Prologue
"Where is he!?"
Rendomo Otsutsuki scanned the area. It'd been so quick.
One moment, his team had been stalking through these craggy canyons. Studying these long-lost ruins. Jagged mountains rose in the distance, and craters pockmarked the landscape in-between broken buildings reminiscent of old Otsutsuki architecture. They'd definitely been on the correct path. Following all the right leads. And within what seemed like the span of half a minute... Almost his entire team was dead. That shouldn't be the case. Not with his team's strength. Unless...
Rendomo turned toward his lieutenant, Kanadomo. His last standing ally. The veteran Otsutsuki warrior was hidden within the shadow of a fallen statue. Nullifying his chakra signature and camouflaging himself, so as to achieve perfect concealment. Making himself practically invisible. Waiting for their enemy to reveal himself.
It would do him no good.
"Kanadomo!" Rendomo shouted as he took flight from his own position. "His eye! He has the -"
Before Rendomo could finish, a flicker of movement split through the air. Like some dark shadow, shifting positions so fast it almost seemed like a teleportation. Rendomo just barely registered a massive surge of chakra with his byakugan. A massive surge. Deadly in strength. It was some kind of spiraling compressed orb. Wind-type. Whatever the case, the movement was too quick for Rendomo to follow it all. Half a breath later, Kanadomo's position exploded. Huge plumes of debris shot outward, and spikes of raw energy forked like angry snakes before dissipating. Dirt spiked into the air like someone had set off a bomb. And Kanadomo was sent flying... The upper half of Kanadomo. Everything beneath his chest was gone. Murky grey blood flooded from what remained of his body, spilling across the landscape beneath Kanadomo's severed torso. Then his remains crashed into the side of a cliff face, crumpled like paper, and fell to the ground lifeless.
Dust cleared from that explosion. And standing there in its place was the enemy. This was Rendomo's first time getting a good look at him.
He'd expected a rival Otsutsuki. Probably one of Kaguya's ill breed, left to stand guard against any and all intruders. But this was no Otsutsuki...
No... This is a human! How!?
"Who are you!?" Rendomo demanded. He instinctively rose a bit higher in the sky. A move to assert his dominance over the battlespace. And to get some distance, just in case the human attacked.
The man turned to face Rendomo. He was shrouded in a dark black cloak. It hid everything but the man's head. Concealed any possible weapons he might be carrying. Concealed his hands.
"You won't live long enough for it to matter," the human said.
"Tch," Rendomo bared his teeth in anger at the insult. "Tell me, creature: Where is Momoshiki? And I may spare you."
Instead of answering, the man smirked. Then he removed his cloak, allowing the garment to fall slowly to the ground. He raised a sword and got into a guarded fighting stance. And then black lines began spreading across his exposed skin. A moment later, the man opened his right eye. Despite Rendomo's suspicions, the sight still sent a chill through him. Like ice flooded his veins and crept along his spine. Tingling his skin in all the exposed places. Rendomo put a hand on his own sword and held it at the ready. And couldn't stop his own shaking.
"Ohkay then," he muttered, raising his sword in his right hand, and raising a ball of fire in his left. He fed chakra into the fireball. Fueled it until it became a miniature star. Blazing in heat to the point where it felt like his own skin might be peeling. Then he encased the fireball in lightning. Small electric tendrils stabbed and poked across the surface of the fireball, which had grown into the size of a tree. The orb became an unstable, fiery blob of massed chakra capable of disintegrating whatever it touched. "Die!"
Rendomo hurled the orb at the human with all his strength. It crossed the distance in the blink of an eye - Rendomo was no pushover himself. The orb fell on the human like a homing missile, and the man just barely jumped at the last possible second. Rock and soil boiled away beneath him, sizzling and melting like ice tossed into a furnace. A blackened and glassed hole was all that remained of that patch of earth.
Hah! Rendomo was already flying to attack. Because the human was in the air and exposed. Completely caught off-guard by the speed of the attack. Rendomo led with his sword and speared the man in the chest, his glowing-red blade buried to the hilt. Protruding out the back of the human. He smiled in satisfaction.
Until the man puffed into smoke and vanished right before his eyes.
A fake!
Rendomo spun in place, just in time to spot the lightning bolt sailing toward him from behind. It spread wide enough to engulf Rendomo completely. And it would have, had he not caught the brunt of it with his sword, redirecting the energy away with a calculated swing. In spite of that, the lightning still prodded at him as he sent it away. Bit into his skin as though someone had taken a knife to him. He couldn't stop himself from yelping in pain.
Before he could completely gather his wits, Rendomo just barely managed to sense a presence behind him. It was as though the human was teleporting. He had just enough time to dodge a kick, spin and attempt a desperate riposte. His sword hit nothing but a pair of shuriken - that transformed on impact. Transformed into... Rendomo went wide-eyed as he identified the spiraling chakra orbs. The same thing that'd killed Kanadomo earlier. They detonated in his face an instant later, and Rendomo's entire world went twisted. Like he'd been thrown into the heart of a typhoon. His bones rattled, and blood sputtered from his lips as he shot to the ground. Hurling like a rocket. He collided into bedrock a second later, hard enough that his body was buried several feet into the ground. Surrounded on either side by a small crater.
"Ngh!" Rendomo coughed as he began choking on the blood pooling in his throat. Some thing was broken. A lot of things were broken.
I should have... I should've...!
Staring into the darkness above, he didn't see the human. Not at first. Then he heard footsteps approaching. It was then that the man appeared. Stood over Rendomo. Looking down at Rendomo as though he were nothing but trash.
"You... Filthy animal! My death means nothing! Sacrifice is our honor! When I die, legions will come in my wake! Hundreds of thousands. Millions, far more powerful than I." Rendomo managed to growl it out. He wanted to fight back... But didn't have the strength to move a single muscle. It was that human's cursed eye. It should never have fallen into the hands of such lowly vermin.
The man knelt down and placed the tip of his sword at Rendomo's neck. "How many of you are there?"
"It doesn't matter," Rendomo laughed. He coughed hard enough to convulse his entire body. His bones squeezed and tightened uncontrollably. "You won't stop us."
"Where do you come from? Tell me!" The blade pressed into Rendomo's neck. "Who leads your people?"
"You think you've won... But my death will bring him. It will bring them all, and not even your eye will save your Earth."
That damned eye... Rendomo stared at it in rage and hatred. It was the last thing he ever saw.
-Chapter 1-
Threats
May 5, 1056
Otsutsuki throneworld Hamar
The Divine Castle
Intelligence Sphere
"That's the end of the report, my lord."
Senshai Otsutsuki stared at the projection.
Stunned.
"Tell me, Junshai," Senshai demanded. He ran a finger along his eyebrow. "How did all of this happen under our noses?"
"Unclear. My investigation... It's led me to believe that there might be a traitor responsible. But I cannot confirm this."
Senshai stared at the projection.
He looked at the collage of images and looping videos. It all made little sense to him. The Earth was a strange place. A very strange place, inhabited by strange beings. Like this so-called Serial that Junshai spoke of. But stranger than that, was the world's colorful history. And it's remarkably high Otsutsuki bodycount.
"Kaguya failed. Isshiki failed. Momoshiki failed us. This... Code creature..." Senshai felt bile rise in his throat. Disgust. He resisted the urge to spit. "Failed. Naishiki failed. As did the 'Domo."
Junshai bowed his horned head in agreement. Then held a hand out in front of his chest, palm upward.
"Speak."
"They are," Junshai started before hesitating. The strategist was choosing his next words carefully. "Not our best, nor brightest. However, do be sure, my lord: these humans wield immense power. Their victories guarantee it."
Senshai stared at the projection.
This time, his eyes focused on the still-frame near the top of the projection. At the human depicted on it. The man bore a dark shroud that covered nearly his entire body. Concealing what may lie beneath. Of what was exposed, there was very little. A hardened and scarred face, a silly headband wrapped tightly. He stood alone atop some mountain, staring at something that seemed distant and off-screen. Senshai pointed at the man.
"And who is he?"
"According to my source, his name is Boruto my lord. By reputation, the Otsutsuki Slayer. He finished Naishiki and her team. And the 'Domo family vanguard. All of them, including Rendomo. I believe he might be looking for us. And I believe he may have the eye. It would explain some things. And if such a fact were true, it lends credence to my traitor theory."
Senshai ran a finger along his eyebrow again. And clenched his hand into a fist. Bit his lip, and fought to contain the rage building within him. It was a losing battle, and he couldn't help lashing out at the monitor. In a blur of motion - too quick to be seen - the entire projection field was vaporized almost instantly. Senshai took a series of deep breaths. Closed his eyes. Leaned back into his seat. Let his wild hair settle along his face and neck. Then tied it back into a ponytail, and re-opened his eyes. And one of his pupils had changed shape. He stared at what remained of the projection field - just dust and particles - and a moment later, the entire setup reformed into shape. Back to how it'd been just moments prior.
"A traitor, a trail of Otsutsuki corpses, and a defiant world," Senshai grumbled, shaking his head. "Once again, we have to clean up the mess of... Impotent Otsutsuki."
Senshai stood. He'd seen enough. He covered his head in his veil and began heading out the chamber. "Summon all the families, strategist. It's time we end this Earth."
Junshai paused a moment. "I must advise you," he started. Junshai was being particularly cautious as of late. Perhaps he was afraid of the humans. "I would not recommend we gather for a war. Not right now."
"...I'm waiting for you to enlighten me."
"The 'Domo Family has been severely weakened. As is the 'Shiki. This presents a delicate power imbalance we have not seen for some millennia. I fear that gathering together the royal families might risk stoking the temptations of some of our more... Ambitious brothers and sisters. Your authority might be questioned. Strings might be pulled - seeds might be planted."
The words stung true. It wasn't often that Otsutsuki gathered together in large numbers. Even more rare was gathering together all the royal families. The Hamar-based families. Information relating to the Earth situation was still secure. As of now, at least. Senshai would need to use that to his advantage. Because, despite his family wielding the greatest influence, Senshai's authority was not guaranteed. The Divine Castle was the seat of power, to be sure. But it was a position that could be taken. By force, or otherwise.
And Senshai simply could not trust his rival, Tamashina Otsutsuki.
"Indeed," Senshai said with a nod. He walked over to Junshai. Placed a hand on his shoulder. "We need... A trophy. A token of our might and dedication. Something to show the others that we have not been humiliated. Not entirely, at least."
"You're thinking what I'm thinking, my lord?"
Together, they looked back toward the projection field. They looked at the... Otsutsuki Slayer. "Can you bring him here?"
Junshai nodded. "I would need the best. And if he has the eye, as I suspect, I will need time. It will be impossible to infiltrate the world covertly."
"Entreat the Tetsubo for their assistance. Promise them... Hanadomo Otsutsuki. And when you catch this Boruto, don't kill him. I want him here alive. And find out what you can about this traitor."
"Let us hope that-"
Before Junshai could finish, the doors parted on the far end of the room. Light spilled through like a wave of fire. Senshai spun around, flowing robes and all, angered at the disturbance. But he calmed and shook his head once he saw who it was. He turned back to Junshai.
"Go. And return successful."
The strategist nodded and vanished into a swirl of air and reality.
Senshai turned back at the disturbance. Held out an arm.
"Come here," he beckoned.
"Papa," his young daughter Enashai came running over. She was all smiles, teeth and dancing silver hair. All framing a beautiful face with small features, small horns, small circles on her brow, and grey eyes.
"I take it you've passed, judging by your comportment."
Enashai met him halfway across the room. She did a small bow. A wicked grin on her face. The girl was proud and pleased. Arrogant, and rightly so.
"It was easy. The masters all say I'm the best they've seen in generations." She looked up at Senshai. "Well, they didn't say it - but I know that's what they're thinking."
"It's to be expected. You are my daughter. Mine and Renshai."
Which made her success practically guaranteed. Enashai was as naturally gifted as they come, given who her parents were. Especially her mother. The girl didn't even truly need the strength of chakra fruit. But more importantly than that was her upbringing. Unlike other families, like those of the lower castes, the 'Shai family believed in honing ones abilities. Power was only as useful as the being who wielded it. And some within the Otsutsuki relied on their raw power far too much. Too complacent and sure of themselves. Like those of Momoshiki's ilk. Senshai and his family were not among them. Perhaps that was why his family had held the Divine Castle for so long.
Enashai looked at the monitor. She scanned the images.
"What are they?"
"Humans of Earth."
"They look weak. Breakable."
Senshai shook his head. "Appearances can be deceiving. And never underestimate anyone. I've taught you that, Ena'."
"Will we get to consume their world?"
"We will. In time." Senshai looked at the image of Boruto. "And perhaps their world may be enough for us to break our chains."
He grabbed Enashai and brought her close. Held her tightly in his arms, then lowered his voice to a whisper. "We will have the strength to destroy the Devourer. I will never let him take you. I promise."
Earth
Konohagakure
Hokage Office [2300 Hours]
Boruto Uchiha let the smoke slither out his mouth like fine tendrils. He never did like cigarettes. Not like Shikadai, anyway. But he thought that they could help calm his nerves somewhat. That probably wasn't true. But Boruto needed something to focus on besides his own thoughts. It worked... For a few minutes, at least. Then, he figured he'd waited long enough. It'd gotten pretty late. He chucked the cigarette stub. Watched it fall. Way up here at the roof of the Academy, it looked like a little speck descending to the ground. Some small dying ember of light, dropping quietly into the darkness below.
It was good to be back home. Even if it would only be for about a week.
Things were starting to spiral into dangerous territory again. Not the situation with Serial. But with the Otsutsuki. It reminded Boruto of when he'd been a teenager. Back when Naishiki had finally died. He'd known way back then that the Otsutsuki would return at some point. Everyone suspected they would come back. It was in their nature. And they were taking losses. So the entire world had been preparing for it. For decades now - which, for beings as long-lived as the Otsutsuki, was probably no more than a few weeks. But things weren't quite so simple. If only I could find a way to release Toneri from the time-freeze.
Sasuke taught me to make moves in these situatios. He taught me to read the signs and appraise the atmosphere. To make a decision, and to stand by it. To be prepared.
He sighed. Wished he were still a kid again. Wished he were still a genin. Wished he were back on that couch, playing his game. Himawari playing with her toys on the floor. Mom watching television, watching one of her romance movies. Dad stopping by to pick up something for work.
Kawaki, sitting opposite Boruto and brooding like usual.
Boruto sighed. He needed to stop reminiscing so much. He'd waited long enough. His thoughts ran in endless circles as he descended to the Hokage's office.
I'll have to tell her... She's going to get mad at me... But I have to tell her... And she's going to get angry. Worse... She's going to be hurt.
But I have to tell her.
He landed on the balcony outside the office. Not quite as silent as Mitsuki might've been, but still as quiet as a cat.
The window was already open.
Boruto climbed into the windowsill. Paused midway, his one good eye staring at Sarada Uchiha the entire time. She was working on some type of paperwork at the desk. At least, that's what Boruto thought. Then she raised a hand and signaled for him to come.
Boruto scanned the room first. Not like he needed to - he knew there was nobody else here. But the gesture bought him a couple more seconds of thinking time. She's right to be mad at me. It's my own fault. Remember that. Then he finished climbing through the window.
"Sarada... How are you?" The question came out a bit awkwardly. Forced - and Sarada was the only person he felt comfortable around these days. Boruto wished he had the same social skills he'd been blessed with as a kid.
"You've been up there for over an hour," she told him matter-of-factly. Of course she'd known. Sarada turned in her seat to face him. Their eyes met, and Boruto became aware of his own heartbeat. She was more than a sight for sore eyes.
"Come over here," Sarada said as she stood to greet him.
"Yes ma'am," Boruto obeyed. Stood in front of her, his eye taking in her features. Still with that shoulder-length hair. The delicate nose and mouth. Large black eyes and pronounced eyelashes, all hiding behind her slender red glasses. She reached up and tightened Boruto's collar just a tad. Then she brushed his bangs to the side and out of his face. Smoothed out some of the wrinkles on his cloak. Then she cupped his chin in her hand. Ran her thumb along his jaw.
"I told you to stop smoking. And to cut your hair regularly. What happened?"
"Otsutsuki..."
Sarada frowned. "They're back? Now? I thought you were tracking down Serial's facility."
"I was. And then..." He pointed to his closed eye. Sarada sighed.
"Ten of them," Boruto continued. "They showed up on the moon."
Sarada gasped. "Ten of them?"
"Yes. I think they were... Investigating. I got rid of them."
She breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. I'm tasking the ANBU with finishing the search for Serial. That way you can stay here and rest."
She was still cupping his face in her hand. Boruto grabbed her wrist and looked away. "I can't."
"But why!?"
This was the hard part. But Boruto had no choice. Those Otsutsuki... He'd never seen so many of them at one time. All different kinds of them, too. Some of them had wielded swords, some of them had wielded chakra like practiced shinobi. Some of them had been monstrosities. One of them had been giant. They'd pushed Boruto. Not to his limit, but he'd expended a lot of chakra and was still recovering. And they'd definitely been investigating. Searching. Not like Momoshiki from way back then... But seriously searching, and they'd nearly stolen away Toneri's frozen form. One thing was obvious to Boruto: the Otsutsuki - someone higher-up in their clan, at least - had taken a keen notice of Earth. And not just because they wanted to plant a tree. Someone was trying to figure out what was going on, and there was no telling how much they knew. It was only going to get worse. Especially after Boruto had taken care of those on the moon.
"When I die, legions will come in my wake..."
Whoever they reported to was going to come back. Come back bigger and stronger than ever before. Probably with an entire army. That's what Boruto would do, if he were in their position. And Boruto needed to stop that from happening.
"The Otsutsuki won't leave us alone until we do something about it. Somebody has to deal with them, once and for all."
"You don't know that. You said you killed them," Sarada pulled her hand back. She looked furious.
"Some of them. But there are obviously others. Probably a lot. I have the power to stop them - I ought to use it. Maybe I can meet their leader and settle this."
"You might die! Just stay here for once, Boruto. You don't have to be gone all the time."
Boruto shook his head. Took a single step back. "I'm leaving this coming weekend. I don't know how long I'll be gone, but it might be a while."
Sarada smacked him across the cheek. So quick, he almost hadn't seen it coming. And so hard, he almost went straight to sleep.
"You have kids! How dare you?"
Boruto closed his eye and rubbed at his cheek. He should've expected that. It'd been months since his last time stopping by the village.
Almost a year, and he'd only been in the village for a day before heading back out to go after the rogue cyborg Serial. And that last time he did visit, he'd only spent a few hours at most with Ichiro and Mayumi. It used to be different, years ago. He used to stay home all the time. But things had changed once the Process showed up, and now he spent most of his time away.
It was wrong of Boruto, he knew. He knew better than most. He had a duty to protect the world - but he also had a duty to be there for his kids. And it just wasn't feasible to juggle them both - not right now, at least. But he had to make it work.
Boruto grabbed Sarada's hand again and pulled her close. "Remember when we were kids? On top of Hokage Rock? I said I would protect you, and I meant it. I won't let any threat to our family stand. No matter what it costs me. But that also means protecting Earth, because the Otsutsuki mean to destroy it. I can't do that here in the village."
"What am I going to tell them? Everyday you're gone is another day we might find out you've died, Boruto."
"I'll talk to them."
She frowned. "You're just like..."
"It can't be helped."
"How will you leave, though?"
He gestured toward his closed eye again. "I'll use this. Those ones on the moon, their bodies are still fresh. I'll go straight to where they came from. And be back in no time. I promise."
Sarada looked away for a moment. Her expression was unreadable. Boruto leaned into her and kissed her. He'd intended it to be short - he couldn't help himself. Just a quick in and out. But it'd been a long time since Boruto had last seen her. Held her.
Almost a year. And he didn't want the moment to end. It did, though. She pulled away.
"We... Shouldn't, Boruto. Not in the office, you idiot."
He nodded. Boruto wished things were different. He needed things to be different. He would make it so. "This time, when I get back, it's for good. I promise."
"Well...Ichiro's going to be at the training field all week," Sarada whispered. She was changing the subject. "The exams are this weekend."
"Chunin, huh?"
"He would've already done it a long time ago, but he wanted to wait until you had a chance to see. He was going to sit this one out, until I told him you'd be in town."
"Really?" Boruto was surprised. "What about his teammates?"
Sarada pressed her forehead against his. "You've missed a lot, idiot. He graduated early."
"No way! How come you never told me!?"
"I did. You weren't listening."
Boruto laughed in shame. Scratched at his hair, partly embarrassed. I've gotten worse than our dads ever were. Sarada's right - I'm a total idiot!
"This means a lot to him," Sarada warned. She grabbed Boruto's face and forced him to look her in the eye. "And don't think I've forgotten how you missed your own exam that one time. So you better not miss his, or I'll..." She put her hand around his throat. "Kill you."
Boruto smiled. "Y'know, your jokes have gotten lame since you became Hokage." He looked into her eyes, but there was no amusement there. "You are joking... Right?"
She didn't say anything. Oh, she's really going to kill me someday.
"Uh... What about, Mayumi?" He asked.
"She's in the Land of Lightning. On a joint-mission with the Kumogakure ANBU."
Boruto sighed. I should've known. Even with his regular absences, Boruto rarely ever got to see Mayumi. She'd gotten pulled into the ANBU straight out of the academy - way back before Sarada had become hokage. And since then, Boruto had only spent time with her on a handful of occasions. It was as though Mayumi was gone from the village more than Boruto himself.
"Is she... Alright?" He asked.
"Why wouldn't she be? She's incredible. And Houki is there."
"It's just - the Process. They're dangerous and smart. Really smart. They're always a step ahead, and Serial..."
"She'll be fine. If Serial makes a move, they have orders to -"
"No, I mean... Serial and his cyborgs. They're... Different. When they strike, it's already too late."
"Mayumi can handle herself, Boruto. Trust me."
Boruto nodded.
Sarada turned to look out the window. Boruto stepped next to her and followed her gaze.
Out below was a nighttime vista. Beautiful trees stood interspersed between the many walkways and paths of Konoha. A full moon rested high above. Watching over the world and providing a common source of light in the darkness. Like Boruto's Jogan. From up here in the office, that light made the village look peaceful. Tranquil and serene. It was hard to imagine that it'd been destroyed only a couple decades ago. But from those ashes, the Hidden Leaf had re-emerged. Stronger and safer than ever before. Life flooded the village; from the youngest generation, up through to Old Man Kakashi-Sensei's generation. A lot of lives had been lost in order for the village to see this day. A lot. So many that the cemetary had been expanded several times over.
Boruto had lost this place at one point in time. He'd lost the village, his family and his friends. He'd lost his future. And thankfully, he'd gotten it all back. A second chance - the type he'd long ago vowed to never squander. Even still, it seemed a miracle that Boruto had made it through that hardship.
He looked down to see Sarada wrap her hand around his.
"I should apologize," she told him. "I just miss you. And I know Ichiro does too."
"You don't need to apologize, Sarada. For anything."
"This village... I'm Hokage. But it's our shared responsibility. I wouldn't be able to protect everyone without you, Boruto."
"I feel the same about you. It's all hopeless without you. You were always more suited to be Hokage than me."
She squeezed his hand. They stood in silence for a time. Neither of them saying anything verbally - but communicating through their own silent way. Sometimes, Boruto felt it was those quiet moments that spoke the greatest volumes. It was a lesson he'd learned from Sasuke. How to be quiet. How to be still. And this moment told Boruto that, whatever may happen in the coming weeks - it was all worth it. Because he had something worth dying for.
"No matter how far away I am," Boruto finally spoke up. He lifted Sarada's hand and placed a kiss on it. "We'll always be together. We always have."
She turned to him. Boruto had an urge to kiss her again. He decided to run his hand along her jaw this time. Then he cracked a rare smile.
"Come home early tonight?"
Sarada blushed and looked away, trying to hide her smile.
"Is that a yes?" He asked, a bit of excitement in his voice.
"You're such an idiot, Boruto."
Bloodcult - An ancient cabal of rogue Otsutsuki, united together for the main purpose of cultivating Ten-Tail spawn through ritual blood sacrifices. Aside from capturing members of rival species for sacrificial use, bloodcults spend the bulk of their time in seclusion and secrecy. On rare occasions, noble Otsutsuki families may strike dark bargains with bloodcults in order to harness their martial might. Mystery surrounds the age of the bloodcults, but Otsutsuki believe them to predate the colonization of the throneworld Hamar
Earth
Unknown location
This wasn't the first time she'd been late. Not at all. She'd taken the scenic route. Made a number of detours and backtracks. Not due to carelessness or laziness or silliness. On the contrary, she liked to be careful. It was because of two reasons in particular. First, it was getting more difficult to move discreetly as of late. The noose was tightening, and the villages were getting close. Not too close, but they were getting closer. Shinobi had gotten like rats... They were in every nook and crevice. Scurrying about like little roaches. And so it'd become her own standard protocol to move tact. Double-checking and triple-checking for hidden pursuers. Picking her destinations seemingly at random, to throw off any possible trackers and make it that much more easy to identify them. The second reason was more simple. She'd taken her time because it afforded her greater time to think and formulate strategies for the future. This was a delicate situation; she needed to have moves ready beforehand. Because things weren't exactly going according to plan as of late.
So Analog stared at the sloshing water beneath her. Right off the cliff she currently stood on. To anyone else, it was just a random lake. Some insignificant body of water, useful only insofar as it provided a source of food for those willing to fish for it. And this far south, nobody was around that was willing to do that anyway. But to Analog, this was the primary cell of the Process. The headquarters.
She glanced down into the calm waters and stared at her reflection. Translucent green eyes stared back.
They flashed and changed into a silver-white color.
Analog raised a hand. Her fingers began transforming into metallic, cord-like tendrils. Intertwining cables of chakra-infused machinery that spread along her arm, then to her torso, then the rest of her body. Within the span of a few seconds, Analog's body warped into an interlocking sequence of hardened wires, connecting rods and worm-like chakra nodes that speared into the lake as though she'd been thrown like a javelin. She looked like some sort of mechanical snake. Her awareness became an amalgamation of sensory perceptions that extended from one end to the next. Water was within and around her entire being as she rocketed toward the bottom of the lake. It wasn't until she touched the hidden seal at the lake's floor that she became aware of a new, grinding sensation. Her robotic form began twisting as it tightened and worked its way through a small security outlet, no bigger in circumference than a dinner plate. She saw and felt the cold metal. So tight around her that it felt like a second skin. Needles stabbed her as she went, flooding her internal systems with security programs meant to identify her. If those programs failed, she'd be ripped apart.
But that didn't happen.
A few seconds later, Analog re-emerged within the dry atmosphere of an underground bunker. The place was colder than the surface. Analog found herself retaking her humanoid form within a large chamber bustling with computers, data-feeds and monitor screens.
And automated puppets. They were a lower-class type. Just enough autonomy to keep this facility running, and to keep intruders out. They manned various network stations within the chamber. Built like an average human, but with visibly mechanical limbs.
The sight called forth a memory. From a long time ago.
She'd still been human at that time. Six years old, frightened and strapped down to an uncomfortable operating table. Her mouth sealed tight so as to prevent her screaming. Drills and saws dangling above her - whirring and buzzing as though they were living beings.
I am stronger for it. Remember that...
Analog made her way through the facility. It was maze-like in design; long hallways stretched from one location to the next, each one packed with subsidiary rooms and terminals. Had she not known the layout, it would've taken her more than an hour to find the designated room.
She reached it in good time, though. The massive doorway was sealed tight. A security panel sat off to the side, requiring further identity verification. Analog outstretched her arm. The panel retracted as her hand hovered over it; it peeled away into a pit of darkness, to which she stuck her arm inside. Moments later, a series of needles punctured her arm. Electric currents throttled along circuits in her hand, forearm and bicep. It was like someone had set her nerves aflame. Analog gasped in pain.
It can't be helped. Not in this day and age.
The needles let go and she yanked her arm out. After a quick pair of beeps, the doorway parted and she entered.
"Nice of you to join us," a heavily modulated voice spoke.
Up there. In the ceiling.
Serial.
He was already hooked into the transferral machine. His body - the half of it still exposed - hung like a chandelier, his hands and head dangling like lights. The other half of his body had fragmented into circuits that were connected to numerous power-converters built into the ceiling. Cables ran from him, across the ceiling to either side of the room, down along the walls, and into an antechamber on the far side. Those cables pulsated; small strands of blue-green light ran along them. They were feeding off Serial like parasites. Like leeches. Pooling mixtures of chakra and chemical energy and injecting them into the sub-systems that powered that strange machine. In spite of the fact that Serial was more machine than man, the strain on his broken face and in his gruff voice was palpable. Analog could feel it radiating throughout the room like waves.
"You're leader of a cell," another voice spoke. This one belonged to Logic. "Promptness should be a quality you value."
"I'm late by necessity," Analog responded, her eyes drifting to Logic. She hadn't seen him since her last time coming to this facility. And just like last time, his body was hidden within a rectangular container. Like some upright coffin that moved on wheels. Analog had never seen him out of it.
Aside from him, there were a few other cell-leaders present for this meeting. Analog recognized some; didn't recognize others.
"Silence," Serial groaned out. This time, his voice transmitted through speakers around the room. "Gather near."
The dozen cell-leaders present all formed a semi-circle near the massive window just beneath Serial. On the other side was another room, this one shrouded in darkness.
"As you all know, thanks to Logic," Serial continued. "Our efforts have... Borne fruit. Bear witness."
At that moment, Serial's eyes switched to silver-white. A modulated growl emitted from both the voice-emitters embedded within his face and neck, and through the speakers. The cables spilling into the room beyond were flooded with glowing blue-green light. It powered that room, revealing what lie beyond.
A crooked apparatus sat at the center of the room. Covered in wires and machinery; tools and saws and drills alike. It was connected to the floor through cables extending from those that came from Serial. And sitting within that apparatus was a shinobi. The uniform was that of the Leaf Village. So, from the region of Analog's own cell.
How could Logic have made such a move without me knowing?
The shinobi jerked awake, struggling in vain against the straps tying him down. Inky red blood streamed down the man's face like tears. It came from the crown-like device embedded onto the top of his head. Small lights built into the device illuminated the man's face. He appeared middle-aged, with scars running along his cheeks and nose.
Analog recognized him. "That's Hakachi. One of the Leaf's jonin. A veteran."
"I hadn't noticed when I subdued him," Logic said.
"Regardless," Serial continued. "Hear this."
The machine sealed to Hakachi's head whirred to life. Small needles punctured his skull. More blood spilled from the wounds, painting his face a dark red; at the same time, Hakachi's eyes went wide in horror. A scream issued from his mouth. Loud and frightening, and it lasted until the man's eyes rolled backward in his head. Up above, Serial had a similar reaction; his half-body lurched violently in its harness, and a painful groan surged from his throat. Chakra flowed from Serial - so much that Analog grew worried Serial would run dry. But he didn't.
After what felt like an eternity, Hakachi's screams descended into mumbling and whispers. Serial's body finally relaxed, and when his eyes reopened, they'd returned to their normal shade.
His voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again. Analog activated her audio-textual system to compensate. It transformed Serial's next words into visible text on her retina. "Shinobi - where is the Boruto of the Jogan?"
"He-h-he has returned to Konoha," Hakachi answered. His voice sounded like churning gravel.
"When?"
"J-just ... Two days ago."
"And what was his mission?"
"To find... This place. To find Serial. To dest-destroy the Process!"
Analog noticed the subtle bristle that went around the room. The others wouldn't have known that the Jogan-Wielder was hunting them. Analog only knew because it was her job to know, and she only reported to Serial himself. But even still... It was a scary thing to consider. Daunting. To think that Boruto himself was on their trail. That was undoubtedly the explanation behind several recent disappearances of high-ranking Process members. And Boruto was getting close.
But this wasn't really important news. Not important enough to warrant such a meeting. So what gives?
"Then he returned before completing his mission," Serial continued the interrogation. "Why is that?"
"He was... Side-side-si-tr... Side-tracked. By a d-different... Different..."
"His mind is fracturing," Logic noted. His coffin-container wheeled closer to the window. "You should hurry, Serial. Before we lose him."
"Indeed," Serial grunted. "Side-tracked by a different what, shinobi?"
"A different... Enemy."
"And that enemy?"
"OTSUTSUKI!"
Everyone reacted to that news. An audible gasp here; a couple of steps back over there. A yelp of surprise there.
Analog only clenched her fist. She'd spent such a long time trying to deduce the meaning behind Boruto's return. The last thing she'd suspected was more Otsutsuki.
"If they're back," she said, her mind jumping back over all the data she'd collected this past few months. "Our entire project is in jeopardy. Everything we've worked toward is under threat. The Process is at-risk."
"Agreed," Logic jumped in quickly. Which was a surprise, to see him agreeing with her on anything. "Which is why I recommend we speed up our timetable."
What's his angle? What's he playing at?
"That's an unnecessary risk," Analog argued. "We should gather more intel before we make any significant moves."
"And risk giving the Otsutsuki the chance to undermine our efforts? To get ahead of us?"
"They are Otsutsuki. They'll be at war with the villages in no time - which means, they'll be at war with Boruto. And that means, the eyes will be off of us. We can capitalize on the Otsutsuki's interference. The advantage will be with us."
"A coward's strategem, devised so as to prevent defeat, instead of ensuring victory."
Analog was about 2 seconds away from attacking him. "Then what do you propose, Logic?"
"We strike during the upcoming Chunin Exams, when the kage and their representatives will be assembled. The opportunity is perfect; in the chaos, we capture what we need, and then we leave."
"What about Boruto? Or the Hokage? Or Shinki of the Iron-Sand? Houki Taketori? Do not mistake their strength for being that of Hakachi's."
"...Have you lost resolve, Analog?"
She closed the distance to Logic in a flash. Her hand wielding a blade that'd materialized seemingly out of nowhere. She held it straight up against the faceplate of Logic's coffin. She could just barely make out details inside. Just enough to see him smirk.
"Enough," Serial interjected.
"Don't question my resolve," Analog said through gritted teeth. "Or I'll kill you."
"Oh - you will?"
"Your quarrel ends now," Serial warned.
Analog backed off, but she kept an eye on Logic.
"We'll take Logic's suggestion," Serial continued. "This will be the chance for us to test our new weapon in the field. And it will give us the edge we need to win. Any questions?"
The only response was a gurgling that came from the antechamber. Blood oozed out of Hakachi's mouth, and his body went limp. The man was dead.
Junshai Outsutsuki never enjoyed coming to this part of Hamar. The place was barren. A soulless husk that stood in stark contrast to the great metropolis cities that covered most of the world. There were no plants to bear fruit here. There were no rivers to spread life here. There were no parks for the young children to play games. No theaters for actors and their plays.
Just rock and metal and dirt. That, and a lone tower that stood at the apex of a mountain. So high in altitude that roiling thunderclouds covered most of the building. A perpetual storm surrounded the place. Were it not for the persistent flashes of silver lightning, one might not ever notice the tower. That was by design, of course. Very few beings knew of its inhabitants - and fewer beings still knew of the tower's existence. As part of the royal 'Shai family, Junshai was one of the few beings who was privy to that knowledge. Even still, the Tower was a mystery to him. He'd only been to the place once before - all he could remember from that time, was that he couldn't stand the air. It'd been... Decrepit.
And it was still decrepit now. As was their master.
"State your business," Master Gatogan spoke. The elder otsutsuki was hidden entirely within shadow. The only visible features, a large pair of glowing white eyes.
Junshai thought for a second. He wasn't here for a fight, or for an argument. This was a diplomatic mission. So he knelt down. Held a palm out ahead as a sign of respect and deference.
"I come on behalf of the -"
"We know who you represent, 'Shai-tsuki."
"To business, then." Junshai gave a nod. He needed to keep ahead of Master Gatogan. Let the Master know that he was no fool; but also that he respected the Master's position. He needed to control the conversation without being aggressive.
"Your bloodcult wields great power - among even your lower-ranking members, such as Lawatan, who slew the Rock-Beast of Casterrax. The Tetsubo have served our family before and proven capable in 2 key aspects: discretion, and effectiveness. Lord Senshai Otsutsuki therefore requests a commission. You are honor-bound to hear it."
There was a pause in the conversation. It was filled with distant rumbles of thunder, the crack of lightning... And from somewhere deep within the bowels of the Tower was unending wails of pain and misery. Shrieks and cries of suffering creatures. They were sacrifices, their entire existence one long-lasting cacophony of torture. Their bodies being grown and harvested, and then ground and churned - drained entirely into vats of blood to be used as sustenance for the creation of Ten-Tails seeds.
"We no longer share our seeds," Gatogan finally spoke.
"We seek no seeds. Only your aid in settling a... Delicate matter. Lord Senshai is willing to offer you a pure-blooded sacrifice."
Those glowing white eyes grew closer. Swift and maddening. And yet, the rest of Gatogan was still hidden within shadow. His eyes had the size that suggested Gatogan was a giant. Perhaps that was why this chamber was so massive and empty.
"Is it his daughter?"
"No!" Junshai shot that suggestion down quickly. He continued, not giving Gatogan the chance to interject. "Something greater: the head of the 'Domo family, Hanadomo Otsutsuki."
"Powerful claims, 'Shai-tsuki."
"The Lord will deliver," Junshai said. He looked Gatogan in his massive eyes. "I assure it."
"Your assurances mean nothing to me. You're a glorified chamberlain. And the 'Domo-tsuki is powerful." Gatogan's eyes retreated back further into the shadows. Another lull in the conversation; another series of distant screams from the lower levels caught Junshai's attention. "We're done here."
Junshai couldn't fail. He had an offer to make... But it was a dangerous one. Bargains weren't to be made lightly. Especially with bloodcults.
A bead of cold sweat rolled along Junshai's forehead. Lord forgive me.
"Senshai is prepared to offer his daughter, should we fail to deliver Hanadomo."
Deep, gravelly laughter resonated from the shadows, from Gatogan's eyes. It was a guttural and physical thing. Stone vibrated beneath Junshai's feet, and he felt the sickening laugh within his bones. Gatogan's eyes drew close yet again. They were so massive... So frightening and unreal.
"He would never make such a promise. The 'Domo-tsuki is no weakling," Gatogan spoke. "You cannot fool me, 'Shai-tsuki. I am older than this world itself."
"And our family controls this world!"
"You control this world?" Gatogan finally emerged from the shadows. Grotesque horns framed the crown of his gigantic head, and criss-crossing stitches covered his growling face like some tribalistic decoration. His face descended upon Junshai to the point where his breathing could be felt. "And yet here you are, genuflecting before ME - MASTER OF THE TETSUBO!"
Junshai grit his teeth. Secretly activated his byakugan, and scanned the chambers from left to right. And ever so slightly, put a hand on the hilt of his sword.
I may have to fight my way out of here...
Gatogan retreated within the shadows yet again. "You take a big risk. I will strike your bargain. But if you fail to keep up your end... We will destroy your entire family. And you will be sacrificed to the bloodpits below."
Ichiro Uchiha hung upside down from the tree branch. Eyes closed and ears opened. Listening closely to every piece of detail. Every twig that snapped, every bird that chirped. Every leaf that rustled. He heard the slight change in the wind - heard the slight uptick in its speed. That was when he swung an arm and flicked a wrist. A shuriken arced outward, angling toward his 3 o'clock. He listened to the metallic shhlinnkkk as it spun. Calculated its distance and trajectory. He threw another shuriken. Threw this one harder. It caught up to the first, cling-ed as it bounced off and changed trajectory, and then it severed the rope tucked in behind a pair of twin trees far off in the distance. That rope caused a log to fall. It hit an activation seal beneath it, triggering the ground to open up in multiple locations surrounding Ichiro. Holes appeared in the ground, and they shot out chakra-infused puppets. Eight of them, all around him in a circle.
Finally, Ichiro opened an eye. He easily tracked the location and internal chakra network of each puppet - no matter their location. No matter their speed. The eye strained the muscles in his face. It always did, even in just that brief of a moment. But a brief moment was all he needed. He weaved a rapid series of handsigns. Then fell from the tree branch, spinning in the air as he went. Fine, palm-sized balls of fire shot from his mouth, each one connecting on a puppet. Connected at critical tenketsu locations of their chakra networks before they ever got the chance to attack. The puppets - small humanoid figures about as capable as average genin - were torn asunder. Set ablaze and shredded like fine paper. Fell to the ground in smoking husks.
Only two remained. One on either side of Ichiro. They released kunai at him simultaneously.
Still falling and spinning, Ichiro extended his arms to either side. And opened his second eye. Time seemed to move just a bit slower for him. Every movement appeared clear as crystal and utterly easy to follow. He shot his hands out, throwing wire that wrapped around the two kunai. He retracted his arms and pulled them in, bringing the kunai to him as though he intended to catch them. Then spun between the two kunai and extended his arms again, flinging the kunai at the two puppets in one graceful move. He fed small beads of fire onto the wires that reached the kunai and set them ablaze. The kunai sped at breakneck speed. Both puppets were hit mid-air in the exposed neck area, severing their heads from their bodies violently. Ichiro rolled in the air a final time and landed on his feet.
Then collapsed to his knees in exhaustion. Collapsed onto his belly, nearly passing out. Lay there in the dirt and grass face-first for a long time. After several minutes went by, he pushed himself back to his knees.
Fifteenth try. And I still can't use them reliably. It's too much chakra. Even for me.
I have to get stronger. So that my father can see my worth. So that I can go with him.
Ichiro gritted his teeth; balled his hands into fists. Blood welled in his eyes. Like teardrops. They fell into the grass and onto his pale hands.
"No!" He resisted the urge to slam his fist into the ground. The last time he'd done that, a crater had opened up. But he did pick up a handful of dirt and hurl it.
"Y'know, that was pretty impressive," a voice spoke from somewhere behind him.
He turned. Up in the trees and crouched on a branch.
"Father!" His heart jumped in both fear and awe. He wiped his eyes. He hadn't known he was watching. "When did...?"
"I've been watching you since you started this morning," he hopped out the tree and landed a few feet away from Ichiro. Silently.
"How did...? I never sensed you."
He walked over to Ichiro and gave a wink. Held out a hand and helped him to his feet. "It's a secret. A buddy taught me a long time ago. But didn't you come out here yesterday and the day before?" He asked. "You shouldn't overtrain."
"I'm fine... I can't afford to..." Ichiro didn't finish his statement. He'd never been good at opening up his true feelings. And with his father, it was even more difficult. Mom says I get that from him.
Dad cleared his throat and looked off. His eye seemed distant, like he was lost in memory. "You're going all out for these chunin exams, huh?"
"Yes!" Ichiro perked up. He didn't smile often, but this time, even he couldn't help the glee coursing through his body. The giddy excitement spreading through his veins like little pinpricks of happiness. He'd been waiting for a long time to take the exams. Now that his father was finally in town at the right time... "I can't wait to show you how strong I am! Mama says I'm more than ready! Uncle Mitsuki, too. And Old Man Kakashi-Sensei!"
"Is that so?" He smiled.
"Mm-hmm."
He signaled for Ichiro to step back. A moment later, his hand emerged from beneath his cloak. He was holding a light-blue, spiraling ball of wind-style chakra. Ichiro could sense the power radiating from it. It was nauseating, even after he backed away several feet.
"Can you do this?"
"What is it?"
Instead of answering right away, his father stepped to the side. Bent his knees slightly. Leaned forward just a tad. Then he burst into motion, leaving behind nothing but trailing dust, bits of grass, and dissipating sparks of energy and electricity. Faster than anyone Ichiro had ever seen move before. Even faster than Mom's chidori. His eye activated automatically to compensate - and even still, he just barely managed to keep track. In less than a second, his father crossed an open stretch of field to the forest on the other side. A distance that would take Ichiro almost half a minute to run across. Then he slammed the orb into a tree, shattering it into a thousand shards of wood. The concussive force alone sent the shards flying like shuriken. Nothing remained of the tree - not even a stump. A moment later, Dad vanished into a swirl of dark chakra - and re-emerged right next to Ichiro.
Ichiro released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. And swallowed.
"It's called a rasengan."
"Can you teach it to me?"
Dad looked at him. Ichiro couldn't read the expression on his face. It seemed... Inquisitive. Then Dad took several steps back. "Let me see what you can do, first. Then I'll decide."
Goosebumps prickled along Ichiro's arms. Some strange sensation - a combination of fear and excitement. Mostly fear. Ichiro was aware of his own abilities. His constant training only made him that much better. But this was different. He hadn't sparred with dad in a long time; since before he'd awakened his dojutsu. Ichiro calmed his breathing and closed his eyes for a moment. I can do this. I have to do this.
"Land a blow on me," Dad told him. "Do that, and you win."
Ichiro nodded. Then leaped backward to get some distance, and got into a fighting stance. He swallowed. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead. And his hands began shaking. Dad, on the other hand, seemed totally calm. He hadn't even taken off his cloak.
Ohkay then...
Ichiro clasped his hands together. "Shadow-clone jutsu!"
Ten copies of Ichiro spawned next to him, all of them sporting the same lightweight armored robes he currently had on. They charged forward - and at the same time, Ichiro fell back, pulling out a number of wired kunai from his tool-pouch. He leaped into the air, flicking both wrists and sending the kunai flying forward. None of them targeted Dad directly, but they embedded within the ground around him. Dad - for his own part - seemed to be knocking away the shadow clones with ease.
When Ichiro touched back down, he placed a seal onto the ground. Then took a step back, grabbing hold of the kunai wires in either hand. He made to weave the signs for a fire-style technique... But when he looked back up, his dad was gone. He activated his right eye. And still couldn't see him.
How?
That was when he felt a presence at his back. And then he saw him - right there, so close he could reach out and touch Ichiro. Ichiro spun around, attempting to deliver a kick to his face. It was swatted aside with ease. He followed up with a sequence of kicks, palm-strikes and punches. But again, they were swatted aside casually. And then his dad stepped to the side - so fast, he almost missed it. And before Ichiro could even react, a blow to his chest sent him flying.
Not done yet!
Sailing through the air, he performed a release-sign on that seal. It puffed into smoke. A dozen more wire-kunai shot from where the seal had been placed, all of them arcing through the air on multiple trajectories. They surrounded Dad in a maze of sharp wire, effectively trapping him in place where Ichiro had been only a second ago.
Now...
Ichiro touched back down gracefully. This time, he flung his final wire-kunai back at her dad. It sunk into the ground where the seal had been placed. He grabbed hold of the wire and clenched it between his teeth. Then, he weaved handsigns.
"Fire-style: dragon-flame jutsu!"
A fat wad of fire shot from his mouth, guided directly toward his dad - and his trap - by the wire inbetween his teeth. It connected on the ground right where the seal lay, and ignited the wires surrounding Dad. Seconds later, those wires detonated in a fiery blaze that shook the earth like a miniature earthquake. Ichiro's teeth rumbled in his mouth, and he had to shield his face from flying bits of debris.
By the time the dust cleared, he was still breathing heavily.
And... His dad was nowhere to be seen. Which should've been impossible. How!? And why can't I see him with my...?
That was when he heard the flapping of a cloak. From above. He looked up, just in time to spot Dad falling down right on top of him. Ichiro had about half a second to brace himself - and then the pommel of a sword connected on the crown of his head as Dad landed beside him. It knocked the sense out of him. He hit the ground in a spray of dirt and dust, his vision dazed and blurry.
"Owww..." Ichiro groaned. He rolled on the ground until he got to his hands and knees, then spat out a mouthful of grass. And fought against the overwhelming urge to pout. He'd been totally outclassed.
"Not bad," his dad said.
Ichiro looked up to see him holding out two fingers - the shinobi sign of respect. He accepted the loss, and Dad hauled him to his feet.
"I don't understand," Ichiro said, looking over his dad. The man didn't have so much as a scratch. It didn't even look like he'd been in a fight.
"A shinobi must read the hidden meanings within hidden meanings."
"But I..."
"You took out a shadow clone. All I did was jump. Really high, while you weren't paying attention."
"But how come I couldn't... My eye was useless."
Dad ran a hand through his hair and along his cheek. Ichiro couldn't read the expression in his face. Like always.
"It's a powerful tool, no doubt. But you shouldn't ever rely solely on a tool to save you. The foes we face will count on you making that mistake - and it's a mistake that'll cost you your life. Plus... I already told you: my friend taught me a little trick that beats sensory techniques. I can be very subtle when I want to." He held up a hand before Ichiro was able to respond. "And don't ask, because it's impossible for you. I think. Not to mention, your mother would kill me if she found out I taught you."
Ichiro sighed. He'd stood no chance.
"The sharingan and the byakugan," Dad said, his eye appraising Ichiro. Ichiro glanced down at his feet. He felt exposed beneath his dad's gaze. "Just like your grandfather and grandmother."
Ichiro nodded. His heritage... It defined so much of his life. So much intertwining history and legacy, unified by his parents and condensed into Ichiro and his sister.
Ichiro didn't feel like speaking. Not after that loss. He should've done better.
"Well, that's a lot of power for a kid - but power is only as good as the one who wields it. And you have a lot of power to tame. That's going to be a lot of hard work."
"So does this mean you won't teach me the rasengan?"
He nodded. "I will. Someday. But not right now." He tapped the side of his forehead. "Master this," then he pointed to his eyes. "And master these. Do that, and I'll think about it."
