cleave you in half with its weight alone.
I wasn't sure you could climb much higher on the shinobi ladder without some crazy gimmick or a fortunate biological heritage.
These four against an average jonin and two talented teens.
Whatever.
It wasn't the best mindset to have when you stepped into a clearing and came face to face with a slightly annoyed looking killing-machine, but, honestly, what can you do?
"Unmo," Zabuza began with a distinct lack of hostility, and I got the notion, that my sensei was perhaps chosen for a reason, "didn't expect the rebels to trust you with kids again."
'Uuuhh! Shots fired!' I had to bite my lips and was immensely glad to stand behind Unmo after Zabuza's low blow.
"Zabuza," Unmo said as a way of greeting and remained at least on the outside unfaced, "your group got smaller again," he noted without infliction, but the hidden insinuation as obvious as the little nods to the trees left and right, which was apparently the wrong thing to do as Zabuza, seemingly already tired of the conversation and us interrupting his day lazily reached over his shoulder and grabbed the sturdy hilt of his massive sword.
Despite the threatening little action, I remained calm as a cucumber as the guy had yet to actually draw the sword while his chakra remained in a relatively relaxed state, which made reading him extremely easy.
Still.
Just in case, I felt my body slowly but surely get ready for action, which was visibly mirrored by Unmo and Chōjūrō who simply couldn't rely on the benefits of sensing.
Hints of nervousness were further revealed when Unmo began to make another effort at reaching out to Zabuza.
"Zabuza, think about it, you and your comrades would have a place and future with us."
I heard Zabuza snort in derision and watched as he finally pulled the giant lump of steel free.
"Always the pretty words," he muttered and shook his head, "but I fancy my chances on my own."
...
I snorted and failed to hide my derision with a cough.
I just couldn't help it.
This felt like cracking lame jokes in the company of Kakashi and Itachi over the bodies of some dead kids all over again.
Just so stupid and tiresome.
Instantly I had the intention of everybody in the clearing, even Zabuza's sword remained motionless while his razor-sharp gaze was squarely on me.
Deep down I knew I was simply cocky due to my confidence in my ability to run and hide, but man, I was just longing for the chance to simply say my mind for once in who knew how many months.
"What chances? To do what exactly?" I asked and felt myself fall into my old Anbu-slouch. Relaxed, consequences a problem for future me.
"Listen man," I continued, comfortable with the train of thought in my mind, "from asshole," I pointed at myself, "to asshole." I pointed at him.
"You reached your zenith some time ago and now it's just downhill for you. Wandering the countryside, bothering old folks until someday somebody comes along and kills you for your bounty." I stated it as a fact, which I went on to elaborate.
"You are strong, but not as strong as Yagura or Terumi-sama, hell, I bet Kisame would wipe his ass with those bandages," I pointed at his face, "not to mention the dozens of monsters roaming the world."
You could hear a pin drop and I loved every second of it, so I carried on.
"And you have the charisma of a puddle." I finished with a flat stare, meant to drive home, that I was meaning every word so far.
"So, Mizukage is out of reach for yourself. You already had your attempt at killing Yagura so going back is a big no-no, and this?"
"What is roaming the countryside going to archive? Why do you deny the kid over there a chance at a proper a life?" I asked while my humor and derision were now long gone.
"You have the skill, the power and the reputation to be a someone among us. To have your words have weight in a village where people with bloodlines," I stared directly into the foliage and sensed the teen stiffen, "can live happily. You could lead the next generation of swordsmen and help us defend the country from foreigners harassing our borders, looking for weakness to pounce on."
I breathed a big sigh of relief, visibly satisfied with myself, and smiled at Zabuza.
The smile wasn't friendly, the smiled was empty.
It was the smile of a Root agent, that had butchered scores of random children for his village, for some stupid mission.
"This was the carrot," I revealed and unsealed my wakizashi, one hand already in a one-handed ram seal.
"The stick? You attack us and I promise I will kill at least the boy."
Sorry for the long wait, but my ideas tend to come in weird intervals across all my stories.
I finally have something in mind for this story and more importantly this arc, that is hopefully somewhat unique and lets me play with the tension of the world.
That said, I'm a sucker for comments and likes, but more importantly ideas and inspirations, that help me explore directions for all my stories.
Thank you again for your patience.