Hi everyone! This is the last of the backlog. Please enjoy this most recent chapter, and if you have any feedback I would love to hear it. This is gearing up into the next arc, so hearing your thoughts is very helpful. Thank you to those of you who have PMd me and reviewed my work. It is very encouraging to have so much support.

The photograph was poor in quality. Each of the figures was grainy and identification was dubious at best. Seiichiro stared at it politely, aware of its owner's good intentions.

"This is getting out of hand, Tsukimori," The speaker was a slender man ten years Seiichiro's junior. His face would have been considered handsome if not for its ever-present frown. He had practical black glasses and close cropped chestnut hair. "Haruka has always been impressionable. The time she's spent with this lot, these leaflings, they're taking advantage of her."

Seiichiro looked up at the man, extending his arm over his desk to return the photo. "Ishida, you're forgetting that Haruka is also extremely strong willed and hard to waylay once she's set her mind on something."

"How would we have handled this?" Ishida scoffed. "If she had been injured or captured-"

"She wasn't," Seiichiro held up a hand for silence. "I'll have a talk with her. You must understand how difficult it is for her to be so far from home with nothing to do. A shinobi is a finely-honed tool that dulls without use."

"I recognize that, sir," Ishida kept his voice level. Seiichiro was a respectable man, but it frustrated Ishida how the ambassador was so accommodating of his daughter's whims. "If your daughter were relocated back onto Getsu soil, or perhaps to one of our more proximal allies-"

Seiichiro didn't move to face Ishida, but he turned the full intensity of his gaze upon him. There was a physical gravity to his stare that stopped much greater men than the junior diplomat. The silence between them became palpable, a heavy burden upon Ishida's shoulders. "I…I apologize, senior. That was inappropriate of me. I'm sure you've left your daughter in Konoha for good reason."

Seiichiro's voice was level, although his eyes gave away mild irritation. "You of all people should know how treacherous it is at court."

Knowing his message had been received and his due diligence done, Ishida gave Seiichiro a polite bow. "I only wanted to help, sir. I'll take my leave now."

The ambassador gave him a nod and returned his attention to his papers. Ishida turned and left the small, unadorned office and stepped back out into the midmorning light. The tail end of summer was upon them; the leaves on the trees were turning lush shades of rich gold and gaudy scarlet. To anyone else it would be beautiful, but to Ishida, the sight evoked a grimace and a gentle touch at his throat. He looked back at the office of his superior with uncertainty. Tsukimori Seiichiro had not been his usual easygoing and confidently quiet self. There was a foreboding to him that paired with the silver strands exploding in bloom at his temples. Maybe his age is catching up with him, Ishida thought, cleaning his glasses on a soft cloth handkerchief he kept in his pocket. He's nearly forty, an age most shinobi never dream to meet.

The junior ambassador never thought he would see the day that the Reaper bowed with age. He had been a pillar of stone at court, weathering the tides of change season after season. Where others crumbled, the man seemed to harden into diamond under the pressure. His glasses spotless, Ishida replaced them and stole one last glance at Tsukimori's office. Through the window, he could spy his senior hunched over his desk. The man's face was in his hands, his shoulders drooped with despair. Ishida's brow furrowed further in concern. Something was wrong, and it was eating away at Seiichiro. The man had saved Ishida's life once, and he was determined to return the favor. He had never been strong enough to weather a blow for him, but maybe his wit would suffice to save his mentor from whatever demon he was dealing with.

…

It had been Beki without a doubt. Seiichiro recognized that damned outfit she had wasted a month's living expenses and then some on a year ago. After all the veiled threats made by shapeless, nameless entities in court against him over the last three years, he was certain she was dead when the letters stopped coming. He had nearly struck her in frustration when he found out her silence was because she had overspent on clothes. Such behavior was reckless and unlike her; then again, she had no idea how the deck was stacked against them.

The tides had shifted at court for what seemed like the hundred and thirty-fifth time since Seiichiro became a clerk fifteen years ago. This mistress had risen to glory and then fallen from favor, this shinobi rose to the top then died in battle, so on and so forth. This time, however, it seemed like the shady cloak and dagger schemes that always ran at court were growing darker and more malevolent by the day.

If he thought about it, the threats had started coming before Seiichiro had decided to leave Beki in Konoha. He often received strange correspondences from figures hoping to bribe him or buy his favor. Amongst these, he began to receive newspaper clippings from publications across the nation and beyond. It was mostly press related to his own rise to power or about Yukihana's exploits as one of the more infamous shinobi of their age. For several months, this went on, until one day they just stopped. He had tossed them all in a manila folder and tucked it in the back of his desk. In a strange way, it was amusing to go back and read about the glory days. Seiichiro received another correspondence from this mysterious sender in the form of a postcard with the comically stereotypical font of newspaper print cut up and pasted together: The world has not forgotten.

Seiichiro had laughed it off. If a person believed that would be enough to scare him, they were mistaken. Many attempts had been made on his life or at his position over the years, all of them meeting dreadful and often humiliating failures for their originators. Then they sent him a photograph of his daughter. Beki had been out with her teammates, eating sandwiches on benches outside a restaurant. Kobiyashi sensei seemed to sense something off and was looking near the direction of the camera. The three kids were completely unawares, laughing and eating as if everything was right with the world. Seiichiro told himself it didn't bother him, but in retrospect that incident probably influenced him into leaving Beki on the other side of the world.

He had thought all the chaos behind him and that his daughter was safe until they sent her to the chunin exams. There was no evidence of such, but Seiichiro was convinced his little arts and craftsy little friend was also in a position of influence. It was someone close to him, or at least close enough in power to Seiichiro to have pulled that kind of weight. Beki had been out of commission for over a year and separated from her teammates for months before that. No panel would have ever approved her squad for entry under regular circumstances, so it sent a clear message: Nothing is safe.

For the first time in his career, Seiichiro's request for an audience with the king had been denied. The ambassador's attempts to leave the country to conduct business had been systematically sabotaged as well. Boats sank, schedules changed, papers mysteriously disappeared. This assailant, whoever they were, were wearing Seiichiro down systematically. Wolves used this tactic. They ambushed prey when they tried to sleep, ran them ragged, until submitting to their fate seemed almost a mercy. They were making one mistake, though. Tsukimori Seiichiro was not prey.

He had been in contact with his underworld associates. Men and women from back when he and Yukihana ran black ops missions that were still either redacted or had never "officially" occurred. Plenty of them lacked the family or the personality to readjust to society after retirement and had turned to less scrupulous ways to make a living. That's why Seiichiro was so damned hard to blackmail: he knew all the best, and they refused to work against him.

So far, his contacts had turned up nothing but they were hot on the trail. Whoever they were, his enemy was human, and to err is human. As soon as they made a mistake, Seiichiro's people's people would know about it and the matter could be dealt with once and for all.

Beki's behavior was complicating things, however. Seiichiro had heard of the Akatsuki abduction of the Kazekage and that Konoha had rallied to assist them. The shinobi world was scandalized by the idea that one village could interfere so ostentatiously in another's affairs. Any self-respecting village would have dealt with it themselves, after all. That aside, Seiichiro was left wondering how in hell his daughter had gotten wrapped up in it. Tsunade had reached an understanding with him, and Seiichiro seriously doubted she would have made such a gross error. Knowing his daughter, it seemed more than likely she caught wind of the incident and went chasing after it the way young men chased after skirts.

Seiichiro recalled the photograph and mentally took stock of those he recognized. Konoha's Copycat ninja was there, as well as some other jounin. A smattering of the shinobi Beki's age were there, including the effeminate Hyuuga boy. That left Beki, the Kazekage, and his siblings in the photograph. The image had depicted the Kazekage holding his daughter's hand in what looked like a handshake. Now that he thought about it, there was something a little too intimate in the way the boy was holding her hand. Or maybe it was how he was leaning towards her, as if they were sharing a secret. Seiichiro didn't like it. Then again, the Hyuuga boy had been hovering close to her as well. The boy might have just been acting protectively of Beki. Seiichiro still didn't like it.

Seiichiro rifled through his desk and took his essentials. One of his underground contacts had secured him passage on a discrete vessel leaving a side port that evening. A visit to his daughter was long overdue.

…

"DO ANOTHER HUNDRED!" Lee punched the air emphatically, to which Beki sputtered in response.

"You're out of your mind, Lee," Beki achily sat up. "I've done so many already breathing hurts."

"You must always be ready to be stronger than you are, right this minute!" Gai hovered over her, blocking out the sun. "You could never beat yourself with that kind of attitude!"

Beki tried not to roll her eyes. "Yes, Gai sensei."

"Tsukimori! There you are!" Ebisu's voice cut through the beautiful morning air like an angry mother's scissors through concert tickets. "We've been waiting to start training for you!"

Beki blinked in confusion. "This is where we always train. I thought you wanted me to train with Gai sensei instead today."

Ebisu pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "No, Tsukimori. They booked this training field, so we were training at field eleven today. You've made it clear that I'm wasting the paper my memos are written on."

"Part of your problem," Beki's cocky attitude was undercut by the pathetic, staggering way she was forced to stand up due to her throbbing abdominals. "Is that you're a shinobi who writes memos."

Ebisu stood up to his full height. Beki knew he did that when he was feeling affronted. She was nearly as tall as he was, so the gesture lost some of its effect after her last growth spurt. "Jokes on you. We're doing core exercises today."

You will not break me, Beki told herself. I am iron.

"Then we'll be running seven miles," Ebisu continued.

IRON, Beki screamed in her head.

"Then you all can forage for food." Ebisu folded his arms. "Then there will be the seven-mile run back to the village."

Beki's lower eyelid twitched. It was nothing, hardly noticeable, but she knew Ebisu caught it. A wicked smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Dammit, she thought. He's got me boxed into a corner. Again.

Udon, Moegi, and Konohamaru emerged from the bushes looking as crestfallen as Beki.

"Oh, there you are," Udon sniffled.

"The sooner we start this, the sooner its over," Moegi stared out into nothingness sagely, trying to convince herself of her own words.

"You're going to be training with us?!" Konohamaru beamed. "That makes this so much better!"

Ebisu shot him a disparaging look. "Why?"

"Cuz Beki nee san is the best!" Konohamaru explained. "She's clever and resourceful and she's going to figure out a way to make training so much easier."

Beki winced. "Konohamaru…Now would be a good time to stop talking."

Ebisu dipped his head, reflecting the sun's light blindingly off his glass lenses. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, like shortcuts in the woods and sliding down hills using old bits of log-" Konohamaru started but Udon and Moegi pounced on him, silencing his confession before it could do any more damage.

"Is that so?" Ebisu shifted his posture. "Let's see how clever she is when she's carrying all three of your packs."

Konohamaru and his team shot her apologetic looks, to which Beki could only shrug. What was done was done. She took each of their packs in turn, tossing the straps over her shoulders to distribute the weight evenly. It was at least a hundred and fifty pounds. It slowed her down significantly, both due to the weight and how much care she needed to put into her footing.

"Do your best to keep up, Miss Tsukimori," Ebisu said as he passed her at an easy gait.

Beki grumbled curses under her breath. In little time, the four of them were far out of her sight. She was sore and already growing weary of the burden. How does Gaara walk around with that gourd on his back all the time? This is killing me!

After four miles, Beki's legs began to give out. There was a small tea house on the path and Beki weighed her sensei's wrath against her desperate need for rehydration. She mouthed a few choice words in Ebisu's general direction, stowed the packs, and walked over to the tea house.

It was a run of the mill slap shod building, thrown up to only briefly accommodate guests. Beki had dined in such places more times than she could count, usually listening to her father's cautioning that only the hot dishes were safe.

"Welcome!" The shop girl called out cheerfully.

A moment of silence passed between them as the smile slipped off the girl's face. Beki recognized the dark wine-colored hair, the jade green eyes, and her unusually large chest.

"You!" Beki stared in shock at her would be kidnapper.

"F**k," Miki muttered before tossing her serving tray at Beki and hopping out a window.

"OH NO YOU DON'T!" Beki cried out, running out the door after her.

The Otogakure kunoichi was fast, but her waitressing attire wasn't suited for the rugged terrain. Beki chased her down across the clearing and into the woods until they hit the river. Instead of letting herself be captured, Miki began running upstream towards the water mill. She ran inside and barred the door. You won't get away so easy, Beki thought to herself. She climbed up to the skylight and peeked inside the building. Miki had apparently thought that the watermill would have a trapdoor of some sort, as she was fishing through the straw on the floor. Beki carefully surveyed the inside of the mill to make sure it wasn't just some elaborate trap. No, it can't be, Beki thought. She had no idea I would walk into that tea house.

The air around the mill was full of mist from the churning wheel. It made the transition into Drowned Maiden take almost no effort, so when Beki swung down into the mill she was fully awakened.

"Hey," Miki snapped back onto her feet and took up a friendly smile. "It's so nice to see you again!"

Beki was soaking the straw at their feet. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Beki to summon the ghastly arms of Watery Grave. Miki began to laugh nervously at the sight of the ghoulish limbs.

"I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding between us," Miki shuffled uncomfortably, trying to keep out of reach of the pale fingers.

"How am I supposed to misunderstand you pretending to be my friend and kidnapping me for Orochimaru?" Beki stormed.

"You act like it was personal!" Miki spat. "Oh, imagine that, the world doesn't revolve around the ambassador's daughter. Do you think that I deliberately picked you because I knew you? I thought you were special? No! You met criteria and I had a quota to reach!"

Beki fumed. "You act like your job excuses you from your actions. A shinobi has to choose their own path-"

"Just stop talking," Miki's attitude had shifted. The friendly smile had fallen away. She watched Beki with eyes as steady and calm as the eye of a hurricane. "There is so much about the shinobi world you don't understand. You're right. I was given a choice. Death or survival. I chose to live."

"So it was be Orochimaru's experiment or bring him others," Beki scoffed. "How respectable of you."

"No. I was framed for treason," Miki said it calmly, but there was a tiny fluctuation in her voice as if she were reliving a wound. It was strange for Beki because she had thought she knew the girl. For the first time, it felt like she was getting a glimpse of the person behind the act. Miki's gaze never broke, and when the fingers of the Watery Grave wrapped around her ankles, she ignored them and kept talking. "I could either run away and become a ronin or I could accept death for a crime I didn't commit. The world is cruel to the villageless, more so to orphans like me. And it's not like Orochimaru sought me out, I'm nothing special. Scores come crawling to his doors every week, seeking revenge or retribution. They want a home, they want a master, they want meals in their bellies. Those the rest of the ninja world casts aside, he finds a purpose for."

"I hope this isn't your recruitment speech," Beki spat. "Because I'm not sold."

"You don't have to be," Miki shook her head and considered Beki with a mild look of disgust. "You will always have somewhere to go. Even if you lose everything, you'll have your name. You'll have your kekke genkai."

"So, you became bitter because of what happened to you, so you get your kicks abducting and torturing people," Beki said. "Impressive."

Miki was unphased. "I worked in the morgue for a while. Then one of our best baiters was killed in an accident. That job was more important than being a coroner, so I was selected. It's not fun. I am forced to pretend I'm someone else, build false trust with strangers, and lure away targets for a collector. I don't enjoy it, but if I don't meet my quotas I'm punished severely."

"You look fine after losing me," Beki folded her arms.

"That's because the fumble was on the collector's part," Miki explained. "The last time anyone saw him both his legs had been amputated and replaced with a fish tail. I was still punished, but I pled my case to the right people and ended up with manual labor and roughed up knees instead of having to be a first wave human test subject for a new prototype."

The women stared each other down. Miki clearly had no intention of doing Beki any harm, and the more she talked the less Beki could really hold against her.

"Can I just reiterate it was nothing personal?" Miki shrugged. "Really. I'm not the confrontational type."

The pounding of fists on the door drew both of their attention. "What is that?!" Beki asked.

"Ooh," Miki shuffled uncomfortably. "I lifted the wallets on a couple of the customers before you got there. They must have noticed their cash was gone."

"What?!" Beki cried. "You're a thief, too?!"

Miki shrugged. "Didn't you hear everything I said? We don't get paid."

The door broke open and Beki turned her attention to the three furious looking men that entered the mill. Beki looked back at Miki only to see that the Otogakure kunoichi had escaped the hold of Watery Grave and was slipping out the skylight.

"Thanks!" Miki waved. "I owe you one!"

Beki growled and turned her terrifying corpse gaze on the three men, who promptly backed out the door, and ran for their lives.

…

It took Beki twenty minutes to find where she had stowed the packs. They had seemed like a burden before, but now they were downright unbearable. Beki figured they had already began their seven-mile run back towards town, so she walked towards Konoha. No more than ten minutes later Ebisu and his squad caught up with her.

"Where were you?!" Ebisu spat. "Did you decide to take a nap and skip out on training?!"

"No," Beki adjusted the packs. "I was just attacked by an Otogakure kunoichi and had to defend myself singlehanded, because my sensei chose to abandon me outside the village limits."

Ebisu stared Beki down and decided she was telling the truth, or rather her lie was so convincing he didn't want to wager calling her bluff. The kids trudged along silently, clearly pooped from their own ordeal.

"Ebisu sensei," Konohamaru broke the tired silence a few miles from the village gates. "Is the exercise officially over?"

"Yes," Ebisu sighed. "It might as well be."

Konohamaru brightened a bit and whispered something to Udon. Udon balked and shook his head. Konohamaru's expression soured and he gently socked Udon in the shoulder.

"Fine," Udon grumbled.

The boys came up on either side of Beki and took a pack off her each.

"It's okay," Beki protested. "I can carry them."

"A gentleman doesn't let a lady suffer," Konohamaru said pointedly at his sensei.

Ebisu looked back at his student, who was glaring a hole through him. "Isn't that right, Ebisu sensei?" Konohamaru asked. With a defeated sigh, Ebisu reached over and took the last pack off Beki's back.

"That's right, Konohamaru."

Beki smiled down at Udon and Konohamaru and ruffled their hair affectionately. "You guys are the best."

…

Miki watched the Getsu ambassador's daughter retreating with the leaflings and heaved a sigh. That would be the second time she let the girl slip through her grasp. Fortunately, Orochimaru hadn't assigned Beki as a target. Miki was supposed to have captured some strays that were bastards of a legendary clan's offshoots. So long as no one found out, Miki and Beki would be fine. Now that her cover was blown, Miki had to head back to the Sound. Hopefully she would have enough time to think of a good excuse before she got there. She already had one strike under her belt, and disappointing Orochimaru was always a dangerous gamble. Hopefully he would be in a good mood, or she would end up with a needle in her arm and a death wish.