AN: Rewritten BLADESMITH. Deleted redundant scenes and minor edits, but there's no real reason to reread.
Present
The Face of Heaven
4 Months Into the Second Shinobi World War
Orochimaru knew all along the way of ninja is wrong—knew that he shouldn't have trusted Hiruzen.
To that man, fighting is honorable. Superior!
Fighting is death and loss and death.
He just may be all alone now.
No. There's no point in speculating without evidence.
He drops to all fours. The cool river meets his hands. Drops of blood fall and expand inside the water like smoke clouds.
"One of your buddies is dead," continues the Swordsman, a gentle smile on his lips. "All because you wanted to fight. Are you the leader of them, friend? You're awful at it."
And yet, his heart betrays him as it drums out of control. Takenaka can't be dead. That man was his first friend, the first person who saw his loneliness and stayed by his side without being obligated to. He is the only friend he still has, despite his mistakes—despite that god awful mistake at the castle—Takenaka has stayed by his side.
"A leader with no one left," Motochika says, "is hardly a leader at all, you know?"
Why would there be anyone even now? He can't understand it. It's not as if his classmates cared for him much after graduation. Nor all the teachers he was a role model student for. Nor his thrown together teams during countless missions over the years, despite the dangers and saving one another's lives. No one cares about him.
No, he shouldn't be surprised. No one stays in his life for long.
No one really cares. And if they do, they only think that way. For who would want to stay with a man who knows their future, their every pain and their tragedy, and has done little prevent it? Should he tell Tsunade her lover, brother, and teammate died in an alternate world? Would she still stay at his side? Leave him? Orochimaru would leave. Should he tell Tokonoma never to have children if she wanted to see them, too, die tragically? She would have never let him step foot in her home.
The Swordsman tsks. "Shame. On. You. The Leaf lied. All your friends did. You're no leader. You're not even a hero. Aren't heroes supposed to save people? Looks like you can't even get that right."
Heroes save people, that's true.
"Heroes are more than that, friend," Orochimaru hisses, pupils widening at the look of shock on Motochika's face.
Much like Sewing Needle's piercing, shooting out of the water is a silver, unfathomably sharp blade. Motochika starts to block but freezes. The sword is still extending.
At that time, finishing with the Ram Seal underwater, he waits.
"Earth Release: Earth-Style Spikes."
Motochika dodges the Grass-Mowing Sword. Sewing Needle extends and coils around the blade. Thanks to him, the Swordsman retrieves the blade for Orochimaru. He then, helpfully, flings the four meter sword his way.
Orochimaru stares down the airborne sword.
Two things happen:
The smile on Motochika's face vanishes as what he assumed to be the perfect throw somehow misses his target.
Below his feet, a shadow grows and grows until a massive spike erupts from water. He has moments to tilt his head back and feel the spike graze his chin while it avoids him. He soon realizes that there are more to come, each rises unpredictably and at irregular lengths. Only after the razor sharp points stop lacerating his body does he watch Orochimaru. Hard breaths are coming out his nose. His eyes, bloodshot.
Trapped in an artificial prison, Motochika smiles a smile that does not reach his eyes. He gives a half-suppressed laugh.
If Takenaka is dead, then...Orochimaru has every reason to kill him.
"You know…"
Motochika cuts himself off with a chuckle.
"I think we got off on the wrong start."
Sewing Needle extends throughout the rocks in a jagged pattern. At once, the blade split the rocks that grew from the bottom of the river up into the air. Chink. The wire tightens, crushing rocks together. Underneath, the Naka River ripples, droplets splattering the silver blade and snake-scale hilt that clattered on the ground.
Some water soaks Orochimaru's shinobi boots.
Motochika throws the ball of formed rock at him, which Orochimaru responds with an Earth-Style Mud Wall. Hidden, he flies through more hand seals, skipping some.
False Clone Technique.
His copy remains while he is temporarily invisible. Just enough time for him to create some distance.
Bringing his hand up, he smears blood from his shoulder wound onto a summoning seal seared onto his forearm. Unlike Tsunade or Jiraiya, his summons have a history intermingled with blood and bone.
The wall blocks the attack. A black snake appears on his wrist.
"Sujihime, I—"
Wait.
How could he be so careless? How could his emotions become so turbulent?
He prepared for this! If only he didn't have emotions.
Biting back his rage, he whispers, "Are Migihime and Hidarihime sensing molded chakra?"
Suji, the snake in charge of monitoring all snakes, says without question, "Yesss."
They are alive. Alive enough to keep producing chakra. The dead and near-dead can't.
The Swordsman lied. He's desperate.
"Tell them where I am. Of him."
"Of courssse."
Behind him, the wall cracks in two. The point of Sewing Needle drills through the clone, unaffected. Ghost-like.
Motochika darts his eyes all around. "You sure are good at running—"
The Grass-Mowing Sword won't finish the job. His teammates can give him an edge. Sewing Needle is made for long-range, its short-range is peerless.
Orochimaru figured that Motochika may be unable to move when extending Sewing Needle. When it's already extended, there's no issue. Does he have to ground himself? Focus?
He smears more blood onto the seal and snakes appear. With a Tiger Seal, the Clone Technique creates thousands of snakes that slither into the river, scales blending into the soil. With that, he forms yet another Mud Wall and slaps an explosive tag on it.
"What's your aim?"
Orochimaru managed to Flicker to the original wall and place another tag, before looking over to see Sewing Needle swerve over the obstacle and to where he was.
He keeps moving down the river to repeat this. It doesn't matter if the Swordsman sees the wall go up, if the man can't stop him, he's powerless. Before long, one side of the river is decorated by small walls.
"What's the point in this? This is a game to you, right? Playing games while your teammates' bodies rot. How sick is that?"
Water rushes. Orochimaru peaks his head over the side.
Using the river like a fountain, Motochika has an aerial view of the area. His eyes lock onto the man's. "Found ya!"
He grits his teeth as he jumps to his feet and starts running. Rather than aim at one spot, Sewing Needle extends to become a whip. The razor sharp wire is heading for him. It effortlessly halves the walls.
Then, the explosions kick up.
Orochimaru skids to a halt. The wire is nothing more than a brief reflection of light too close to for comfort. He manages to Body Flicker into the smoke clouds, hiding in their darkness. Something warm drips down his face: blood. He traces the cut on his forehead, pass flesh and through cloth and metal. Splitting but not slicing all the way through.
That sword's power is unreal.
"Agh! You are—you're the most annoying creep I ever met!"
Orochimaru yanks his sleeve back. Suji lazily unwraps to meet his gaze. "Do you know if the two are in contact?"
"Migi and Hidari have exited their hosts and await instructions."
They'll be here soon…
He just needs a little more ti—
The ground rumbles. Moving away from the smoke, he sees water shooting high into the sky. Motochika stands next to it, hands still in the Rat Seal.
It's got to be a signal.
"Suji, the snakes!"
He races to grab the Grass-Mowing Sword tight enough so that the snake-scaled hilt leaves imprints on his hand.
Motochika turn to look at him, unfazed.
He's sprinting on water, chakra reserves running less than half.
Motochika grabs his sword from between his arm and chest.
He prepares his swing.
Motochika smirks.
"Hey, 'Chika!"
Motochika backflips out the way landing on the riverba—
No.
A man covered in dried blood and burns and electricity steps into the river.
Orochimaru races for dry land moments before the area has become electrified. The river has become a deep, azure color. All aquatic life in the vicinity has met a hopefully quick death.
Motochika laughs. "Well, haven't you seen better days, eh?"
"You got me at the right time. I was coming here to flush out some rats, but…" His teammate grin is unlike anything he's seen. It looks akin to a wolf baring its teeth to protect itself. "I don't mind joining you."
"I'd say!" Motochika puts a hand over his eyes. "Looks like the fish is ripe for catching today! Help me out?"
"My pleasure." Musabori points the tip of the electrified sword at Orochimaru.
From it, a beam of white-hot electricity. He lunges for the meager protection of his wall but soon sprints after another with each passing beam.
This power is amazing. It doesn't feel like chakra; it feels unnatural. No hand seals. What did the man have to do to get so powerful? Trade his humanity?
He is panting now with the constant movement. Here he is running for his life, avoiding the exploding walls that are now working against him too. Musabori just stands. Just points and annihilates.
He doesn't mind killing Musabori, too.
His wall crumbles—something got through. He rolls prone to dash and, no, something wraps itself around his foot and launches him.
He's heading straight into the electrified water.
The glee on Musabori's face makes him want to shiver. The electrified sword points towards him.
The river's crackling pierces his ears, not unlike a stadium laughing at him. Overwhelming.
Harsh wind is already pushing back his shirt sleeve. All he has to do is slather blood on the seal dyed into his forearm. "Summoning—"
On his left, hidden by the high-pitched frequency, is an ever-growing wave of water. In seconds, its height is five times the size of him.
Motochika notices the movement in his peripheral. "Move! Wave!"
"What now?" Musabori turns. As far as the monster can, at least. A sai pierces his collarbone. He roars and goes to tug it free.
"Move! Move now!" Motochika meets his eyes, an idea sparkling. He casts his sword like a fishing rod and throws Orochimaru into the wave just as Musabori Body Flickers to safety.
He closes his eyes and braces for the most painful death—
But a coolness wraps around him and quiets the world before he resurfaces on the riverbank.
Above him, wounded but alive, is Takenaka, who'd pulled off the Substitution Technique in order to save him. His smile is dazzling. "You're not alone, Orochimaru." The Uchiha looks up and shouts, "Go, Hinome!"
Startled, he springs to his feet.
In the water is Hinome, pushing her chakra into a rotating ball of energy. The massive wave swells and crashes, splashing lightning-infused water onto the riverbank.
Motochika reels back. "I can't use Sewing Needle on that! Musabori, do something."
"The waves will electrocute me! Let the Byakugan fall in," he growls.
Not on Orochimaru's watch.
"Throw my sword across the river," he rushes. "I will support you."
"I don't have a lot of chakra—"
"Neither does he. Go!"
Takenaka leaps. The Grass-Mowing Sword shoots across the river. He bounces off of it, careful to not physically touch it.
Meanwhile, Hinome's spinning slow. There's dried blood all over her. She needs help.
Orochimaru sprints and uses a reckless amount of chakra if it means he can grab her body before it hits the water and land on safe grass. In his arms, he can see Takenaka healed her. She needs to be resting.
Hinome only gives him a slight nod before getting to her feet. He follows.
The three regroup side-by-side. Bruised, bloody, beyond tired but not giving up their lives.
Takenaka clenches his sai, Hinome prepares her Gentle Fist, and Orochimaru grabs the Grass-Mowing sword out the air.
Motochika and Musabori stand together, undeterred.
"They're not lasting much longer," Motochika grits.
"This'll be over in seconds." Flexing his muscles, Musabori grins sadistically. Nothing can ever satiate this man.
"It doesn't have to be this way!" Takenaka lowers his sai. The tomoe commasin his Sharingan are spiraling. "Chuushaki told me that Madara may have attacked the Mist with the Three Tails!"
Huh?
The death of a brown-haired girl flashes before his eyes.
No, that's the future. The future to never come. This is the past.
Knowing that Madara Uchiha is no longer this shadowy force is…liberating. His body is burning with a newfound energy.
He's alive…
"I'm the heir of the Uchiha Clan. I can help you. Please."
"What?" Motochika's voice is hardly audible.
Musabori snickers. "Chuushaki's lost it. Madara never attacked the Mist with a chakra monster. It's fine. You sure you aren't hallucinating?"
Orochimaru meets Takenaka's gaze—the man is beyond confused. "N-No. He said…"
"What the hell are either of you saying?" The hand gripping Sewing Needle trembles. "There's no Madara? No attack?"
At this, his teammate furrows his brows. "Uh, yes, there is. Madara. The man Boss talks to?"
"He never told me anything. I'm the leader."
"I guess you weren't paying attention," he says casually. "It's not a secret. It makes sense—you are the worst man to trust with anything."
"Oh, am I?"
Sewing Needle bursts into speed. Faster than a blink, the blade has woven itself through Musabori, who can only stare back wide-eyed. Electricity fails to flow through blade's wire-like material, yet another sign it is not normal metal.
"You're a filthy liar," Motochika says. "You were working against me. You selfish, power-hungry animal."
The wire tightens and sinks through flesh and bone. Like lightning, Musabori's body cracks. Like water, it splashes.
Orochimaru feels his body grow cold at the sight.
So brutal. So…
Could Musabori's soul ever know peace…?
"What have you done…?" He hears Takenaka mumbling.
Motochika only throws Sewing Needle to the side and yanks the no longer active sword embedded in his stomach. "Nothing but a filthy animal…"
Hinome shakes her head, scoffs. She steps back to avoid the growing red puddle.
"You all failed me."
A gravelly voice jolts him.
Twenty steps away is a man, the man who was in the carriage. He stands beside the horse who drinks from the river. None can see his expression under his straw hat. The black kimono he wears is something the average villager could just afford. Yet, his scabbards and baldric are leather adorned with gold—too expensive. Its brilliance reflects under the sun and onto his tanned skin.
"I thought you could topple countries. Three ninja were too much. What a waste of time."
"Boss! It's not my fault." Motochika points to the new corpse. "If they got rid of them, we would have won. Isn't it your fault for not choosing men that can actually complete a kill?"
Orochimaru curls his lip in disgust.
"No accountability. A weak man's folly." He lifts his palm, scarred and calloused, and Sewing Needle flies to his hand. "I will find men worthy of these swords. If I ever see you again, I will not let you waste a second more of my time."
The man turns to his carriage. He does not bother with Motochika's aghast face.
"Wait!" Takenaka looks between the two former allies. "Do you think we're going to let you leave Kohaku Village like this?"
The man stills. As slow as time, he looks over his shoulder. "I have no desire completing this mission. I dare you to stop me, as wounded and exhausted you are."
The temperature plunges. The smell of blood floods Orochimaru's nose.
"I would enjoy myself too much murdering all of you. You killed the tools I worked so hard on. None of them died without suffering."
Orochimaru freezes.
"I could," says the stranger, "try Spider Threading Silk on live bait."
The carriage shudders. Its structure collapses aside from four thin, silver foundations. Then, those split into two and expand. Eight bent pieces of metal that resembles the twitching legs of a dead spider. Click click click. All metal pieces move independently. So life-like, it is disturbing. Even Takenaka can't utter a word. Even Hinome's mouth is gaping.
Motochika reaches for the stranger, uncaring of the weapon. "Did you lie to me? Are you talking to Madara? Why did Musabori mention that? What's going on, Ryuukotsu?"
Ryuukotsu? The name is familiar…
"You play your games with your words while knowing nothing at all." His voice is harsher now, blade-like. "You play with my bladework while thinking you are strong—you will always be nothing to anyone."
Motochika drops to his knees. "What…" He can't continue.
"Motochika knows one thing."
Orochimaru's ears perk up.
"I am Ryuukotsu. I will return."
In seconds, the carriage returns to normal. He can only watch as Ryuukotsu takes the reins and guides the horse away.
Orochimaru could replace Motochika with a statue. The difference would be nil.
Pats to his shoulder pulls his gaze away; Hinome removes her hand. "Takenaka will continue healing the rest of my wounds somewhere not this….not here. Good luck with him. Meet with us soon."
He nods.
Motochika turns to him as soon as the duo are out of earshot. "You're smart, friend. You know what the Leaf's gonna do to me. But, you can still be a hero."
Orochimaru squats behind the pitiful man, holding unbound wrists tight in his hands.
"You're stronger than your tools," the man continues, not struggling. "Smarter than everyone. There's a better way. Don't leaders do what's best for everyone, huh?"
After a few moments, Motochika picks up on his stillness.
"Let me go, and I'll talk."
The opposite would be preferable.
"You wanna know something about the swords?" Motochika tilts his head back to face him. River-colored eyes fall under his shadow. Hollow. "They're alive."
He grabs the hilt of the Grass-Mowing sword.
"Ryuukotsu makes the blades out of souls. Pulverize him and make him talk, friend. Sewing Needle's linked with my soul—that's how I work it. Same goes for Fangs and Splash. But, he hasn't made the last two yet. If you think I'm lying, go meet him in the Outlier Islands next month, hero."
"You know I cannot confirm that information."
Motochika is laughing now, dry and brittle. "I lost it all. My team, my boss, my job. I go back home, they'll kill me at best. There's a madness in the Mist. You saw what happened. Madara this, Three Tails that. Nobody knows what's going on in there, too. Why? The Mizukage and the Daimyou are crazy. They manipulated me into being a Swordsman."
Orochimaru tightens his grip on the man's wrists, a warning. "You understand we can torture that information from you?"
"You can't hurt me. The Mist already killed my family." Motochika tosses his head forward, as if bowing. "They forced me to undergo torture sessions until the pain could no longer affect me. Big wonder Ryuukotsu ditched me here—you're not gonna break me. I've been lied to, I've been hurt, I've been abandoned."
Prying one hand out his grip, Motochika tugs his kimono and rips the bandages off his thin body. Grayish, brown, bluish, purple. Like a fault after an earthquake, parts of his body seem to be irreversibly missing pieces. Scars pervade his flesh. Veins swell near the wounds, its purplish tint amplified by the gray pallor of his skin.
The one who needs Sewing Needle to stitch his body together is its owner after all.
"You can't hurt me," Motochika whispers. "Let me join you. Let me destroy my home, friend…"
He pries his eyes away from the ghastly body. Up to the sky above, magnificent in its azure beauty. Disfigured by the drifting, black smoke clouds.
"My parents were murdered by Land of Water shinobi," he says. "Nothing remained."
A chuckle. "Then you know my pain well, friend."
"Those who know pain, hurt others. Those who hurt, become hated and guilty…" He can almost hear his voice saying it—something he will say, rather.
"Guilty? Why should I be guilty? I was born into pain. It's all I ever known. How can I be better when there's no one good around? Huh? Don't say stupid things. You're the smart one, hear me?"
He gaze falls from the clouds to this man who could be a cloud himself. "Pain can make you kind."
Motochika laughs again, although he tries to curl in on himself to surpress it. "Are you mad as well? So, what? Everyone deserves to get hurt to be kind, huh? You'd love the Mist! It's what we're best at! You sound crazy. No one's gonna be kind once they're hurt. Listen to me, Orochimaru!"
He is listening.
"Orochima—"
Motochika can't finish his plea.
No, that's not quite it.
He finishes his plea, though he loses his breath near the end. The lack of air makes the rest of Orochimaru's name become an inaudible breeze. This mishap is through no fault of his own.
It's all the fault of an all-cutting sword that pierced his chest.
Like spreading strawberry jam on white bread, the sword glides up and exits the body. The mess is difficult to avoid, but since Orochimaru wears a significant amount of black, it should not cause too much problem.
The sword returns to its natural snake form and crawls up his sleeve. He watches the two corpses and lowers his head.
"May you be reincarnated into a world that shows you kindness."