"There's a world we see in our dreams,

Is it out there?

Is it waiting?

Is there time for one more journey?"

-Tabi no Tochuu, AmaLee

I opened my eyes.

Giant leaves cast rocking shadows over me, twisted and tangled around each other. They were a dark, vibrant green. The branches were gnarled, curling like fingers. An electric blue line ran down the center of each leaf and split off at the branches, threads circling down each tree.

I raised my hand. A pink burn scar traced a line down the vein on my wrist, just below my palm. A chakra burn. It was the only evidence left of what I'd done.

The trunk was red-brown and massive. Half of the roots were aboveground and glowing bright blue.

I sat up.

Yahiko sat a few feet to my right, legs pulled up to his chest. He was shaking, head buried in his arms, fingers digging into his legs.

Konan was on my left, propped up on a large, sprawling root.

I wanted to go back to sleep.

I made myself stand, the newfound power in my chakra waking up. It wasn't enough and too much all at once.

All this power and I still couldn't stop him.

I felt like I'd been thrown down into a deep, dark sea as I walked over to her. I was sinking, forgetting how to swim, forgetting to hold my breath.

Did I ever stop sinking?

Konan's eyes were open and dull. Her hair was messy, one hand on her stomach, the other at her side. The black paint on her fingernails was chipped. Dried blood was on her lips.

Her cheek was cold and the purple bruise on her neck was shaped like fingers.

I let out a shaky breath.

It hurts.

Yesterday she was laughing, teasing Yahiko, and today she was dead.

I wanted to think it was because of the war. It was what I always blamed when someone died, but I couldn't. Not this time. She didn't die because we were fighting or on a battlefield. She died because we wanted peace. It was always easier to blame the invisible, all-knowing force I called 'war'.

It was peace that killed her, not war.

I pressed my face to her chest and quietly laughed, tasting tears.

.

.

.

Naga knelt in front of Namekuji, sleeves rolled up, hands glowing green.

Namekuji was half the length of my arm again, his side covered in purple splotches.

I crouched next to Naga. He'd dug a hole in the dirt and it was half-filled with purple liquid.

I watched him slowly, carefully pull his hand back, taking the purple out of Namekuji's body and lowering it into the hole.

Namekuji's skin where the poison had been pulled out was wrinkled and shriveled.

"Why are your eyes purple?" Namekuji asked, strained, but sounding so much like himself that I almost felt normal, like everything was still okay.

Then he made a soft, pained noise as Naga pressed a hand against a purple spot.

I pulled at my eyelid, as if I would be able to feel the difference.

"What happened?" I asked, watching Naga.

"He wouldn't let himself be de-summoned here until he—" his voice broke and he cleared his throat. "Until he got Konan."

There was a hole in my chest, a piece of my heart gone that I could never get back. "Who reverse summoned us here?"

"The piece of me you left in that backwater town," Namekuji said, trying for mirth, trying to make me smile.

I didn't. "Why aren't you big?"

"Because I don't want to be," Namekuji answered, quieter.

I tilted my head back and stared at a massive leaf with a bite mark through the middle. "I've never been down here before," I mused.

Konan would've thought it was pretty, I think.

My vision blurred, but I didn't wipe the tears. "What do we do now?"

Naga sagged. "Too soon," he murmured.

There was only one path left for us, wasn't there?

より暗い

I looked at our hideout, at the hole where the wall used to be, the piles of rubble and the rain flooding inside. I was still sinking. Deeper, deeper.

Mamoru-sensei sat off to the side, elbow on his knees. He was splattered with blood. He stared blankly at a crater in the middle, the grass around it blackened, filled with red water and floating chunks.

A big, dismembered foot was half-submerged in a pink puddle. An arm a few feet in front of Etsudo.

Joji, laying on his side in a pool of his own blood, a hole in his back.

Naga's eyes went wide. He ran and dropped down in front of Joji, gently turning him on his back, pressing both hands to his stomach wound.

Yahiko only sighed.

The red-pink water under my feet was still warm.

Etsudo was sobbing into her hands, turned away from the crater.

I looked over and saw Kota.

There was mud on her cloak.

Maho sat beside her, hands coated in blood.

I didn't think as I went to her. I crouched, an empty shell as I looked at the hole in her chest. Her eyes were closed, head tilted to the side, blood smeared down her chin.

I looked at the hole and saw grass on the other side.

"I got there too late," Maho said, wiping his eyes with his shirt. "I tried to help but when I found her—She was already—"

I didn't think.

I felt a pull on my chakra, a sudden and enormous pressure, and the ground cracked in a circle around me.

Maho gasped, scrambling back as the earth caved in on itself.

I reached out, pushing Kota's wild hair aside as I pulled her necklace up and over her head. The pressure increased and the earth broke apart as it was pushed down.

"Oka," Yahiko murmured. He sat just outside of my destructive circle.

I wrapped the twine twice around my wrist and turned to him. I didn't think.

The air was heavy, shaking, and it was hard to breathe. Cracks spread under him, but Yahiko didn't move or look.

"I know," he said quietly.

Know what?

But I couldn't keep pretending.

Yahiko knew Konan before he knew me and Naga. They were always teasing each other, always arguing, always laughing. He loved her.

Kota was my best friend. She was the only one who really understood me, who thought the way I did.

And Konan understood Yahiko in a way nobody else did.

I slowly breathed out. The pressure let up and disappeared.

Yahiko didn't smile. He stared at his lap.

I abruptly stood and walked off, letting my feet carry me wherever they wanted.

It was all wrong. Kota, Joji, Osamu, our hideout.

This is the price of peace.

Naga was busy. Yahiko didn't stop me.

.

.

.

I looked up at the house.

It was small, hidden deep in the woods near the body of water that surrounded the village. White, thin trees were all around it. The branches were long and curled, leaves lapping at puddles.

The roof had collapsed, the bottom windows broken or charred. Plants stretched up along the walls and wrapped around bits of wreckage.

It felt familiar and not at all.

It reminded me of Naga, lulling me to sleep with a story about a princess from across the sea.

Why did you bring me here?

I looked at my feet, as if they were a separate entity from me.

The front door was missing and there were two bodies just inside. The one closest to the door was face down. The body further inside was on their back, a kunai wedged between their ribs. They only vaguely looked like people, skin dried over bones.

It smelled like decay.

I stepped over the first body, crouched next to the second, and pulled the kunai free, holding its shoulder down to keep it still.

The kunai was stained a deep, dried-out red up to its hilt. I held it up over them like it would help me remember.

"I'm sorry I don't remember you," I finally admitted, lowering the kunai.

The floorboards were bloated with water, bending and groaning with each step. Broken glass and books with the pages ripped out littered the couch. The kitchen counters were rotting, rust circling the sink.

I went back and looked up the staircase, at the caved in walls, the rainwater dribbling down.

I wondered if everything would still hurt so much if Naga and I never had to run.

I wondered if the book about the princess was still up there, hidden under the bed.

There was a crash behind me, a deafening crack and the wall imploded.

I had a split second to whirl around, to register the gust of wind bending the trees outside, the broken branches, the chunks of stone and wood shards flying at me

My eyes widened. Standing on wood flooring, I couldn't make an earth wall.

Chakra drained out of me, swept up in an invisible, protective, bubble. Then it burst.

I stumbled as stone, shards, and branches were pushed away from me, breathing hard as floorboards were ripped up, as walls bent, broke, and tumbled away. I stared at the lone figure in a black cloak as their jutsu was thrown back at them and they were tossed off their feet.

When it was over, I was on my knees at the center of a crater where the house used to be. Wood and stone rained down around me.

It was the kind of power I always wanted (to be stronger, to help), but I didn't feel happy.

I climbed out of the crater.

Far back, a girl sat up, hood blown back, and pulled a long shard of wood out of the back of her leg. She was blond, older and taller, but not an adult. She was Root, and I was alone.

I looked at her, at my would-be kidnapper, and then at the kunai that killed people I didn't remember.

I was light-headed when I took a step towards her but didn't fall.

Killing is wrong, Oka.

Her arm was hurt.

I realized it as she pushed herself back, left arm held protectively against her chest. Blood gushed through her fingers as she tried to stem the bleeding from her leg.

Konan wouldn't be happy if she knew what I wanted to do to her.

Konan was dead.

"Mercy," she said, looking up at me. "Please."

I stopped in front of her. I stared at her, at the blood trail she left behind, and I laughed. I raised the kunai high above my head, but it was too dirty to see my reflection.

I wondered what Konan would think if she saw me now.

I smiled and said, "When you see Kota, ask her for mercy," and I threw the kunai.

Her head thumped down as it pierced her neck, eyes frozen open. I crouched, watching blood stain her cloak and pool on the grass, and I waited to feel something.

I waited to feel bad, to wish I hadn't done it, to see some value in her corpse.

Blood dribbled under my feet and I felt nothing.

.

.

.

Naga stood in front of me, blocking the way.

His eyes flicked to my bloody footprints and his mouth thinned into a grim line.

I stopped, feet between us, a chasm between us. "I'm going to kill Hanzo," I told him.

I had the power to do it. Why not use it?

Naga met my eyes. "No," he said.

I frowned. "He killed Konan."

Why should he get to live?

Naga's eyes were sad and dark. "He'll kill you too," he said quietly. "I can't let that happen."

I blinked, tilting my head. "But he took Kota away."

"I know," he said, but didn't move.

I smiled, even as a drop of water fell and painted a warm line down my cheek. I raised a hand. "Move out of the way, Naga."

He shook his head.

I sucked in. I focused what was left my chakra, pooling it in my hand, just like before—

Yahiko was bruised, but alive. Yahiko was dead, killed by my brother.

—but I knew if I used that power against Naga, it was a line I couldn't uncross. It was hurting him on purpose. It wouldn't be a spar or trying to make him understand me. It was putting revenge over my own brother.

I felt power in the tips of my fingers, and with a thought, I could've blown him away.

I dropped my hand and screamed at him.

It was all my anger, every bit of my shattered heart as I screamed as I loud as I could. I didn't care who heard it.

Naga didn't flinch. He just looked sad.

My throat ached when I stopped. I spun a kunai into my hand and stared at him.

He didn't get me like Kota, but he knew who I was. He knew how I thought, even if he didn't think the same way.

I squeezed the handle. I wanted so badly to throw it at him.

I couldn't.

I threw it down with a frustrated, croaky shout and ran at him.

Naga tensed but still didn't move.

I dived for his legs.

He jumped before my arms could slip around him and I turned the dive into a roll, grasping at his foot before he touched the ground with one hand. I made the snake seal with the other, pushing chakra into the mud beneath me.

My fingers curled around the back of his sandal and I started to pull him down when he disappeared, a puddle of water suddenly in his place.

I ducked as it splashed down, eyes narrowing as I pulled myself up out of the mud.

He stood a few feet away, missing a shoe, but still in the way.

I threw the sandal away.

I was better than him at taijutsu, so why did my body feel so slow? Why did my movements feel so sloppy?

"Move," I shouted, and my throat ached.

Naga shook his head.

My eyes widened. I jerked my hand up again, slowly breathing out.

It was the only way to get him to move.

I breathed in.

Once I stepped over that line—

I didn't care.

I thought of Konan, of Kota, of what could've been, had Hanzo chosen peace instead of war.

Naga came closer, until my hand was an inch away from his chest. "I won't be upset," he promised. "No matter what you do to me, I'll keep trying to protect you."

I made myself smile. "I destroyed our old house," I told him happily. "And I killed a girl. From Root. She tried to hurt me, but I hurt her worse. She stopped fighting, but I killed her anyway. It wouldn't be hard to kill you too—"

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me against his chest, resting his chin on top of my head. "Nothing," he murmured. "Nothing will make me stop protecting you."

I suddenly felt tired.

"I'm sad too," he murmured, squeezing me tight.

I leaned into him.

It might've been minutes or hours before he pulled away, holding me by the shoulders. He pressed a hand against my forehead.

"How do you feel?" he asked, searching my eyes.

I stared at him.

"Sick? Feverish?" he added.

I shook my head, questions in my eyes. My throat hurt too much to talk.

He tapped my forehead. "Every time you got sick it was because your chakra network couldn't hold your spiritual energy and it spilled out into your body," he explained. "Your physical chakra is almost balancing it out now, and I thought it would stop, but now it's flowing out again. It shouldn't be, but this is the third time it's happened since..." he trailed off.

Since Konan.

I turned away. "Can we go back now?" I managed.

Naga hesitated, "You sure you don't feel anything?"

I didn't.

まだ

I found Yahiko at the pond.

He sat at the edge, legs tucked up to his chest. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. He didn't look up when I sat next to him, eyes on the water.

"Jiraya-sensei was right," he finally spoke. He sounded bitter.

It felt a little like watching the sun set, knowing it wouldn't come back up.

"Remember what Jiraya-sensei said about us being collateral damage? About not knowing what it was really like to be targeted?"

I didn't, but he didn't wait for me to answer.

"He was right," he said again. "I was just a kid who didn't know anything. I thought I could do it. Mamoru-sensei couldn't change that bastard's mind, Osamu-sensei couldn't, but I thought I could. I was still that same, dumb, idealistic kid that thought he was special."

He flopped backwards and draped an arm over his eyes. "And now Konan is..." he trailed off and sighed.

I pulled my legs to my chest and looked at the sky. "Hanzo is a bastard," I quietly agreed. "But you'll always be special to me. Without you, me and Naga would've died."

Yahiko pounded the sand with his fist. I watched him grit his teeth, chest heaving as he tried not to cry, and it made me squirm.

Yahiko, who was always smiling, even when things went bad.

It made me wonder when I'd put him on a pedestal, when I decided he wasn't allowed to cry, because he was Yahiko.

He wasn't supposed to be sad, because he was Yahiko.

He was supposed to smile, because he was Yahiko.

Was it when I started believing in him? When he told me he would be a god?

He was only a little older than Naga, but we all depended on him, gave all our beliefs for him to carry on his shoulders.

It didn't sound fair to him, and I wondered why I didn't see it before.

It was a simple realization, that Yahiko (as special as I still thought him to be) was allowed to not be happy, sometimes.

I told Konan the same thing once, but she wasn't Yahiko.

I sat quietly and let him cry, and maybe I cried a little too.

.

.

.

I sat in the sand until my back ached.

"Why did you do it?" I asked, facing him.

Yahiko shifted his arm off his eyes, enough to peek at me.

"Naga. The kunai," I said plainly, boring holes into him.

Yahiko dropped his hand back over his eyes. "Because it was my fault. Because I put everything into believing I could change that bastard, the people I cared about most were in danger. I didn't have a backup plan. I was determined not to go to war with him."

He laughed, angry at himself. "If I knew he'd take Konan, yeah, I would've made a different plan. But instead I believed in what could've been until it blew up in my face. It felt like everything I did up until then was for nothing, like there wasn't any hope left. I was okay with dying, as long as he let them go."

It infuriated me.

It made me think of the girl who walked out to sea and drowned. She'd given up, too.

"Selfish," I muttered, looking away.

"I wanted to be. Just the one time," Yahiko quietly said back.

I stared hard at the water. I barely recognized my reflection. Namekuji said my eyes were purple, but he didn't tell me about the rings, or the tiny black pupil in the middle.

They didn't look like my eyes at all.

This happened because I didn't want Yahiko to die.

It happened because I watched him die.

I looked at my palm and thought about the power that came with these eyes, the instinctual way I knew how to use it.

Did I always know?

I turned back to Yahiko. "Both you and Naga keep pretending my eyes are normal," I said.

"Too tired," he said. "Too much other stuff to think about."

I hummed. "You should've told everyone not to rely on you so much. I don't think they realize how much they do it," I told him.

Yahiko's fist clenched, but he didn't say anything.

A/N: より暗い - Darker, まだ - Yet

Finally, finally I get to show a glimpse of the Oka I've been building towards.

My sweet, dangerous war child.

And we get to see her break a little, too.